Devil In A Blue Dress

Emma ran away from an abusive home at sixteen. She was fortunate to meet Nick and Nikki who helped her finish high school, find a place to live and eventually gave her a job at their restaurant.  Emma was a slim girl, 18 at that time, and would have been better looking if her nose hadn’t been broken.  She also had an odd smile that resulted from a beating from her father.  Emma always acted cold toward me, I thought that maybe I reminded her of her father, until one night I shielded her from a drunk, belligerent customer.  Her blouse was torn in the process. My wife told her to come to our house and she would repair the rip.

So, Emma comes over after work and they go up to my wife’s sewing room, in an area we call the loft. From my seat down stairs, I can look up and into the loft. Emma removes her blouse and she is not wearing a bra.  My wife notices and tells Em that I could see her.  While looking straight at me, Emma says that if she can’t see me, I can’t see her.  Emma expressed an interest in my wife’s various sewing equipment and she becomes a frequent visitor, learning to sew, knit, crochet and other crafts that my wife does.  My work schedule for the next 20 years was mostly second and third shift so I rarely saw her except at the restaurant.  On the few occasions that I saw Emma at home, she would flash her B cup titties at me.  As she was almost the daughter we never had, I was not interested in pursuing anything with her.  But she did fuel some masturbation episodes.  

Shortly after we retired, we planned a trip to a large factory outlet mall about three hours away. The plan was to leave early one morning, shop for a few hours, spend the night, shop for a few more hours in the morning, then head home.  My wife mentioned our plans to Em, and Emma invited herself to our trip.  My wife agreed, and to save money, we would share a room.  Big mistake. It was a very warm fall day.  After shopping, we decided to take a dip in the hotel pool.  Returning to our room, Emma proceeds to remove her blouse and wife yells at her to change in the bathroom.  The wife was pissed.  No swimming.  We decided to just freshen up then go eat.  Emma didn’t want to join us and ordered room service.   

The hotel room had two large king-sized beds.  Originally, the ladies would share a bed as my wife and I hadn’t shared a bed in years, but that changed that night.  In the morning, I had to pee really bad and had morning wood, but Emma was already awake, sitting up and reading a book.  I couldn’t wait any longer.  Hoping she wouldn’t notice, I made a dash for the bathroom.  She noticed, “Thinking of me?”, she giggled.  Thankfully, the wife was still sleeping.  The drive home was very quiet.  

It was about that time that we realized my wife was having memory problems.  

To be continued.