EMMA&MIKE’S TALE- Chapter 1- New Beginnings.
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I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as my mind wanders, thoughts drifting to the milestone we are about to reach.
Our first real home together.
Not just another generic rental, but a place that’s truly ours. A space we can mold and grow into, just like our marriage. It’s a heady feeling, this mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in my stomach.
The New York cityscape whizzes by outside the car windows, all towering skyscrapers and bustling sidewalks, but I’m only half paying attention. I’m too busy marveling at how far we have come. It seems like just yesterday we were bright-eyed college kids, falling head over heels at first sight in some frat house basement.
My mind flashes back to those early days, right after college, when I was crazy enough to start my own financial firm. I was a kid in an ill-fitting suit, trying to swim with the Wall Street sharks. Everyone thought I was nuts, that I’d fall flat on my face.
Everyone except my wife.
She never doubted me for a second. Even when we were barely scraping by, living off ramen and the occasional parental handout. She always believed in me, in us, in the future we were building together.
And now here we are. Twenty-young professionals, married and moving on up in the world. My firm is thriving, our bank account is finally in the black, and we’re moving into a place that most New Yorkers would kill for.
My gaze slides over to the passenger seat and I feel a familiar warmth bloom in my chest. Even dressed down in leggings and a simple tank top for moving day, my wife is an absolute knockout. The late afternoon sun filtering through the windshield paints her in a golden glow, making her long brown hair shimmer and her porcelain skin luminous. She’s fiddling absently with the ends of her silky locks, brow furrowed adorably as she triple checks our new address on her phone.
Fuck, she’s cute when she’s all focused like that.
Of course, “cute” isn’t the only word I’d use to describe Emma. My eyes drift lower, tracking over her mouthwatering curves with an appreciative leer. She shifts in her seat and my pulse kicks up a notch as I catch a glimpse of her full, perfect tits straining against the flimsy fabric of her top. It should be illegal to have an hourglass figure that rockin’, I swear to god. And don’t even get me started on that ass…
As if sensing my randy train of thought, Emma suddenly glances up from her phone, catching me staring. Her rosebud lips quirk into a knowing smirk and she arches a brow. “Earth to Mike… you still with me, space cadet?”
I jolt slightly, feeling a bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or his eyes glued to his wife’s tits, as it were.
“Ah, yeah, sorry,” I stammer. “I was just, uh…”
“Ogling me?” Emma suggests impishly, smirk widening. “I know that look, mister.”
“Busted,” I admit with a sheepish grin. “In my defense, can you blame me? I mean, have you seen yourself? Total smokeshow, Em.”
She rolls her eyes fondly, swatting at my arm. “Oh, hush. Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” I quip, waggling my eyebrows lecherously. “As I recall, a few choice compliments was all it took to get my face between those creamy thighs…”
Emma flushes, pale skin going pink at the memory. She presses her legs together with a little squirm and huffs. “Just drive you horn dog. We’re supposed to meet the leasing agent in twenty and I’d rather not be sporting sex hair for our first impression, ‘kay?”
“No promises,” I mutter, but I obediently turn my attention back to the road. My mind is still wandering though, flicking through sense memories of Emma splayed out in our bed last night, all flushed and panting as I feasted on her perfect pussy. The way her thighs trembled around my ears, her breathy little moans, the taste of her slick on my tongue…
I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable as my khakis grow a bit tighter. Damn, when did I turn into such an insatiable lech? You’d think after being together for so long, the constant horniness would’ve died down. Guess that’s just further proof that I married the hottest girl on the planet.
I sneak another glance at Emma from the corner of my eye and my heart clenches with a sudden surge of emotion. How the hell did I get this lucky? Not just because she’s gorgeous, but because of who she is. Whip-smart, kind to a fault, goofy in the best ways. She’s been my rock through so many ups and downs — grueling semesters, shitty starter jobs, family drama. I couldn’t have made it this far without her.
A familiar road sign catches my eye and I perk up. Our exit is coming up and beyond that, our future. A future in the dream apartment we scrimped and saved for, in the city we’ve worked so hard to make it in. A future side by side with the love of my life.
I reach over to squeeze Emma’s hand, feeling her wedding band press into my palm. She looks up at me curiously and I just shake my head, throat suddenly a bit tight.
“I love you, Em” I murmur.
Her beautiful face softens and she lifts our joined hands to press a kiss to my knuckles. “I love you too, Mike. More than anything.”
I turn my attention back to the road, that stupid grin still plastered across my face. Emma slips her hand free of mine to fiddle with the radio, flipping through stations until she lands on some poppy top 40 hits. She cranks the volume and starts belting out the lyrics, deliberately off-key and goofy as hell.
The New York skyline looms larger through the windshield as we draw closer to our new ‘hood. A strange, giddy sort of anticipation zips through me.
This is really happening.
***
The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing a posh, tastefully decorated hallway. I let out a low whistle as Emma and I stepped out, rolling our suitcases behind us.
We make our way down the hall, double checking the apartment number on our key fob. 1502, 1502… ah, there it is. The door is already propped open and I can hear voices coming from inside. Must be the leasing agent and the movers.
Emma shoots me an excited grin as we cross the threshold into our new home. Our home. I don’t think that’s ever going to get old.
The next hour or so passes in a blur of signatures, handshakes, and final walk-throughs. The leasing agent is a perky blonde in a sharp pantsuit who keeps congratulating us on “snagging such a fab unit”. I’ve gotta hand it to her — the lady knows how to sell a lifestyle. By the time she breezes out, handing off our keys with a wink and a promise to be available “any time”, I half expect her to pop a bottle of champagne.
Then, suddenly, it’s just me and Emma. Our first official moment alone in our new place.
I let out a whoop and flop back onto the plush sofa the movers set up in the living room. “We did it, babe!”
Emma perches next to me, her warm weight settling against my side. I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair and just breathing her in. Mmm, vanilla and something uniquely Emma.
“Mike,” she murmurs after a peaceful moment. “I have something I need to tell you.”
I pull back to study her face, catching the serious note in her voice. A trickle of unease chases down my spine. Shit, that’s never a good opener. “What’s up, Em? Is everything okay?”
She bites her lip, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just…” She takes a deep breath. “I applied to some teaching jobs a few weeks ago. Elementary schools in the area.”
“Wait, what? Why? I thought you were happy at the firm.”
She sighs, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I am. I mean, I was. But Mike… you don’t need me there anymore. The company is doing amazing, you’ve got a great team in place. I feel like I’m just taking up space.”
“Baby, no,” I protest, cupping her face. “You could never. You’re such an important part of the firm, of everything…”
She places her hand over mine, smiling sadly. “I know you feel that way. And I love you for it. But be honest — when was the last time you actually needed my help with anything work-related?”
I open my mouth to argue, then pause. Huh. I guess it has been a while since Emma was really involved in the day-to-day. She’d started gravitating more towards the administrative side of things as the company grew, claiming that the numbers gave her a headache. And now we have Sheila, my frankly terrifying assistant who keeps the whole operation running like a well-oiled machine…
Seeing the realization dawn, Emma nods. “Exactly. I’m not contributing anything meaningful. And I miss teaching, Mike. I miss feeling like I’m making a real difference, you know?”
I search her earnest face, seeing the glimmer of excitement in her eyes, and feel something soften inside me.
“I get it,” I assure her, stroking my thumb along her cheekbone. “I do. I want you to do what makes you happy, Em.”
Her answering smile is blinding and she surges forward to pepper my face with kisses. I chuckle, trying to fend off her exuberant attack.
“So you’re okay with it? Really?”
“Of course,” I confirm, catching her lips in a deeper kiss.
“So? Don’t keep me in suspense here. Did you get any bites?”
Emma practically vibrates with excitement. “Yes! Greenview Elementary wants me to start next month! Teaching second grade!”
“That’s amazing, baby!” I pull her into a tight hug. “Those kids are so lucky to have you. You’re going to be incredible.”
“Thank you,” she whispers into my neck. “For always believing in me. Supporting me. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”
“Ditto,” I murmur back, dropping a kiss onto her hair. “I’m so damn proud of you, Em.”
We cling to each other a moment longer before Emma pulls back with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You know, I think this calls for a double celebration. The new place and the new job…”
She walks her fingers up my chest with intent and I feel my heart rate pick up. “Oh yeah?” I reply, voice dropping an octave. “And how do you propose we celebrate, exactly?”
Emma grins as she swings a leg over to straddle my hips. She links her arms around my neck, rolling her pelvis against the rapidly growing bulge in my pants.
“Oh, I’m sure we can think of something,” she purrs into my ear before catching the lobe between her teeth.
I groan, hands flying to her waist as arousal throbs through me. My hips buck upwards, seeking the heat of her core. “Fuck, baby, what you do to me,” I rasp. “Need you so bad…”
But as quickly as she’d pounced, Emma pulls back with a wicked laugh. She hops off my lap before I can catch her, leaving me red-faced and painfully hard.
“Down boy,” she scolds playfully, straightening her rumpled tank top. “We have way too much unpacking and organizing to do. No time for funny business.”
I groan again, this time in frustration. I fall back against the sofa cushions with a plaintive look. “Seriously? You’re going to leave me with blue balls? After all that?”
Emma tosses her hair over one shoulder and shoots me a wink as she sashays into the kitchen. “Consider it motivation to get this place whipped into shape. The faster we unpack…”
She lets the sentence dangle suggestively and I perk up as her implication sinks in. Plenty of incentive to get shit done.
With a put upon sigh, I heave myself off the couch and follow Em into the kitchen. She’s already got her hair tied up in a jaunty ponytail, a look of determination on her face as she surveys the sea of boxes marked- ‘KITCHEN’
“Where do you want me, boss?”
She tosses me a wad of packing paper and points imperiously to the other side of the granite island. “You can start by unpacking the glassware, carefully. And do it-”
“In order of size and beverage type, yes dear,” I finish with a fond eye roll.
Some things never change. Emma’s always had a thing for hyper-organization.
As I start carefully unwrapping our collection of pint glasses and champagne flutes, I let my thoughts drift. It’s hard to believe we’re really here.
Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the glossy marble backsplash, I do a small double take. Is it just me or do I look… different, somehow? The move and the long hours at the firm have definitely taken a toll. I’m a bit softer around the middle than I was a few months ago, courtesy of way too much takeout and stress eating. And are those the beginnings of bags under my eyes?
Shit. When did I start looking so tired?
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been a fairly average guy. I know I am good looking. At 5’9 and change, I’ve never exactly towered over anyone. I like to think I make up for it with charm and financial savvy, though. And Emma’s certainly never complained about my physique.
Still, the guy in the reflection could definitely stand to hit the gym a bit more. Suddenly self-conscious, I make a mental note to look into the fitness amenities in our shiny new building.
The chime of Emma’s laughter from across the island pulls me out of my mini pity party. Okay, enough moping. I’ve got a gorgeous wife, a kick-ass apartment, and my dream job. My life is a billion kinds of awesome. A few extra pounds is nothing in the grand scheme.
