Cherry Tart

As he gathered up his lighter and his two empty bottles of beer, Emmett heard water running in the kitchen sink. He figured it must be little Travis. Lately, his baby boy had made a habit of wandering around their house in the middle of the night, all thirsty and half-asleep, rubbing a mess of cloudy dreams from his eyes.

When Emmett opened the screen door with a gentle wooden creak, he found her standing there. She was filling up Lucy's green, flowered coffee mug with water from the tap, and he stopped in his tracks, completely taken off guard. He saw how bashful she was. She couldn't look him in the eyes, and Emmett swallowed hard.

Ginny just stood there watching the knot in his throat rise and fall.

"We charge by the glassful in this house, pretty girl." Emmett nodded toward her cup of water, hoping to smooth out the tension before she scampered away like a spooked little hare.

"I was just thirsty..." She felt like she needed to explain, he could tell, and the sweet shyness he loved was written on her from head to toe.

"I do believe that's mine..." Emmett pointed to the old blue t-shirt that she swam around in. It had Lipman's Auto Repair written out in white letters near her left shoulder, and his name was printed just underneath.

"I know. Cora gave it to me. I didn't bring nothin' to sleep in." Ginny watched him as he stood there in the doorway. His shirt was printed in large, red and black squares, like the men in town wore for hunting, and he ran a big hand over his reddish beard. He took a few steps into the small, cozy kitchen, and as he pulled off his heavy plaid shirt, Ginny felt a warm ache bloom up where her legs met.

"I reckon I'm gonna have to charge you rent on that." He gave her a playful smile, his whole lean body suddenly awake and attentive.

Ginny looked down at her small bare feet on the cold wood floor. They were turned in a bit, hesitant. She could still feel the smooth, velvety stain of that red lipstick on her mouth. She'd forgotten to wipe it off. She touched the thin cotton of his old blue t-shirt, soft as a puppy's nose from being washed so many times, and she looked up at him then with searching eyes.

"Do you want it back?"

~~~~~~~~~

"It's gettin' cold out there, ain't it?" Emmett smoothed back his mess of thick auburn hair, feeling like a crocodile had hold of his tongue. He'd never been one to blush easily, but a dull heat came up in his face.

"It was real cold at the game tonight. That's why we mostly just stayed in the truck...talkin'." Ginny shrugged, and her eyes moved over the sturdy line of his shoulders in his worn-out t-shirt.

"And smokin'..." Emmett felt that strange, warm attraction hovering between them. It was like the sweet hum of dragonfly wings fluttering all through the air.

"Maybe..." She gave him her big brown eyes; that bittersweet, dark chocolate gaze.

"You cold? You got all them goosebumps on you." He couldn't keep his eyes from settling on the gauzy little points of her nipples. They peeked out at him through her thin blue t-shirt, the one he'd worn to work at least a hundred times.

"A little."

Unlike Annabelle, Ginny wasn't at all practiced up in the art of flirtation, so she just stood there quietly, waiting for him to guide her.

"I forgot my sweatshirt."

Those big, willing eyes told him everything he needed to know, and Emmett just plain wanted to eat her with a spoon. He wanted to get her someplace warm and private where little Travis wouldn't happen upon them if he got to roaming again.

"I reckon we got a spare in the mud room. Come on, you look cold as a little penguin."

Emmett heard the eager hitch in his own deep voice and all that yearning seemed to plant a seed of curiosity inside of her. She took a small step toward him, and then stopped in her tracks.

"Come on...I ain't gonna bite you, sweetheart."

Emmett gave her a sugary smile and Ginny watched the deep lines on his palm, the thick knuckles and stout, brawny fingers as he held his big hand out to her.

"I know you ain't gonna bite me. I remember."

He looked up at her pretty, freckled face, expecting her to give him a giddy, young girl kind of smile, but she didn't. She just looked on at his starving eyes with her face all soft and knowing, and almost at once, he felt the throbbing warmth of a full erection come up on him, like he was nothing but a wild-ass young boy again.

"Yeah, I reckon you would remember that." He watched her hesitate, until finally, she slipped her little paw inside of his.

Ginny followed behind him like a baby duckling. Her dark eyes rested on the thick mess of light hair that covered his sinewy forearm like reddish grass. She wanted to touch it, and she imagined the wiry, grown-man feel of it rolling under her fingers.

Ginny watched his lean hips and his small behind in his old blue jeans. She took all of him in, so she could remember his sharp angles and straight lines when she lay in bed at night. As they walked, she listened to their bare feet. They made a hushed, whispery sound on the old wood floors.

"It gets warm as toast in here with that dryer goin'."

Emmett led her into the tiny laundry room just off the kitchen. It was dim, with a dull cast of white moon coating the warm space like spilled milk. The rich light poured in creamy smooth through two double-hung windows above the small washer and dryer. An iron sat propped on its tail, the long cord hanging down from a rusted-up ironing board covered over in blue and white gingham.

Ginny felt a little knot of guilt tighten up in her belly. A laundry room was supposed to belong to the lady of the house, and that meant she was trespassing. She was making her way into someone else's makeshift palace, holding the big hand of someone else's prince, and she didn't quite know how to feel about that.

"It's a wreck in here..." Emmett reached over and pulled down two wicker baskets full of clean clothes that sat on top of the dryer. He hadn't let go of her tiny hand yet, and truth be told, it was out of fear that she would scamper back up to the cozy haven of his daughter's bedroom again.

"Let's get you warmed up, pretty girl. Sit your little bottom up here."

Without giving her a lick of warning, Emmett slipped his big hands under her firm little behind. He grabbed her up like she was nothing but a loose feather, and Ginny took in a sharp breath. By instinct, she moved her lean, strong legs up around his narrow hips and laced her arms together at the back of his neck. She already felt a warm, slippery wetness down between her legs, where his hard belly was pressed tight against her little cleft.

He set her down gently on the dryer's smooth metal lid, and it was warm on her bare legs as the clothes and towels tumbled around just below her.

"That warm you up a bit?" Emmett had a hard time keeping his hands away. They lingered at the slight curve of her waist, and his thumbs rubbed against her belly through the thin cotton of his blue shirt.

"Yeah. I like it." She hesitated, and then ran her little hands over the coarse hair on his forearms. It felt softer than she'd imagined.

He got all jumbled up inside when he looked down at her slim, coltish legs hanging over the side of his wife's dryer.

He had an image of Lucy then on her hands and knees, how she would reach inside the metal tumbler and look for a missing sock or a little pair of underpants that'd been eaten up by static. He thought of the deep sway of his wife's lower back, how it dipped down into her rounded behind. Emmett had always loved the way she looked down on all fours. When they'd first gotten married, it'd been like a dirty dream come true every time she'd done the laundry.

Now, there was a lithe, wisp of a girl sitting in Lucy's place, waiting on him as he pulled away from her. In his eager rush, he'd forgotten to close the laundry room door behind them and he walked over to it in a hurry.

"Don't you run away, now..." Emmett gave her a silly, shit-eating grin with all his straight white teeth shining in the moonlight, and Ginny let out a shy giggle.

"Where would I go?" She turned her bare feet in toward each other so her toes touched, and a whole mess of butterflies floated through her belly.

She turned her head and looked out into the Coopers' quiet backyard. Up and down the block, square windows along the backs of each white-sided house had gone dark and vacant. While the neighborhood slept, a slight, teasing wind pulled at the red leaves of every old maple. Somewhere not far off, a dog barked at the moon, and Ginny sat there listening to that lonely sound.

She thought on all those girls in the school parking lot earlier. After the game, they'd probably gathered down friends' basements or sat around the flicker of bonfires. No doubt, they'd gotten liquored up on cheap beer and Peach Schnapps. Most of them were probably passed out in their beds right then, or maybe they were still awake, chucking down a mess of greasy food at Ruby's Diner. Either way, she doubted any one of them was sitting on top of a warm dryer, waiting on their best friend's daddy to pull down their little panties and bury his hot tongue up inside their slippery little cleft. She knew the whole scene was strange and backwards, but she wasn't about to jump ship.

Emmett closed the laundry room door tight against its frame. He reached up to a small wooden shelf above his head, searching around for his spare key. Ginny watched him slip it into the gold knob on the paint-chipped door. She watched the turn of his wrist when he locked it, and her heart pounded all the while.

"Don't let me forget where I put it." Emmett turned to his daughter's little friend then with a sinking belly and a stiff cock. He tucked the jagged key down into the back pocket of his old Levi's and slowly walked over to her.

"Why would you forget?" Ginny felt the sweet pulse of blood going all through her veins, and it moved faster when he came up close.

"Why?...Why?..." Emmett's big hands wandered up to her flat little belly again. He gave her a soft, quick tickle there, and Ginny writhed away from him like a baby squirrel. "It's them red lips...they make it so I forget my own name. It's like I barely know what to do with myself just lookin' at you."

Ginny felt like a big golden sunflower then; her soft petals opening to the gentle warmth of his sweet, husky voice. No one had ever made her feel so pretty and so shy all at the same time.

"I don't know 'bout all that..." She looked down at her tiny hands with a shadow of doubt on her face. Though she loved hearing it, Ginny had a hard time believing.

Since high school had started three years before, the boys had all passed her in the hallways without so much as a backwards glance.

It's not that little Ginny wasn't pretty. She saw her blessings well enough; the clear, smooth skin and full, pink mouth, the warm earthy color of her eyes, feathered with inky black lashes. It seemed to Ginny though, that a puffy kisser and soulful eyes weren't much competition for a set of rounded breasts or the lure of curved-up hips. By the standards of any eighteen-year-old boy, Ginny Goodman was nothing but plain.

"You callin' me a liar, girl?" Emmett gave her freckled-up cheek a sweet, gentle kiss and she felt the rough scratch of his stubble on her tender skin. She liked it more than anything.

"I ain't even had a boyfriend yet, Mr. Cooper. Boys don't seem to pay me no mind." She shrugged her little shoulders up and down.

"You gotta stop callin' me Mr. Cooper. It's makin' me feel old...I ain't sayin' I'm young, but..." Emmett hesitated, and then leaned in to give her pretty mouth a soft kiss.

"Well...what should I call you?" Ginny reached up and cupped Emmett's face in both of her small hands, testing out the feel of his prickly beard on her fingers. It took him off guard, the tenderness of it, the way she was suddenly familiar and wonderfully new all at the same time, and he buried his mouth against her tiny palm, kissing at it sweetly.

"You even know my first name?" Emmett tucked her dark, wavy hair back behind her freckled ears and kissed her forehead.

"Emmett." She reached down and tugged at the name printed in white letters on her shirt.

"Yes, Ma'am. And that's my property." Emmett reached over and gave her thin blue t-shirt a soft tug. He ran his finger along the ragged bottom hem, looking right into her dark eyes. He planned on bringing her up to a boil with that gentle kind of teasing.

"I'm comin' to collect, baby girl. What's mine is mine." Emmett nestled himself against her and Ginny felt the eager nudge of his erection through his old blue jeans.

Without even thinking on it, she looked down where their two bodies were pressed close together.

"You so pretty...you got me all swollen up like a sore thumb."

"I can feel..."

"You feel me pokin' at you?" Emmett shifted so the thick tip of his cock dug right into her through his old Levi's.

"Yeah..." Ginny drew in a quick breath, giving him a bashful smile, and Emmett took hold of her slim legs just under the knees. He rubbed against her, his lean hips moving at a slow, sweet rhythm, and he felt her breath draw in and out near the hollow of his neck.

He felt like a hot-blooded schoolboy then, fucking her through thin layers of cotton, waiting patiently on her consent to pull those pretty little panties down and off of her.

Ginny couldn't help but fall in love with it, the steady rub of his narrow hips on the soft insides of her thighs. It was something he hadn't done to her that first time on the couch, and it made her draw her legs up and lace them around his slow, rocking hips.

"Lift up, now." He teased along the hem of her blue t-shirt for a moment longer, and finally, she lifted her arms so he could pull it up over her head. There were two sharp little points peeking out at him through thin white satin, and she had goose flesh running all up and down her arms. Emmett leaned in close, kissing at her neck and her freckled shoulders. He slipped his big hands up along the warm length of her slim, beautiful stems, and his eyes drifted down to her pretty satin panties. They were printed with small blue flowers.

He grazed the dark hollow of her navel for just a moment before his deep palms wandered up along the delicate line of her back. He felt the dainty wings of her shoulder blades, and with the gentle pinch of two fingers, he cut loose that flimsy little thing holding the two lovely swells of her breasts. He laced his thick fingers under the thin white straps on her shoulders and dragged them down her arms, slow as molasses.

"You just like a gift all wrapped up pretty. You are...sweet girl..." He tucked two fingers under her little chin. "I can't help but wanna open you up."

He couldn't have said it any sweeter and Ginny turned to warm maple syrup.

"I ain't no gift. I barely got anything." Ginny crossed her bare arms over those small, tender peaches sitting up high.

Her voice was soft and unsure, and it made his heart hurt. After all, she was just a baby girl, and how many times had he felt self-conscious as a teenage boy; all big teeth and skinny limbs, always on the small side for his age?

"That don't matter to me, not even a bit." Emmett's face hovered close against hers and he smelled earthy, like burning sandalwood. Ginny breathed him in and slowly lowered her arms.

He watched her pretty little points with his deep hazel gaze. She had small pink nipples to match her small pink mouth, and they stood out ripe, calling his name in the moonlight, looking as sweet as wild berries and just as delicious.

"I been thinkin' 'bout you ever since that night..." Emmett let his big hand drag gently down her neck. He touched one of her little peaches, feeling it firm and summer ripe in his palm. He moved on to the other a moment later, brushing his thumb across her nipple. He took turns with them, kneading at them tenderly until he traced his fingers along their pale undersides. His soft-as-feathers touch was the sweetest kind of seduction and she wanted more.

"You just right...sweet pea." He gave her a big, warm smile, nestling her fair little breasts into his deep palms, and she smiled back.

Ginny slipped her hands under the sleeves of his worn out t-shirt. He had two smooth, sturdy knots there, and she rubbed her curious hands along his arms, kissing him gently when he titled his mouth to hers.

"I reckoned you thought ill of me...all that I done to you that night. I thought maybe I pushed you..."

"You didn't." She let a long, deep quiet hang between them, until finally, she opened her puffy red mouth again. "I wanted you to."

Emmett watched the soft blush of pink roses come up on her freckled cheeks. That honesty and those big brown eyes swimming with innocence, they brought out the wild in him.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. I been thinkin' on you too...on that night. That ain't wrong, is it?"

"Not for you. But I 'spect the Devil's carved out a special place in Hell just for me."

Emmett's mouth wandered down, and his hot tongue licked gently around each of her delicate points. They stood out taut in the draft near the windows, and he slipped them into his mouth one at a time, his stiff cock gnawing at him like a sore tooth that needed tending to.

Ginny watched the slow trace of his wet tongue on her, just like she had that hot night in September. She listened to the dry, whispery tumble of old leaves in the yard as he drew his eyes closed and sucked at her pretty pink nipples.

"You ain't goin' to Hell...don't say that..." Ginny leaned in and gathered his face into her small hands, kissing at his lazy mouth like she was trying to mend something wounded inside of him. She was so young and trusting, and his words had made her feel a whole mess of pity.

Emmett kissed her back, his mouth smooth and hot and full of want. He licked at her sugary tongue with his own, not letting on a bit that he'd been thinking of Lucy when he'd mentioned that trip to Hades.

He put his big hands all over her then, stroking at her little breasts and her soft belly, rubbing at the thin strip of satin between her legs that had gone wet with her slick honey. He kissed at her warm neck, his hands tracing the girlish curve of her waist, and he couldn't help but whisper to her. "I need that sweet touch on me, pretty girl."

"I was gonna...I just got shy..." Ginny didn't quite know how to go about it. He'd done everything for her that first night.

"Well, go on and undo me, Miss bashful. One of the best parts of all this is unwrapping each other."

His deep voice was hushed, and in the darkness, Ginny listened to the Coopers' shirts and towels and underthings tossing around in the dryer. It made a quiet, sleepy hum. There were baskets of folded laundry sitting on the washer next to them; Coralee's blue jeans and Wesley's football jersey, little Travis's t-shirts printed with dump trucks and dinosaurs.

Ginny searched for the marred-up buckle on his old leather belt. With awkward grace, she pulled open his buttons, and it seemed that part of him had been waiting on her for the longest time. The whole silky, smooth length of it cut loose from his old blue jeans and stood up eager and attentive before her, craving her precious touch.

He shimmied his jeans down a bit, and like she'd read his mind, little Ginny went right to work, sliding her tiny palm up and down his long, heavy shaft. She kept on until his jeans slipped right off his narrow hips. They ended up as a small blue puddle around his bare feet, and he sighed like a baby near her pink, bee-stung mouth.

Emmett couldn't wait a moment longer. He slid his rough, thick fingers into the front of her damp satin underpants, playing with her soft patch of curls before he worked his fingers lower. He found her there, swollen up wet and delicate as a warm oyster, and Ginny looked down, her eyes all full of lazy pleasure as he rubbed a gentle circle around her sweetest spot. He couldn't help but go weak in the knees just looking at her pretty mouth, at the way she bit down softly at her bottom lip and moved against his light, steady touch.