Emily's Awakening

It was a dull, wet weekday in late July 2011, the kind of day that made you feel that summer was over and autumn had well and truly arrived. Heavy drops of cold rain splashed onto roads and pavements and dripped from every tree, before flowing in torrents along gutters and into drains. Emily skipped between puddles on her way to the bus stop, her umbrella, raincoat and knee length brown suede boots having their first outing since early spring.

It had been unusually hot since late May, but Emily had been unable to enjoy the good weather. Her mother had died two weeks ago after an illness lasting several months. She'd lived with, and cared for, her elderly parent for most of her life but, at the age of thirty seven, she suddenly found herself alone in the world.

Emily was a somewhat introverted woman, she had no real friends. She had worked as an assistant librarian since she had given up on university, after one year of loneliness and anxiety away from home in the mid 1990's. She was, petite and attractive with blue eyes, and wore her long red hair in a ponytail. She had a good figure, but she always wore well cut but slightly frumpy clothes which made her look older than her years. She was shy and a little timid by nature and she was still a virgin.

Her mother's house, her house now, was a three bedroom post war semi-detached property in the suburbs. She caught the bus to work every weekday, and had been coming home each evening to look after her ageing mother. Her mother had given birth to Emily late in life, at the age of forty-eight. Her father had died when she was twelve and she remembered little of him, except that he was a distant and rather serious man.

Her mother had become semi incapacitated when Emily was in her late teens. Emily had devoted herself to her mother, and had had very little time for doing the things that other young people did, like going dancing or to the cinema. She'd had one date with a boy when she was eighteen and he was nineteen. She gone out with him not because she fancied or particularly liked him, but because it was the 'normal' thing to do. He'd seemed decent and friendly, not like most of the boys she'd been to school with, but she'd changed her mind about him when she'd let him kiss her, and he'd tried to put his hands inside her bra.

Other girls, and the women's magazines that she occasionally read, were full of tales of falling in love, getting married and settling down, but this had never appealed to Emily. She'd had a crush on her form teacher, Miss Silverdale, in her last couple of years at school. The kind young teacher had tried to give Emily more confidence, and to bring her out of herself by trying to get her interested in the chess club, outdoor pursuits and the school choir, but it had been to no avail. Emily just wasn't the sort of person that joined clubs or societies, she preferred keeping herself to herself.

Her sexual self exploration had been limited. She'd played with herself infrequently and had seldom achieved full orgasm. Her confused fantasies had started with thoughts of male film and tv stars, but had become disjointed and incoherent when images of Miss Silverdale, or perhaps one of her regular female customers at the library, had filled her thoughts. She thought that she'd had an orgasm maybe twice over the years; both times on a Christmas Eve after she had put her mother to bed and allowed herself a couple of glasses of sherry. She didn't usually drink so, feeling rather uninhibited, she'd let go of her usual self control, put her hand up her skirt, slipped her fingers inside her panty leg and touched herself. She'd imagined herself naked in bed with Miss Silverdale. Each time she'd felt an overwhelming sensation of arousal in her vagina, followed by waves of pleasure, but she'd immediately felt ashamed and had not allowed herself to enjoy the experience. The last such occasion had been the previous Christmas, and she'd sworn never to let it happen again.

She had resigned herself to life as a spinster with no prospect of sexual activity. She'd decided that she probably had a low sex drive and was perhaps even asexual, a notion that was challenged from time to time when she found herself sitting next to a pretty young woman on the bus. In fact, she often tried to sit next to one attractive regular female passenger whenever the opportunity presented itself. The girl often got the same bus and if it was crowded, and their arms or thighs pressed against each other, Emily felt a thrill that made her pussy tingle.

There was no sign of the girl on the bus on this wet morning, so Emily continued to think about the arrangements she had made to deal with her mother's clothes and possessions. The next day was Saturday and she'd resolved to take her mother's clothes to a local charity shop, before setting about sorting and dealing with all of the paperwork that she had kept in the locked writing desk in the lounge.

On arrival at work, Emily made herself a coffee and then set about beginning to replace returned books back onto the bookshelves. There were four staff on duty: Mrs Fensome, the senior librarian; Penny, an assistant librarian; Jo, an administrative assistant; and Emily. At sixty nine years of age, Mrs Fensome was the last member of staff in the department to insist on being addressed formally by junior staff; she gave the same privilege to staff senior to her. She had also batted away numerous suggestions that she might retire, and had told the head of department politely, but in no uncertain terms, that she would go when she was ready and not before.

During her break, Emily took a book, on the legal aspects of family bereavement, with her to the staff kitchen. She soon became bored with reading that it paid to act sooner rather than later, but it doubled her resolve to find the key to the writing desk so that she could ensure that there were no nasty surprises.

Shortly after lunch, Miss Roseberry, the new Assistant Head Librarian, visited the library to meet with Mrs Fensome. After the meeting, she had a look around and introduced herself to the other staff. Emily was the last to be seen, she'd hidden away between bookshelves, in a section of the library closed to the public, pretending to be busy and hoping to avoid having to engage in small talk with a senior officer.

Miss Roseberry had been with the service for six weeks. She was ensuring that she had visited all twenty three libraries in the city before she'd been in post for six months. She was a tall, attractive woman of fifty-two years of age. Rumour's had already circulated that she was divorced from her husband and now lived with a woman. The rumours had been true, until her lover had refused to move from London to the provincial northern city where her new job was based. She now lived alone and had already frequented several of the city's lesbian bars so that she could get a feel for the lesbian scene in the area of her new home.

She found Emily at the end of two rows of bookshelves and, dressed in a smart pale grey pencil skirted business suit and black high heels, she approached her with a sexy saunter and a sway of her hips. She very quickly eyed Emily up in her tight fitting, oatmeal coloured, polo-neck sweater and mid brown knee length loose skirt, with her old brown suede boots. She saw an attractive woman who was doing her best to hide it, and she quickly decided to take more than just a professional interest in her.

"Hello, you must be Emily, I'm Vivian Roseberry, I've heard a lot about you and it's all been good. Do you enjoy your work here?"

"Er, y-yes Miss Roseberry, it's er, I mean it's very er..."

"Call me Vivian, and there's no need to be so nervous, I don't bite."

"Oh, sorry, I'm er... sorry."

"And don't apologise, I don't know why us women feel the need to apologise all of the time."

"Sor... er, I mean okay."

"How long have you worked with the library service."

"Nearly sixteen years now."

Emily felt unsettled by Vivian's piercing green eyes that had locked onto her eyes and forced her to look away. She also felt trapped by Vivian, she was at the end of two sets of bookshelves with no way out. Vivian was very close to her, she could smell her subtle scent, and she felt completely overawed by her cleavage.

"And have you always been at this branch?"

"Yes, I er..."

"It's okay Emily, it's not a criticism. Would you like an opportunity to spread your wings a little? There are likely to be some senior librarian vacancies at the Central Library in a few weeks, so I'm encouraging all who might be interested to apply."

In truth, Vivian Roseberry had taken a fancy to Emily, and had not mentioned the proposed vacancies to anyone else. Emily had never considered changing her workplace but, at the same time, she felt flattered.

"Well, yes, I might... I might think, I mean I'll definitely think about it, thank you."

She didn't really need the money, but an idea formed in her mind that a move might do her good, she'd been thinking about what direction her life might take now that her mother had died.

"I hope you don't mind me saying that I'm sorry for the loss of your mother?"

"Oh, yes, thank you."

"You must have been through a very difficult time."

"I won't deny it's been tough," said Emily, at last finding enough confidence to speak in coherent sentences.

"Look, if you need to talk to me about anything, anything at all, just give me a ring, this is my personal direct line," said Vivian as she wrote a number on the back of her business card, "you can ring me anytime."

Vivian wouldn't usually have made herself so available to a junior member of staff in this way, but she'd already decided that she'd like to entice the petite but shapely Emily into bed with her.

"Thanks," said a slightly bemused Emily.

Vivian squeezed Emily's left forearm and turned on her high heels, before gliding sexily along the long gap between the bookshelves. When she got to the end, she turned and gave Emily a friendly smile. A startled Emily smiled back, she'd been watching the way Vivian's buttocks and thighs stretched the fabric of her tight skirt with each stride as she made her progress to the end of the shelves. She wished that she had the confidence to dress like Vivian. Quite without expecting it, her nipples hardened and a little tingle made its journey through her pussy.

********************

Emily overslept on the Saturday morning, her body clock had been thrown out of synchronisation since she'd no longer had to get up early to nurse her mother. She drew the curtains back and squinted into the back garden. The weather had changed completely, it was a bright sunny morning without a cloud in the sky, but it was fresher than of late.

On the previous evening, she'd treated herself to a bottle of wine and a copy of 'Cosmopolitan' magazine, in which she'd spotted an article about vibrators as she perused the newsstand at the local supermarket. Feeling quite drunk after two large glasses of wine, she'd decided that her next challenge was to pluck up the courage to go online and buy a modest vibrator, but she'd felt so tipsy that she'd gone to bed.

Now, on this bright sunny Saturday morning, as her eyes started to focus, she spotted her next door neighbour's daughter pegging out washing on the line. The twenty two year old girl saw her and gave her a big smile and a cheery wave. That was the moment a still befuddled Emily remembered that, in her semi drunken state on the previous evening, she'd thought 'to hell with her nightgown' when she'd got into bed.

Emily quickly dived out of sight and felt a crushing sense of embarrassment. She pulled on yesterday's underwear and her dressing gown, before tentatively looking out of the window to see if Sophie was still there. She was, but she had her back to Emily now, so Emily watched her hanging out her washing. She hadn't seen Sophie for over two years. After finishing university, Sophie had taken a gap year in Thailand. She'd hung out with some interesting people and had worked in bars and restaurants. Many of her Thai friends had been prostitutes and 'lady boys' and she'd ended up working part time for a charity that provided support for sex workers.

Sophie had toned up and grown an inch or so. She had a strong, firm shapely body and was no longer the cheeky, skinny kid next door. She was of mixed African Caribbean and White British descent with an Irish grandmother on her mother's side. With long dark hair and hazel eyes, she was confident and assertive, the polar opposite to Emily. She could be lively and energetic, but she also had a sultry seductiveness when she needed to turn it on. As a bi-sexual woman, she'd become used to seducing and having pretty well whoever she wanted.

Emily watched her as long as she dare, before ducking out of sight again as Sophie turned to head toward her back door. She'd found Sophie very appealing to look at in her tight jeans and t-shirt. Her breasts were firm and large and she had a narrow waist with a flat stomach and perfect buttocks. Emily wondered how long she'd be staying with her parents, before going off again on her exotic travels.

Later, when she returned from the charity shop, Emily set about trying to find the key to her mother's writing desk. She'd been putting it off but she realised that it had to be done. She found it in the first place she looked, it was in amongst a tray of earrings in her mother's jewellery box. With a mild sense of interest, she opened the lid of the writing desk, and saw that it was stuffed with various old papers and a shoe box tied with a red ribbon.

She set about her task and began examining birth, death and marriage certificates, and was thankful that there were no nasty surprises. She turned her attention to the household insurance policy, old receipts for furniture, and several old black and white photographs of unknown friends and distant relatives of her parents. There were also at least five hundred pounds worth of premium bond certificates, that she knew she must declare to the solicitor dealing with her mother's estate. Despite her mother's long illness, nothing had been planned or put in place for her death, so the bonds became yet another loose end that needed to be tied up.

She went to make herself a cup of tea, then settled down in an arm chair with the shoe box. The box looked intriguing, the last thing she'd expected to find inside were the rather glamorous looking high heels depicted on one end of the box, with a price tag of forty one shillings and sixpence. Emily smiled to herself at the quaint pre-decimal currency that had existed until a couple of years before she was born. She carefully untied the red ribbon and removed the box lid, there was a slightly musty smell.

On top of a bundle of letters was a dried up but still beautiful red rose. The letters were tied in the same red ribbon as the box. She open them and was amazed to discover her parents' love letters, or at least that what she thought she had found. Her mother had said little about her relationship with her late husband, or how it had started. It didn't seem to fit that these old letters would be declarations of love between her parents, whom she'd never seen exchange one word or gesture of affection toward each other.

She looked at the postmark dates and opened the oldest letter first. It was dated 15th July 1948 and addressed to her mother, Maud Clark, at an address Emily didn't recognise.

The letter began, "My dearest darling Maud, how I miss you so." It went on for two pages of beautifully written but desperate longing for her mother, and was signed Cec. It was apparent that whoever Cecil was, he was very much in love with Emily's mother. Maud's letters to Cec were also in the bundle, so Emily could track their burgeoning love affair in sequential time. Her mother had never really shown her emotions so the gushing language of two people in love came as a bit of a shock to Emily.

The letters became bolder and even more heartfelt, they described what it felt like when they kissed, and bemoaned the fact that they couldn't love each other openly. Emily was intrigued, her mother had obviously had a relationship that needed to be concealed, was he engaged or married? The letters became discreetly descriptive, it was clear when they had got into bed together for the first time, "Oh that night of passion I shall never forget, you loved all of me, there was nowhere that you didn't reach with your ardour."

Emily began to feel excited, the letters were revealing a side of her mother that she could never have imagined had existed. It was joyous to read the lines her mother had written; such an outpouring of love and affection. Emily's mother had always been kind to her but their relationship had been built on the premise that you should avoid being over emotional and get on with life.

Emily wondered why her mother had apparently had to give up this intense love affair and marry her father. Then, all at once, it became shockingly clear. In a letter from Maud to Cec in late 1950, Maud dropped her habit of shortening Cec's name and wrote it out in full, "My Dearest Darling Cecilia, You know I love you desperately and in another world, at another time, we could have lived together openly and harmoniously but, forgive me Cecilia, I have lost all hope of us ever being together in this world."

A feeling of desperate sorrow overwhelmed Emily, she dissolved into sobbing tears, her mother had been deeply love with another woman, and had felt that social norms and propriety meant that she must give her up. Emily wept uncontrollably, her mother's heartfelt love and desperate sorrow were too much to bear. She put the letters down and cried at the utter desperation and loss her mother must have felt sixty years earlier. She moped through the rest of the afternoon and evening, and went to bed still feeling sad and in low spirits.

After a good night's sleep, Emily awoke with a new purpose, she was glad that her mother had loved so deeply; that she had experienced something so profound. She compared her own dull life to her mother's short-lived experience of true love and sexual fulfilment. She was thirty seven and had never made love to another person, that was something she needed to change, that was something she must put right and she knew instinctively that it would be with a woman. There was no way that she'd be able to get into bed with a man. For the first time in her life, she admitted to herself openly that she was sexually attracted to women.

Her mother's letters had had a profound affect on her, and she hated the thought of becoming an ageing spinster who had never had sex. But who was she kidding? She was still shy, introverted Emily; that hadn't changed overnight. How could she even begin to think about going to bed with someone? But wait, this was something she wanted to do, she needed to do, and she must find the courage to do it.

********************

Emily had spoken in passing to Sophie's mother and leaned that Sophie was working for a travel agent specialising in trips to Asia. She had plans to start her own business and was saving up to put a deposit down on a flat, in the meantime, she would be living at home. For several weeks, Emily secretly took every opportunity to watch Sophie from her bedroom window, to the point where she was becoming obsessed with her. Then one warm sunny Sunday, when Sophie's parents had gone out for the day, Emily watched her sunbathing topless in her back garden.

By this time, Emily had used her inheritance to give herself a makeover, she'd had a makeup session with a 'Clinique' representative in Rackhams store, and she'd bought new clothes. She'd been surprised to see how good she looked in tight jeans, and she'd bought new pencil skirts, suits and dresses for work. She'd also bought new lingerie, she thought of it as lingerie now instead of underwear, after all, a woman on the verge of sexual awakening must feel and look the part. On a whim, as she filled her basket with bras and panties, she also picked up two suspender belts and half a dozen pairs of stockings. She felt excited at the thought of wearing them, and splashed out on three pairs of high heeled shoes before the old Emily had a chance to make her come to her senses.