Authors: Carol Swan
After work that night I thought about Emma as I sat alone eating pork stew and potatoes from the evening before. The food was excellent. We should have been eating together. I wondered if she was pissed off with me. Did I take advantage of my employee? Was I going to lose her?
But what a fuck machine Emma was. I had no idea.
*
Several days passed by. Nothing was said about the night she slept over. Not a hint, not a wink, not a smile. It was as if it never happened.
The phone rang in the shop one afternoon. After the call I went and found Emma. She was in the paint room, dancing and painting.
"They want us to do more work for Whistling Swans."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I've not committed yet. I need to talk to you first."
"Why?"
"Because it's a bunch of work with a finite time-line."
"What is it?"
"Corporate wants the stupid logo on the top rail of their benches."
"We're not making benches."
"I know that. It's the bench manufacturer that called me. He's a friend of mine. That's not true. He's a colleague. We've worked together before. He's actually a bit of a prick."
"So what's the job?"
Sixty one benches. Six grand. I'll split it with you. It's the same jig that we have for the tee-off blocks. We just have to carve, sand and paint. We don't even have to poly. They'll deliver the top rails to us and then they'll pick up when they're all done."
"Sounds great!"
"Yeah, but. They want it next week! He said Wednesday, Thursday the latest. Either way, it's going to be an hour a piece. That's thirty hours each."
"So?"
"We still have to maintain production on all the rest of the stuff. You know that's all very tight."
"So?"
"So...do you want to take on the work? It means we're working the weekend. Plus late nights. This is no joke."
"I realize that. You said you'd split it with me?"
"Yeah, three grand each."
"For thirty hours work?"
"If it's an hour a piece."
"That's a hundred bucks an hour."
"No. It's a hundred bucks a piece." I corrected her.
"I'll have to stay here," she said.
"I know."
"You know what will happen?" she said. She smirked and watched me intently.
"Yeah, every night," I said grinning.
"I am so fucking in on this!" she growled, grinning too.
"Great!"
I called him back and said we'll do it.
"How come it's not sixty one hundred for sixty one benches?" she asked.
"I told you he's a prick."
*
The next morning Emma called to say she'd be an hour late. That was a first. When she arrived she had me help her unload her little black Yaris. She'd been shopping. We stuffed all kinds of things into the fridge and cupboards. She brought a suitcase of clothes.
It was as if she were moving in. I guessed she was in a way.
The bench top rails were delivered that day.
"How come we're not making the sixty one benches?" she asked.
"Because we're not set up for it. We can certainly make one, in fact we can make sixty one but not at the same cost that numb-nuts can make them at."
"So why isn't he doing the carving himself?"
"Because he's not set up for it. He can certainly do one, or two or five. But not sixty one. Not at a reasonable cost. He's a wood shaper, we're wood carvers, there's a difference."
"What if we had ten thousand to do? There's got to be an easier way."
"There is. It's called a CNC machine."
"What's that?"
"Computer numerical control, or something like that. It's a machine that's attached to a computer. Fasten down the block hit start."
"Why don't we do that?"
"Well for starters the machines are sixty thousand plus. Then the amount of programming that is required takes you forever. For a straight cut it's not bad, but in 3D bas-relief it's a lot more complex. And in the final analysis, it's not that fast. Perfect copies though, every time."
Snap. "Aaugh!" It broke. She fell.
"Fuuuck!" she screamed.
"No!" I rushed forward. It was too late.
Emma was hanging upside down, firmly attached, by the shoelace loop of her left boot. Her arms hung down, her fingertips were all of maybe an inch off the ground. Her right leg was bent at the knee, hanging by its own weight.
I collapsed in laughter. She reminded me of a Tarot card. The Hanging Man.
She twisted, flexed, bent up, reached, bent up again, twisted again and tried to raise herself again, all to no avail. The sad thing was that had I not been there, Emma would have been in a life threatening situation. Unless she could raise herself up and unhook that boot, she was food for the vultures. I doubted that anyone could hear screams from where we were. Finally she settled herself hanging upside down.
"Sam?" Her face was all red.
"Emma?"
"Can you get me down?"
I paused for a moment.
"I don't think so."
"Douuuug."
"Maybe, but it'll cost 'ya."
She paused.
"I'll suck your cock."
I laughed. "No, you already do that and you love it."
"I'll shave my cunt."
I laughed again, "No, you've already offered to do that."
What a delicious moment.
"Alright Sam, what do you want me to do?"
I couldn't help but laugh. She did look funny hanging there upside down. Completely helpless.
"Ooohh...I dunno."
"Sam!"
"Let me think!"
"Sam!"
"Give me a second."
"Anal sex. You can fuck me in the ass."
I howled with that one. "No. Your ass is mine anyway."
"What do you want?" She was growing desperate.
"Dinner. We'll go out for dinner."
"Dinner?" Her tone expressed her disbelief.
"Yes...but."
"But...
what
?"
"I get to buy you a new outfit for dinner."
I thought I could read suspicion on her upside down red face.
"What kind of outfit?" she asked carefully.
"A flowery dress and shoes and a purse to match."
"Noooo!" She started to contort, she tried to reach her boot lace, her arms flailed about wildly. She kicked with her free leg.
"And no face metal."
She twisted, she tried to reach for anything. Fighting, she tried to reach up.
"Pink fingernails. Light pink. Girly pink!"
"Noooo!" Her arms thrashed about. Her entire body turned a different shade of red. It was if she was attacked by a swarm of bees. It took a few minutes but she eventually settled down with her arms hanging down, fingertips almost to the ground. Her chest heaved in and out searching for air. Defeated.
"Fuck you," she gasped.
"So is that a yes?"
There were two deep breaths before she hissed, "Yes."
"Oh and one more thing, yes, I'd like your pussy shaved. Bald."
She growled at me.
I clapped my hands together laughing. Oh what fun I was going to have.
I untied her shoelace. She slipped to the ground.
As she stood up I brushed the twigs and leaves off of her and gave her a kiss. "You okay?" I asked.
She smiled and said, "Yeah."
"Are you staying tonight?" I asked. I could hear the apprehension in my voice.
"Only if you want me to Sam."
"Of course I do. I know you bought something funny for dinner. What is it?"
"Nopalitos."
"What the hell's that?"
"Cactus," she said as she picked up her spent beer can and turned to walk down the mountain. She turned after a few steps and said, "Come on let's go."
Did she say cactus? I picked up my beer can and followed her down.
"Do we get early Christian music with that?" I was ribbing her as I walked behind.
She stopped, considered for a second then said, "I've some Gregorian Chants in the Yaris. Only one CD though, but it's two discs."
"I was joking," I said as we continued to make our way down the mountain.
She turned to me and said, "Well I'm not," and then walked off.
What a strange bird, that Emma Progue. How many Goth girls have Gregorian chants in their car?
I came downstairs after my shower, dressed in usual sweats and tee to the sound of monks chanting throughout my house. There was almost an echo happening. I half expected a line of brown robed, hooded little men to shuffle by. I was sure they were somewhere in the house. I checked to make sure the front window wasn't replaced with stained glass.
"What's cookin' good lookin'?" I kissed Emma as I entered the kitchen.
"I told you, cactus," she said and lifted the lid.
"Wow!" it did smell good. I didn't see any needles, but I did see what appeared to be green tomatoes. "What can I do?"
"Set the table, I'm having my shower. Don't let anything burn."
Off she went. The monks and I were left in charge of cooking... of what I didn't know.
There was a sliced onion and a clove of garlic on the cutting board. The rice was out. I picked up a little box she had obviously bought, Achiote Condimentado. What the hell?
She came down from her shower wearing a black knee length skirt and a white blouse. No bra because I could see nipples and nipple rings poking through. Somehow it didn't match the fuzzy pink slippers. She had some eye makeup on too. Black naturally. But not too much.
From the couch where I sat I peered up holding my newspaper in one hand and beer can in the other. Clearly I had a puzzled look on my face.
"It's Sunday night dinner Sam. Are you really going to be dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt?"
Gulp.
Apparently I set the table wrong. Emma showed me how the plate has to be one inch from the edge of the table, fork on the left, one inch, knife on the right, also one inch, blade towards the plate. Small fork also on the left, outside of the larger one, also one inch from the table edge. Spoon on the right, outside of the knife.
"We won't need teaspoons," she said grinning, "I'll make a gentleman out of you yet."
What the hell?
Maybe it was the Gregorian monks that were mocking me? I went upstairs to change into nice slacks and a long sleeve shirt.
"That's better," she said smiling as I walked into the kitchen.
"Can I do anything to help?"
"You could pour me a glass of wine. White please." She was stirring the rice and slicing a cucumber at the same time.
I drained back the rest of my beer and poured myself a glass of wine too.
"Do you have candles for the table?" she asked.
"I think so," I answered, and went off in search of something that may or may not exist. After a few minutes I found one. It was only slightly burnt. I popped it into a glass candle holder and set it on the table. I found matches too.
"Go on, light it," she said as she walked into the dining room with two salads on small plates. "Do you have trivets, something to protect the table from hot bowls? We need two."
I found some and lit the candle just as Emma showed up carrying two bowls with serving spoons in them.
I got the hint. I held out Emma's chair for her to sit on as she came back with her wineglass. With a huge smirk on her face she sat down as I pushed her chair in for her.
"Thank you kind sir."
"You are most welcome madam." I took my seat. "Do we need to say grace?"
"If you wish, but I think the monks have been doing that for the last hour, what do you think?"
"I would agree. Please tell me, dear lady, what is it exactly that we are dining on tonight?" I couldn't tell.
"A stew of pork, Nopalitos, that is cactus and tomatillos. And this is rice with achiote, it's a crushed seed, Mayan red."
It was fantastic. I'd never tasted anything like it before. I certainly expressed my gratitude to Emma for the fine dinner.
"Thank you for getting dressed up a little," she smiled holding her fork.
"I must say that your nipples show well through the blouse. Thank you so much."
"See, isn't Sunday dinner nice?" she said with a huge grin on her face.
"With these monks chanting away, does that mean the Sunday night sex has to be missionary style?" I asked.
"Sex on a Sunday night? You must be joking," she said with a straight face.
I think I turned white. I considered her leather collar with a cross, her early Christian music and the Gregorian chants. Is there some Christian taboo about Sunday sex that I don't know about? What was with this girl?
"I'm joking Sam!" She curled her little finger and regarded it for a second.
I let out a sigh of relief.
We cleaned up after dinner. There were enough leftovers for both of our lunches the following day.
I snapped her ass with the tea towel as she ran out of the kitchen giggling heading for the stairs.
She was kneeling on the bed facing the door undoing her blouse when I made it upstairs. Her skirt was hiked up. Fuzzy pink slippers still on.
"Come suck my nipples," she said as she slipped one arm from the sleeve.
Eagerly I approached the bed undoing my shirt.
"Pants too. I want you naked," she said as she tossed her blouse to the side chair.
As I undressed I discovered that Emma hadn't been wearing panties the whole time. I missed some serious grope opportunities, especial during the clean-up. I made a mental note to myself.
She lay on her back on the bed, naked. I crawled up to her and lowered my mouth to her left nipple. Hard ring and soft nipple invaded my mouth. I twisted both with my tongue, my lips pursed and I gently suck it in. I could hear her breath escape. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and sucked in as much breast as possible. Easily half went in. I returned to tongue teasing and gently sucking her nipple. Emma teased my hair as I continued. I switched to the other nipple and repeated the process. Emma's breathing became heavier and heavier. Her nipples became longer and harder. I switched back to the left nipple and started the process again. After a few moments, I switched back to the right.
I suddenly became aware that my cock was rigid.
Emma's face was flushed as I pulled my lips off her nipple. Her fingers immediately continued where my tongue had left off. She gently twisted and tugged at her nipples.
I kissed my way down her belly stopping at the piercing in her belly button. I sucked and twirled it in my mouth before proceeding father south. By the time I reached her public hair I saw that Emma's belly was bouncing.
She spread her legs apart and held her knees up. Her pussy spread open to reveal her pink majesty. The sweet, tangy, earthy essence of Emma juice pulled me in. My tongue touched her pussy lips. I gave her a huge lick and collected as much as she offered. Her taste triggered something deep in my brain because I lost all sense of time and space. It was me and her open pussy; a complete symbiotic relationship. I pleasured her pussy, she pleasured my brain. Her thighs quivered on either side of my head. I was aware of her moaning. I kept licking her innermost folds, tasting, kissing, savoring, extending my tongue into hole, swallowing with delight, twirling her rings with my tongue, kissing her clit, drooling, gently sucking her clit into my mouth, licking the length of her slit, relishing the flavor, poking my tongue into her hole again, swallowing, kissing her clit.
Her thighs and belly were shaking. I could hear her breathing.
I sucked on her clit and held the suction.
"Aauuugh!" her pussy flexed out to my chin. I gave her clit a hard lick, "Nnngghppha," she contracted again, she gasped for air, "hhhhaaa," she exhaled as she flexed again. I sucked in her clit again. "Auuughh," she flexed to my chin again.
She dropped her knees. I saw her pussy contract again. Looking up I saw her face was red, sweaty. Her nostrils flared in search of air.
Her arms flopped to her sides as her chest heaved. With each breath her small breasts widened and flattened.
"Oh god," she gasped.
I lapped at her pussy again and was rewarded with a good dose.
"Fuck me," she said breathlessly.
"Doggy?" I suggested playfully.
Without answering she rolled herself over and up onto her hands and knees.
"Shuffle down the bed," I said to her, pulling her hips towards the foot of the bed. She complied. I shifted myself around the bed so that my cock was in front of her face. My cock was at full mast, pointing straight up. Before I had a chance to suggest anything Emma's mouth was on my cock, she was trying to stuff it down her throat but the angle was incorrect. She left it glistening with saliva.
I shifted and positioned myself behind her ass. She lowered her face and chest to the bed, Her right hand moved to her pussy, with her index and middle fingers catching her inner labia and rings she splayed her pussy open. Silently offering, inviting me in.
My cockhead was there right away. I pushed it in. She was tight, warm, wet. I grabbed a hold of her hips.
"Ohhh," she exhaled.
I pushed all the way in and held my cock inside her.
"Ohhh...yeah...ohhh," she gasped.
I slid my cock out and slowly slid it back.
"Yeah, that's it...fuck me."
Her fingers found her clit.
I slid my cock out and pushed it back in. I could feel her knuckles on my scrotum.
We started a good rhythm, she fucked back eagerly anticipating every push of my cock inside her. With each stroke the momentum increased. With each stroke the vigor and intensity increased. Very soon I was fucking her and she was screwing right back with all of her might.