Emmy And Me

"Let me call Mamá to ask her if it's a good idea," I said, pulling out my phone. "I want to get her perspective."

"I think she will say it would be O.K.," Cecilia said, but she didn't sound too convinced.

When I asked Mamá her thoughts, she said that she had no objections to the idea- she thought Dulce was a good kid, and the two girls would enjoy seeing London together.

"Alright," I said to Cecilia after I hung up with Mamá. "Now you two need to convince Dulce's parents, but do it quick. I need to buy her plane tickets as soon as possible."

"Thank you!" Cecilia said, jumping up from her chair and coming around to give me a big hug. Sitting back down, she immediately texted her friend to tell her how our conversation had gone.

I got up and grabbed myself another bottle of sparkling water, patting Cecilia's head as I passed by.

"I'll be up in my office," I told her. "Come up and let me know as soon as it's been decided."

It took well over an hour, but eventually Cecilia joined me upstairs. "Dulce's parents say that they want to meet you. They haven't said no, but they haven't said yes yet, either."

"That's fair. Are they home? Can we go over to talk to them now?" I asked.

"Yes, they are," she said. "They have a friend who is a notaria, so if they do decide they can have the papers made tonight."

"So it all depends on what they think of me?" I asked.

"Yes, that's it," Cecilia confirmed.

I changed clothes and we walked the handful of blocks to Dulce's house in the mid-afternoon heat.

"I checked the weather in London this morning," I said to make conversation and to distract Cecilia. She was visibly nervous about how the meeting was going to go, and I could sympathize.

"Si? Yes?" she corrected herself.

"Twelve degrees and cloudy," I told her.

"So cold?" she asked, dismayed.

"So when you pack tonight, make sure you bring clothes for that kind of temperature," I urged her.

"I don't have very many clothes for cold weather," Cecilia protested. "We don't need them here."

"No, I get that, I do," I told her, "But pack what you can."

Dulce stood waiting in the open doorway of her family's house, which was located above the popular restaurant they owned. She'd been waiting out on the balcony and rushed downstairs when we turned the corner.

The two girls spoke far too quickly for me to be able to follow along, but it seemed more positive than not. Dulce led us upstairs and into her family's living room, which was open to the street-side balcony as well as to the balcony surrounding two sides of the lower courtyard. Sounds of the restaurant below were ever-present, but not all that loud.

Dulce's dad was a tall, handsome guy, older than I expected, but with the same orange (Rafael had called them 'amber', but they seemed more orangey brown than golden to me) eyes as his daughter. Dulce's mom came bustling into the living room, drying her hands off with a kitchen towel as we sat down. Once we were introduced, Dulce's father got straight to the point.

"Mrs Farmer," he said with an accent that sounded Jamaican. "Our daughter tells us that you are Cecilia's sister-in-law."

"Yes, that's right," I confirmed. I had no idea how much to share, so I stuck with not volunteering anything, just in case my being a lesbian would be a party-stopper.

"Dulce says that you're taking Cecilia to London for Easter holiday?"

"Yes, that's right. We're leaving tomorrow evening and returning the Sunday after this one," I confirmed.

"And you've invited Dulce along?"

"Well, I'd never met Dulce before the other day when Cecilia brought her friends over to my house for a visit," I admitted. "But when she- Cecilia, that is- told me afterwards that Dulce was her best friend, and also adding that Dulce had said she'd love to visit London, I asked Cecy if she thought she'd like to ask if Dulce could come with us. I figured it would be fun for her to share the experience with someone her own age, and not just be with us old folks," I said with a shrug.

"Dulce said that you have a house in London? You wouldn't be staying in a hotel?"

"No, we have our own place," I confirmed. "Pretty close to the river on the South Bank."

"Where?" he asked. "I lived in London for a few years when I was a lot younger."

"Southwark," I said. "Near Blackfriar's Bridge. It's a nice place. We have several spare bedrooms, so Dulce would get her own room."

"I spoke with Rafael Castro," Dulce's father said. "He said that he trusts you with his daughter completely. I don't know him well, but he strikes me as a man of integrity."

"I've never seen anything to make me think otherwise," I agreed. "Rafael is a very good man."

"You'll have the girls back in time for school, right?" Dulce's father asked, and It was clear he'd made up his mind. His daughter was free to go to London.

Walking with Cecilia back to the Castro house was exceptionally tiring because she was practically vibrating with excitement. It was exhausting just being near her.

"Is choosing Dulce to go with you going to cause problems with your other friends?" I asked, trying to get her to come back to Earth.

"No, I don't think so," Cecilia said. "Maria and Bianca don't even have passports, so they wouldn't be able to travel even if I did ask them to come."

"Where is Dulce's dad from? I like his accent."

"He's Trinidadian," Cecilia said. "There are a lot of them in Colombia- we have a Trinidad festival here every year, too," she said, offhandedly. "It was last month."

"Alright. Make sure she packs for the London weather, too, but if her dad lived there, he'll know what she should expect this time of year."

"I didn't know he'd lived in London," Cecilia admitted. "Maybe that's why Dulce wants to go so bad."

"Could be. That's why Jeremy likes the place so much," I told her. "His mother grew up there."

"Jeremy? Emmy's big, es decir, guard?"

"Bodyguard," I corrected. "Yeah, that's him. He'll be there in London with us."

"He seems nice, but he looks very scary."

"He is nice, but yes, he looks intimidating," I agreed.

I had a hard time escaping the Castro house- Mamá wanted me to stay for dinner, and as appealing as that was, I told her that I'd already made dinner plans with a friend, but I'd come over for lunch the next day.

"We will have dinner early tomorrow, before you go to the airport," Rafael announced, and I was perfectly happy to accept.

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I'd barely gotten back to my work when Katrina texted to say that she was done at the office, and to ask if she should come straight to the house or not.

"Sure. Come over", I texted back. Nothing I had to do for work was all that pressing, after all.

I'd just gotten out of a quick shower when the doorbell rang, so I slipped on a pair of shorts and a BMW Motorsports T shirt and hurried downstairs.

"Come inside and cool off," I urged Katrina. "I've got the air conditioning cranking."

"You sure do," she agreed once she was inside. "This is nice." Then noticing my wet hair, she asked, "Were you swimming?"

"No, I just took a shower when you texted. I was out in the heat earlier and wanted to not feel so sticky," I told her as I led her into the kitchen for something cold to drink.

"I should have stopped by the hotel for a shower," Katrina said, pinching the front of her office-casual shirt and fanning it away from her own chest.

"Feel free to take a shower here," I suggested.

"I'd just have to put these sweaty things back on," Katrina protested.

"Raid my closet," I said with a shrug.

"You're huge- nothing would fit me?" Katrina said, turning it into a question.

"So what? We aren't going anywhere until we head to the hotel for dinner, right? You can change into something nice when we get there."

"I guess," Katrina said. "O.K., you've successfully twisted my arm. Which shower should I use?"

"Definitely the one with the hidden spy cameras," I said, nodding.

"What?" she demanded, surprised, then realized I was yanking her chain. "What even would be the point? You've seen me naked plenty."

"Is it ever enough, though?" I asked with a smirk. "That's why I need to get it on video."

Shaking her head, Katrina said, "I don't get you at all. You… Well, whatever. Just point me in the right direction."

I led her up to the master bedroom and indicated the dresser in the walk-in closet. "Feel free to grab whatever you want to throw on. I'll be back in my home office on the other side of this same floor."

I had no concern about Katrina potentially snooping through my stuff, since there was absolutely nothing potentially interesting in any of it.

I'd wrapped up my emails for the day and was skimming through the news on The Economist's web site when Katrina found me.

"That looks cute on you," I told her.

"Thanks," she said, sliding the strap of the tank top back up over her shoulder, giving me a nice flash of side boob. Yeah, I'd seen her buck naked for extended periods, but I still found that hint of flesh surprisingly sexy.

"Trying to find anything that fit me really drove home how huge you are," Katrina said, lifting up the front of the tank top to reveal that she'd had to tie a knot in the waistband of the mesh shorts to keep them from falling right off.

"I mean, yeah, like, I've seen you naked and I knew you were built like a truck, but still…"

"Maybe it's just that you're really small?" I suggested, shutting my laptop.

"No, I don't think that's it," Katrina said with a smile.

Katrina suggested we play some pool, so we grabbed a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses from the cellar to drink as we played.

"I would suggest strip pool, but like I said, we've seen each other naked plenty," Katrina said. "Besides, I'm only wearing two things, so I'd be at a disadvantage."

"I'm only wearing two things, too, so it'd be fair," I said. "Besides, I'm not very good, so you'd probably have me naked in no time."

"I'm not very good, either," Katrina admitted. "I had an old boyfriend who liked to play and he taught me a little, but I never really took to it."

"I had a girlfriend in high school who was a real pro. We used to play a lot on the table in her garage, but that was a long time ago," I said as I racked the balls.

I was maybe just a little bit better than Katrina at my shots, but she got a couple of lucky shapes and managed to just beat me on our first game.

"Alright," she said, holding out her hand. "Give it up." Seeing my puzzled expression, she said, "That T shirt of yours. Or your shorts, I guess. You pick."

"I didn't realize we'd agreed that we were playing strip eight ball?" I questioned.

"Of course we were!"

"Of course we were, the moment you won," I said with a laugh. "I see how you are!"

"You've been seeing how I was the entire game!" Katrina protested. "Don't think I haven't noticed you checking out my tits every time I lean over to make a shot."

"Guilty as charged," I confessed. "But it's your fault for having such nice tits."

"All natural, I'll have you know," she said archly.

"I do know," I told her. "I've had my hands on 'em."

"Oh, God, that's right," Katrina said, covering her face with her hands. "When that asshole roofied me."

"No, not when he roofied you. When you shoved him on the sidewalk outside the club."

"Outside? On the street? My boobs popped out in public?" Katrina asked, mortified.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," I told her to comfort her. "They're really pretty boobs, and anybody would be proud of a set like yours."

Blushing, Katrina said, "Enough talking about my tits. Time for you to show yours off, missy." She held out her hand again, and all I could do was laugh.

"Here you go," I told her, slowly pulling the bottom hem of the T shirt up and over my head like a guy would. Handing her the shirt, I asked, "Satisfied?"

"Not yet," She said, taking the shirt and tossing it over a nearby chair. "But I will be when I get those shorts off you, too."

"You've seen me naked plenty," I said, turning her own words against her.

"Is it ever enough?" she asked, reversing the verbal judo on me.

Katrina didn't get so lucky on the second game and for round three we were both topless.

I hadn't mentioned to Katrina that Stephanie and I used to play strip eight ball a lot way back when, and even though I inevitably lost, Stephanie and I always both ended up naked. I could certainly see this mini-tournament going the same way as far as our clothes went, but I still had no plans to sex up Katrina the way Stephanie and I always did after our games.

Even though it wasn't going to end up with the two of us doing a horizontal dance, I still made a point of admiring the way Katrina's breasts looked when she leaned over, concentrating on her shots.

All that concentration did her no good, though, and I sank the eight with nearly half of her stripes still on the table.

"Time to pay up, missy," I said, making the same hand-out gesture she'd done earlier.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Katrina said sash looked away, slipping the mesh shorts off her shapely hips and dropping them to the floor. As promised, she'd been going commando, so when she hooked the shorts with her toe and lifted them up to hand them to me she was as naked as the day she was born.

I made a twirling gesture and Katrina sighed, but did make a full turn.

"Well, alright, then," I said, pouring the two of us each another glass.

"Hey, we're not done yet," Katrina protested, but she did accept the fresh glass of French white whine.

"You're naked," I said. "What more do you have to bet?"

"If I win, I get a piece of clothing back," she said.

"You don't want me to ditch my shorts if you win?" I asked.

"And you lose the shorts," Katrina added.

"This doesn't sound like a great deal for me," I protested. "How about if I win?"

"If you win, I'll keep my clothes off until it's time to go."

"That's only one thing. You wanted two things if you win," I countered.

Taking a gulp of wine to bolster her courage, Katrina said, "And you get to put your hands on my tits again." She couldn't look at me when she said it, and her face was as red as a beet.

"As appealing as that is- and believe me, I got far too short a feel last time- I'm gonna have to pass up on that one. My belief is that it's like an art museum. I can admire all I want, but the sign clearly says 'Don't touch'," I told her.

Still blushing like crazy, Katrina laughed. "Are you admiring?" she asked.

"Very much so," I told her. "Very much so."

"O.K., then. I win, I get a piece of clothing back. I lose, I stay naked," Katrina bargained.

"So, I'm not at risk of losing my shorts?" I asked for clarification.

"Maybe the round after this- let's see how it goes," Katrina confirmed.

It didn't help Katrina's concentration at all that I made quiet appreciative noises and readjusted my position to get better views every time she went to take her turn, making her more and more flustered as the game went on. Katrina eventually getting to the point where she was missing what should have been easy shots.

"Well, I guess it's nudist time for you this evening," I told her as I sank the eight ball, winning the game easily.

"That was no fair. You cheated!"

"How did I cheat?" I asked as I poured us the last of the bottle.

"You made me mess up!" Katrina complained, but there was no heat in it.

"You know what I think? I think you intentionally flubbed a few of those shots so you'd have an excuse to parade around in the buff," I told her. "I think you like me checking you out."

"I-" Katrina started to protest, then caught herself. "I guess I kinda do," she admitted. "It was me who suggested naked snorkeling, and swimming in your pool…"

"And strip eight ball," I added. "There's a pattern here."

"I guess I've got to own this, don't I?" Katrina asked.

"Mind you, I have not once said that I mind," I told her.

"No, that's true," she replied with a little laugh. "I can't remember ever hearing you object when I took my clothes off."

"And I doubt you ever will," I confirmed.

True to the arrangement, Katrina stayed naked, even when we went down to the wine cellar for another bottle.

"It's cold!" she said. "Hurry up and grab something!"

"it is a bit nipply down here," I said, leering at Katrina's very pert temperature indicators.

"I'm not the only one who thinks so!" she countered, making a point of looking at my chest too, and yes, mine were just as pokey.

"You go up the stairs first," Katrina said after I'd chosen something for us to drink.

Making an exaggerated pout, I sighed heavily, then led the way back up to the main floor, my shoulders drooping.

This got the laugh I wanted from Katrina, and a swat on my not-naked butt for good measure.

"Ow!" she said, holding her right hand in her left. "I think I bruised my hand!"

"Serves you right," I huffed, but there was no heat in it and Katrina knew it.

Lounging in the living room, we were talking about nothing important when Katrina suddenly realized something.

"There's no TV!" she said, sitting up and looking around. "You know, I can't remember seeing any TVs in this house at all!"

"There aren't any," I told her. "That's why you haven't seen 'em."

"That's actually… pretty cool, I guess," she said, leaning back again.

"We have two in our house in LA," I said. "One in the living room and a really freaking huge one down in our viewing room-"

"Of course you have a viewing room," Katrina said, rolling her eyes.

"We live in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills. It's city code that you have to have a viewing room," I told her. "Anyhow, as I was saying, there's a TV in each of our guest rooms, but Emmy and I don't really watch much at all, so…

"You guys have such a different lifestyle than anybody I've ever known," Katrina said. "Not the rich part- I know a number of rich people, but they aren't like you guys."