Under Wraps - Love Under Lockdown

Finding myself in a sort of fugue state, with nothing to do and anything I started likely to be interrupted by Emma’s arrival, I did something I had not done in nearly a decade: I turned on the TV. I was very quickly reminded of why I had stopped in the first place.

Switching over to one of the more boring news channels, which were increasingly difficult to find, with rhetoric and screaming matches being the order of the day, I sat down in a nearby chair, closed my eyes, and let my mind rest, starting on a well-deserved mental lull.

The noise became a blur of numbers, making this strange pandemic situation feel even more distant.

I didn’t dream. Not really. Technically, dreaming only happens during sleep, and my other senses were still well aware, so that hadn’t happened.

I wasn’t going crazy. No matter the size of the room, or how long I had to stay in there, I wasn’t going to go crazy. I wouldn’t allow it. It was one of the main things that had turned me off of TV in the first place.

The knocking was sudden as a prairie wind. For the longest time, I was sure that it was in my head. Something trying to tell me something important. I just had to open up the door and let them in.

“Hello? Mr. LeVay?”

My eyes snapped open as the knocks came again. Getting out of the diabolically comfortable chair, remote still in my hand, I traveled, over the floor and past the bathroom, on a quest to answer the call. I opened the door.

“Hi,” she said, her voice a lot softer than when she had first called.

The stunning vision before me couldn’t be real. Face of Aphrodite. Curves of Mother Hera. Dark hair in a braid reaching down to her luscious ass. Crystalline eyes full of love and compassion, if not also a fair bit of confusion.

“Emma?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. I am here to assist you. I mean, to be your assistant. My room is next door, but I figured I would come over and, y’know, introduce myself.”

“Please, come in,” I said, stepping out of the way and sweeping my arm in welcome. “Would you like something to drink, or maybe a snack? The minibar is fully stocked.”

“Oh, well. I don’t usually go near those things. Isn’t it, like, five dollars per pistachio?”

“Not really, but close,” I admitted with a laugh, “But it’s not a problem; knock yourself out.”

Letting out a sound of joy, Emma dashed to the minibar, her bare feet moving easily on the floor. Had she been wearing heels, I might have worried. Down on her knees so she could open the door, her ass was even more visible; her skirt, which was already quite short for business wear, stretched tightly over the curvy flesh.

An old and familiar urge bubbled up in me. I wanted so much to pull up her skirt, yank aside her panties, and devour her until she screamed with pleasure. However, realizing this would probably affect our working relationship, I restrained myself.

I knew I couldn’t touch her. At least, not in the way I wanted. It was going to be difficult, but I would prevail.

As she emerged, her arms full of goodies, I could see her goodies in profile, pressing up against the inside of her blouse, yearning to break free.

“Sorry. I guess I went kinda nuts, huh?” Emma said, putting the bounty on the small dining table.

“Not at all,” I said, looking her over again, not able to get enough.

One thing that struck me was how young she looked. I knew Faust & Moore had a policy against hiring anyone under 25, so she couldn’t be more than nine years younger than me, but her age was hard to place; the fullness of her figure clashed somewhat with the innocence in her eyes and demeanour. I wondered if she was a virgin.

“Wanna sit down?” she asked with a nervous giggle.

“Certainly,” I said, pulling out the chair across from her.

“Isn’t that better?”

“Quite a bit, actually. So, tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Well, I just moved to the city a couple of months ago. Relocated for the job.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“… No, I can’t say,” Emma said, trying to wave off the idea.

“Why not?”

“You’ll laugh at me.”

“Why would I laugh?” I asked, trying to think of where it could be.

“… I’m from Wyoming. There, I said it. Come on, I’m ready. Bring on the ‘big empty land’ jokes. I’ve heard ‘em all, I think. And yes, I did have a cow for a pet. Adorable little calf. Grew up, of course. Never ate her. Been a vegetarian since.”

“That’s not funny at all,” I said.

“It isn’t?” Emma asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“No. I think it’s sweet. A bit unusual, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”