Emmy And Me

Emmy had a new gig that following Saturday night. It was in a nightclub called ‘The Vain Bonfire' or something like that, down in San Diego.

“But how can you get in? You’re under twenty-one!” I protested.

“I asked them that. The manager said that in California, it is legal to work in a club if you’re under age, but you cannot drink. If I am performing, I am working and therefore legal.”

“So I guess I can’t see you play this time,” I said, a little bummed out that I was going to miss it.

“Oh, no. You will be working, too. You will be my helper.”

“Me? Your roadie? I guess I can do that. I usually carry your guitar anyway, right?” I laughed.

“Exactly.”

We arrived at the club half an hour early, and the manager told us to park in the back and bring our stuff in through the “stage door” which was a fire exit into the back lot, but hey- at least it meant I only had to carry Emmy’s guitar half the distance for my night’s work.

There was a little stage at one end of the room, and I quickly found a stool and set the guitar stand next to it. The club’s sound woman helped me rig the microphones for Emmy and do a quick sound check, and it was ready. When I went to find a seat for myself the manager asked if I were under age. When I replied yes, she said I’d have to sit on or right near the stage and not venture into the club area itself or they could get in trouble. I moved my stool to the far left side of the stage (is it stage left from the performer’s point of view or the audience? I never could figure that out) and settled down. A Bettie Page lookalike waitress with lots of tattoos and piercings got me a Coke and put a bottle of Perrier next to Emmy’s stool.

Everything ready, the manager took the mike and announced “I know a lot of you have seen her over at Edward’s coffee shop. I know I have, and she was amazing. Here she is, Miss Emmy!” and the audience applauded as Emmy walked onstage.

It was just like a real professional concert, I thought. Emmy was getting good money for the night and the place was packed, I saw as I looked around. With a little bit of a shock, I realized the club was completely filled with women. Not a solitary guy in the club at all. The lighting was dim, but the more I looked the more I became sure. This was a lesbian club.

At first I was creeped out by it, even though intellectually I knew that wasn’t right. The more I looked at the audience enjoying Emmy’s show, though, the more I realized that these were just people- people like me. Sure, a few looked like motorcycle mechanics and some looked like vinyl fetish types, but most looked just like they worked in offices, or grocery stores, or taught kindergarten. The only thing they all had in common (I’m assuming) was that they preferred the company of other women. And you know what? There were a lot of them. This was at least twice or three times the crowd that Emmy had ever performed for up to this point, and they’d all come to hear her sing and play.

Emmy’s set had been different every night she’d played at Edward’s, but there was a definite slant in her song choices that night at the Bonfire. It was slower, softer, with more love songs and lullabies than usual and that seemed O.K. with the crowd there at that lesbian bar.

About midway through Emmy’s set a middle-aged woman who looked like a nicely dressed and very proper looking bank teller came over to the side of the stage where I was sitting. She leaned in to talk to me and asked point-blank “Are you two a couple?”

Shocked by the directness of the question, all I could respond was “”I’m sorry- I didn’t catch that.”

She repeated her question, and this time I admitted that yes, Emmy and I were an item.

“You’re really lucky,” the woman said. “She’s very talented.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, hoping this awkward conversation would end soon. She had more to say, though.

“Where is she from? I’ve never seen anybody that dark-skinned before, and certainly not with hair like that. She’s really beautiful,” she quickly added so I didn’t get the wrong impression, “just… unique.”

“Yeah, she is different-looking, all right,” I admitted. “She was born in Paris, in France.”

“Well, but what’s her ancestry?” the woman persisted.

“She’s French,” I replied, just to get her to leave me alone. “She looks like that because of a rare genetic disorder. She’s like an albino in reverse,” I said, hoping she would just go away.

“Really,” said the woman, thoughtfully, apparently satisfied with that answer. “So that coloring is natural…” she said more to herself than me. Then to me, she admitted “I was more than half convinced it was some sort of makeup or something.”

“Nope. She’s looked like that from the day she was born.”

“Interesting.” With that, the woman finally left me alone. As soon as she was gone the waitress brought me another Coke and whispered “She didn’t hit on you, did she?” motioning with her head to indicate the woman that I’d just been talking to.

“No, why?” I asked, curious as to why the waitress would come to that conclusion.

“She’s in here a lot- and she likes ‘em young,” the pierced waitress said, rolling her eyes in disgust.

“Thanks for the warning,” I said. “But there’s only one girl for me.”

The waitress glanced over at Emmy, who was singing that old Patti Smith song “Because the night” at the moment.

“So you two…” she said, trailing off with a lot more class than that other woman had had.

“Yeah,” I agreed, and realized it felt nice to claim Emmy as my own. It gratified me to know that others felt envy at what I had with her. In this crowd, nobody was going to look down on me for loving another girl- in fact, they all wished they could be in my shoes.

The waitress said “Hey, my name is Connie. If you need anything, let me know.” As she was leaving she handed me a business card. The light was dim, but I could make out that she had written on the back “If either of you two need anything, call me.” It had a local San Diego phone number after that.

Amazed that she would hit on me after warning me about the other woman, I turned the card over and looked at the front. It was for a gay and lesbian teen support social organization, I saw with a shock. I guess she hadn’t been hitting on me at all. Not knowing what else to do, I put the card in my back pocket and turned back to watch Emmy sing. Maybe I could give the card to Tom.

“Five hundred dollars!” Emmy exulted as we finished loading her Mini and got in for the drive back to Fallbrook. “Can you believe that? I only need to do three shows like that a month and…” she trailed off, not voicing her thoughts.

“What do you mean, Em? You don’t ‘need’ to do any shows.”

“Oh, Leah,” she said, leaning to face me, and putting her hand on my leg. “I might need to very soon. I might need to earn as much as I can.”

Sensing that this was going to be a conversation that was going to require my full attention, I pulled into a grocery store parking lot and stopped the car.

“Is there something I ought to know?” I asked warily.

“It is my parents. They do not approve of us. What we have together.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I was spared from needing to talk when Emmy continued.

“I am planning on moving out of my parent’s house,” Emmy finally confessed. “I have been looking for an apartment.”

This hit me like a hammer blow. Emmy’s parents had been practically invisible, I’d seen them so little when I was over at her house. I’d almost forgotten they existed.

“Do not misunderstand,” Emmy pleaded. “They are very fond of you. That is not the problem. They think that our feelings for each other are misguided, and want me to… to cultivate other relationships.”

“They… they want us to stop seeing each other?” I asked, hardly believing it.

“Well, no, they would prefer we stay together as friends. They want us to stop being lovers. I think they fear that they might never have grandchildren.”

“But plenty of couples adopt! We could do that!” I protested.

“The bloodline is absolutely important to them, Leah. If it is not my child by birth they could never accept it.”

“Do- do you want to have a baby?” I asked, completely floored by the way this conversation was going.

“All my life, growing up, I knew that one day I would have a child, if possible. Perhaps more than one, if I were so blessed. I have to, to carry on the blood line.”

“You keep talking about blood line. What does that even mean?” I demanded, feeling more than a little bit hysterical.

“It means that I am pure blood, and we are getting rarer and rarer. If no other pure blood can be found to be acceptable, they want me to have children with the best possible outsider.”

“What the heck are you talking about? Pure blood? Outsider? What does any of this mean?” I demanded, now thoroughly confused and upset.

“It means that they want to continue to control my life. And I am done with that. Leah, you are the best thing to ever happen to me, and the first that is truly mine and mine alone. I am not going to give you up for their wishes, no matter what.” The determination in her voice reminded me of the way she’d been so steely about the whole Jake thing.

“I am a legal adult in three weeks. By then I will have everything arranged, so they cannot stop me.”

“What about college? What about Stanford?” I pleaded, seeing all our plans crumbling to dust.

“I have enough money to pay for at least the first year of university. I will sell this car, and that may be enough for a second year. If I can continue to earn money performing, it will be O.K. We can get a little apartment near campus. We will be O.K.,” she said, taking my hand in hers. I could see that Emmy was very serious, but I still wasn’t sure.

“What do you mean, you have enough money? A year at Stanford is like sixty grand!” I objected. “How can you have enough money for that?”

“My parents have been giving me a very generous allowance for years. I have been saving some of it in a bank account they know nothing about. They think that I have been spending it on frivolous things, but I have not. I have been saving it, and investing it.”

“You’ve been investing? Like, stocks and bonds type stuff?”

“Yes. It will not be enough by itself to pay for four years of university, but it will be a start, and if I am frugal- we are frugal, because I am planning on a life with you- and I can earn some money, it should do.”

“You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?” I asked, amazed.

“No, not exactly,” Emmy explained. “I had been hiding the money for a long time in case of emergency. I had no idea that this would be the emergency.”

“If you get an apartment in three weeks, you’ll only be in it for a few months until it’s time to go to Palo Alto. It’s gonna be hard to find a place that will rent for that short a time. Maybe you could-” and I stopped, not wanting to commit to something that might not be possible.

“Maybe I could what?”

“I was going to say, maybe you could move in with me. You know I’d love it, and so would Tiff, but Mom…” I didn’t want to say it, but Mom didn’t really approve of my relationship with Emmy, and I was fairly convinced she wouldn’t like having a guest for four months. “You know what? I’ll ask. All she can do is say no, right?”

Mom had grumbled but eventually gave in. Emmy brought some of her stuff over, and my room got really crowded as a result. I was sure that she still had plenty of her things at her parent’s house or maybe in storage somewhere. She really only brought some clothes and toiletries, a laptop, and her guitars. Way back when she’d said that she had fewer things that mattered to her than I did, and maybe she was right.

Emmy settled in quickly, mainly because she’d sort of already developed a routine over Christmas. The idea of chores was something that she’d never had to deal with in her life as a pampered heiress, but she settled in easily. She was perfectly happy to wash the dishes after dinner, even though she had never done them before Christmas and had to be shown how.

Emmy also sang lullabies to Tiff every night, and I found that an immense relief because it completely stopped Tiff’s long-time habit of having nightmares. Previously, Tiff would wake up every few nights with a bad dream and come into my room to sleep in my bed, or I’d have to get up and stay with her until she fell back asleep in her own bed. Something about Emmy’s singing, though, made a world of difference. No more bad dreams, and no more waking me up. As a side benefit Tiff was much easier to get out of bed in the mornings, too.

Even Sylvester seemed to like having Emmy stay with us. It may be just my imagination, but it did seem as if the cat were less surly than usual.

Mom eventually had to admit that it wasn’t bad having Emmy living with us in our little apartment. Because Emmy helped Tiff out with her homework every evening, Mom had more time to herself and felt less stressed about getting her own work done.

Of course, I loved it most of all. It was wonderful, having her share my life this way. We spent almost the entire day together at school, and then the evenings and nights together at home. Emmy and I achieved a level of intimacy I never could have imagined possible. It felt so right, so perfect. This was how it was supposed to be.

It was a Saturday morning and Mom and Tiff left right after an early breakfast. Mom had promised Tiff a day at Legoland if she did well in school and her report card had come back excellent, so it was time to pay up. I was just grateful I didn’t get dragged along this time. Emmy was sleeping in as usual whenever she got the chance and was still in bed after I finished my shower.

I sat down next to her on the bed, once again marveling at how very beautiful she was and how much it made me happy to simply know that she was mine.

I slipped my hand under the covers and started gently stroking her calf. She was so smooth, the feel of her skin under my hand was like silk.

Emmy murmured a sleepy “Hmmm?” in response to my attention, and I found the sound so sexy it almost literally hurt. That little noise, as silly as it seems, made my heart pound with love for this strange, lovely creature. I leaned down to plant a kiss and inhaled the delicate, lovely smell of her skin and hair. Unable to resist anymore, I pulled off my T shirt and sweatpants and climbed back into bed, snuggling up to the object of my affections. Emmy rolled on her side so I could spoon her, and I cuddled up close.

Nuzzling her graceful neck, I whispered “What should we do today?” which got a giggle from Emmy.

“Sleep in,” was her answer.

The idea of spending the morning in bed with Emmy doing nothing but cuddling and being lazy was so appealing that there was no way to say no.

After Emmy had drifted back to sleep in my arms, I thought about my life and the unexpected direction it had taken. I’d never been so in love, and it was not with a boy, strong and masculine- no, it was with a delicate, graceful, and very feminine girl. Holding her in my arms, I tried to remember what it was that had ever attracted me to Chris the year before.

He had been tall (which was super important to a girl who was nearly six feet tall at sixteen). He had a deep voice and an attractive laugh. He was athletic, a football and lacrosse player. He liked dirt bikes and never missed a fight on pay-per-view if he could help it. The quintessential guy, in so many ways. Remembering back, that masculinity was what attracted me to him in the first place. He was all I’d thought I’d wanted in a guy, and honestly, he was a very good boyfriend. I could hardly have done any better for my first real steady relationship.

He’d never cheated on me or trash-talked me to his friends, which I’ve seen a lot of guys do. Chris just wasn’t disrespectful like that. He cared for me, and cared about me, too.

Chris never pressured me into doing any more than I wanted, and he was very gentle when I finally was ready to go all the way. He’d been so concerned that it be a good experience for me that I’d found his tenderness more rewarding than the actual sex had been. Truthfully, although I enjoyed the sex well enough to look forward to times when his parents wouldn’t be home and we could make out, it really wasn’t the best part of our relationship. The best, for me, was just being together.

And you know what? Even at the best moments, it never came anywhere close to this. Emmy just felt so much more right in my arms than Chris ever had. Emmy smelled so good, too- I have to admit that I never really liked Axe body spray mixed with that sort of goatish smell Chris had always had. All guys have, actually. It isn’t that they don’t bathe, it’s just natural boy smell. But Emmy? She always smelled like jasmine flowers and a kind of warm scent that just made me melt inside.

Snuggling Emmy was heaven, and when we went further, making out with her was so special, so perfect that it almost made me regret my time with Chris. If Emmy had only come to our school a year earlier, who knows if I would have ever hooked up with a boy at all, ever?

All I knew was that holding Emmy was all I wanted to do for the rest of my life. It was all I wished I’d ever done, too. Everything else felt so meaningless at that moment. Everything else felt unimportant. All that mattered, all that could possibly matter, was the feel of Emmy’s warm skin against mine, and the slow rise and fall of her body as she breathed peacefully in her sleep. All that mattered, all that could ever matter, was the feeling that Emmy was mine, and I was truly and completely hers.

She stirred, waking gently. Turning on to her back, Emmy looked at me, and a look of alarm crossed her amazing green eyes and wrinkled her pitch-black forehead. “What is the matter?” she asked, concerned.

“It’s nothing,” I whispered, my throat too dry to speak.

“You are crying!” she protested, softly touching my face.

“It’s just… I don’t know. Tears of happiness, I guess,” I replied, my voice still shaky. “You’re just so beautiful. I can’t help it.”

“Oh, Leah,” Emmy sighed. “Leah.”

That broke the dam, and the waterworks really started to flow. It was ridiculous, sure, and I was embarrassed to cry like this in front of Emmy, but I just couldn’t stop.

Emmy started kissing away my tears, gently at first. She pushed me on to my back, and placed her knees on either side of me as she held my head in her hands. Her kisses came faster and more intense as she squeezed me with her knees and held my head tightly, not letting me move.

I didn’t want to move, though. I was giving in to Emmy, letting her comfort me, love me, and even manhandle me a little.

With a shock, I realized that somehow it was O.K. for me to let Emmy control things like that. I trusted her, and was willing to give in to her in a way I’d never, ever allowed myself to give in to Chris. It struck me that I’d never allowed Chris all the way into my heart, never really gave myself to him completely. It felt so easy, so natural with Emmy. I trusted her, and it felt wonderful to give in to that trust and let her do whatever she wanted, because if she wanted it I wanted it, too.

It was also becoming clear to me that Emmy aroused me in a way that Chris never had, lighting my fire just by a sexy look or a soft touch. I wanted her so bad when I wasn’t with her, and I fantasized about Emmy more than I could ever have imagined I would about a lover.

This was how it was supposed to be.

Looking up at Emmy, savoring the slow, deliberate way she pulled her tank top up and off and revealed her slender but muscular body to me, I asked “Why me?”

“What do you mean?” Emmy’s voice was husky as she leaned forward and started stroking her fingertips along my shoulders and my chest, leaving goosebumps behind.

I wiggled my arms free from where she’d had them trapped and pulled her close for a kiss. The look of desire in her eyes left no question about what Emmy had in mind, but I wasn’t done with my question.

“Em,” I said, holding her shoulders back so she couldn’t reach me for a kiss. “It’s a serious question. Why did you choose me? You could have had anybody.”

Looking at my face, Emmy could tell I really wanted an answer, so she gave up her attempts to kiss me senseless for the moment. “Leah, I love you. I do not love anybody else. It is that simple.”

“Well, O.K., but why?” I demanded.

“Why do I love you?” she asked. I nodded that yes, that was my question, so she answered it. “When I first came to Fallbrook and you were assigned to help me that first day…” Emmy said, thinking back. “I was so intimidated by you.” Seeing my disbelief, she insisted, “Yes, it is true. You were so tall, and I thought you were very proud and arrogant at first. You stood so very straight, your shoulders back, like… Like a soldier guarding the queen, perhaps. You looked at me and I felt completely exposed- it seemed you could see right through me, and I somehow did not measure up to your standards.”

I tried to protest, but she put her fingers on my lips to shush me. “That first day, you hardly spoke to me, you just kept examining me, and I was terrified. No, it is true. I was ready to go home and hide forever by lunch time, but slowly, by the end of the day I realized that you were not being disdainful, but it was merely an expression of your aloof nature.”

“Aloof?” I squawked, surprised.

“Yes, I saw that it was your nature, and not an expression of distaste for me. At the end of the day when you said that you would see me the next day, I thought that maybe, perhaps you were warming to me, and I felt that if I could become friends with you, then perhaps the rest of the school would not be so hard.”

I was doing my best to just listen and absorb what Emmy was saying, but it was killing me to not protest.

“The next few days, it seemed as if you enjoyed my company, that I was not merely an imposition, and I also realized that meant very much to me. I came to the conclusion that for the first time, I wanted a friend, and the friend I wanted was you. You were still very aloof, but I found that I could make you smile, and when you smiled at me it made me feel warm inside, deep down. That became my goal- to make you smile more, to make you happy any way I could.”

“It was on the roller coaster, where I held your hand so tightly and you did not pull away, that I recognized that nothing meant more to me than that. Nothing meant more to me than that little bit of contact, and I knew then that I was in love, in love for the very first time in my life.”

“Wow…” was all I could say. I drew her down to me and we spent the rest of the morning showing each other how much we loved one another. I savored the silky feel of her skin, the warm smell of her hair, and yes, that most intimate taste as I drove her to orgasm with my lips, teeth, and tongue.

She touched my body, stroking me softly where I wanted to be caressed, more firmly where I wanted to be squeezed and with first one, then two and eventually three of her long, slender fingers when I demanded more.

Eventually we disentangled ourselves and took a long, hot shower together, only stopping when our legs could barely hold us up any longer. It turned out to be the most perfect way to spend the morning I could have possibly imagined.