The Trouble With Emily, Part 4

The Trouble With Emily, Part 4 [part 4 of 4]
By: Miltone (miltone915@yahoo.com)

The Trouble With Emily

By Miltone(c)2005

Part 4

Emily's birthday came along a few weeks later. On the night before while everyone else was asleep, Mitchell stayed up late to decorate the house with a banner and balloons. Knowing that Emily was the first one up in the morning, he propped up a couple of very conspicuous presents and a card for her to discover.

Before dashing off to work and school, Mitchell and the kids wished and sang her a happy birthday, and Emily showed off her patented glowing happy smile and there were even a few happy tears. She opened her presents eagerly in front of the kids, a beautiful white satin robe and slippers that Kelly had picked out for her, a couple of music CDs courtesy of Timothy, and the latest novel from her favorite author from Mitchell. Emily exclaimed that they were the best birthday presents ever. Then she hugged Mitchell again, a nice warm friendly hug that lingered. She had rested her head on his shoulder and clung to him so tightly that they nearly melded together.

"Thank you," she had said. "Thank you so much. You guys are really like a second family to me."

He could feel the warmth and wetness of her tears melt though the stiff linen of his shirt. But they both quickly recovered. She had a ton of things to do and the kids had to get off to school. But as they broke away, Emily looked at him unlike she had ever looked at him before. It was as though she was seeing him for the first time and he felt embarrassed and looked away and excused himself to finish getting ready for work.

When Mitchell arrived home from work a little earlier than usual, Emily was upstairs getting ready to go out with Brian. He could hear her humming happily in that silly off-tune voice of hers behind the closed door of her bedroom. He went to change, but she apparently heard him in the hallway and her door swung open.

"Mitch? I need an opinion," Emily stated, her voice rife with indecision. "A guy's opinion."

"Oh?" he sighed uneasily, looking around and realizing that obviously he was the only guy within a hundred yards of the sound of her voice. He cleared his throat. "You want my opinion?"

"You're a guy. So, yeah, you'll do."

"So, um ... what's up?"

"Which looks best? This? Or this?"

Emily stood at the door of her bedroom, dressed only in a black satin thong, thigh high stockings, and heels. She held up a little black dress against her body, actually little more than a slip, made from a light silky fabric with a pair of tiny spaghetti straps and a back that swooped dangerously low. In her other hand, still on the hangers, she held a bow necked white knit top and a plaid pleated skirt that would ride low on her hips and end far above her knees. In the available moment, Mitchell imagined her in both outfits. His mouth watered. His pulse raced. His palms sweated. She would look fantastic in either; classically elegant in the former, fabulously hip in the latter, and incredibly sexy in either. But this moment demanded a judgment call and he dispensed with all logic and went with his gut feeling.

"You'd look great in both outfits, Emmie, but to be honest, for this occasion-and he is taking you to the Fox and Hounds tonight, right-I'd go with the little black dress."

"He is taking me to the Fox and Hounds, but are you sure?" With that she raised up the skirted outfit and lowered the little black dress somehow exposing as little of her gorgeous body as possible although there was plenty available from which his thirsty eyes could drink.

"Well, what are we trying to say here?" Mitchell asked. "A hot and sexy, take me, right here and right now, or a coolly elegant, spend your money, take your chances but it will be more than worth it in the end?"

"Hmm," Emily hummed. She turned and looked at her reflection in the tall mirror beside her dresser, holding up one outfit then the other. As she did so, he was afforded delicious side views of the lush lean curves of her breasts and hips. Then she held up the little silk black dress. "I think I'll go with elegance."

"Good choice, mademoiselle."

She laughed girlishly and sexily and Mitchell had to fight off those familiar lush warm feelings of enchantment. He was over her, wasn't he? There was certainly nothing wrong in finding her attractive, after all she was a pretty and sexy girl and most any guy would have been attracted to her. But she belonged to someone else and he wouldn't let her innocent beauty play games with his feelings.

Later when Brian had arrived and she waltzed down the stairs, he had to admit that his breath was taken away. She looked like a fantasy come true, her face aglow in an eternal grin, the dress clinging to her every curve, her young firm breasts surging up from the black silk and jiggling ever so enticingly, and her legs in the sheer black stockings, long and shapely, kicking down each step. He looked at Brian and noted the casual blasé smile and wondered if this guy truly realized what he had in Emily. He hoped so for her sake.

Then they were off. He remembered standing at the doorway waving, watching as they slipped into Brian's car and motored away in his infernal foreign machine. He thought of being that young again, of having his entire adult life yet to unfold before him. He remembered how he had been that age himself with everything to live for and without a single care in the world. Oh, those were the days! His life had changed with kids and a career and a house to care for now, but he wasn't sad because he had had his good times and now it was time for hers.

It was shortly before midnight when Emily came home, much earlier than Mitchell expected. He had anticipated that she might not be back till morning. Mitch was sitting in the family room reading, but had heard Brian's German iron pull up, music blaring loudly. The engine hadn't stopped running when the car door opened and shut forcefully and the car sped off.

The front door opened with a rush and Emily ran up the stairs to her room. Puzzled, Mitchell waited a few minutes expecting her to come down and say hello, but she didn't. He knocked back the last of his bourbon and went upstairs. He ended up standing outside her bedroom upstairs hearing the faint sounds of Emily sobbing.

"Emmie? Are you okay?"

There was no immediate answer so he rapped lightly on her door.

"Emily? You all right?"

"No! Go away," she cried out, her voice thick and heavy with tears.

"What's wrong, Emily? Emily? Are you okay?"

She didn't answer but her sobs grew softer.

"All right, but if you want to talk, I'll be downstairs for a while."

Mitchell went back downstairs, his mind racing over the possibilities. Of all that his fanciful mind could conjure, there was one that emerged, big and ugly. It must be something with Brian and their engagement.

It was a while later when Mitchell heard footsteps on the stairway. He looked up to see Emily descending slowly, her new white satin robe snugged tightly around her waist. She went straight to the kitchen and opened the liquor cabinet.

"What's that stuff that you drink all the time that tastes like medicine?" she sniffled.

"Bourbon."

"Yeah, that's it," she said, looking for and pulling out the half gallon of Jim Beam and filling a glass.

Emily took a sip then a long healthy drink. By this time, Mitchell was up and moving toward her. She glanced over at him, her eyes were reddened and damp with tears. What little makeup she had been wearing was smeared. Mitchell moved up beside her and put his arm around her waist. She leaned toward him and laid her head heavily against her shoulder.

"What happened, honey?"

Emily turned toward him and fell into his paternal embrace. She began to sob again and Mitchell simply held her and let her cry, her warm tears streaming down and wetting his shirt.

"Brian ... he's ... he's ... I'm ... oh, fuck, Mitch ... I don't know where to start."

Emily crushed her face into his chest and Mitchell held her tenderly as the tears continued to roll.

"You don't have to say a thing, Emmie," Mitchell said softly as his hand brushed the back of her head, through her silky chestnut red curls. Her arms had looped around him, clinging to him with an urgent desperation. He ran his hands tenderly up and down her back feeling the warmth of her body underneath the satin robe and nothing else.

It could have been a half hour before either of them moved. Emily sniffed and lifted her head from Mitchell's chest and looked up at him with her tear-stained eyes that were a fragile gray, not the sparkling blue-green that he was used to seeing.

Emily backed away and lifted her bourbon for another drink. She grabbed for a tissue and began to daub at her eyes. Silently she stepped down into the family room and slumped into the middle of the couch. Mitchell sat on the end beside her.

"Are you all right, Emmie?" he asked, reaching out to caress her cheek. His thumb moved over her soft plush skin, wiping at the traces of her tears.

"I'm all messed up, Mitch," she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "I don't know what to do, or where to start."

She looked at him again, her eyes filled as much with pain as with tears. Emily took his hand and pressed it to one cheek then the other. Then she kissed it.

"You don't have to say a thing, Emmie," Mitchell said.

"I ... I'd better spill it out ... I have to tell someone," she said tearfully.

"Take your time. We have all night," Mitchell remarked.

It took her a while to gain her composure, but Emily eventually took a deep breath and began to speak. As her words unfolded, it seemed that the tears began to dry up.

"Brian took me to the Fox and Hounds-that place is so beautiful. My birthday, a romantic, elegant restaurant, my guy-my fiancé. Everything was so beautiful. Then before we order dessert he tells me that he has something to say, something that had been bothering him for a while, something that I should know before we get married ..."

Emily's voice trembled and then trailed off for a moment. She daubed at her eyes again. She took another healthy swig of bourbon.

"God, this stuff is nasty," she said with a shiver.

"But it's good medicine," Mitchell replied.

"And I really need some good medicine," she said. Her back straightened up. "Brian looks at me with that silly grin of his and says that he has a confession to make, that he's not really bi after all, that he's really gay." Emily looked directly at Mitchell's eyes. "After all these years, he's finally discovered his true nature, that he's out and out gay."

"Whoa! That's a helluva way to wish your girlfriend happy birthday! So what about the wedding?"

"He proposed that we go through with it, sort of like a business proposition, and why not, since we have made all the arrangements."

"But what about after the wedding?"

"Brian says that we can go ahead like we've always planned, find a nice place together, settle into married life, throw dinner parties, travel, everything we've talked about ... except that he wants to be free to spend time with his boyfriends and go off and find some dicks to suck when he feels like it."

"Jesus! Get married so you can date someone else. What about you?"

"Oh, he said that I could go out with someone else, and if I ever found someone that I would rather be with then we could divorce."

"Unbelieveable! So he wants you and everything that comes with you, but he wants to be free to do whatever else he wants. Jesus! I feel so sorry for you. What about kids and all? You've talked about wanting to have children."

"That's negotiable."

"So you had no idea he was gay?"

"I thought he was bi. I didn't mind if he went with guys once in a while. But getting married meant giving that up and he didn't want to."

"What about diseases? What about AIDS? What about you? Gee, it sounds pretty god-damned selfish of him." The more he thought about it, the madder Mitchell became. "Didn't you have any idea that he was gay? You've known him for a long time."

"Guess I didn't want to believe it. He was the first guy I was ever with. We broke up a few times and I'd date other guys but would always seem to end up back with him."

"I find it hard to believe you didn't suspect something."

"Okay, maybe he did really like blow jobs a little more than most guys, and maybe in some way I suspected something, but I'm a very trusting person. I loved being with him. On holidays when my family would be over at our house to celebrate and things got pretty boring, we'd go up to my room and have sex. I never really thought about it ... until now."

"I'm sorry that you have to go through this, Emmie. I'm really sorry."

"Don't be. I got myself into this. I'll figure something out."

"So what about the wedding?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about that yet. And oh, shit! I've got to go over to my folks tomorrow. What'll I do?"

"You're not thinking of going through with it, are you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Who knows, maybe it could work out." The look on Emily's face grew sad. "I don't know what to do, Mitch."

Mitchell reached out to her and encircled her with his arms and she fell heavily against him.

"It'll be all right, Emmie. You'll figure something out don't worry. To blue skies and brighter tomorrows."

He hoisted his glass and she held hers up and they clinked them together and drank the last of their bourbon. Then Emily set her glass down on the coffee table and looked at him appealingly.

"Hold me, Mitch," she requested in a soft weak voice just a breath away from a sob. "Hold me and don't let me go."

Mitchell wrapped his arms around her and cradled her head against his chest. As she leaned toward him, he lay back against the cushions at the end of the couch and she lay on top of him. She sobbed once again and then her tears stopped. Mitchell bent down to kiss the top of her head, drawing in her natural scent and that of her perfume.

They ended up falling asleep together on the couch. When Mitchell awoke in the middle of the night, they had shifted slightly on the couch. His legs were stretched out across the seat cushions and Emily was curled up on top of him. As they had shifted in their sleep, her robe had fallen open and he felt the lush curve of her bare breast press into his palm, its taut nipple rubbing against his hand.

When he lifted his head, Mitchell could see that she was sound asleep. His thumb and fingers moved gently against the soft skin of her firm breast. Emily sighed and shifted position, thrusting her breast more firmly into his hand. He knew that his body wanted the taste of hers, but this moment was so thoroughly inappropriate. He held her gently and tried to purge his prurient thoughts.

Mitchell slowly retrieved his hand from her breast and the ensuing draft stirred Emily. She lifted her head sleepily and immediately noticed her dishabille. She straddled his hips and pushed up to sit atop him while she fixed her robe. Emily looked down at him and smiled.

"Guess we fell asleep," she said in a near whisper as she drew the white satin over the full swell of her breasts and cinched up the belt. "Sorry, 'bout that, Mitch. Didn't intend to give you a little show."

"S'okay. I was sleeping anyway."

"Uh-huh."

Emily bent down and kissed him on the cheek, then climbed up from the couch.

"It's late. We should both go to bed," Emily said and Mitchell nodded in sleepy agreement. They walked up the stairs together and paused at the top. "Thanks for being there for me, Mitch. You're a good man."

Mitchell smiled and watched as Emily padded down the hall to her room. Then he turned around and went to his own room. It didn't take long for him to fall sound asleep.

* * *

The next several days were obviously difficult for Emily. After leaving to spend the remainder of the weekend with her family and friends, she returned Sunday evening and seemed to throw herself into her work and studies. No detail around the house was overlooked. After dinner one evening, Mitchell saw her standing at the sink washing dishes. At first he didn't give it a second thought, but then he noticed her shoulders quiver sharply and her head bend forward. She sniffled when he approached.

"You okay, Emmie?" he asked.

"I'm good," she answered, raising up her head proudly. "I'm all right."

Mitchell stood behind her. He could tell that everything was not all right and wanted to do something. He eased up closely behind her and slipped his hands around her waist, deliberately trying to touch her in a comforting, friendly and non-sexual way. As he held her gently, he felt Emily lean back against him, her head sort of leaning up beside his, her arms folded over on top of his around her waist, and her back and butt pressing firmly against his body. Mitchell could tell that her body was wound up so tightly that she was trembling.

It may have been a minute, it may have been ten that they remained like this, but Mitchell didn't want to let her go. Soon enough the trembling stopped, but the tightness in her body remained. Mitchell slowly eased his hands from under hers and drew them around to her back. As he moved them up along her back, Emily leaned forward and rested her hands on the edge of the sink. Mitchell worked his hands up over her taut stiff flesh to her shoulders. Emily tilted her head forward as his hands began to move in soft gentle but insistent circles.

"Gees, there's a big knot right here," Mitchell said, circling his fingers around the base of her neck.

"Oh, god, that feels so good, Mitch, please don't stop," Emily pleaded, arching her back and pushing against his hands, surrendering to the pressure of his palms and fingers.

Mitchell didn't stop until he felt every muscle of her back relax. He ran his hands over her back, massaging and caressing her warm supple body through the soft fabric of her top. A few times, Emily moaned, but otherwise they were silent as he plied her flesh from waist to shoulders and back again. When he was satisfied that her tenseness was relieved and his job was finished, Mitchell embraced her from behind, his arms wound safely around her waist, his face nestled beside hers, their bodies pressed together snuggly and warmly.

"This feels really nice, Mitch," Emily whispered. "I'm not sure that I could make it through this time without someone like you."

"Thanks, Emmie," Mitchell replied. "Just let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"I will, Mitch. I will," she said, turning to face him. "Maybe it takes someone who knows pain and loss to really understand. I mean that I know what I'm going through is no where near what you did when your wife died, but just knowing that you're around and that you care means so much to me."

"I'm glad to help, Emmie," Mitchell remarked. "Everyone's life is so different and unique, but I know that I couldn't have gotten through without the help of some very good friends."

"Any of them as good at massages as you are?"

"Well," Mitchell remarked chuckling. "My buddies aren't exactly the type to give out massages, if you know what I mean."

"Then I'm very lucky that I have you," Emily replied, leaning up to kiss his cheek lightly.

Emily turned back to the sink to finish washing the dishes while Mitchell poured a glass of wine and headed toward the door leading out to the deck. As he stepped through into the cool late summer air, her could hear Emily humming an off-key tune and felt as if things were returning to normal.

* * *

A few days later, Mitchell was in his home office sorting through the pile of snapshots from the past year. He had managed to arrange them chronologically and was in the process of fitting them into a photo album. He was amazed at how the kids had grown, how much older and mature Kelly seemed to be despite her seventeen years, how tall and rangy Timothy was becoming.

Then there were the pictures where Emily began to appear, in her massacred cheerleader outfit for Halloween, in her tank and PJ pants lounging near the Christmas tree, in an elegant light blue dress before going out with Brian. In little more than a year, she had become such a dear part of their family, and there no longer seemed to be a huge empty gap in their home.

Mitchell slipped the heavy album back onto the shelf and gazed at the other older volumes. Impulsively he pulled down one from two years before. There was Kelly in braces and Timothy in his Cub Scout uniform. There was Mitchell and Angela, arm-in-arm in front of a wishing well while on vacation. Even though they had been having problems, they were both smiling broadly. He had always thought that there would be time to patch things up between them, to get back to the way things had been when they were first together, the fun little trips, the dinner parties with friends, the terrific sex. But then she found out the bad news and there was no time for anything other than doctors and clinics and hospital stays. He grinned sadly. There are no Mulligan's in life, he thought. No second chances, just the pain and guilt.

"Whatcha doing?" Emily asked cheerfully as she poked her head in the doorway. She was flushed and rosy from her workout and edged into the room, setting her purse and gym bag down by the door.

"Oh, just going through some old pictures," Mitchell said, flipping over a couple of pages.

"Is that Angela?" she asked as she sidled up beside where Mitchell sat in the high-backed chair.

"Yeah," Mitchell nodded. "This was at her parent's 50th wedding anniversary."

"She's pretty."

"Yeah, she was," Mitchell replied, feeling his voice tremble. "I thought she was the love of my lifetime. Maybe that's what's wrong with me, maybe that was my one and only chance at happiness and I blew it."

"What do you mean, blew it?" Emily asked. "It wasn't your fault that she got ill."

"I know, but that's not what I mean," Mitchell said. He looked up as Emily sat on the edge of the desk right beside him, looking intently at the open photo album. "Things hadn't been going real well for a while between us, things were said and done, things that we never had time to make up for."

"That's all right, Mitch," Emily said, her voice soft and comforting. She put her arm around his shoulders.

"She passed so quickly, I never had the chance to tell her that I was sorry. I never had the chance to make it up to her."

"There's a lot of things we never have time for, aren't there, Mitch?" Emily said softly. "That's why there's always a new tomorrow to try and make things better. That's why you have to live for the future and not dwell in the past."

"You're starting to sound like Stuart," Mitchell chuckled painfully.

"Maybe that's because we both care about you and want to see you happy."

"Do you? Do you want to see me happy?"

"Of course, Mitch. I just love you and your kids to pieces and want the very best for all of you. You know that."

"I guess I do, but it's comforting to hear you say it."

"Anything I can do for you, honey. You've been such a help for me lately, it's the least I can do."

Emily wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face into his hair, surrounding him with a warm hug. Mitchell patted her arm and sighed deeply.

"I can move on, I've done that I think," Mitchell admitted. "It's just that I'm not sure that I can forgive myself for treating her so badly."

"Didn't you see to it that she went to the doctor, and cared for her when she needed you most, and visited her every chance you could?"

"Yes, I had to, I wanted to."

"Didn't you see to it that her every last need was met, and ever since haven't you honored her by being the best dad you can to your kids?"

"Of course."

"Then I don't think you have to beat yourself over the head with some lingering feelings of guilt," Emily said, lifting her head up and turning his face up toward her. "You did everything you could with the opportunities you had. I think you've been amazing."

"Thanks, Emmie," Mitchell replied, patting his hand on top of hers. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Emily nodded and hugged him again. "A wise man told me once that there is always a tomorrow, isn't there?" she said.

Mitchell stretched out and looped his arms up and around her in an awkward but well-intentioned hug. She leaned toward him and giggled when she slipped off the desk and plopped onto his lap.

"Oh, my," Mitchell said, feeling the warm firm curves of her ass press into his lap.

"Well, isn't this cozy?" Emily remarked.

"Yes. Cozy. Very," Mitchell replied. They leaned toward each other, their foreheads touching lightly. "Thank you for being such a sweetheart, Emmie. I don't know what I would have done this past year without you."

"And thank you for taking me into your home and making this so much more than just a job," Emily said.

"Better than your last family?" Mitchell asked.

"Oh, much better," Emily replied. "They were nice and all, but I never really felt as safe and as well-loved as I have here with you guys."

There was a warmth and intimacy to the moment, something that seemed to pull them closer together.

"Dad! Dad!" Timothy called out as he rushed into the office. He pulled up short and stared when he saw Emily sitting on his father's lap. Mitchell jumped at the innocent intrusion and Emily tried to get up from his lap.

"What is it?" Mitchell said excitedly as Emily slipped off his lap and he stood up.

"Kelly won't get off the computer and she isn't doing homework."

"What do you need it for?"

"I hafta find some revolutionary war pictures for my Social Studies project," Timothy explained. "She's been on it all night chatting with her friends and won't get off."

"That's all right, sweetie," Emily said. "You can use my computer if you want."

"Cool," Timothy responded.

"Just don't let her get any cooties on you," Mitchell warned.

"Dad! There are no such things as cooties," Timothy insisted before storming off up the stairs.

"Your little boy is growing up so fast," Emily said to Mitchell as she followed Timothy upstairs.

Mitchell smiled and filed away the old photo albums. As he paused and glanced out the window, he felt an unfamiliar sense of relief. Somehow just talking with Emily had helped him immensely. All of his convoluted emotions felt like they were straightened out. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that he had given his all. Sure, he had made mistakes and fate had taken away the possibility of making up for his errors. But every day since he had tried to do all he could for his kids. Now maybe he was truly ready to do something for himself.

When he went upstairs to check on Timothy's progress, Mitchell got a chuckle out of seeing his boy sitting with Emily at her computer, laughing and joking as they surfed together for the pictures he needed. Emily looked up and smiled, a twinkling blue-green eye winking at him. When he lay down to sleep that night, Mitchell felt completely relaxed, tired from the day, but loose and light and settled. He had this king-sized bed and a lot of love and passion to share. Would the girl of his dreams be ready to step out of his reverie now that he was ready to accept her?

* * *

"Anybody home?" Mitchell called out as he closed the front door behind him. It was a Friday evening and he was late getting home from work.

"Just me," Emily sang out from upstairs.

Mitchell set down his briefcase and keys and climbed the stairs.

"What are the kids up to?" he asked.

"Timothy is over at Duncan's house and Kelly is spending the night at Eileen's," Emily replied from inside her room. She was sitting at her desk writing.

"When's Timmy due home?"

"Don't you remember, he's spending the night so they can get an early start on their Boy Scout outing at the Science Center tomorrow."

"Yeah, that's right," Mitchell remarked, remembering. "So when are you heading out tonight?"

"I'm not," Emily said. "I'm thinking of spending a quiet evening at home."

"Really? You look like you're dressed up to go out."

"This old outfit?" she asked, looking herself over. A bulky white knit sweater and a short gray plaid skirt was topped off with a pair of tall black boots. "I guess. Maybe."

"I think you look cute," he said, looking her over.

"Thank you," she said sounding appreciative but otherwise unimpressed.

"Tell you what, Emmie, if you aren't doing anything tonight, do you feel like grabbing a bite to eat someplace? I'm starved."

"I am kind of hungry. Sure, why not?"

"Let me wash up real quick and I'll meet you downstairs."

Mitchell was the one who ended up waiting downstairs. Emily came to the head of the stairs and then glided down slowly. Mitchell looked up at her and smiled. She hadn't changed her clothes, maybe touched up her hair and makeup, but she looked terrific.

"You look gorgeous, Emmie," he said.

Emily didn't respond immediately but her grin spoke of her pleasure for receiving his compliment.

"So where do you want to go?" she asked. "I'm kind of poor."

"How about Shiro? I'll pay."

"I haven't been there yet. I've heard they have a yummy sushi bar."

"Anything you want tonight."

Mitchell helped Emily into her black leather jacket, slipped on his own and they headed out to dine. The restaurant was near by, housed in an older Greek Revival styled mansion built many years ago by a wealthy industrialist. They left Mitchell's SUV with the valet and entered the serene and slightly funky foyer. The soft lighting, pale walls, fine linens and cozy fireplaces lent an air of comfort and quiet. They were met by a tall, beautiful Asian hostess, and were shown past the array of Asian artwork and rich wood paneling up the grand center stairway. Their intimate table was set near an inviting field stone fireplace that flickered warmly.

"This feels strange not having the kids around," Mitchell remarked as they settled in. "But it's nice, don't you think?"

Emily nodded.

"So is this a date?" she asked, her blue-green eyes sparkling.

"A date?" Mitchell said, a little confused for the moment. "Hardly. At least I don't think so. You're still my nanny so it really can't be a date."

Emily looked disappointed.

"Let's just say that we're a couple of friends celebrating ... um, let's see ... how about a great start to your final year of Master's studies."

Her look of disappointment didn't diminish.

"I was kind of hoping for the date angle," she remarked.

"Why? Would you like to date someone like me?"

"Not someone like you, Mitch," she said, her eyes rich with feeling as she gazed over at him. "I think you'd make a great date."

Their lovely Asian waitress approached them quietly and respectfully interrupted them, introducing herself with a formal little bow. Mitchell ordered some sake for them and they looked over the menu, which was an interesting blend of Japanese and French cuisine.

"So what's good here?" she asked.

"Everything," Mitchell replied. "I'm not that big on sushi so I can't judge that, but everything else I've tried is great."

They settled on the wasabi shumai and the foie gras with raspberry demi-glace and fresh berries for appetizers. Emily ordered one of the house special plates of sushi and Mitchell settled on the panko shrimp and crab cakes. They made a certain agreement to share.

"So have you heard from Brian?" Mitchell asked. Emily looked down and away sadly for a moment. Then her expression brightened and she looked back up at him.

"He's doing terrific as always," she said. "He's that way you know. Nothing ever bothers him."

"Then how are you doing about all that?"

"I'm okay. I've gotten through it and I'm not looking back."

"I'm glad to hear that. I only wish that there was something more that I could do."

"What more could you do, Mitch? You were so terrific. You were supportive and yet gave me my own space. I don't know what I would have done without you and the rest of my friends and family."

Mitchell looked at her closely. She was smiling and looking bright and optimistic. There was a lingering trace of regret in her eyes, but just a trace. Otherwise she was upbeat and fresh and lively.

"You know. If there is ever anything that I can do for you, anything, all you have to do is ask."

"I know," she responded. "And I am so glad that you are that way."

Their waitress brought the wasabi shumai and the foie gras, refreshed their sake and they began to eat.

"This is sooo good!" Emily exclaimed as she sampled the wasabi.

Mitchell fell in love with the look on her face, so expressive, so intense, so animated, so on the edge. He grabbed his own fork and was forced to admit that the flavor was terrific. Emily sampled the foie gras and looked across at him intently.

"Can I ask you something?" she said in a soft voice.

"Sure. Anything."

"Tell me about your wife," Emily said.

Other than a few nights ago looking at the photo albums, they had never really talked about Angela. Emily had never asked, Mitchell had never spoken. But the subject had always been sitting there between them.

"At one point, for a long time actually, I thought that our love was going to last forever," Mitchell began. "She was beautiful and smart and everything a man could ask for in a woman."

"Why do I get the feeling that there is a 'but' in there someplace?"

"I thought I had the world by the balls. I had everything, a great house, a terrific job, the woman of my dreams."

"So what happened?"

"I'm not sure exactly. The kids came along and suddenly the whole world changed. I was ready for them. We had married fairly late in life, you know. But I was mature and was ready for the midnight feedings and poopy diapers and all of that parenthood stuff. But somehow, someway, she changed. Angela went from being this sweet sexy woman of my dreams to some sort of perverted nightmare. I loved her so much that I kept trying to make it work, I took her crap and bitchiness hoping that someday she would realize the way I felt about her, but she seemed to push me away at every step of the path."

"That's sad."

"I mean, it got so that she didn't like the way I kissed her, the way I touched her. Hell, she even criticized me for the way I took off my pants. It was like I suddenly woke up sleeping beside a stranger. She wanted me to change virtually everything about myself but I had to accept her the way she was. There was no sweet and sexy girl anymore, just this insufferable bitch."

"So what happened?"

"For a long time, nothing. Then she came home one day from her doctor's visit, all in tears. There was something suspicious and she needed to go back for more tests. I went with her and stood beside her all the way. Cancer. Modern man's nightmare. She was riddled with it. I knew from her family history that she was susceptible, but I had no idea. I was totally unprepared. So was she. As I look back on it, it's all a blur. Before I knew it, she was gone, and I've never forgiven myself for all the terrible things I said to her and the even worse things that I thought about her. Those I kept to myself."

Emily reached across the table to him.

"How long has it been?" she asked letting her warm hand settle on his.

"Two years."

"Don't you think it's time that you did something about it?"

"Like what?"

"Mitchell, you need to find yourself another sweet and sexy girl. You have a lot to offer her. I can see it in your intensity, your deep feelings, and your sense of what's right. I think you need to look to the future, you know. When your kids are grown and moved out you'll need someone or something to keep you occupied."

"You're right. That's what Stuart is always saying. But it's so hard. So fucking hard. Without the right one, the right woman ..."

"Maybe you need to look someplace new, find someone new."

"I know. I've looked around. But it's hard for me. I'm not like most guys. I don't just jump the first set of bones that comes along."

"I know, and that's part of your charm."

"But look at me and my situation, I'm close to fifty, still with two kids to support. The young women I meet are way too young and aren't ready for the family scene, and the older ones are pretty much done raising their kids and want some freedom. Besides they seem too ... too ... too old and set in their ways. I still have some growing to do. Maybe that sounds weird, but I haven't found a happy medium."

"Maybe you're placing too much emphasis on your age. It's really the least important thing after looks for making a solid relationship."

"You're probably right."

"I know I'm right, Mitch."

"In the last few months I've come to realize that I've still got so much to offer. I know that I have this great capacity to love someone, someone special. Every day I can feel that love and passion in my heart and soul. Guess the next girl who comes into my life will enjoy the benefits."

"I'm jealous."

"What do you mean?"

"I wish I was that girl."

Out of nowhere, their waitress quietly appeared and cleared away their finished appetizers. She seemed so apologetic to be interrupting them, but their mood had shifted direction and a moment later their waitress returned with their superbly presented entrees.

"You should try this," Emily said, offering up a forkful of sushi.

"But it's raw fish and who knows what else," Mitchell protested.

"Trust me. It's really good. Maybe you'll like it."

"And maybe I'll get really sick or have some sort of hideous allergic reaction."

Mitchell knew that his protest was futile. He accepted the forkful and, after finding it delicious, asked for a second. Emily presented him with another and he nibbled it off her fork.

"This is really nice," Mitchell remarked looking around at the dining room.

"It is. I just love the food," Emily replied.

"Well, yeah, that too," Mitchell said. "But I meant this, you and me." He waved his fork back and forth between them. "This is really nice."

"It is. You're a really fun companion, Mitch."

"Thanks."

"You know, this may sound weird but I've been noticing the old lady over there, kind of over your shoulder-don't look just yet. But she's been giving us the eye ever since we sat down."

"Hmm, oh really," Mitchell remarked, trying to resist the desire to look at the old lady. "And what do you think that's all about?"

"I think she disapproves."

"Of what?"

"You here with me."

"Too bad for her."

"Of course, we could always give her something to really disapprove."

"Huh?"

Emily set down her fork and leaned forward over the intimate little table. Mitchell cast a quick look over his shoulder at the little old lady who was sitting with some little old man and giving them a nasty look. Was it the difference in their ages or were the biddy's undies in a bunch for some other reason? When Mitchell turned back toward Emily, her face was nearly right before him and he leaned forward the last inch to kiss her.

The melding of their lips together sent violins ringing through the air. The kiss may have started to be all about show but its effect on the participants was considerably different. Mitchell couldn't believe how soft and sweet and moist were Emily's lips, tasting of sake and sushi. The moment had come so quickly, the impulse so sudden, that he hadn't taken the time to realize just what was happening. But once their lips touched, his mind began whirling and he leaned forward into the kiss, burning the memory deep into his mind.

"Well," Emily said as they parted and picked up their forks again. "How do you like your crab cakes?"

"Um, they're ... uh, great," he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. "Moist, tender, very tasty. Want a bite?"

Emily nodded and he scooped up a generous forkful and offered it across the table to her. Emily gave him a wry smile and then took the tasty morsel off his fork with a flourish that was all pink tongue, white teeth, full red lips, and soaked in sex. The look in her eyes and the way she nibbled at the crab cake was definitely getting to him, raising his level of arousal several notches. She must know what I'm thinking, she has to, he thought.

They worked their way through their entrees, sharing nibbles and bites and enjoying the delicious food and the wide-ranging conversation. By the time he finished his last bite, Mitchell felt entirely relaxed. The sake and Emily's great smile had a lot to do with it. She was a wonderful companion, not shallow or superficial, but thoughtful and full of humor. And her memorable kiss, so impromptu and tantalizing, was giving Mitchell ideas, nice ideas.

When their waitress returned to clear away their empty dinner plates she asked if they would be interested in dessert. Emily and Mitchell exchanged a contemplative look.

"Would you like dessert back at the house?" Mitchell asked.

"Only if you can whip up something like that chocolate swirl cheesecake," Emily said, pointing to the example on the dessert tray the waitress had carried over.

"You've got me on that one," Mitchell said and they decided to stay and split a lovely slice of the confection.

When they finally left the restaurant, a cool breeze was stirring and quickly tousled Emily's hair. The valet was prompt and helped her duck inside Mitchell's SUV. She flipped down the sun visor and combed her chestnut red locks back into place with her fingers.

"Oh, that wind! I look a mess!" she remarked with disgust.

"I don't think so," Mitchell replied, gazing over at her, as he steered the car toward the street. "I think you look beautiful."

Emily reached over and patted his cheek.

"And I think that you're a sweet man."

Within minutes they were back home.

"I don't know what could make this evening any better," Emily said as they stood in the warmth of the foyer and Mitchell helped her out of her jacket.

"I do," Mitchell replied. "How about brandy in the family room?"

When Emily agreed, he went to the liquor cabinet while Emily made her way to the family room. Mitchell poured and carried the brandy into the family room and rejoined Emily.

"It's been a while since it's been just the two of us at home."

"Yeah, and a lot has happened since then," Emily remarked as she took the snifter Mitchell offered her. "But here we are again." She glanced over at him and took a sip from her glass. "Thanks for tonight, Mitch."

"Don't mention it."

"And thanks for being such a gentleman."

"You're so sweet. How could I be any other way around you?"

Mitchell gazed at her, feeling his smile spread across his face.

"You know, Mitch, I just love it when you look at me like that."

"Like what."

"Like you did just now. Sometimes I just melt when I see that look in your eyes."

"What look?"

"That look of deep desire."

"You're playing with me, aren't you."

"I think you're playing with yourself, Mitchell. I've seen that look before. The first time was a while after I started working for you. You looked at me like I was the most beautiful, most precious thing in the world. And you're always so cute about it, because you never say a word, you just look into my eyes and I can sense the way you feel about me."

"Oh? And what do you sense about my feelings right now?" Mitchell looked into her blue-green eyes. With her hair still tousled from the walk inside and a glowing blush in her cheeks, Emily looked thoroughly enchanting.

"You're making me think that you're in love with me."

"Love?"

"Uh-huh. Love. L-O-V-E, Mitch."

"Not that I'm admitting that I am," Mitchell said evasively. "But let's say if I were, what would you think about it?"

"Not that I'm saying you are, but if you were, I would want you to know that I feel the same way."

Their mutual desire to avoid a confession of deep feelings came as amusing to both of them. They grinned and chuckled. Then Mitchell turned a bit serious.

"Really? You mean that you could fall in love with a worn-out old fart like me?"

"Mitch, you're not worn-out, you're not all that old, and you're much too polite to fart in my presence."

Mitchell grinned, took a sip of the brandy and cradled the glass in both hands. As he looked at her again, Mitchell sensed all of the feelings that he had ever had for her were starting to flow back inside him again, the feelings that he was once sure he had buried and were lost forever.

"So, are you saying you're in love with me?" he asked.

"Are you in love with me?" she countered.

"I ... I think I am," he said slowly. "I believe I am ... maybe I always have been."

"Good ... that's very good to know, because I'm in love with you."

They were sitting very close, their shoulders brushing together, their hips bumping, their breath mingling. They leaned toward one another, their noses touching and their lips brushing lightly. They set their glasses on the coffee table and eased their arms around one another.

"If this is going to work," Mitchell said, combing his fingers through her silky red locks. "I don't want to fall in love with your youth, or your fresh beauty, or your sexuality, just you."

"I know."

"I don't know how long it will last but it has to be all or nothing."

"Yes, Mitch."

"People are going to say some pretty nasty things, and it won't always be easy, but we can't doubt each other."

"Mitch," Emily said. "Please be quiet and kiss me again."

He did. Mitchell took her into his arms and kissed her, their lips melting together from the warmth. When their lips were reluctant to part, they snuck shallow little breaths, the heat of their breathing washing over each other's cheeks. Mitchell found the taste of her mouth deliciously exciting. Their tongues touched and danced an oral tango that ebbed and flowed from her mouth to his and back again. When they finally parted, Mitchell cradled her face with both hands.

"I've dreamed about sharing a romantic kiss with you for a long time," he said. "I just knew it would be something special."

"It helps when you're a good kisser," Emily replied and leaned toward him again.

Their lips touched again, this time with more strength and passion. Mitchell's hands trailed down from her face, drifted lightly past her neck, and glided over the soft knit fabric of her sweater, exploring the swell of her breasts. He could feel the trace outline of her bra and the firm mounds of flesh underneath. As he drew his thumbs over her nipples, he felt them grow taut and erect, and a shiver sweep through her body.

When Mitchell raised her sweater up, he gasped at the sight of her breasts cradled in a sheer little white lace bra. The cups barely covered her nipples and concealed nothing of the heaven that lay underneath. The perfect natural curves of her breasts aroused him tremendously. Emily lifted her sweater up and pulled it off over her head. Mitchell looked deep into her blue-green eyes as his trembling fingers reached out to her, dancing lightly over her sleek tender skin, flirting with the lace edging of her bra.

Emily arched her back and thrust her spectacular breasts toward his hands. When Mitchell's touch remained light and soft, she grabbed his hands and drew them tightly against her yearning sensitive flesh. Mitchell moved toward her, bringing his lips to her lips, to her neck, to her shoulders, to the cleft between her breasts.

He eased the delicate straps of her bra down off her shoulders then pulled the fragile lacy cups away, revealing her gorgeous rosy pink nipples. Mitchell pressed his lips against her silky smooth skin, sampling the tasty sweetness. He drew the tip of his tongue over her creamy skin until it neared a taut erect nipple. Drawing a lazy circle around her nipple, Mitchell teased her with his warm breath, and his parted lips flirted with the puckered aureole. When he closed his lips around the rosy tip and sucked it into his mouth, Emily moaned and threaded her fingers behind his head through his hair to pull him toward her.

Emily sank back onto the plush cushions of the couch. She freed her arms from her bra and pulled it fully down and away from her breasts. Mitchell cupped them with both hands, gently squeezing them and directing the tips toward his mouth. No part of her breasts escaped his lavish attention. He spent precious minutes, kissing and licking her tender sweet breasts, sucking and nibbling on her taut erect nipples until Emily squirmed and wriggled from the intense sensations. She rested her hands on his head, guiding him from breast to breast, arching her back to push them into his hungry mouth.

Mitchell could see the flush of arousal spill down from her face to her neck and chest. Every kiss and lick and nibble brought a sweet squeal from her until finally Emily pulled his head up to kiss him with a fierce passion he had never experienced. Their kiss was long and deep and wet and penetrated him completely. He felt all of his pent-up passions churning up inside him.

Mitchell looked down at her and caressed her with his eyes and fingertips. Then he rose up from the couch while Emily lay back reclining with her arms up over her head, her back arched seductively, one leg up on the couch while the other lay off to the side. Her little gray plaid skirt was folded up to her hips. Her mons was barely covered by a dainty triangle of sheer white lace. Her eyes, her breasts, the angle of her limbs, every part of her sent a thrill of arousal through him.

He reached for her leg that rested up on the couch and began to remove her tall black leather boot. When he had slipped it off and set it aside, he took her foot in his hands and kissed it. Her foot was warm and damp but he didn't care. He kissed her toes and massaged the bottom of her foot. His lips moved slowly up over her ankle and leg, stealing toward her knee, kissing every inch of her shapely calve. When he neared her knee, Mitchell let go of her leg and reached for the other. He removed her other boot and began the same slow trip up her upraised leg. With her skirt fallen up past her hips, he could see that the white lace of her panties was pulled tightly against her sex, revealing the sweet moist cleft.

This time he didn't stop when he reached her knee; Mitchell kept going, kissing and caressing the soft tender skin that he found along her firm trim thigh. By the time he reached her upper thigh, he was kneeling on the couch, his face descending into the warm soft vee of her parted thighs. The scent of her arousal was sweet and pungent. When his lips fell just millimeters from her pussy, Emily grasped his head and guided him to the eager mound of her sex.

He kissed her through the thin lace of her panties, his tongue and lips able to taste her through the sheer damp fabric. He nuzzled his face against her, humming as he ran his tongue over the panty-covered slit and raked his teeth over the hooded cleft at the top. Emily gasped loudly and dug her fingernails into his scalp.

With a husky growl, Mitchell pulled the damp lace of her panties to the side and drew his tongue over the freshly shaven folds of her pussy. Emily let her thighs fall apart, spreading open the sweet pink petals of her most intimate parts. He pressed down against her and let his tongue dance roughly over the split of her center, probing the moist entrance, tasting the tender sensitive ridges and then finding the hard little nub that lay above.

With both hands he gently spread her apart, licking and sucking every part of her sweet little pussy. Her hips moved in a slow needy circle as he laved her with a loving tongue. When he probed at the entrance to her warm center with his fingers, she gasped. When he sucked her clit deep into his mouth while turning and twisting his fingers up inside her, Emily cried out with pleasure. She dug her heels into the couch and lifted her hips up, forcefully pressing her pussy against him.

Mitchell was intent on pleasing her. He wanted to give her so much. Emily had done so much for his family over the past year. But the moment was so far beyond that. She had become a friend, a confidant, a trusted member of the family, and as each moment now transpired, she was becoming his lover, the intimate part that had been missing most of all from his life.

"Emily," he said, lifting his head up from between her thighs. The hungry look of arousal in her eyes spoke volumes about what he hoped that she felt for him. Mitchell wanted to bring her to a place that she had never known, a space of peace and joy and satisfaction that any of us only know once or twice in a lifetime. "I want ... I want to make love to you ... without condition ... without exception ... without-"

Emily placed her forefinger on his lips to quiet him.

"Mitchell, I've wanted you for so long. I've sat up in my room so many nights, dreaming of this, hoping that someday you would come to me, proclaim your love and make love to me just like this. Right now, I'm yours. Take me. Have me any way you choose."

Mitchell leaned back. He looked down at Emily who lie back on the couch, bare to the waist, her skirt pushed up to her waist, her panties pulled to the side, her legs spread, her tender sex parted just for him. He felt such great desire for her. Every cell and sinew of his being flowed toward her in a palpable exchange of energy. Mitchell grinned and kneeled down earnestly between her legs. Emily lay back upon the couch as Mitchell reached for her white lace panties. He tugged them slowly down from her hips, along her long shapely legs, and when they were free of her feet, he tossed them aside with a quick sniff and a sexy grin.

Running his hands back up along her legs, Mitchell gradually kneeled between her legs, kissing her thighs and calves as he brought his warm moist lips closer and closer to her sex. Emily arched her back and lifted her hips up from the couch to offer herself to him willingly. Cupping the cheeks of her ass with both hands, Mitchell raised her glistening sweet pink pussy up to his waiting lips and tongue. He kissed her, he suckled her; his tongue slipped shyly out to taste her drenched pussy. He savored her taste and every shiver that sifted through her body as he explored her luscious folds. Soft little moans escaped her lips as she lay back and let him pleasure her.

All in turn, no part of her greedy little sex went unattended, the smooth sleek and shaven outer folds, the sensitive pink inner ridges, the sodden tight opening, and the hard eager little nub. Mitchell started gently and slowly worked his way up the ladder of arousal until Emily was thrashing about on the couch, her hips circling his mouth wildly, grinding herself against him urgently. Her legs were draped over his shoulders, his face was buried deeply between her thighs, and his tongue and lips and fingers plied her with energy and desire and brought her to the precipice of an extreme climax. Her hands seemed to be pushing him away and pulling him toward her at the same time. Her voice called out to him huskily in a series of cries and sighs.

"Oh, oh, oh, Mitchell!" Emily moaned. "Oh, oh, oh, fuck! Ah! Ah! Oh! Ooo!"

Mitchell never felt more alive and attuned to her gratification. He loved dealing her pleasure, listening for and sensing her response to his every move. What didn't bring an appropriate moan or sigh, he left behind and tried something new. What she liked, he did more and differently. And in Emily's ascendant arousal he felt his own, strong and urgent and intense, and it only caused him to plunge his face down even more wildly between her legs, licking and sucking and probing her with a fierce energy.

Then Mitchell felt it. As he ferociously pressed his face between her legs, Mitchell felt Emily begin to cum. Her thighs clamped tightly to his cheeks, her heels dug into his back, and her fingers wove into his hair as her body began to quiver and shake. Mitchell lapped madly at her drenched pussy, growling viciously and relentlessly. Finally he felt her grow limp and fall back onto the couch. He let his passionate attack recede as well, easing back into gentle licks and soft kisses on her dripping quim.

"Oh, Mitchell!" she cried out, reaching for his ears and pulling him up from between her legs.

Mitchell kissed and licked her trembling, heaving body as she drew him up over it, suckling each delightfully erect nipple before accepting her welcoming kiss on his lips. She purred with satisfaction as their tongues wrestled again splendidly. Their eyes locked together as their hands sifted through each other's hair. Although no words were exchanged, Mitchell could read the compliments welling up in her eyes. He was surprised as she pushed at him, gathering herself together and sitting up on the edge of the couch as he stood up before her.

Emily looked up at him with a tremendous sexy grin. Her hands swept up over his trousers and quickly found his belt. With a deft move, she had undone his pants and let them fall to his ankles. Her hands glided slowly up over his thighs and silken boxers until they located the long hardening tool that lurked underneath. Emily's sparkling blue-green eyes never left his as she stroked him through his silken shorts.

Mitchell tried not to wince or flinch or show signs of arousal, but he couldn't control his response-and he really didn't want to. Emily snaked a hand up the leg of his boxers and ran her fingertips over his full balls and his thickening cock. When she leaned forward and began to kiss and nibble him through the dark blue silk, Mitchell growled harshly.

"Oh, Jesus, Emmie!"

"What's that, Mitch?" she asked with an impish grin. "Can dish it out but can't take it?"

"Oh, I can take it all right," he said, as she dove down again to kiss his silk covered cock. "It's ... it's just been a long, long time since I've felt this way ... or done this."

"Then, I'll take it easy on you, old man," she teased, lightening her grip on him.

"Oh, what the fuck!" he grunted, and then gripped her head and pulled her toward him forcefully.

Emily let out a deep, sexy giggle and reached for the waistband of his shorts. With a firm tug, she pulled them down over his hips and let his erect cock pop out. With both hands she scooped up his balls and cock and guided his long rosy manhood toward her pursed lips.

"Mmm," she purred with a throaty voice. "You have a beautiful cock, Mitch. I just love it!"

Mitchell shuddered to feel her tongue lick him up and down on both sides of his cock and then the top and bottom. Then she dragged her lips all around his rigid shaft before rubbing him all over her cheeks and nose and chin, purring so sexily as she went. As he looked down at her manhandling his member, he had never felt so aroused, so completely turned on. When she began to circle the tip with her wet pink tongue, around and around, he thought his knees would buckle and he had to reach out to her head and hold on.

Emily eased her lips onto the head and began to suck him into her mouth. With just the head inside her hot wet mouth, she sucked him and stroked the rest of his shaft with one hand while the other cradled and fondled his balls. With excruciating grace, Emily began to move her head back and forth, with each pass sucking more of him into her mouth, while her tongue was swirling and circling his throbbing manhood eagerly. Mitchell struggled to tell her how he felt, but each word seemed to bring a more heightened response from her.

"Oh, god, that feels so good!" he growled. "I love ... the way ... you suck me! It's been so long ... feels so good!"

Emily hummed as she sucked Mitchell's long, hard cock deep into her mouth. When the head met the back of her throat, she pushed and sucked on him until she was able to take every inch of him inside and buried her nose into the soft trimmed mesh of his pubic hair. Up and down her head bobbed, her hands covering every inch of his shaft that her mouth and lips didn't.

When she needed a well-deserved breath, Emily continued to stroke his rigid shaft, massaging her slick saliva all over her throbbing rod. With a grin she guided it toward her breasts, rubbing the tip over her taut nipples and then slipping the shaft up between her generous mounds. A deep groan leapt from his lips when she gathered