Fred's Boxing Day

"I think you oughta drive," I tell her as I fight to free my foot from its shoe.

My ankle's purple-grey, the color of storm clouds ready to spill, and it's swelling again. "Oh no," Emma said with deep sympathy. "Do you need to go get x-rays or something?"

"I wouldn't give her the satisfaction," I reply. "I'll be okay."

Emma takes me home, helps me limp to the couch. She brings bags in, takes our shoes off, and starts putting things away; I see that there are things she's never put up before and she has to find homes for them--things like canned soup and and bagels. I manage to get up and limp the few steps to the kitchen.

"Siddown! Sit, invalid!" She points at a chair and looks formidable; smiling, I sit. She pours a beer and sets it in front of me; she opens a 2-liter bottle of club soda and pours herself a glass. She sits across the table from me and sips. "Mm, my favorite pop. The only kind I drink, actually."

"No Coke, no 7-Up?"

"No, even diet pop is too sweet. I just like my soda water, sometimes--" her voice drops, sneaky, "--I put LIME in it." Her eyes widen dramatically and I laugh. "I'm not kidding," she says. "I do all kinds of stuff with soda water at work. One guy insisted on buying me a martini so I put soda water in a martini glass with an olive and drank with him." She arches one eyebrow at me. "'Cause I'm smart." She beams and bats her eyelashes. She knows the effect she has on me with her little cutenesses; she's used them against me at the bowling alley, making me so dazed I blow my next roll.

"Yeah, you are," I say. "You managed to land me." I take a pull of beer and get up to go through the groceries Emma'd just put away, learning where everything is. "Em?"

"Yes baby?"

"Do we have a home phone?"

Emma shakes her head. "Why? I have a cell."

"Ah, damn, she has my cell phone charger. I have to go out there anyway..."

"Fred, you should go to the hospital."

"It's just an ankle bang--"

"Yeah, the worst one I ever saw, and I've seen a few, plus it got pulverized by the shopping cart bag lady from hell."

"I can still move it," I point out.

"But can you walk on it, Mr Real Man? You can't drive on it, and you need to go do the apartment thing tonight."

"I--oh shit." I reached for the phone.

"I'll take you," she tells me.

"You gotta work, baby," I say, but she insists. I relent.

"Danny, hi, it's Em."

""

"Emma, you know, the other barmaid that gets hit on there?"

""

"Hi yourself, Danny. Hey, are you really busy tonight?"

""

"Well, Fred's ankle is really messed up, I need to take him to the hospital."

""

"I know, I'm sorry, Danny, it's really kind of an emergency."

"..."

"If you work tonight for me, I'll work Wednesday night for you."

""

"Okay, Thursday night, sure. You'll work tonight for me?"

"..."

"Thanks, Danny, you're a sweetheart, I owe you big. Mwah."

"'Kay, baby, all set," she tells me, and I set about making lunch. "Danny gets a long weekend next week. I knew he'd want Thursday off, he wants to go to Chicago with his guy. Oh--this is for you." She presses a key into my hand. "Emma's house is Fred's house too," she says in a girlish voice. I smile and kiss her; she's warm in my arms and her breasts press against me through her jumpsuit and my shirt.

I make soup and a grilled cheese for each of us and hobble back to the table. She stares at the meal, then looks up at me.

"I haven't had tomato soup and grilled cheese since I was a little girl," she says, and she looks charmed. I give her a spoon and she sips soup, and looks up at me with wide eyes. "Fred, this is...really good."

"Salt and lemon," I reply, and she noisily sips soup out of her spoon. I think it's great because I'm a soup-sipper too and we won't bother each other. I watch her crunch into her grilled cheese, and her eyes widen.

"Oh jeezhe thish izh great," she says, mouth full and eyes rolled back in her head. She swallows. "Okay, Derf, I can think about sex again." I laugh and watch her take a giant bite of her sandwich; cheese is stuck to her cheek and her eyes are closed. This is a girl who really loves grilled cheese.

I smile at her, refill her soda water and sit down next to her to eat.

I'm not a bad cook. Carol wouldn't cook if she was forced to at gunpoint, and that's probably a good thing; on our honeymoon she'd made dinner once and it wasn't even food anymore when it was done. I'd never thought you could use a pork chop as a weapon; she could have stabbed me with it, or I could have eaten it, I'd die either way.

Em finished demolishing her lunch and I cleaned the cheese off the side of her face. She giggled and looked embarrassed. "You must think I'm a total pig."

"I think you're a hungry girl because you never eat anything. And when you have rough sex, you've gotta eat."

"I do feel a lot better. Thanks!" She is chipper again, typical Emma.

"Still ready to think about sex?"

"Think about it, sure." She grins. "Well, my jaws feel better...think I could make you forget about that ankle?"

"If you shot me," I tell her.

"How about if YOU shoot ME?" She tugs at my belt buckle and I lift myself to let her get my pants off as she gracefully drops to her knees. She rubs her cheek on the growing hill in my boxers.

"Mm." I hold her face gently as she rubs, now she's kissing me through the boxers and I can feel her breathing through the warm softness through the fabric.

"I see you approve," she says with a laugh in her voice, slipping her fingers through the leg hole of my shorts. "Oh, wow, Fred, I think you like me." Her fingers wrap soft around me and stroke, and I can't stop my hips from pitching forward to meet her.

"I really like you, Em," I tell her. She I make room for her to shuck my boxers and she drops them around my ankles.

"Fred, I really, really like you too." Her breath is warm on me, but not as warm as her mouth as it slides over me. I lean back in the kitchen chair, remains of my soup and sandwich forgotten, and Em starts doing her incredible thing on me.

I feel her tongue circling, rubbing me beneath, and her lips sliding on me all the way to the head, and she takes me in her throat. She can't take all of me but she does wonders with what she can and she has me gasping with each stroke. She looks up at me and I can see dedication as well as a deep enjoyment of what she was doing, I can tell she loves to give head and I'm happy to help.

I feel her scrape just a little with her teeth and I throb. I feel just a little come trickle through me and Emma stops to look up. "You taste better than any man I've ever done this to."

I don't ask her how many men she's done this to, I don't want to know as long as she keeps doing it to me. She grins at me and I throb out another drop. She holds my gaze as she licks, then closes her eyes slowly and takes me into her mouth again, sliding her lips over me, rubbing with lips over teeth.

She fondles my sack again and I tense, not ready for an invasion like this morning. She pulls away. "Don't worry, big man, I won't touch you there."

I relax and she runs her hands over my thighs as she swallows me, faster, and her mouth is hot on me and her tongue is all over me and I can't take my eyes off my Emma with my cock in her mouth and I see her move her socked foot under her and rock in time to her movements and she's working even faster now and I know she's tasting me all the time, I'm getting closer and she's getting closer--and she gives me a little whimper of pleasure--

And I win, I'm coming and she slows and takes me as deep as she can and squeezes around the base with her lips and I'm coming so hard it feels like I'm being turned inside out. Emma coughs a little and pulls back, swallowing me, pulling every drop from me with the pressure of her lips and letting me spurt into her again, and repeat forever please.

She backs away slowly and I hear a suction pop as I pull from her mouth. "Thank you," she says, very low, and she looks intensely happy. "God, Fred, it's so hot the way you groan like that when you come."

Huh? I groan? Well, whatever; I just smile.

I get up and lay her back on the kitchen floor. Laying next to her, I slip my hand into her pink suit and down, to her furry mons, and cup her vulva, with no attempt to penetrate her. Instead I press her upward toward her navel, and I rub in a circle with the palm of my hand, moving her against herself. Her arms fly out from her sides and try to claw the tile. Her little whimper comes again and she spreads her legs way out, bending her knees and putting the soles of her feet together.

I keep this up until she starts to press up hard toward me, then I change my technique, pressing her mons downward toward her lips and pulling back up, fast.

"Huh--uh, Fred, you're incredible! Where'd you learn to do this?"

"PBA tour," I tell her with a smile, using Emma's stock answer whenever I ask her where she learned to do something like fight or fuck. Except in her case, it might well be true.

"Uh, that's it, baby, we're buyin' a tour bus. Huh--ohh..."

I feel wetness wash my hand and Emma's hand is down her panties and lacing fingers with mine; she holds my hand still and I feel her entire body tremble for a long moment. Then with a cry she bucks hard against me, holding my hand hard against her with hers, circling her hips to keep up the motion I'd started but on her terms. "Oh GOD! Oh, sweet Derf--" I feel her hand let go, then she takes my finger and runs it over her clit. "Hunh...uh...ahh...oh my...oh, push, right there baby--yeah--" and another spasm runs through her body. She lowers her hips to the floor and lays back; I keep touching her but I lessen the pressure; she rocks from side to side against my movements and another shudder passes through her. She stops moving and grabs my wrist to stop me. She breathes in heavy, shaky gasps and when I pull me hand free and up out of her jumpsuit, she watches me lick her girl juice from my palm. I grin and hold my hand out to her and her tongue zips out and starts to lick with no hesitation, her blue eyes on mine. I lick with her, our tongues touching, and our lips meet; I lay on top of her and we kiss passionately for minutes. I feel desire for her but it is distant, I'm sated. This is pure love of a type I'd known with no-one else, not Carol, nobody.

When I pull back, I feel a spray of spittle on my face from Emma's laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says, and starts rubbing my face.

"What's funny?"

"I just...finally found a man who can get me off better than I can."

I laugh with her at this and painfully climb up from the floor. I offer her a hand; she lays her index finger in my palm and springs to her feet in one smooth movement. "God, Fred, I really needed that." She shakes her head, looking dazed. "I wanna go dancing now," she says with a delighted grin. I grimace and point to my foot. "No worries," she says, and walks over to a little radio on the kitchen counter. An old Van Morrison tune fills the room and she slides gracefully into my arms. We sway gently.

"You know," I whisper in her ear under Into the Mystic, "you called yourself 'Em'."

"What? When?"

"When you were talking to Danny on the phone, you said, hi, it's Em. And this morning you said 'no pills for Em'."

She's quiet for a moment. "I'm your girl, Derf. If you want to call me that, I better get used to being Em." She holds close to me, and I feel her beautiful hips against mine, swaying. "And it sounds so pretty coming from you that I kinda like it now." I sway with her, trying to follow her steps, and my ankle is killing me but I'm not going to stop this.

At least not until the music changes and she starts to boogie to Rush's Lakeside Park, swinging her hips and snapping her fingers. I sit down and look at the table, bummed. "Aw, poor Derf," she says, and drops to her knees to rub my sore ankle lightly. I hiss and tense up but what she's doing feels good; I relax and let her work. "You can't play a sport for long and not know a little about massage," she says.

"Argh."My head lolls around on my neck.

"I used to get shoulder cramps so bad after tourneys, the only one who could fix 'em was Gen. I learned a bit reciprocating."

"Argh," I say, looking at her rubbing with her thumbs in tiny circles, working up the leg.

"Not bad for an adulteress, huh?"

I stare. "What do you mean?"

"You're technically still married, you know," she says. "That's what Ms Carol called me today, an adulteress."

"Pot and kettle," I say, and surprisingly, Emma understands this reference. No-one gets that one.

"Well, I wasn't about to argue it with her. She's right. And I don't care a bit." Emma shrugs and lets go of my ankle. "I can't be your girl on the side, but I can be your only girl, no matter who you're married to."

"You are my only girl, Em, and I never want another," I tell her; it's true. I open my mouth to say more... and my cellphone ringer goes off, playing 'Who Can It Be Now?'.

"Ugh, timing," Emma mutters.

I don't know who this could be; I never get calls except from work or Carol. So I'm expecting it to be her even though the number's not recognized.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Fred?"

"Yuh?"

"Hey, this is Casey Ullman. With Interloper Security?"

"Oh, Casey! How's the golf?"

"Not bad, you decide to take it up yet?"

"Naw, I'm a bowler. You know that."

"Yeah, I guess I do. Listen, man..."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I got some hard news for you bud. It's your wife."

"What's she done now?"

"It's what she's done for six months, Fred. She's cheatin' on you."

"Oh, really."

"Yeah, I'm checking parking lot surveillance for one of our clients, a motel, and I see your car in the lot and your wife going into rooms with a guy that ain't you."

"Huh. How often?"

"About two days, once a week, for three weeks, then she misses a week, and it starts over. A few times they didn't show, a few times they showed up on different days. Two months ago they laid in for a week and never left except to go to the restaurant. And they were in there for a while Christmas Eve. I, uh...felt I should tell you."

"I'm glad you did. Listen, Casey, can you...get me a copy of those?"

"You know that's not ethical, right?"

"Yeah, I know..."

"Drop by the office. I'll have it for you. But you did NOT get it from me. And Fred?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to give you the bad news."

"Casey, it's fantastic news."

I keep the smile off my face as I hang up. "Who was that?" Emma asked. I decide to keep the surprise for a bit longer.

"It was Casey, a competitor. He has something he wants to consult me about, we need to stop by the Interloper Security office on Main and Vellvett."

"Mm. Okay, then."

My cellphone rings again, and I see it's the landlord at the apartment.

"Hello?

"Fred Duncan?"

"Speaking?"

"This is Tangie at Kinseck Valley Apartments, you made an appointment with Sue to do your walkthrough at four tonight?"

"Right."

"We can't do it then, I'm sorry, we have only one person in the office after three today. Is two okay?"

"That's cutting it close..."

"I know, sir, I'm really sorry."

"Two is okay, I'll see you in...eh, forty minutes?"

"Sure, Mr Duncan, I apologize again for the mixup..."

"Tangie, was it?"

"Yes sir."

"Is that your full first name?"

"No sir...it's Tangerine."

"Tangerine, I like that! See you at two, Tangie."

"Bye, sir!"

"C'mon, we gotta go."

Emma is still sitting on the kitchen floor, looking up at me curiously. "Go? Where?"

"The apartment can't do the walkthrough at four, they want to do it at two."

"Fred, I gotta change out of these wet things..."

"Wet things?" I'm confused for two seconds. "Oh, wet, right." Involuntarily I bring my hand to my face, smelling Em.

"Gawd, your a pervert, Fred. That's why I like ya. What's the hurry, anyway? It's five minutes from here."

"Right, but I want to stop by Interloper--"

"Oh right. Okay, hang on." She rolls her feet under her, and then rocks her feet up over her toes and straightens her knees, rising to her feet without using her hands. She does it absent-mindedly, like it's just something she's always done, but it's so graceful and beautiful that I can only stare. "What?"

"Can you do that again?"

"What?"

I look at her; she really doesn't know. "Get up off the floor like that."

She stares at me for a minute and then does this little whatever-I'm-easy kind of shrug, and she crosses her ankles and sinks fluidly to the floor. Then she repeats the process of getting up to stand before me, looking up into my eyes with a look of wanting to please me.

"Wow, that's...incredible to watch!" I hold her close and she smiles and lays her cheek against my chest. "Do that around me more."

"I can promise that, I sit on the floor a lot. Scuse me..." She trots into the bedroom; I just stand there like an idiot watching that gorgeous butt wiggle away. "Mm-mm," I hum to myself, I'm licking my lips and I need to see more of this. I limp down the hall and peek into the bedroom.

She has her jumpsuit off and in the clothes hamper and she's just in her bra and panties, and as she drops them I can see they're soaked. No wonder she wanted to change. They fall around her ankles, and she pulls her feet out, grabs them with her toes and flings them in my direction, toward the hamper. I catch them in midair but she doesn't turn to see if she made the basket or not. I can't stop myself from bringing her panties to my face to smell her scent, like salt air at the beach, sweet, tangy and all woman.

She rummages in her dresser drawer for another pair of panties and I watch her ass, rounder than Carol's, wider in the hip, and absolutely perfect, as she wraps them in deep-blue satin.

I feel weird and kind of creepy watching her do her private things, but I can't stop myself from adoring everything she does. When she scratches her nose with the back of her hand, I fall in love with her again. When she digs in her ear and then inspects her finger before wiping it on a tissue, it's the cutest thing I've ever seen. She scratches her butt, yawns and smiles and swings her hips a bit in this after-sex kind of way. She dips a finger down her panties and then smells her finger, maybe testing whether she smells like sex. I could have told her she smells perfect, but she doesn't seem to find anything wrong. I drop her pink panties into the hamper and watch as she puts a little perfume behind her knees and ears and under her arms and starts messing with her hair. I can see her face in the mirror as she plays with it, looking dissatisfied, but she shrugs and leaves it the way it is. She turns from the mirror--

"YAH!" Her arms are crossed in front of her chest and one leg lifted to scissor her girl bits out of sight. She looks terrified. "Fred--don't DO that! You scared me to death!"

"I'm sorry," I tell her, feeling bad. "You're just...so beautiful when you're doing little stuff like you were..."

Emma catches her breath. "Derf, you gotta remember something: I have lived here for two years by myself. I am NOT used to having someone in the house at all when I'm not dressed, and I am NOT used to having people watch me while I get ready." She pauses a beat. "Except maybe Mrs Fendle next door."

"Sorry," I say again.

"If you want to watch me get ready, just tell me, and I can make it more fun than peeking in the doorway." She embraces me, turns me around, and swats my ass as I limp back down the hall.

She comes skipping--literally skipping down the hall a few minutes later in jeans and shoes. She's carrying my Mighty Ducks jersey in one hand.

"Can I wear this, Derf?"

By way of an answer, I take it from her and dress her in it. "You look great as a hockey fan," I told her.