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Listeners' Fantasies |
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Emma in Wonderland
By Ivana Goodtime
 This is the first posting to the Fantasy Archers topic of The Archers message board from "Ivana Goodtime" - which might well be Emma Grundy's nom de plume, if this salacious story is to be believed ...
"I'm jolly glad you persuaded Jenny to splash out on a decent bed - money well spent in my opinion," said Brian, zipping himself up. He glanced at Emma, lolling naked across the sheets as she picked a coffee cream out of the massive box on the bedside table. "Not too many of those, you minx - don't want to spoil that gorgeous figure!"
Emma popped the chocolate between pouting lips. "Won't have any sort of figure soon," she said, "not with the baby and that."
"Cheer up." Brian whisked a comb through his thinning hair. "Plenty of time before you need to worry about that. Are we OK for next week?"
"S'pose so." Emma heaved herself off the bed. "Where'd you leave my little present?"
"Thought you'd already had it," murmured Brian, squeezing a bare buttock playfully.
"Stop that! I meant my real present."
"Oh. In the hall."
Emma always acted nonchalantly around Brian but she couldn't resist a cry of delight when she ripped off the wrapping paper to reveal a DVD player.
"Oh Brian, it's BRILL! Come here, you naughty man!"
"You don't think Will may begin to suspect something?" Even with an armful of nude 20-year-old, Brian couldn't quite forget what an excellent shot his new head keeper was.
"Will? He's an idiot." Emma was examining her gift, her eyes glowing. "We could do it on the kitchen table while he was having his tea and he wouldn't notice," she added scornfully. She saw Brian's eyes brighten and shook her head.
"Don't get any ideas!" she warned as she pushed him out of the front door. "I'll see you next week as usual."
Back in the bedroom Emma tidied the bed and picked up her clothes from where Brian had hurled them in his excitement. They hadn't used the milkmaid outfit for ages and she was quite surprised she could still get into it, what with the baby and that. She paused and gazed round at the pretty room with its brand-new furnishings and smart bed linen. And there were all the other new things downstairs, from the leather sofa to the widescreen TV and Gaggia coffee maker, plus of course this lovely home to put them in. Look at Roy and Hayley, still living with his parents, and here was she - and Will too, she supposed - with everything. And all in return for keeping that silly old goat happy once a week!
The sound of the front door opening made her straighten up, startled, then she heard her mother's voice.
"Coo-eee, Emma love! You there?"
"Coming, mum." Hastily she bundled the clothes into an Underwoods carrier and stuffed it into the top of the wardrobe before grabbing her dressing gown and flying downstairs.
Susan was unpacking the shopping she'd brought with her: coffee, tea, bread, butter, sugar, eggs, ham. "What are you doing undressed? Aren't you feeling well?"
"I'm fine, just a bit tired, that's all." Emma dropped onto one of the new kitchen chairs and watched her mother stack everything tidily away. "Did you bring any cake? I'm starving."
"I hope you're not taking too much time off, Emma. You don't want to get a reputation for being lazy."
"Kenton thinks I'm at the cash and carry," said her daughter, admiring the chunky gold bracelet on her wrist. "Don't worry, I'll make it up to him." A faint smile touched her rosebud mouth as she remembered exactly how Kenton liked her to make it up. No wonder it had been so easy to persuade him to go off and play happy families with his daughter, leaving Emma in charge of Jaxx Caff. That reminded her - she had a meeting with Jack Woolley tomorrow morning about her new manager salary. Where had she put her peephole bra?
***
Jack looked up apprehensively as the office door opened. It had been a difficult 12 hours, ever since he put Peggy's fluffy hot water bottle on the floor with a saucer of milk and rolled poor Timmy up in her nightie under the pillow. It was amazing what that cat's claws could do to Chilpruf wincyette. The atmosphere at breakfast had been as frosty as Peggy's perm and now he was supposed to be having a meeting with someone but couldn't remember who.
It was a relief to recognise the stunning young woman who came in, though he could barely tear his eyes away from her clinging white blouse, tourniquet-tight skirt and the long dark hair curling around her shoulders.
"Ooh Emma, nice to see - nice to - er ..." He was still staring as she sat down opposite him and smiled shyly. Pull yourself together, Jack, he ordered himself sternly but to no avail. His eyes had a mind of their own, sliding across the straining white cotton and down the creamy cleavage where a hint of oyster satin ... oh God, she was staring at him.
"Nice to see you both - I mean you, nice to see you." In his confusion he tried to put on a pen instead of his reading glasses and nearly stabbed himself in the eye. Emma licked her lips and fluttered her eyelashes. Something stirred in Jack that had lain dormant since he first caught the creak of Peggy's corsets: the hot stab of illicit excitement.
"Now, what are we meeting about?" Jack dragged himself back to the present.
Emma leaned forward a little. "About my increased salary, Mr Woolley. As the new manager of Jaxx Caff."
Jack blinked. "The new manager? But I thought Kenton ..."
"Kenton's not been in for more than two weeks." She crossed her legs and Jack caught a flash of straining stocking top and smooth gold thigh. He leapt like a startled pheasant, his rheumatic knee cracking like a rifle shot.
"Oh my goodness!" The vase of flowers on his desk teetered and fell. Before he could move, Emma was round the desk and kneeling before him. She gazed up at him with huge blue eyes, her moist lips parted. Her warm hand rested on his thigh.
"I was thinking about 30 grand a year. What do you think, Mr Woolley?"
"Thirty grand! Now, Emma, I'm not made of money you know, I - oooh - ooh - goodness!" said Mr Woolley.
****
Luckily the powerful scent of Dior's Poison preceded its wearer by some 15 seconds, or Lynda would never have been able to slide her copy of French's Staging A Christmas Carol out of the way under the morning's post before Caroline appeared in Reception.
The manageress click-clacked across the parquet, frowning. "Lynda, have you seen Mr Woolley recently?"
"He's still in his meeting, Caroline." With a frisson of dismay, Lynda spotted one of her rough sketches for the inside of the Cratchits' house by the fax machine. She leaned backwards in her chair and started to fiddle distractingly with an earring.
"Still! That was ages ago. Are you sure you didn't miss him coming out?" (You lazy, inefficient harpy.)
"Oh no, Caroline. I've been here since eight o'clock, as you'd know if you'd arrived at your usual time." (Instead of snoring in Oliver Sterling's pit.)
"Lynda, you know perfectly well that I went for an early ride with Shula." (So put that in your pipe and smoke it.)
"Oh yes, you did mention it." (Makes a change from riding some old man.)
The office door opened and Emma Grundy slid out. She smiled at them both. "I think Mr Woolley might need a bit of help."
Caroline and Lynda stared after her and then looked at the door, from whence came a faint mewing noise.
"Caroline! Oh dear, Caroline, I seem to have got in a bit of trouble!"
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