Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment.
Author's note: it's the scenes in this chapter that make me give the story a PG-13 warning. I don't think it requires a higher rating, but as the TV warnings say, "This program contains sexual situations."
Scylla and Charybdis
Part 5 - Sophomore Year: Ulysses was Lucky
The situation didn't improve upon Scott's return to Manhattanville in January. Emma continued her pursuit of him. By this time, the whole dorm knew about it, and probably most of the campus as well.
Maggie was so concerned she broke her unwritten rule about not getting involved in her friends love lives, and sat Scott down to talk to him.
"Scott, I don't think you understand the kind of woman Emma Frost is," she said bluntly. "She wants you and she's going to have you. Her kind always gets their own way."
"Her kind?" he asked.
"Rich," she stated firmly. "Powerful. The Frosts are an old Boston family. They kept their money and their power. Her grandfather ran Boston from behind the scenes for years. No one could get elected there without his support. People like her aren't used to being told no."
"I'm not entirely sure I'm going to tell her no," Scott admitted.
"She's going to use you and leave you high and dry," Maggie warned.
"I know," he said. "But at least I know it ahead of time."
It never dawned on anyone it might turn out a little differently.
x x x x x
Scott and Nancy continued to attend the dance classes, but it was understood that once they got there, Nancy would work with Mr. Harcourt and Emma would be with Scott. He often wondered how Emma had squared this with Mr. Harcourt -- and then decided he didn't want to know.
For the first half of the semester, everything remained the same -- Emma pursuing and Scott deftly staying one step ahead. It had become an odd game, but Emma was getting ready to play a new card.
"My family is having a big party in the city on Saturday and I have to go," she told him one afternoon. "I want you to be my escort."
"Okay, but how are we going to get there?" Scott asked.
"My dad is sending a car," she replied. "All that's arranged. All you have to do is get a tux. I can recommend a shop."
"I know where to get a tux," he said. Well, he knew who to ask, anyway. "Don't worry," he added. "I won't embarrass you."
"I know you won't," Emma responded with a smile.
x x x x x
"Emma Frost? Way to go, Slim!" Warren laughed as they walked down the street towards his tailor's shop in New York. He had come up that weekend from Yale to help Scott get ready for the party. "She's quite a catch."
"You know the family?"
"I know of them," Warren said. "Dad does business with the Frosts. I've met Emma a couple of times, but she's never made a pass at me."
"Oh, please," Scott said and then stopped outside the shop. "He does understand I'm renting it?"
Warren grabbed his arm and dragged Scott inside. "Yes, he does. They normally don't rent, but he's doing it as a special favor to me. So calm down and let the man take his measurements."
x x x x x
Scott tried to stay calm on the trip to the city, but it was hard. He'd never been in a limousine before (although the Professor had a very cool Bentley.) And Emma -- Emma was a knockout. Her hair and makeup was flawless and her dress was strapless white satin with little crystals embroidered over it. So here he was, the frog going out with the princess. It was completely surreal.
Not that anyone would guess he was a frog by the way he was dressed. The tuxedo was perfect and Warren had loaned him a pair of his grandfather's cufflinks, as well as giving him a crash course in what to expect as Miss Frost's escort. Scott was nervous. He had gone to the Worthington's country club with Warren to play golf a couple of times and had felt very out of place. He had no doubt it would be the same here.
They reached the hotel and got out of the limo. Scott was startled by the flash of the bulbs.
Emma tightened her hold on his arm. "Press," she whispered. "This is a big society function. They take pictures of lots of people, then pick a couple. Don't worry, just smile."
Emma stood there for a moment so they could get the photographs, like an old pro, which in this case she probably was.
The hotel ballroom was packed. Scott took a deep breath and concentrated on saying nothing and not tripping on his own feet. Thankfully, Emma's family (Scott counted a mother, father, brother, and two sisters) were welcoming. And a couple of the guests Scott had actually met before at parties where he had accompanied Professor Xavier. The Frosts and the Xaviers obviously moved in the same social circles. Scott began to feel less out of place and more able to enjoy himself.
His dancing lessons with Emma certainly paid off. They were among the more accomplished couples on the dance floor. Scott had spent most of his life trying to avoid attention, but that wasn't possible with Emma. But for once, he didn't mind being noticed.
After midnight, the party started winding down. "Is the car waiting for us?" he asked Emma.
"Actually, we have a room," she whispered. "Here, in the hotel. I know you've never been comfortable with the idea of us being together in the dorm -- there's no privacy. Here, there's total privacy and total anonymity. No one will know. Just us."
Scott's mind was reeling. Every good sense he had was screaming at him to run, but, but, she was so beautiful. And she wanted him. She wanted him. Did it really matter that he didn't love her? But before they went any further, he was going to make sure there was no pretense.
"I don't love you," he said quietly.
"I never said love was a requirement," was Emma's arch reply. She held out her hand. "Shall we go?" she asked.
Scott took her hand and followed her to the elevators.
x x x x x
Inside the room, Scott watched her carefully, like the pet mouse with the pet cat, wondering when and whether instinct would cause the cat to gobble him up. But right now, Emma was pretty tame.
And she was making a concerted effort to make him comfortable with the situation, Scott realized. He was being seduced -- which was a new experience. He was starting to think he liked it.
His jacket was neatly folded on the chair and his tie was casually tossed on the table. His shirt was unbuttoned and Scott knew he had lost his last chance to make a graceful exit.
She took his cufflinks off with a smile.
"Don't I get to do anything?" he asked.
"Not yet," Emma replied wickedly.
Another problem made its way through Scott's brain. "By the way, I don't have any ..." he stuttered.
"I do," she replied calmly.
There was nothing left to say. Scott leaned forward and kissed her.
x x x x x
Soon they were naked in the big, king sized bed. Emma was straddling him. She tried to take off his glasses.
"NO!" he shouted. He lowered his voice. "You can't do that. It's dangerous."
"Okay," she agreed. "The glasses say on." She leaned forward to kiss him. "Don't worry," she said softly. "I won't hurt you."
Her lips were soft and warm, but what struck Scott the most was the silence.
x x x x x
Early the next morning, Scott woke. Instinctively, he reached for his glasses, to make sure they were secure before opening his eyes. Emma lay beside him, still asleep. He moved carefully, trying not to wake her. He retrieved his clothes and headed for the bathroom and a quick shower. He hadn't paid attention to his conscience last night, but this morning, it refused to be ignored.
What had possessed him? He had successfully fended off Emma's advances for months, what made him suddenly give in now? He didn't love Emma; at times, he wasn't sure he even liked her. And why was he worrying so much about this? Other guys had casual relationships, why couldn't he?
Which was the problem for him, Scott realized now. Casual relationships had no interest for him; they reminded him too much of things he had witnessed on the streets as a runaway. Jean had understood this, but then, Jean had understood a lot about him. And not all of it was because of her telepathy.
Jean. He still loved Jean with all his heart. Emma was nothing more than a substitute, and that wasn't fair to anyone. He would end it this morning.
When he came out of the bathroom, Emma was sitting up in the bed.
"Already dressed, I see," she said with a slight smile.
"I .. I get up early all the time," Scott said. "I didn't want to wake you. Emma, about last night..."
"Last night was wonderful," Emma said. "Oh, heavens, look at the time. Don't worry, it doesn't take me long to get dressed and we can get a quick breakfast at a drive-thru on the way back."
She gave him no time to say anything. Scott blinked as she unceremoniously rose from the bed and pulled an overnight bag from the closet. He hadn't noticed that before. She had planned this whole thing very well, down to the last detail.
Except telling him, of course.
True to her word, Emma was showered and dressed in less than ten minutes -- jeans and a sweater, standard college wear. In contrast, Scott, in the remains of the tuxedo, felt very conspicuous.
Emma grinned, easily reading his thoughts. "It's different for guys. They come home, obviously out all night, and no one says anything; girls are looked at like the Whore of Babylon. I do have something of a reputation to maintain."
He found himself laughing at the picture. "I guess so," he said, and gallantly took her overnight bag down to the waiting limo.
x x x x x
Scott lost his opportunity to break it off with Emma. The problem was, she was a lot of fun. Sex was one thing (and very enjoyable), but she also liked many of the same things he did. She was teaching him Latin Ballroom, outside their regular classes and she was quite right -- it didn't take him long to get close to her level. And she wasn't so uppity that she didn't enjoy the odd sports game. They weren't completely incompatible. But every time Scott was with Emma, he thought of Jean.
x x x x x
Back in Manhattan, Jean was enjoying a rare morning off. A cup of coffee, fuzzy slippers and the New York Times to really read, rather than just skimming the headlines.
She turned to the society columns and almost choked. Staring up at her was a picture of Scott and Emma. She read the blurb that went with the photograph, "Miss Emma Frost of Boston with her handsome young escort." She looked like a slut, Jean thought maliciously, but she had to admit, Scott did look handsome. And, well -- very grown up. She partially put that down to the tuxedo he was wearing. All men looked good in a really nice tuxedo. Warren probably picked it out for him, Jean thought with a smile.
So, Scott had a girlfriend. Jean tried to tell herself she was happy for him, that it was what she wanted for him. Even if she really wanted to scratch the other woman's eyes out!
x x x x x
Scott moved from underneath Emma. They were in the dorm, in his room. He had gotten over his initial dislike of having sex in the dorms and turned a deaf ear to the gossip. But somehow, they always wound up in his room. Emma had been on top again, too. He didn't object to the position in general, but he just realized that she was always on top. She said it was because the dorm beds were too small. Scott had his doubts.
Of course, now that he thought about it, when he had been with Jean, he had always been on top. He had never really thought of that before. He wondered if it had bothered Jean. On the other hand, if it had bothered her, she would have let him know, or he would have felt it through their link. Jean was nice and clear about that kind of thing. Whereas, there was nothing clear about Emma. It got annoying sometimes.
Or was it just Emma that was annoying? Annoying, controlling, very high maintenance. She had a kind streak, but she also liked getting her own way. And while the sex was great, even in that regard, she was a little too aggressive as far as Scott was concerned. His own past experiences had made anything remotely rough or violent during lovemaking very distasteful to him. Emma sniffed and pouted, but usually let it go.
However, every once and a while, Scott got the same feeling he had when he was with Jean. That someone was trying to connect to his mind. Finally, he realized what it was.
Emma was a telepath.
x x x x x