The Trouble With Emily Ch. 01

"Brian. Nice to meet you," Mitchell said as they shook hands. "You can call me Mitchell, or Mitch for short. Come on in!"

The kid was good looking no doubt, and dressed handsomely. He had dark eyes and dark hair and sported a trendy little moustache and goatee. Emily was quickly floating down the stairs to greet him.

"You look fabulous, darling," Brian said as he took Emily's hands in his. "I love you in that dress."

Emily was wearing the cute little light blue dress, casual enough for a night of dancing, dressy enough to wear any place, and sexy enough to turn the head of any red-blooded guy capable of maintaining a pulse. As the young couple stepped out the door and hurried out to Brian's car, Mitchell waved paternally. But for the rest of the evening his mind kept wandering back to the wonderfully brief glimpse he had enjoyed earlier of Emily's curvaceous backside as she dressed to go out. For just a few moments he let his mind wander back to the days of his youth when he was the young guy and Emily might have been his date. Then he laughed at himself for such a self-indulgent thought.

* * *

Then there came the night that he fell asleep on the couch in the family room watching the basketball game. The sound of a late night after hours program had stirred him awake but instead of jumping up and going up to bed he rolled onto his side for a moment. Then he heard footsteps on the stairs. Still mostly asleep and in a drowsy dreamy state of mind, his squinty eyes caught sight of Emily as she slipped down the stairs and padded into the kitchen, the sound of her bare feet kissing the tile floor. As Mitchell looked toward her, he could see her dressed in just a tank top and pajama pants. Perhaps it was just his drowsy eyes playing tricks on him, but her pajama pants were so thin and sheer that he could see the tiny purple g-string she had on underneath and the wiggle of her butt ensured that his eyes remained glued to her backside.

Emily moved about the kitchen nearly noiselessly fixing a sandwich. Then as she turned down the lights and moved back toward the stairs, she glanced over at the couch and saw Mitchell. Setting her plate and drink down on the counter, she approached him. Mitchell played possum, closing his eyes and lying still. Emily grabbed the TV remote control and switched off the set, then turned and leaned over him to pull an afghan up over his sleeping form. He was quite aware of the heat of her presence as she hovered over him. He cracked his eyes open just enough to catch a glimpse of her gorgeous breasts, swaying in front of him, straining at the thin material of her tank top. Afraid that he might get caught peeking, he snapped his eyes shut again. But as she slowly moved away, he looked up again to see the sway of her ass as she walked toward the stairs. Yes, he would remember this night, the first time that he noticed her, really noticed her as a woman, a very desirable woman. And the lingering scent of her perfume was the perfect exclamation point for his lurid little memory.

* * *

The Christmas and New Year's holidays came and went. Emily went home for a few days to stay with friends and family. She had been gone only a day before Mitchell realized how much he missed having her around. He missed their quick little chats in the morning and the aroma of her presence lingering in the upstairs hallway. He missed her cooking skills. He missed just knowing that she was around the house looking after his children. He missed her. Mitchell was a little chastened by his response to her absence. She has her own life to live, he kept telling himself. She has her own life! But all the time that she was gone, he wondered about her, how she was feeling, if she was having a good time, if she was smiling that great smile of hers, and if she missed them as much as he missed her.

When Emily returned, they began a new winter tradition. On his way home each Friday, Mitchell would rent a couple of movies, something that the kids would enjoy and something a little more mature. Mitchell would stoke up a roaring fire in the fireplace, cue up the first movie, start up the popcorn in the microwave, and they would all settle in to watch the movie, the whole group crowding onto the large leather couch.

Many times it didn't matter how lackluster the movie, Mitchell found it extremely satisfying to look around the family room and see Emily and his kids enjoying the first feature. Although Emily's taste ran toward horror and sci-fi movies and Mitchell's taste ran toward Indie films and offbeat, often foreign films, he was pleasantly surprised when Emily would eagerly watch whatever he had brought home for the second feature. As the chill days of winter rolled on, it became something of an obsession for Mitchell to make sure that there was a full stack of firewood ready to burn, plenty of popcorn, and a couple of good movies to watch each weekend.

* * *

Then there was a Wednesday evening in the middle of the winter. The weekend before, Mitchell had thoroughly cleaned out Timothy's room and rearranged the furniture, putting the bed against the wall opposite the door. With his teeth brushed and his pajamas on, Timothy crawled into bed and Mitchell sat beside him, reading to him as they had done ever since he was a child. They were partway into a chapter from the Complete Thomas The Tank Engine book when a flash of color caught Mitchell's eye and he glanced up. Through the wide open door of Timothy's room he could see the door to Emily's room. It was slightly ajar and afforded a clear view of the full-length mirror beside her dresser. That was nothing in and of itself, but what Mitchell could see in the mirror caused him to stop mid-sentence and gape for a moment.

Emily had spent most of the evening in her room studying. But when Mitchell looked up he could see her standing by the dresser rummaging through a drawer. Then she suddenly crossed her arms in front of her, reached down for the hem of her red cashmere sweater and pulled it up and off over her head, revealing the sexy little white lace bra she was wearing underneath. The white lace was sheer, sheer enough to see the outline of her nipples. Mitchell was sure that his jaw dropped to his chest.

"Dad ... Dad," Timothy called out. "Read the story, Dad."

"Yeah, um, right ... the story," Mitchell mumbled as he fumbled with the book on his lap yet continued to watch Emily get undressed.

Apparently the gods of reflective science were in his favor. Timothy could see nothing and Emily was apparently completely unaware that Mitchell could see her, but the effect of her innocent little striptease was undeniable. Mitchell felt his cock throb unmercifully and grow instantly hard underneath his jeans. His eyes were glued to the mirror in her room. Emily then unfastened the snap of her low-rise jeans and pulled down the zipper. Mitchell watched as she tugged them down her long legs, then bent over to slip them off the rest of the way. As she stood back up and folded up her jeans, Mitchell could see that she was wearing a skimpy little matching white lace thong that showed off the trim and pert curves of her ass beautifully.

"Dad ... Dad ... the story?" Timothy insisted.

"Um, right. The story," Mitchell said and quickly glanced down to find his place in the book. He began to read haltingly to his son again but his eyes were magnetically drawn back up when he saw Emily reach behind her back and undo the clasp of her bra. She slowly slid the straps from her shoulders and then pulled the cups away from her breasts. They were simply spectacular! Firm and perfectly rounded, finer than any he had ever seen anywhere; they were a nice full size, not overly big, and topped with gorgeous, rosy pink nipples. Mitchell struggled to read the Thomas The Tank Engine story to Timothy but couldn't take his eyes away from this erotic glimpse of Emily undressing.

Mitchell really didn't want to stare. He certainly didn't think of himself as some sort of creepy peeping Tom or anything. But her door was open and he could see her and he was helpless to look away, especially when she hooked her thumbs inside the elastic of her thong and eased it down over the gentle flair of her hips. When she bent over to step out of the scant little scrap of white lace, he could see her breasts jiggle and sway gently, and the mound of her sex came into view between the tight cheeks of her ass. He had to bite his bottom lip when he saw that her pussy was clean-shaven. Oh, my fucking god, he thought. I've never seen a more beautiful sight! He had seen his share of sweet little pussies but never one so delightfully shaven. He knew that young girls did that nowadays, but to see one on such a beautiful girl, one whom he actually knew, was almost more than he was prepared to handle. Then Emily stood up again and drew her hands up over her body, a quick little glide over her pussy then up to her breasts giving a little tweak to her beautifully defined and erect nipples. She then moved out of his line of sight and the sound of the shower in her room started up. Her little show was over but the memory lingered on.

As Mitchell refocused his attention on completing his reading of the Thomas story to Timothy, his voice grew thick and tight and he had to clear his throat several times to continue. He was also very aware of the painful hard-on cramped up underneath his blue jeans. But Mitchell managed to finish the story to Timothy's fond appreciation. He kissed his son good night and indulged him in a long conversation about nothing in particular before heading back downstairs.

Passing Emily's room he could hear the faint sound of her splashing in the shower singing to herself in her delightfully off-key voice. Now, having once caught a glimpse of her gorgeous body, Mitchell couldn't keep the image of her in the shower from forming in his mind, her hands soaping up her clear smooth skin, dwelling in his mind's eye at least on her breasts and ass and completely shaven pussy.

When he returned downstairs, Mitchell had to pour himself a glass of bourbon, easy on the ice, and sat down to read the book that he was currently working on. The letters on the page squirmed around when he tried to concentrate on reading because the image of Emily undressing kept replaying in his mind. It wasn't like she had been deliberately putting on a show for him, but the overall effect was greater than any striptease he could remember when out in the past with his buddies at a gentleman's club. Watching Emily peel the clothes off her beautiful, sexy body had sent his pulse racing and given him a full-fledged hard-on that would not go away. He tried to shake off the images racing through his head and concentrated on reading his book, but that was submarined just a few minutes later when Emily came downstairs to fix herself a little snack. He watched her move through the kitchen, fix a plate of fresh fruit and then bring it into the family room.

"Whatcha reading?" she asked as she sat on the couch and pulled her legs up beside her. She was wearing her usual evening attire, a little tank top and a pair of pajama pants, which left little to the imagination when Mitchell glanced over at her. He could see the fine curving outline of her breasts and the sharp tips of her nipples poking through her top and instantly flashed on the image of her naked body that he had spied earlier.

"Um, reading? Oh, yeah, this. Um, Audacious Courage, about the Lewis and Clark expedition," he replied, his voice still thick and uncertain.

"Not my kind of thing," she giggled. "You know me. I love creepy scary stuff."

"I know. Witches and vampires and all that," he managed to reply.

Emily looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked with a tone of concern.

"Me? I'm feeling fine." He shrugged.

"You just look a little flushed, like you're running a fever or something," she remarked.

"I'm ... I'm okay. Just fine," he said, putting his hand on his forehead for a moment. "See, no fever."

But he knew what was wrong. He had been spying on this beautiful innocent girl while she undressed, however unintentionally it had been on either part, and he was thoroughly embarrassed. Yet her breezy, sexy little grin, and the firm jiggle of her breasts when she laughed was tantalizing him and he was struggling within himself. What he had done was wrong on some level, but at the same time he had been incredibly turned on by it all.

"Just so you're okay," Emily replied. "You're always so busy and never take time to look after yourself. Someone's got to do it."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

"So can I ask you something, Mitch?" she asked, sounding a little tentative.

It was the first time she had called him anything but Mr. Gallagher. It caught him by surprise but he felt good because she was comfortable enough to be so familiar. Mitchell nodded.

"Sure. Ask me anything," he replied.

"How am I doing here?" Emily asked. "I know after six months there's a review thing with the agency. Before we go through all that, I was just sorta wondering where I stood with you is all."

"Well, I think you're great," Mitchell began. "You're terrific with the kids. You're helpful and friendly with everyone. The kids seem to adore you."

Emily seemed pleased and smiled softly.

"Good. I hope so. I just love kids and babies."

"Well, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful mother some day," Mitchell added. "When you're ready to settle down and have them."

"I hope so," she said, her face growing a bit sad. "I really want to have a baby, but might not be able to."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"What can you do? My gyno says it'll take a minor miracle for me to conceive and carry a baby. Guess that's why I chose this sort of career. I can be a surrogate mother."

"You'll make a great mother, Emily," Mitchell said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

Emily finished her snack and stretched out over the cushions on the couch. Despite his best attempts at burying his face in his book, Mitchell couldn't help but glance over at her as she then picked up and paged through a magazine. God, she was beautiful, so fresh from the shower, her complexion creamy smooth and her chestnut red hair still a bit damp. He had picked Emily over the overtly sexy girls because she seemed so innocent and safe. But now that he had seen her naked, his male nature had been awakened and become aroused. Finally he couldn't take it any more and shut his book.

"I'm heading up to bed now," he said, getting up from his easy chair. "Have a good sleep."

"Thanks. I will," she replied with a smile.

Her gaze glided down from his face over his body so he held his book over his crotch as he passed by. He felt the warmth of her eyes on him. She couldn't be checking me out, he thought. For Christ sakes, I'm more than twenty years older than her. It must be just my fertile and overactive imagination playing tricks on me. But as he stripped down and climbed into bed naked, his hard-on was begging for a very real release. As he touched himself he thought of her hands touching him. He thought of her naked body bending over him, her hands stroking him, her warm breath brushing over his most sensitive parts, her breasts swaying down to brush against his thighs, and he instantly exploded, milking his urgent illicit desires until he fell exhausted against the sheets, trembling as the built-up tension flowed from his body.

* * *

Then came that first warm day of the summer-spring actually-and it was hot, not just warm. At the insistence of the kids, Mitchell had opened the pool a week or two earlier than he had originally intended but it was worth the effort as they enjoyed a nice long swim during the long hot afternoon. Later in the day, Timothy had gone inside to play with his GameCube, Kelly was online making plans for the evening, and Mitchell was laying out to get a head start on his summer suntan. He was sitting on a lounge chair swabbing some sunblock on his arms and legs when he looked up to see Emily coming outside.

She was wearing a skimpy purple string bikini that did little to conceal the lush curves of her body. With her red hair tied firmly up behind her head, she tossed a towel down onto the lounge beside him and watched for a moment as he finished his legs.

"Want me to do your back for you?" Emily asked.

"Um, well, sure ... if you want," he replied, surprised at her offer, although it did make perfect sense. But logic had nothing to do with the warm blush that flooded his cheeks.

She took the tube of sunblock from him and sat behind him on his lounge chair. Her hands were soft and warm and she took her time massaging the lotion into his backside, working it all around, from his shoulders all the way down to the waistband of his bathing suit.

"You have a nice back, lean and strong," she remarked. "But very tense. You need to relax." He then felt her hands ply his shoulder muscles harder. "Come on, relax, Mitchell."

It sounded like she was giggling. He glanced over his shoulder at her and saw a look of decided concentration on her face. Mitchell breathed deeply and tired to find a soft warm comfortable place for his thoughts.

"I'll be relaxed in no time once I start to warm up," Mitchell said. Emily finished with a final firm massage that worked all the way down the middle of his back. Mitchell turned back toward her. "Gee, I think you might have a future as a masseuse. That was great."

"Think so?" Emily chuckled as she got up from his lounge and moved over onto hers. "I like massages, giving and receiving."

"I'll have to remember that," Mitchell replied, watching with interest as she lowered the back of the lounge and spread out her towel. As she settled down onto the cushion, she uncapped her own sunblock and sprayed some onto her chest and shoulders. There was something so ... so erotic about watching the way Emily moved her hands over her smooth creamy skin that Mitchell had to look away, especially as she spread the spray around her breasts. The sight of her nipples growing erect beneath the thin fabric of her suit sent a twinge straight down to his loins.

He lay beside her, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun penetrate his body and relax and loosen every muscle and fiber. Fifteen or twenty minutes later he went for a swim. When he returned to his lounge, Emily had turned over onto her tummy. While Mitchell toweled himself off, he took in the long sweeping curves of her legs and butt and back. In the heat, the tiny triangle of her purple suit bottom clung to her firm and spectacular buns. With her legs slightly parted he could see the cleft of her sex press against the thin purple fabric.

"Can you do me?" Emily asked, startling Mitchell from his trance-like stare.

"Huh?"

"Do me up? My back?" she asked, waving the bottle of spray in his direction.

"Oh, yeah ... right," he mumbled and then sat obediently beside her on the lounge, trying not to rest too close to her. When he shook the bottle, Emily reached behind her and tugged at the tie of her top, pulling it free and tucking the strings underneath her. Mitchell tentatively sprayed the mist over her backside.

"Rub it in real good, okay?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am!" he replied.

"Hey, I'm too old to be called ma'am!" she protested playfully.

"Yes, ma'am ... er, miss," Mitchell returned.

"That's better," she giggled. "I think."

Other than a polite handshake or a friendly hug, this was the first time he had ever touched her. He hoped that his nervousness wasn't conveyed in his light touch on her skin, which was creamy smooth and soft and inviting. He started at her shoulders and worked his way slowly down her shapely back. Mitchell couldn't believe how soft and smooth and supple her back felt to him.