Memories of Emma Ch. 02

This is a direct sequel to 'Memories of Emma', and probably doesn't make much sense without it. As my first story, it was better received than I could have imagined; and I hope this second chapter lives up to whatever expectations it may have created.

I cannot, in all honesty, remember how I slept that night; but I do remember a lot of confused dreams about Emma from that time. We'd be at a party, or somewhere else where there were a lot of other people, and at some point she'd call me away into a private room, and, wearing what she had been that day, start to strip for me. A dress from a club or a hoodie from the library, her top would come off, and somewhere in my subconscious I'd decide whether she'd been wearing a bra that day.

Most often she was silent, but other times she would tease me. I'd called her flat for years -- it was a good bit -- and dream-Emma would get her comeuppance. And that was how it always ended: Emma topless, smirking, mocking my reaction to her body. I never touched her, and her bottoms (whatever they were) never came off. At least not in those early days.

I never worried too much about those dreams meant, but no doubt amateur psychologists could have fun with them. As I gained the upper hand in real life, I gave it back in my dreams; or maybe there was a genuine anxiety about starting to see Emma in a sexual light.

That may have been it, actually.

Official orientation began the next day. I was going to read English literature, Emma history, and everything was organised according to your course, so we weren't likely to see each other until dinner at the earliest. Which was probably good. What's the first thing that you say to a friend after wanking to her nudes for the first time? Hell, after sending a nude?

I considered texting her as I walked over to the uni, and got as far as opening Messages, but even with the picture deleted, 'he scooped some up and fed it to me' redirected too much blood from my brain, and it seemed best not to linger on it. What had we started?

What had I started?

The day started with a presentation by the Professor of English, an amusing but long-winded man who didn't do quite enough to drive images of perky nipples and a cum-splattered midriff from my mind. But soon enough I was introducing myself to classmates and the flow of new names and faces pushed the images from my mind. Next was a tour of the humanities buildings, and an introduction to library, before a big pizza lunch in the quad. This was for all the humanities students, and I'm pretty sure I saw the back of Emma's head, but I was caught up in a group of English students and couldn't get over to her: maybe for the best.

The afternoon was quieter, starting with a fire-and-brimstone talk about academic integrity. The professor who gave it would eventually become my thesis advisor and a trusted mentor; and though he retired a few years ago, I still amuse myself sometimes by imagining what he'd say about ChatGPT. After that, a talk on IT, and some time in a computer lab to set up our new email addresses. Then we were free: which meant it was time for the pub.

Someone knew where they were going, and soon enough a mob of us were heading across the river to what was jokingly called 'the English department', which turned out in fact to be a pub called the Swineherd. The patio had already been taken over by returning students, and beers were pressed into our hands as we swam through the crowd to a table.

As the press from our arrival started to dissipate, I found myself at a picnic table on the patio with three others: Sarah, a blonde second-year, and two other first years: Dave, whom I'd met at lunch, and Olivia, a red-head who seemed a little bit lost.

Sarah had the sort of personality that immediately put people at ease, and (between that and the alcohol) we were soon enough sharing our excitement and hopes for the year. Dave had played volleyball too, and soon we were trading old tournament stories while Sarah re-assured Olivia that uni students didn't spend all of their time drinking. 'Sure, there's plenty of work to do. But you'll go crazy if that's all you do. Getting fucked up is a great way to relieve stress -- for that matter, so is getting fucked!'

Olivia's blush turned her face nearly the same colour as her hair, and Sarah let out a cackle that drew Dave and I out of our conversation. 'Are all first years this prudish?'

I nearly choked on my beer, thinking about the previous night, and left Dave to defend our honour. It turned out that he had grown up locally, and was still with his high school girlfriend. Not, I thought, as my mind went to Alexis, that being with someone meant that you couldn't still be a bit of a prude. But the answer was good enough for Sarah, who turned her attention to me next. 'Uni girls won't be throwing themselves at you just cause you can smack a ball nice and hard, you know.'

Confidence seemed to be working, so: 'That's not all these hands can do.' Sarah's great laugh boomed out again, but it was Olivia's second, smaller blush that caught my eye. She had delicate features, and a pretty face. Interesting.

'We'll see about that, Firstie. You gonna be out tonight?'

Dave cut in before I could. 'Miss our first student night? Not likely!'

'Student night? But it's Wednesday!' Came Olivia's objection, to general amusement.

'Don't worry, sweetie' said Sarah, dropping her arm over Olivia's slender shoulders. 'We're gonna teach you everything that you need to know.'

The conversation continued with a discussion of the famous uni triad of sleep, grades, and fun, of which you could have any two but never all three. Then Sarah got a bit more serious and started reflecting on her own first weeks. 'Some people you see every day for a month, then never again; and some people you only see in class but somehow you're best friends three months later. You can't plan anything. And, yeah, maybe you sleep with the wrong person and get hurt for a bit, but a year later it's only the good parts that stick. You only get one chance to make your mark, y'know?'

We didn't, of course, but we made the right kind of assenting noises. There was a bit of a lull in the conversation after that, and Dave popped off to the bathroom while Sarah went to grab another round. I opened my phone and, trying not to think too much about it, sent a text to Emma.

Student night?

My face must have given something away. 'Someone special?' Olivia's voice was soft with a shyness that I found strangely appealing. If only she knew.

'An old friend,' I said with a laugh, and was telling her a bit about Emma when the others returned. Sarah had apparently seen some open seats at another table, and insisted on dragging us off to the larger group. The next few hours passed in a blur of names, faces, and drinks. Quite a few drinks. Eventually someone bought some food, and soon enough we all followed suit. The plan, as it filtered down the table, seemed to be for a break after eating so people could go home and get ready for the night out.

In the meantime, I had been texting with Emma:

Yes! Some of the history girls are gonna take us out, so we'll hook up with you guys later?

Interesting choice of words

As if your nerd friends would know what to do with us

History students aren't nerds anymore?

Ha ha. We're starting at sugar and spice around midnight

Not sure where we'll be. Will keep you posted.

We left the Swineherd around 8, though not before I'd exchanged numbers with Sarah, Dave, and a few others (though not Olivia, I regretted obscurely: she'd given her number to Sarah but not volunteered it any further). The plan, as I gathered it, was for the guys to meet up at another pub around 10, before meeting the girls somewhere called Jungle Bar around midnight.

It was a pretty short walk back to my flat, and when I get home Steve was hanging with some friends in the lounge. I figured that I had some time to kill, so I joined them in a couple of drinking games before heading to my room to prepare, such as it was. Being a dude has some perks. I tossed on some black jeans and a dark-red shirt, cuffing the sleeves at my elbows. Before leaving, I texted Dave to make sure I wouldn't be the first one there, and replied that he was on his way too; then I told Emma that we'd be starting at Jungle Bar but hopefully find her later.

As it turns out, I did get to the next pub first (The Elk, the name contained between the impressive antlers of its namesake on the sign), but after a few minutes of awkward loitering I saw Dave and a few other familiar faces make their way up the street. We settled in to a large, comfortable booth, and with a full afternoon of drinking under our belts, the conversation flowed much more smoothly than might have been expected. Eventually a cute brunette made her way over to our table, a short skirt and crop top revealing her athletic form, and my eyes lingered maybe a bit too long on the subtle hint of her abs before Dave could introduce her as Becca: his girlfriend. Well done, Dave.

After a few more rounds, we finally got a text from Sarah that the girls were ready, and it was time to head towards Jungle Bar. Not entirely trusting our own sense of direction, we piled into a couple of taxis and soon found ourselves on one of the main streets in town, at that weird time when the quiet of the late evening was giving way to the wild clamour of the night. Jungle Bar was tucked in off a side alley, its door framed by plastic palm fronds, a small taste of the gaudiness indoors. Off to the right was a long, tiki-style bar, which was already busy, and in front of us was the dance floor, which wasn't. The entire ceiling seemed to be covered in artificial foliage, and a sign with large red letters declared a platform in the far corner the 'Rain Forest'.

'Don't go getting any ideas!' came Sarah's voice from behind me. I turned to see her smiling and wearing the sort of dress that made me love being a uni student. She was tall -- about my height, in heels -- and curvy, wearing a pink dress that was doing the bare minimum required to preserve her modesty.

'Do people really go up there?' I couldn't help but ask.

'Just you wait, Firstie.'

The guys and I were swept along by Sarah and her train over to the bar, and though I looked for Olivia she didn't seem to be there. The music was already too loud for small talk, so I stood quietly behind Dave and Becca in line at the bar. Eventually I grabbed the student special (vodka Red Bulls -- toxic, but they'd keep you going) and made my way to the corner of the dance floor where the rest had gathered somewhat awkwardly. But the place was filling up quickly, and soon enough the music, alcohol, and general enthusiasm of the crowd wore away everyone's reservations. Dave and Becca were quickly entangled in a way that fairly well rebutted Sarah's earlier accusation of prudery, but the rest of us generally stuck in a few large circles. As with most nights in town, things soon enough became a bit of a blur, punctuated by a spilled drink or (bizarrely) a short dance with a cute but intimidatingly tattooed girl, who vanished as suddenly as she'd appeared.

I took that as my cue to grab another drink, but as I turned away I felt someone grab my upper arm. 'On to the next one, Firstie!' I followed Sarah to the edge of the dance floor, and escaped to the deafening quiet of the street. Dave and Becca were still with us, along with a couple of guys from the Elk and three girls, one of whom was definitely named Annie, but I could not have told you which.

'Where to next?' Dave asked, and Sarah suggested Sugar and Spice -- which I quickly seconded.

'Got someone you wanna see?' she asked in an amused tone, and I answered honestly but incompletely about Emma, before shooting her a quick text to ensure that we weren't about to pass like two ships in the night.

waiting for bathroom we'll probably be stuck here forever.

That worked for me. I had no idea what I expected to happen when I saw her, but based on her documented activities at parties, and our mutual drunkenness, a certain thrill of anticipation was starting to take hold.

Back on the main street, we were swept along by the hordes of screaming and laughing students, and finding myself next to Sarah I couldn't help but ask about Olivia. 'Oh, well, that might be my fault,' she said with a tone of mild regret. 'Did you notice whether she ate any dinner?'

I hadn't, honestly. 'Yeah, me neither. Well, anyway, she came over to mine to get ready, and I guess we were a bit too encouraging when it came to shots. Anyway, she wasn't in much of a fit state to come out. Shame, though,' she met my eye conspiratorially, 'she was looking hot in her little green dress.'

I wasn't quite ready to explore that line of thinking yet (Emma was quite enough confusion for now), and tried my best to redirect. 'You guys get her home OK?'

'Yeah, and luckily her flatmates are homebodies, so she's got some people to take care of her.' The edge was completely gone from Sarah's voice, and I caught for the first time the abiding concern for her friends that made her such an easy person to like.

My phone buzzed again. still stuck in line organise UN aid.

drafting a security council resolution

'How far off is this place?'

'Just up the block! Honestly it's a better place to start than Jungle, which doesn't really go off until they start up the Rain Forest.'

'Is that really-'

'Yup. Not for the modest. Or the sober. We'll you get you up there soon enough.'

'Just depends on the company.'

Sarah's laugh boomed out. I was quickly growing to like her, but though she looked good in that pink dress (which had currently ridden up just enough to reveal the hint of a very impressive bum), there was no real sexual tension: just an effortless banter that she extended to anyone who could keep up. For a second I thought of my friendship with Emma, which I would have described in much the same way until about 24 hours ago. Ours not to wonder why, I suppose; and I couldn't claim to regret anything.

We turned after the next street and followed a small stream of people down another side alley, where we joined a queue in front of a red door. 'It's a bakery and cafe during the day,' I heard Sarah explain to Dave and Becca. 'That's the sugar. Then at night they open up the back room, with the bar and dance floor--'

'Where things get spicy,' Becca finished for her. Though she hadn't been drinking as long as we had, she'd done her part to catch up. Between that, and Dave's quite enthusiastic attention at Jungle Bar, she was getting bolder than I had expected. Trying (and no doubt failing) to be surreptitious, I let my eyes trace the healthy swell of her breasts, pressed up beneath her low-cut top into some remarkable cleavage.

I forced myself to look away, somewhat confused. I'd only met Dave today, but he already felt like a friend; and whether by him or anyone else, Becca was taken. Something seemed to have changed, last night, seeing Emma: the idea of people's sexuality, unknown but lurking, seemed more potent. How would Dave and Becca end the night? Fucking, sure, but that seemed too simple: what did she like? How would he make her cum? And what would she do for him? A vision of her breasts wrapped around his dick swam into my mind, unbidden but not quite unwanted...

'Earth to Matty, Earth to Matty,' came Dave's voice, drowning my visions in a wave of guilt. The line had moved a good fifteen feet ahead of us, and I was now at the back of the group. 'You good, man?'

'Yeah, just... thinking. Big day,' I offered somewhat lamely. But Dave was nodding, agreeing.

'It is, isn't it, starting uni? It all feels so much more real now. And I didn't even really move, not like you.' The line was still moving, even as we didn't. 'Come on now, let's get you inside, see if you can't sample some of the opportunities that this new life offers.'

I could only laugh at that, thinking of Emma inside and the paradox that my oldest friend had taken a completely new part in my life. Not that that was what Dave had meant, of course. Maybe that was what I needed: a torrid spin on the dance floor, and a chance to take someone home to my own flat. It had been a few weeks now since I'd last seen Jane, and whatever was happening with Emma, I knew that I couldn't rush it. Would she be OK with my getting laid? I certainly didn't feel as though I had any exclusive right to her. And anything she did, I could make her tell me about. Make her show me.

Thoughts that I had successfully suppressed that morning were beginning to resurface under the influence of alcohol and promise of seeing Emma, but before I could get too distracted the bouncer was asking for my ID, and we were in. The room was shadowy, bathed in a dim, red light, with high rafters lost in the gloom above. The dance floor was immediately before us, while off to the right a wide doorway was closed off with a curtain: the entrance to Sugar, I suspected. Along the back wall, beyond the heaving mass of bodies, ran a series of booths and tables; and the bar itself was off to the left. Beyond it ran a hallway leading, I guessed, to the bathrooms.

Becca dragged Dave straight down onto the dance floor, and I looked away with an obscure twinge of envy. Trying to shake it off, I turned to Sarah. 'Buy me a drink?' She laughed, and turned towards the bar.

'You're not quite my type, Firstie.' As we approached the bar, we passed the hallway and I could see the line of women that Emma had been -- still was? -- stuck in. I was just about to text her when I saw Kim's face moving back towards us from the depths, joined a second later by Emma's. Catching Sarah, I shouted something about waiting for friends, trying rather vainly to point them out. But soon enough Kim gave a big wave, and emerged followed by Emma and a pretty brunette whom I didn't recognise. Drunk girls only do one kind of introduction, and Kim gave me a big hug before turning to Sarah for introductions, at which point the brunette embraced me, shouting 'Dani!' in my ear. I returned the favour, and then there was Emma.

There seemed to be a question in her eyes, but I was too distracted by what she was wearing to notice. She wore a black halter dress, open in the back and cut so low at the front that even with her small breasts she was forced to wear a lacy black bra -- the same dress and bra that

she had been wearing in the photos I had seen last night. And not wearing, came the more dangerous thought from below my belt, and my heart thudded. Then she stepped in for a hug, casual as ever, though of course it wasn't. Her body felt alien against mine, not the Emma I knew. Well, she'd made her move. Leaning in close, I asked, 'Matching panties?'

She pulled away, but I locked my arms behind her, holding the embrace. Irritation flashed in her eyes, but that was a look I knew well, and harmless. She pushed again, and I squeezed tighter, feeling the softness of her back where her dress left the skin bare. The irritation hardened, but there was a rising flush in her cheeks: she liked it when I took control. Then her gaze dropped, not quite holding mine, and I heard a shy 'Yes.'

'Good girl,' I whispered back as I let her go. I'm not sure that she heard it, but the flush hadn't entirely left her cheeks as we turned to face the others, quite oblivious that our hug had been anything but friendly.

'Have you met my friend Dani?' Kim shouted across the circle, bringing us back to the world outside our ill-defined game.

'Only just now!' I said, looking properly at the brunette for the first time. She had a pretty face, with brown eyes, plump cheeks, and full lips. Her hair, worn down, framed it nicely, and swept just low enough to tickle the tops of her full breasts, which sat high but heavy, unsupported by anything but a soft blue dress designed, I think, for someone rather less gifted. There was a softness to her curves, lush and feminine, so very different from Emma's athletic tone. Dani caught me looking, of course, but only laughed and turned to Emma with an evil grin.