Distractions (3 page)

They laughed.

‘Let’s not talk about men. We have none to hand. I can’t get all worked up,’ said Sally.

‘Agreed. Let’s not talk about men,’ said Emma, refilling their glasses. ‘Cheers to women!’

Sally clinked her glass against Emma’s. ‘To women!’

Within moments Sally returned to the subject of men.

She reminisced about certain men they had shared, going into detail, driven on by that
unsatisfiable impulse to talk of sex even when she had no chance of enjoying it. She went on and on, driving herself and Emma mad.

While Sally dreamed of unattainable men, Emma’s lust found a much nearer focus. Sally’s body. Her skin especially. She had kept the glow of youth. How many wondrous potions had been rubbed into that much pampered flesh? Her tanned legs, long and slender, were now stretched out before her. Emma could imagine them being wrapped around David. Or herself. The tanned skin against her translucent white. And her feet. Such childlike, innocent feet. Her hands were beautiful, too. Light hands, slim hands, intelligent hands. She couldn’t help but picture those hands gripping Simon Crowe. It was too indecent for words.

The first bottle was drunk and Sally went for the second. The day was ending. Emma could not get comfortable. She kept shifting her position. Pop! The champagne spilled over as Emma rushed forward with her glass. Her desire for Sally came and went, only to return. So many men were discussed. So much sex.

But really Sally wanted to discuss David, openly, honestly, with her friend. She wanted to
praise the attributes Emma must already have praised. She wanted to hear what he was like as a lover, using the words they found came so easily when discussing other men. This afternoon he had become stuck in her head and would not be dislodged by talking about all the lovers they had had and shared. She had heard Emma talk of him in the past but something had changed now. The evidence of his brutality on Emma’s skin was a far greater turn-on for Sally than anything else they said and did that afternoon. And then there was Emma’s confession that she was dissatisfied with her lot. She didn’t deserve him. She tried to distract herself. She was the good friend, of sorts.

The afternoon had dwindled away while these two lust-ridden women smouldered, giving off more heat than light. Emma’s thoughts had returned to Jason, the true cause of her bruises. Eventually Sally excused herself, saying she wanted to take a shower before preparing their dinner.

Emma sat for a time listening to the surf till her skin began to chill. The cooling air affected her all the more because, now that Sally had stopped talking, and her near-naked loveliness was gone,
Emma’s desire died, and the heat ran out of her body as with a corpse. She picked up the empty glasses and bottles and went inside. She rang David.

FOUR

This simple and solitary life suited them. The wisteria in the front of the house, on the street, was blossoming and when the wind changed, salty ocean air was exchanged for the sweet fragrance of the flowers. Sally had arranged bowls full of them, which she then scattered around the house.

Over the last few days Sally and Emma had taken walks together in the fading light of late afternoon before the temperature fell at sunset. In their bikinis and wrapped in sarongs they gingerly crossed the low spinifex-covered dune before skipping on to the beach. The golden rays
of the sun coloured their backs and set Sally’s hair alight. The soft dry sand underfoot felt so clean. Hand in hand they walked northwards towards the deserted end of the long stretch of beach that eventually became part of the National Park. Down at the water’s edge their feet sank in the cold wet sand, slowing their pace. But then, they were not heading anywhere. They played at the edge of the water.

The longer their stay, the less either had to say. They woke in the same bed, preferring to sleep together than alone, and then sat together all day speaking with smiles and touches. Their bodies found an ease of expression that comfortable silence will often encourage. Hands met and clasped without comment or ceremony and parted without regret; when walking or dashing from waves, shoulders would bump gently; laughter fell lightly from smiling lips; arms found their way around waists; and kisses of hands and cheeks came naturally and meant only as much as they expressed. Delight. A spell had been cast over them. The holiday spirit was paramount. Small pleasures were the order of the day. And these accumulated.

On Thursday afternoon the tide was out and the sand beneath the water had turned the
shallows to gold. Emma evaded the spirited wavelets, which seemed determined to convince her she was mistaken about their temperature. The ocean air was invigorating. Emma would have loved to exhaust herself by swimming with strong strokes out through the breakers. Doing very little left her with a great deal of excess energy. All day she’d read with a tapping foot. She had more energy than she knew what to do with.

She started to jog. Sally obviously felt the same and kept pace. They ran in silence for a bit till Emma dodged a clever little wavelet that Sally failed to see. Running right through it, Sally was surprised to find the water not as cold as she’d presumed it to be. But she didn’t share her discovery. She ran back up the beach and threw off her sarong and stood smiling at Emma for a second. Emma knew what was coming next.

‘It’s freezing, Sally!’

But there was no stopping her. Sally dashed past her and bounded through the shallows, squealing like a five-year-old. Then she paused, hopped around in circles, her hands clasped under her chin, forearms pressing her breasts.

‘It’s not so bad when you’re in,’ Sally shouted to
Emma over the sound of the waves. She was smiling broadly. ‘Really, it’s quite warm!’

Emma laughed, more at Sally’s facial expression than the obvious lies she was spouting.

‘Come on out, Sally!’ Emma shouted back. ‘I won’t tell anyone. It’s too cold.’

‘But it’s lovely, come on
in
, Emma!’

‘Not a chance.’

Sally was walking backwards, her eyes tightly shut now, arms still pressed to her breast, her deeply tanned body set against the white foaming waves rolling in behind her. The setting sun lit her up. The further back she went the larger the waves. They crashed round her calves, then thighs and then higher. She squealed and bounced up and down. Having had enough cold water torture, she turned her back on Emma and faced the ocean again. Emma watched with some admiration as she dived into the next wave. Sally swam under the water quite a way then surfaced only to dive under again as another wave rolled in. The two dives had loosened her bikini. When she stood up the top was around her waist.

‘Strapless. Well, at least it looks good,’ Sally shouted, swinging the bikini top around so she could unhook it easily. She strode out through
the shallows towards Emma. ‘It cost a fortune too!’ She rolled it into a ball and threw it to her. Then, after a hasty scan of the beach, stepped out of her bottoms and threw those to her friend as well.

‘You have the look of a naughty schoolgirl,’ said Emma.

‘You know that look well,’ answered the nudist. Sally struck a pose, a Marilyn Monroe special, knees together slightly bent, and her arms above her head.

Emma grinned.

‘Come on, Emma, take off your clothes,’ she said.

Emma shook her head.

The cooling breeze on Sally’s wet skin gave her goosebumps from head to toe. She turned cartwheels in the shallows to celebrate. Being naked was a buzz. The cool air rushing over her whole body, but more specifically over that one place rarely exposed to the outside world. For her, public nudity was a sexual act. A potent one. Had a man appeared, any man, she’d have been his, there, on the beach, in front of Emma. But only if he had intuited her willingness fully. She knew what she wanted. It would have to happen exactly
as she pictured it, or not at all. These thoughts only turned her on more.

‘Seriously, Em, it’s lovely. Truly,’ she said, stepping back and laying down in the shallows. The sun was sitting just above the hills to the west. The air was cooling. The water felt warmer to Sally than the air. She was tempted to go back out and catch more waves now that she was naked. But there was that look in Emma’s eyes again. A prompting look, a daring look, a look that encouraged very bad behaviour.

‘Come on, baby,’ she cooed. ‘It’s so liberating. You’ve got to try it.’

Sally knew Emma had done as much and worse many times before. They had both swum nude with friends just off Balmoral when they were younger. In fact, she remembered swimming nude with Emma on this very beach five or six years before.

‘I won’t be seduced. Sirens can’t be trusted!’ shouted Emma.

‘I’m a mermaid,’ replied Sally, lying flat on her stomach and pressing her legs and feet together and slapping the water with her fishtail. She teased Emma because she knew her appetite. She knew how Emma wanted her. She could feel it. It
was lovely to be an object of lust. She was highly aroused by the circumstances. She wanted to be a bad girl.

‘I WANT A MAN!’ she screamed at the top of voice, unleashing the beast even though she knew her words might hurt her friend.

Emma could only laugh. ‘They didn’t hear you, sweetie.’ And she sat with a bump on the sand.

‘I WANT A MAN!’ Sally shouted again.

‘You do have a husband, baby. Shall I go call him?’

‘I know. I know.’ Sally flopped onto her stomach in the shallow water. Then started to crawl towards Emma. ‘I love him. I do. But … I want someone else. I want someone new.’ She collapsed on the wet sand and raised herself on her elbows, resting her chin in her hands. ‘Sometimes I just want more than I’m allowed to have. Like we used to, Emma. We always had more than our fair share.’

‘There’s no reason we can’t do it all again.’

‘There are a million reasons why we can’t.’

‘Are there?’ asked Emma. ‘Name one.’

Sally smiled. She felt like saying, because he’s your husband. But she didn’t.

‘You make being good so difficult, Em.’

Sally stood up and strode back into the deeper water and dived under wave after wave until she was out past the breakers.

When Sally finally emerged from the surf it was getting dark. Emma was frozen through. She had wandered down the beach to find the remnants of Sally’s clothes, and had wrapped Sally’s sarong around her shoulders. But the material was too flimsy to do more than lessen slightly the effect of the breeze.

Now Sally stood shivering in the shallows. ‘I’ll race you back,’ she shouted to Emma.

‘You go, I’ll follow,’ Emma replied, handing over the sarong. She was stiff from sitting in the cold.

Sally dashed off through the shallow water. She looked funny to Emma, like a streaker running across a stadium. Emma made her way back so slowly Sally was showered, dressed and already in the kitchen by the time Emma entered the house.

They flopped in front of the TV for a few hours. Sally laid her head on Emma’s lap, then they headed for bed.

Emma fell asleep almost immediately. But Sally
was wide awake. She switched on the bedside lamp and started to read a magazine, but this was no help. Since arriving at the beach house she’d been feeling very unsatisfied. There was something profoundly wrong with her marriage.

Frustrated as she was, sleeping next to Emma had been an unexpected joy. A silent one. Though it was completely innocent, they behaved like old lovers who had tired of the physical. Her love for Emma was intense at times. She wanted to look after her. To care for her. She wouldn’t let Emma do a thing. And all she required in return was to be held so that she may sleep. But Emma lay so quietly beside her. Her breathing was regular and deep – her repose complete. Emma seemed to hum with satisfaction, and Sally couldn’t bring herself to disturb her.

She wrongly attributed the hum to David’s prowess and had become fixated on him. He now disturbed her thoughts and kept her from sleep.

How can one woman be calm around another woman who emits a satisfied hum?

FIVE

Emma was awakened by a noise. She lay still for a moment then she heard it again. There it was – a sharp intake of air. The bed she shared seemed to be shaking slightly. Emma opened her eyes. It was still dark but she could make out the shape of Sally in the bed beside her. She listened to Sally’s breathing. It was irregular. There was movement too. Emma suddenly realised what Sally was doing. She smiled in the darkness.

Sally was lying on her back and Emma could see that both of her hands were busy. The more she watched the more excited she grew. Sally was
being very quiet. Emma wondered how often she had done this while her husband slept. She wanted to reach out but feared her friend’s reaction. Would she be embarrassed?

Emma started to touch herself. She couldn’t help it. Sally’s breathing turned her on. And her sudden shudders, and her raised nightie, her bare stomach, her wrists and that one knee slightly lifted. She was so close to Sally, too. She wanted to lift her nightie up further and take a nipple in her mouth.

Then Emma saw the dildo. Sally had been using it and it now lay down beside her. Emma reached for it, making sure she wasn’t spotted. It was enormous. She grinned at her friend’s appetite. It was wet and felt heavy in her hand.