A/N: Do not own, etc. Not mine. Mrs. Jameson is, though... that shameless hussy. This takes place sometime in the week before Em takes Bella to the Jameson's. It's quick and dirty.
Emmett POV:
"Well... look at what we have here," she purrs, sauntering into the bedroom. Her hair is blonde and curly, but the curls aren't big and soft like Bella's. It looks... crunchy. The color is off, too- especially combined with her fake tan. Who does she think she's fooling, walking around with a tan in the rainiest town in the entire United States?
I'm on my hands and knees, measuring the length of the walls in the closet. Dr. J had let me in a few minutes earlier before leaving for work, and I decided to start with the small space in here before tackling the rest of the bedroom. I scribble the measurement down in my notebook and stand up to greet the doctor's wife.
"Hi, Mrs. Jameson. How have you been?" I smile, extending the tape measure to the floor and running it up to the ceiling. She's been friends with my mother for years, but she always flirts with me. The first time I realized she was doing it, I was uncomfortable. Now it's just funny- and a little bit of an ego boost.
"Oh, Emmett, I've been... bored," she pouts. "I've missed seeing you at your mother's. How do you like college, dear?" She's holding a glass of iced tea, condensation rolling down the side. She takes a sip and shudders a little bit at the taste. Maybe it's a Long Island Iced Tea. She does kind of look like a woman on one of those Real Housewives shows that Jasper watches. We all teased him about it until he turned the show into a drinking game, now it's pretty normal to see that shit playing on the giant flat screen in the house.
"It's great, Mrs. J. I'm in a fraternity, so there's always a lot going on." I write down the last measurement, and move to step out of the closet. Instead of moving out of the way, she flattens herself against the door jamb. I move past her, turning my body slightly so I don't brush against her.
"I can imagine. What's that like, living in a house full of boys your age?" she asks, her expression dreamy. I chuckle, imagining what fantasy is running through her mind right now. She takes a long sip, draining the glass.
"We have a lot of fun. It's kind of a mess, though, you know?" I admit.
"Shame. Maybe you boys should get a housemother or something... to take care of you." Her suggestion is innocent on the surface, but the innuendo is clear. She follows me around the room, never straying more than two or three feet from where I'm taking measurements.
"Yeah, maybe," I reply. "Mrs. J-"
"Emmett, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Maryanne," she chides, reaching out to touch my shoulder affectionately. I turn, stepping away from her and moving to the door of the master bathroom. I don't mind talking with her, but I really don't want her touching me. I know she's probably just flirting, but it feels wrong. I'd be furious if someone touched Bella that way.
"Um, okay, Maryanne. I'll have to pull the furniture away from the walls. Don't worry, though, I'll cover everything up before I paint the ceiling." I move a little faster, hoping to finish the job before she made things more awkward.
"Not a problem, darling. Just be careful when you're moving my nightstand," she says, gesturing with her empty glass towards the side of the king-sized bed. "There are some... personal items in there, and I wouldn't want you to be shocked if you happened to open a drawer." She winks at me, and I turn towards the wall to try to hide my expression. I have to bite down hard to keep from laughing.
"Of course, I'll be careful," is all I can say. She moves away and sets her empty glass on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed. Leaning back on her hands, her back deliberately arched, she looks like she's posing.
"I know you'll probably be spending a lot of time here, Emmett. Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I'll put some beer in the fridge for you, okay? Just don't tell anyone. I know you're not 21 yet." She tries to wink, but both eyelids close and it looks like she's blinking at me repeatedly. This time I can't hold it in and a little laughter escapes.
"That's not necessary, Mrs. Jameson," I decide to go back to the formal. "I don't drink while I'm at work. This room won't be too difficult, it should only take me two days to get it all done." I release the button on my tape measure and enjoy the satisfying whir as it snaps back into its casing. "All done!" I declare.
"Regardless, we'll be gone for a week, so feel free to use the house if you need to. You could even shower here!" she suggests, her face brightening at the idea.
"Well... I certainly appreciate the offer, Mrs. J. If you'll excuse me, I should be going," I move towards the door, and she springs up to follow me. She trails me through their living room and to the front door. I pull it open, but she reaches out and stops me from opening it wide enough to exit.
"Do you want to stay for dinner, dear? Dr. Jameson is working tonight, and the kids are with their grandparents, so I'll be here all alone," she looks down at the floor before lifting her eyes to meet mine.
"I have plans, actually. But thank you. For the offer. For dinner." I keep stumbling over what to say. "I'm meeting my girlfriend!" I tell her, hoping the words will serve as a shield against her advances.
"Lucky girl. Well, the invitation stands, Emmett," she offers. She leans over to whisper into my ear and adds, "anytime."
"Right," I smirk, and I can't deny that I like the attention, even if it skeeves me out a little. "Have a good vacation, Mrs. Jameson."
Mrs. J POV:
I watch him hop off the porch and jog to his car. He has this amazing ass that looks perfect in everything he wears- I was so fucking lucky to catch him on his hands and knees. He gives me a friendly wave after he settles into the Jeep, pulling out of the driveway cautiously before speeding off down our street. I groan, wishing I had been able to come up with the words to make him stay.
I've known Esme and Carlisle for a long time, and I knew Emmett and Edward when they were in high school, of course. I never thought of Emmett in a sexual way until the summer after he graduated from high school. I had stopped by Esme's house to drop off some dishes I'd borrowed and he answered the door fresh from working out. He was shirtless, sweaty, and glistening. My jaw dropped and my pussy throbbed at the sight of him. He opened the door wide and gestured for me to come in, and I could barely put one foot in front of the other to step over the threshold. I stumbled, and Emmett reached out to catch me. His hands wrapped around my arms, and my brain immediately assaulted me with dirty images: Emmett's hand on my ass, spanking me. Emmett's hand between my legs, pushing his fingers into me while he ground his palm against my clit. Emmett's hands wrapped around my thighs, pushing them apart while he licked me.
He probably thought I was a moron that day- I felt dumbstruck by the sight of his body, and he certainly made no effort to cover himself. Standing in the kitchen while he ate an apple, talking about college, I started to wonder if he wanted me to be looking at him that way. Over the next few months, I invented excuses to "stop by" Esme's house, hoping to catch Emmett alone. Sadly, the opportunities were few and far between. When I did catch him alone, I flirted shamelessly in the hopes that he'd make a move.
I stop in the kitchen to refill my glass, pouring in equal parts whiskey and ginger ale. The house is so quiet with David and the kids gone, it makes me crazy. I put on some INXS, blast the speakers, and wander through the house swaying my hips.
The light is on in David's study, and there's unopened mail covering the desk. I set my glass down and straighten up the papers, sitting down in his desk chair. When I bump the mouse, the computer screen lights up and I see David's email. It's not snooping if they leave the account open, right? I glance through his inbox, not expecting anything salacious- after all, this is my boring, stodgy husband we're talking about. The only surprise is an email welcoming him to Facebook. Isn't that the website all the kids use?
I open a window, switching it over to Private Browsing so he won't see the history. I'm a pro at this; I have a laptop, but porn looks so much better on his wide, flatscreen monitor. I sign myself up for a facebook account, entering the fake name and email address I use to sign up for subscription-only porn sites. After I'm logged in, I search David's name and find his profile. Nothing there, really; just his name, occupation, and a list of his favorite books. He hasn't even uploaded a picture. Pictures... everyone else on Facebook must have a picture. I'm sure Emmett does.
My fingers fly across the keyboard, searching his name, and while the page is loading I unbutton my pants and slip them off. I check the clock- plenty of time before anyone else will be home. There's a fuckhot picture of him staring back at me, and I rub my tits through my blouse, wishing he was watching me live. I notice a link that says "View Photos of Emmett (295)" and I click it excitedly. I click furiously with my right hand, moving through the images, while I rub my clit with my left hand.
Emmett at a party, beer in hand, and I imagine kissing him. His breath would taste like beer; it would be sloppy and heavy and intoxicating. I move my fingers down to my entrance, swirling them in the wetness there before moving them back to my clit.
Emmett and a tall, sexy blonde guy in Mariners hats, the stadium in the background. I could take him to a ball game, bring a blanket and jerk him off underneath it. He would moan, and he would call me Mary Anne, and he would cum in my hand. I move faster, my hips pushing against my hand as I get myself closer.
Emmett with his arm around a mousy brunette, her face hiding in his shoulder. It looks like he took this one himself, the camera only an arm's length away. I put myself in her place, nuzzling his neck, kissing him and then rolling on top of him to ride him. So close.
Fuck. This is it. Emmett, shirtless, sweaty, playing basketball with some other guys, including the hot blonde. I think about his hard body over mine, his sweat dripping onto me as he fucks me relentlessly, over and over again. He would pick me up and throw me around like a ragdoll as he repositions me. The blonde would be watching, jerking off as his friend fucks me. I close my eyes, the image locked into my brain, and throw my head back. I pinch my clit and buck my hips as my pussy pulses with an intense orgasm.
I lie back in the chair for a few minutes, my hand in my panties, coming down from the high. Eventually I'll have to clean up and cover my tracks, but for now I just relax. This is great- so much better than anonymous websites. Who needs porn when you have Emmett?
Am I right ladies? Who needs porn when you have Emmett? *sigh*