Stargazing

I had been teaching Emma remedial maths and biology for over a year when her mother Monique made the suggestion.

Emma was a pleasant and cheerful girl, but with not much to distinguish her from most other teenagers. Not bad looking, though slightly plump. The residue of puppy fat still clinging to her developing adolescent body, gave her a somewhat homely look that detracted from her otherwise curvey figure.

Monique had been most meticulous in finding a tutor for her daughter. My previous employers were called and grilled, not only on my teaching ability, but on every look or nuanced piece of behaviour towards my students, especially the young nubile ones. Since my only instances of passionate all night sex sessions and threesomes with my students were in my dreams (sometimes not even then - wakefulness had a tiresome habit of sneaking up on me at the most inopportune moments) - I was not surprised when I was given the job of tutoring Emma through her difficulties with mathematics.

At first I found Emma to be a rather dull child; but then coming to me as a supplicant as it were, relying on me to help her navigate through the maze of what to me were rather simple mathematical conundrums, did not put her in the best light. Her ability in science was better than her mathematical skills, and when she got disillusioned, calling herself dumb, kicking the table in frustration, I would remind her that science is hard, and most teenagers choose not to take it.

"You're not dumb," I told her. You have a keen scientific mind, a intelligent curiosity for the natural world, and if you can get over your mathematical barriers I'm sure you could do well in a scientific field." Monique sometimes sat in on my sessions, texting or reading while she waited to drive her daughter home. She glanced up when she heard this conversation, a slightly dimply smile appearing on her face.

Starved as I was of most social discourse, due to my now regretted decision to give up my stable employment and concentrate on my writing, I looked forward to our weekly sessions. As time went on, Emma lost some of her diffidence along with the puppy fat, and while I made sure that professional boundaries were respected, on some occasions, when the lesson was over, and I was in my own unpaid time, we would have a chat the three of us, over some of the things we had in common, among them a love of cats, animals in general, and astronomy and science fiction, which Emma loved.

While Monique would be friendly during these occasions, I never counted her as a close friend, so I was totally gob-smacked when she called me one day and requested a meeting without Emma present. Could she fancy me, I wondered. Maybe she has secretly admired me all this time and now she is revealing her love. I realised I knew very little about their family situation. I never even knew whether Monique was still with Emma's father, or if she was available.

Anyway, I met Monique at a nearby coffee lounge, feeling an almost forgotten sense of tingling anticipation.

"Can you go on a date with Emma?" was the first thing she asked, once we had exchanged the usual pleasantries. I did a double take, imagining a romantic date with her not unattractive teenage daughter. The tingling didn't go away, but had to cope with an abrupt change of object.

"What's this about?" I asked.

"Emma has been getting into some bad company and has been going out with some very unsavoury types. Some have been into drugs, and one of them even wore a gang patch. Emma has very little experience with boys, and I'm afraid she has been offering herself too freely to them. It would be great if she could have the experience of going out with a real man who could teach her what sexual pleasure really means before she falls off the rails completely."

Could this be true? Was I really being offered every middle aged man's wet dream; an erotic interlude with a hot teenager?

"What does Emma think of this?" I asked.

"She's all for it," said Monique. "To tell the truth, she's fancied you almost from the first time you met her, but has not felt the confidence to make any moves on someone intellectually so far above her. You would be doing both of us a favour."

I stirred around in my latte, trying to make sense of what Monique had been saying, and hoping that I wouldn't wake just yet.

"I will of course reimburse you for the meal and movies. And anything else you may need to spend ... motel bills and all that." Monique looked away from me and her cheeks flushed.

"All right," I said. And then, thinking this didn't display the right note of passion, I continued.

"I would be honoured to take Emma out. Shall I pick her up from your place at 6 o'clock tomorrow evening?"

#

The next morning I could hardly concentrate on any of my work, so engrossed was my mind on the excitement the evening would hold. A hot chick to do hot things with. The first time I had dated a woman for several years.

I called in to a florist and got them to send a rose to Emma's address, with a note formally asking if I could have the pleasure of her company at 6 o'clock. A nice romantic touch I thought, as I pocketed the receipt to show Monique later. The phone rang at 3 o'clock. It was Emma.

"Thank you for the rose and your wonderful invitation," she gushed. "I would love to come. Where are you taking me?"

"Wait and see," I said. "So will you give me the pleasure of accompanying me?"

"Most certainly," she replied. "I'll see you at six."

I spent more time than normal on my wardrobe, had a shower, checked that my condoms hadn't reached their use by date, and was ready outside the house at six. Emma was waiting by the gate, in a well tailored winter dress with high heeled shoes and skilful dabs of make-up that accentuated her better features.

I opened the passenger door and closed it behind her as she got into the car. I thought that conversation may be awkward, but we chatted about our mutual interests as I drove to the restaurant, and about her dreams of becoming a vet, or maybe even an astronomer. I carefully steered the conversation away from any shop talk about school or exam requirements for veterinary college, instead talking about experiences of various vets I had known through my animal advocacy work.

I had picked a fairly high quality restaurant that specialised in vegetarian cuisine, and Emma appeared awestruck by her surroundings as I took her by the arm and guided her in. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. A foretaste of what was to come, maybe?

We held hands under the table throughout the meal. Emma proved to be surprisingly good company, as well as being very good looking. Conscious of my responsibility to Monique I didn't order any alcohol, and gently dissuaded Emma from doing so. She was after all still under-age for drinking. Though legal for planned activities, I had to remind myself.

After the meal I took Emma to a movie. I don't remember much of the plot, my mind was distracted by the warm teenage flesh I cuddled up to in the back seats, and her fresh body smell.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," said Emma as we got back to the car and I started the drive through the well lit city streets.

"It's not over yet," I said.

"Where are you taking me now?" Emma asked. I could sense excitement and nervousness in her voice.

"You'll see."

I turned off the main street and into the suburbs, eventually leaving the city behind and winding through the hills towards the coast. Emma laid her hand on my thigh, and started massaging. I gently removed it. "Later," I said. A distracted fumble in a car when I am concentrating on driving would not meet Monique's criteria of showing her daughter 'what sexual pleasure really means'.

Eventually we stopped at a grassy area by the beach and got out of the car. It was a clear moonless night and our breath condensed in an icy fog. I wrapped the pair of us in a thick blanket I had in the back of the car, and we lay snuggled together on the grass watching the millions of stars winking above us, the prominent Southern Cross, Orion's belt on the horizon, and the speckled band of the Milky Way visible as an arc of faint light in the sky, something we could never see in the city.

We started to chat and point out the various stars and planets to each other. I was impressed with Emma's ability to read the map of the sky.

"It's really beautiful," said Emma. She turned her face towards me. I lightly brushed my lips against hers, resisting the urge to bury my mouth inside her, push my hand up her dress and caress her roughly. Though I knew she would be willing, I had other things planned.

I had a thermos of warm coffee, and we drank it together as Emma talked more about her plans for the future.

"What about boyfriends?" I asked.

"Oh, I've had a few of them," she said. "But all they want to do is grope me. I mean I do get turned on by them, but mum says there's more to life and a gentleman would respect me. She left my father when I was a toddler, and she has been really choosy, so she doesn't have a bloke at the moment. She says I have to be too. But I don't know. I get really horny."

I felt a sudden quickening of excitement at Emma's words. I was conscious of her warm body beside mine, and I was afraid she would feel my heart thumping against her. Emma was hinting; that much was plain. We were only an hours drive from the city, but it was hidden by the hills and the new moon darkness was almost absolute. I felt snug and warm, Emma's body pressed against me, as we lay back enjoying the stellar scenery and each other.

It was past midnight when we packed the blanket into the car and drove back to town. I stopped outside her house and walked her to the door.

"Thank you for a lovely time," she said, lifting her mouth to mine. There was a hammering in my heart and an answering resonance from my loins. This girl was offering herself to me. Monique had made herself scarce for the night, and we would be on our own. We could move inside to the bedroom. There I would slip my hand slowly up her dress, peeling it off and undoing her bra strap in the process. Her young girl smell would pervade the room as her excitement mounted. Emma would groan and clasp herself to me, and I would carry her gently to the bed, lift up her legs and unroll her knickers from her thighs. Then I would fondle, knead and caress her sensitive body, making her wriggle and squeak with pleasure, get the juices running before slipping softly inside her, stimulating both of us to climax.

Emma looked up at me, bewilderment on her face, as I gently extracted myself from her and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Glad you enjoyed it," I said. "Thank you for your company. It was very satisfying to spend time with you. You will make some young man very happy." I turned and walked back to the car. I noticed Emma gazing at me through the rear mirror as I turned the corner of the road.

#

I spent the next week in a state of fluttering excitement. Romantic love and I had been strangers for so long, I was at first reluctant to renew the acquaintance. My humdrum life was tedious but somehow solid and dependable, and too much excitement would introduce a discordant element.

But over the next few days I found it harder to maintain the pretence. The intervention by romantic love was not an intrusion, but more like a piece of background music that accentuates a pleasure, or a subtle spice that highlights pleasurable but less obtrusive flavours.

On the surface my humdrum life was no less humdrum. I would get up, do my writing, chat to my agent, and occasionally do some part time teaching work. But the feelings that accompanied it - oh how different. The pleasurable sensation would creep up on me and burst in my brain like a scented bubble, and I would feel like laughing out loud. To be so in love with such a wonderful person. And to entertain the vague hope that they may love you too.

I held on to my feelings for four days, then I called Emma's home number. Monique answered it. Emma was out, and would not be back until late.

"I really want to thank you for the way you helped Emma," she said. "She came home full of exuberance about what a wonderful romantic time she had with you, how you were so respectful and thoughtful and how you really made her feel like a woman and not a child."

I wondered how much Emma had told her mother, as Monique continued.

"I was asked out on a date myself that night, so I thought I would let you have the house to yourselves. Well Emma has declined all amorous advances from those deadhead boyfriends of hers. She said that she is a woman and wants a man, not a boy. Such a difference in her self esteem.

"Just today, she got an invitation from someone she had been corresponding with from overseas who had come back unexpectedly. He has always been a friend of the family and fond of Emma, but she never seemed to fancy him until now. They're out on a date right now. I will let Emma know you called when she gets back. I'm sure she would want to speak to you in person."

I felt like I had just taken a fast journey downwards in a lift. Was I too late for my romantic dream?

Then I heard Monique continue.

"Emma has said she is not going to take things too far. She said her date with you taught her that it is best to take things slowly and not be carried away by passion. I must say she has grown up a lot. I was hurt myself when I was younger and that's been the rule I live by too. So I dumped the man I went out with the same night. He was far too forward. You've helped me as well as my daughter."

The lift stopped falling and started to rise again. Maybe I wasn't too late after all. I found myself stammering as I spoke to Monique.

"I would very much like another date," I said.

"Are you free this week?"