Pixie Pt. 01 Ch. 08: Enter Emmanuelle

The noise of a harp broke through the silence. In my sleep-deprived early morning mind, piecing things together in a haphazard fashion, like putting on last night's panties with odd socks and forgetting to comb my hair, I imagined heaven and angels.

Out of habit, my hand reached out, catching a breast instead of a phone. It seemed a good exchange to me. I snuggled in. The owner of the breast pulled me close. I sighed. I slept.

It was the harsher tone of the wake-up call Emily had booked which roused us all.

'Bugger,' said Emily, 'it is 7:30, best get showered and down to breakfast.'

'Not without dressing,' Anne added.

I sat up, rubbed my eyes.

'Oh you are adorable little Pixie,' Emily cooed.

'She sure is,' Anne added.

In the eye of the beholder, I thought. Quite how a smelly and dishevelled Pixie could be thought to be cute was a mystery I had no interest in challenging.

I explained that the BBC would be arriving at the concert hall about 10 am and that I needed to be on hand to brief the presenter, Retrieving my scattered garments, I dressed quickly. Emily and Anne hugged me, saying they hoped to see me at dinner that night. I explained it depended on what time I finished, but thanked them for the wondrous night.

My room looked untouched. No doubt the chambermaids were glad of such an easy guest, but I was about to spoil it by showering.

The water felt divine on my naked body. The heat soothed me, and I felt renewed.

Amazed at the speed with which I could get my hair dried and presentable, I put on my favourite purple shift dress with matching panties, added a pair of sandals, dabbed on a bit of mascara and some lippy and set off for the Hall. Breakfast could wait.

I grabbed a croissant and a coffee at the Concert Hall and prepared for the day to come.

It was the beeping from my mobile phone which made me look at it: '5 missed calls from Emm.' I checked my texts:

'Told you I'd make it. Be with u at noon. Luv Emm.'

None of that was quite true, but it was all very Emm.

'Emm' was short for Emmanuelle. Five foot seven of blonde gorgeousness with a 36C chest and personality to match, Emm, as she was universally known, was my great crush. I'd loved her to have been my girlfriend, but flat-chested midgets are fortunate to get fucked by the Emms of this world, and I was duly grateful for getting her when someone more attractive let her down.

She teased me relentlessly about my tiny tits, but I didn't mind. She was rich or at least her family was, so she owned her own London apartment suite (no pokey rented flatlet for her), and had whatever smart car was in fashion. To the admiring world Emm had it all.

But I knew another side of Emm. She was a lesbian but dared not come out to her father. She was also submissive. She had admitted it to me during a drunken fuck (her, not me) when she asked me to spank her. I did. She came. From time to time, our sex play had included scenarios where she was degraded, and we had even found some films which fuelled her desires. Loving her as I did, I could not help but love helping her to orgasm to her favourite scenarios.

What Emm had actually said was that if she could spare the time, she might come down and fuck my arse off - if I was a good girl. So I suppose those words might bear the interpretation she put on them - if you were Emm.

I texted back.

'Great hun - Pixie.'

There was a harp sound a moment later.

'See you soon, tiny tits, kisses.'

The BBC presenter was lovely, and I could easily have developed a crush on her, but though we flirted, we did the business; we also exchanged cards. One never knew.

'Pixie, Marilyn Monroe is looking for you.'

It was Cerdic, the tech guy, and I knew who he meant.

In came Emm, trailing admirers and turning heads. She was wearing that dress. Black, flared from the waist, deep cut to show maximum cleavage, it drew attention and I swear at least one stagehand dropped a hammer on his foot at the sight.

'Baby,' she squealed, 'gorgeous to see you.' And looking straight at the woman from the BBC, she added, 'and who is this divine figure, darling, and where did you find her, and why is she with you when she could be with me?'

Emm did not change. Blushing, I introduced them to each other. The BBC presenter offered to show Emm the mobile studio.

Used to this, I got on with making sure that the Ensemble was happy, especially its notoriously bad-tempered leader. Fortunately, I did not mind being talked down to, and he was happy to oblige.

By the time I extricated myself from his various demands (was it really my job to get his coffee?), I thought I'd best go find Emm.

Ignoring the 'do not disturb, rehearsing' signs, and red 'on air' light, I went in.

Emm was in her stunning black lingerie, minus panties, and the BBC woman was semi-naked, eating Emm out.

'Don't worry, darling, it's only Pixie.'

I don't think the woman from the BBC was worried about anything except giving Emm what she needed. Enjoying being watched, Emm began to writhe. As Emm came, so did her partner. No doubt Emm was using her toes. I could testify how good she was with them.

'Oh, darling,' Emm murmured as she came down from the high, 'do look me up in London. I've got a lovely little place off Canary Wharf. Oh, and are you free tonight?'

The BBC woman giggled when she saw me, shrugged her shoulders and said, as so many had before her:

'Well, would you have resisted?'

I laughed, admitted I would never have been able to, indeed never had, and contented myself with tasting Emm on her lips.

Adjusting their dresses, the lovers kissed, and I took Emm into the auditorium for her to find what passed for lunch. With her, it was usually a lettuce leaf, as long as it was organic. Swimming and the gym kept the figure she had been endowed with by nature in peak condition, and a strict regime with food kept away any weight gain. If I hadn't loved her, it would have been easy to have hated her. Except she was so utterly gorgeous, and as a person too, that no one ever had hated Emm, even those who had tried.

As we approached the cafe bar, I spotted Emily and Anne. They waved, I walked over with Emm.

'And who,' Anne asked, 'is this utterly adorable creature, and where have you been hiding her, Pixie?'

I did the necessary introductions, but it was clear that it had been lust at first sight between Emm and Anne. I could guess how the afternoon would go and wished I could have been part of it.

Emily talked to me. I suppose someone needed to. Anne and Emm were deep into conversation. I only pricked up my ears when I heard Anne saying:

'Well, honey, if it's domination you are looking for, look no further. Let's go back to my place and discuss your needs.'

With that, they rose and went, without so much as saying goodbye.

Emm turned, as she went.

'See you later, Pixie.'