Understanding Emmalyn

It was the same later, but still stuck in my subconscious, that I realized that the jagged scratch at the bottom of the sex toy wasn't just like the one Emma had. Not a co-incidence at all. It wasn't like Emma's sex toy. It was Emma's sex toy, and my twin girls had been sharing it. But, like I said, that realisation came much later.

I finished my chores and went out to get the groceries. It was a long and boring (and seemingly daily) task, but I didn't mind as it got me out of the house and, on that day, I'd been trying to get rid of a splitting headache. I was juggling two large brown bags and trying to fish out my door keys on my return home that I realised I wasn't going to be able to do both at the same time. One of the bags was almost certainly going to split. I was just about resigned to putting bags down when I thought 'to hell with it', and went round to the back door I knew was already open. I went in carefully, and quietly, and set the bags on the kitchen table. I was about to put the kettle on when I heard a creak from upstairs. Curious, rather that concerned at that point, and still feeling the thump thump thump of the ache in my head, I left the groceries and slowly, quietly, made my way upstairs.

I remember walking across the landing, clearly hearing noises from my girls' room. I remember approaching the just-open door. It was as my hand touched the doorknob that time did one of those spinning pirouettes, where so much can happen in quick succession, that you might as well say that "it all happened at once". This is what happened to me when I walked to my girls' room that day.

The first thing I saw, the very first thing, was a girl's hand, pressed down against the bed sheets on Carolyn's side of the room, bunching the sheets into a fist between her fingers. The arm that hand belonged to came next into view, then the head. Or hair. Fiery red hair with sunny blonde streaks. One of my girls. She had her head hung low between her shoulders and I could see her other arm positioned in the same way; her other hand bunching a fist against the bed sheets. Twin peaks of her young breasts lay slung beneath the line of her shoulders, bobbing slightly in tat split-second glance.

My first thought was of alarm. My God, one of my girls was being attacked in her room. Then, as I saw Carolyn turn her face slightly toward me (knowing in that micro-instant that it was Carolyn, not Emma), I could see the beading of sweat beneath her fringe, her closed eyes and the open 'O' made by her mouth. That first, urgent instinct to rush into the room and protect her was halted only by the shuddering panic of realizing what I was watching; not an attack, but something far more intimate. A new emotion rose to my cheeks; embarrassment and pride mixed together. I had caught my daughter making love.

I was about to withdraw, to go downstairs and pretend I hadn't seen or heard anything, carry on with the day and hope not to betray my discovery to Carolyn later on, when I saw another hand reach out into my field of vision. A small, delicate, feminine hand. At that moment, another realization hit me. It was not a boyfriend but a girlfriend who was engaged in some kind of lovemaking with Carolyn. Before I could even process that thought, the door twitched open on it hinges and I saw the images I would never forget in my whole life.

What I saw, transfixed as I stood at the door, was the view of my Carolyn, naked and on all fours a-top the sheets of her own bed, legs spread and head hung low, sweet, pert breasts bobbing naked beneath her frame. Behind her, gripping her hips with both hands, and wearing a belt with a long slim pink sex toy attached to the end, was the person screwing Carolyn into a sweaty, sexual passion. And the image could have been reversed. For the person making love to my beautiful daughter Carolyn was not only a girl, as I suspected, but her own twin sister; my other daughter Emma.

I stood, for moments of time I could not tell you how long, and watched Emma drive the strap-on dildo backwards and forwards into the space between Carolyn's rounded ass cheeks. I saw Emma's body, athletic muscles taut with the exertion, pull and push against her sister. I saw the long cascade of Emmas's hair bob up and down as she thrust her pretend-cock in and out of her twin sister; her nipples, erect and hard, jutting from breasts bouncing with the rhythm. I saw her beautifully painted red nails dig into the flesh of her sister's hips and knead, pull, knead, pull. I opened my mouth to speak but found that I was dry. I had no words for what I was seeing. Some part of my brain, some hind part that I had no control over, moved my legs backwards, and thank God it did. The same part of my brain turned me around and, mouth still open in a shocked 'O' that so resembled the sexual ecstasy of my little girl's face, I walked away from the room where my twin daughters were fucking each other like bitches in heat. I went down stairs, made myself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, staring into space as my coffee went cold, untouched.

I was numb, my mind blank. I simply could not process what I had seen, and began to think of it as a mirage, or some kind of waking nightmare. I must have been mistaken and, holding onto that thought, slumped forward onto the table. I heard the shattering of the cup as it was knocked, cold contents and all, onto the floor, but nothing else.

*****

It was Emma who I saw first. Emma's beautiful, young face, her eyes such a deep color of green with that wild fringe of red hair, that my eyes focussed on when I opened them.

"Mom? Mom!" The concern in her voice w3as so genuine, so real, that it nearly broke my heart. I struggled to get up, if only to tell my little girl that I was okay. My head hurt terribly and I winced with the movement.

"Mom, are you okay? Mom say something, please!"

I waved a hand. Give me a moment. Give me a moment. I sat up carefully, feeling Carolyn's hands beneath my shoulders, helping me to a sitting position. I shook my head a little, seeing where I was. In the kitchen; next to the table. Groceries lay on the table, one spilled from the brown bag that had contained it. The floor was clear. I looked up at Emma, then Carolyn.

"My...my head..." I said, hearing the words sound like those of a drunk woman.

"Careful mom" this was Carolyn. "You must have collapsed or something and hit your head. Did you hurt anywhere else? Your hip? Legs?"

I shook my head and struggled to sit.

"No, I... I came home and..."

I looked round for the coffee cup I had knocked over. "The coffee" I said. "Made a mess."

Carolyn and Emma looked at each other for a moment; shared one of those "Emmalyn" looks.

"There's no mess mom" said Emma. "You just came in and must had fallen straight over."

"No, I knocked the cup" I said, rubbing a sore spot at my right temple near my eye. "I came in, put the groceries down and then.... Then I..."

I looked up in alarm, afraid to voice what I had done, and seen, next. But the look on my daughters' faces was on shared confusion, and concern. I then felt another wave of embarrassment race through me. Oh to be such a fool! To think that I had confused such a strange and terrible nightmare - that vision of my girls in some kind of incestuous lesbian tryst - with what had actually happened. I had collapsed, yes of course I had, had collapsed after the headache had got worse and worse. And had a nightmare.

Thank God my two girls were both okay. Thank God.

I reach out my arms and let them help me up. The I hugged them both. Hugged them tightly.

"Thank you" I whispered. "Thank you."

"Mom are you okay?"

"You'd better have a lie-down mom. I'll get you some aspirin. Ems and I will sort out the groceries."

I nodded my head, let them help me to my room, then shooed them away as I took off my outer clothes and lay on my bed. I slept, eventually, and dreamed.

In my dreams, I was in the house once more (it was our house, but a much grander affair altogether), and calling out for my old friend Carolin. I was young once again, with my slim figure wrapped in a short summer dress, and my red hair spilling down from a loose pony-tail. Everywhere the rooms were white, and I skipped passed a very grand staircase, calling out my friend's name. Eventually, I head her shouting. "I'm here! I'm here!"

I followed the voice, lips curled into an impish smile. It was my friend Carolin and I wanted to be with her. I followed the voice to her bedroom (why she had a bedroom in my house, I didn't know, or question). I skipped up to the door and pushed it open. The large, French windows were open and small gust of warm, summery air was moving the net curtains in front of it. Everywhere was white, but on the big double bed, Carolin looked up at me from her half-lying pose, her red hair and blue satin underwear seeming almost too real, too colorful against the backdrop. She smiled at me and I felt my heart skip a beat. I smiled back, so pleased to see my old friend looking as gorgeous as the first night we made love together. I slipped the shoulder straps from my summer dress and let it fall to the floor at my naked feet. I stepped up the bed as Carolin curled a finger, beckoning me closer. Her hair had those beautiful blonde streaks in the thick red-

[No, that wasn't right. Carolin had blonde hair, not blonde streaks]

-and she arched her back, those long, athletic muscles straining against her skin.

[No, Carolin was slim, but not athletic]

She curled her finger at me as I crawled naked onto the bed. The lust in her eyes was unmistakable, and I drank in every tiny detail of it.

"Do you love me?" She said. I nodded, knowing that I did; wholly, completely. Loved her as much as any woman can love another woman. More, somehow, in fact.

"I love you too. So much" she said, creeping toward me with lips that ached to be kissed. As she closed her mouth onto mine, her long red hair spilled forward-

[Carolin's was blonde, not red]

And whispered my name into my ear:

"Oh I love you so much, Emma-

[My name isn't Emma]

"-kiss me. Make love to me."

I did. Couldn't have stopped if I wanted to, Was overtaken with the burning desire - no, need - to touch and be touched by her. I reached a hand to her stomach, slipping my fingertips beneath the blue lace trim of her panties and feeling the soft red curls between her legs; so similar to mine.

"Oh Carolyn!"

[Carolin]

"I love you Emma"

[Not my name]

We came to each other on the bed and wrapped our arms, legs, tongues in sexual abandonment, identical red hair spilling and tangling into each others'.

*****

I awoke with a start, heart thudding and stomach cramping. A feeling of nausea swiftly passed and at once I realized how hot I was; that I was flushed and, (ashamed even now to mention it) very horny. I got up and showered in my en-suite cubicle, trying not, when I closed my eyes, to think of my old friend Carolin, or the memories of my Sapphic lovemaking all those years ago.

After the shower, I got changed into some comfortable old clothes (no guests or visitors tonight, so no need to dress up), and went out. There was the low buzz of TV or radio in the background; too droning to make out, but unmistakable. As I closed the door behind me, I heard a scuffling noise and the media sounds changed urgently. I stepped into the light, rubbing my eyes. Emma was slouched into one of the deep sofas in the sitting room, watching TV with a remote control in her hand. As I looked up, the image on the big screen shifted from a sit-com or soap opera to a sports channel, then to a news channel. Emma was dressed in her pyjamas; thick top two sizes too big, short flannel pants, and thick green bed-socks.

"Hey mom." she said, turning slightly but face still hidden by the thick curtain of reddish-blonde hair.

"Hey yourself." I said, sitting down carefully at one of the other sofas set 90° from the one Emma sat at. There was no sign of Carolyn.

"Where's your sister?" I said, closing my eyes and rubbing them gently with my hand. The TV clicked off and Emma sat forward on the seat.

"Uh, she's gone to bed already. It's pretty late mom."

I stared at the clock on the wall and couldn't focus on the difference between the hour hand and the minute hand. I took Emma's word for it.

"How are you feeling, mom?" Emma had turned fully to me, knees squeezed together and elbows resting just above them as though she were perched on a thin ledge.

"I'm fine. I'm..."

I wasn't, and I knew it. Right there I had the burning urge to tell my daughter about the waking nightmare I'd had; about the image of her having sex with her sister in their room. Wanted to blurt it all out and then have a good laugh with her as the feelings and silliness went away. Perhaps I should have done that. But I didn't. And something was changed because of it.

"I must have just come over all funny when I brought in the shopping. I think I'll call Doctor Allen in the morning."

"Do you want me to stay home with you mom?"

"No, it's okay sweetie. You've got your college work. You and Carolyn too, because I know you'll ask her in the morning."

Emma smiled, the action lighting up her face with a beauty I wished I had at her age. We talked some more, but Emma was clearly tired. Eventually she got up, hugging her pyjama top tight around her chest as she did so. She kissed me goodnight, then went upstairs to her and Carolyn's room. I told her to snuggle up tight as the nights were cold.

I sat on the sofa and turned to a television I rarely watched these days. Like my daughter, I used the remote control to flick through a number of channels before eventually feeling drowsy. Whether it was from exhaustion, or some other thing (the bump on my head from when I hit the floor maybe), I eventually slumped against the sofa and slept. The TV auto-switched off. And the DVD player remained untouched, forgotten.

I woke up suddenly, but not with a start. The first thing I felt was the ache in my neck from where I had curled up on the sofa. Then I felt the cold. I got up, shivering, and looked at the clock. It was not yet dawn, but the last, darkest, coldest hours of night time. I made my way slowly upstairs, hushing my steps so I wouldn't wake my daughters. I got to the landing and then, before heading to my room, crept over to the girls' room and opened the door to check on them; an old habit I did from time to time.

The light from the hallway carved a slice into the darkness of their room and there - sure enough - was the huddled bump of Carolyn asleep on her bed. The light spilled onto her upturned face and she rolled involuntarily. As she did so, I saw the closeness of another shape beside her and my heart got caught once more. There; unmistakably, was Emma lying in her sister's bed. As Carolyn rolled to her side, Emma rolled with her, spooning up against her sister and settling her arm around Carolyn's chest. The girls looked identical; their long red hair both tied up in pony tails and spilling in red streamers behind them. Emma shifted against the pillow, nuzzling her sister's neck to find a comfortable spot. The two girls settled within moments, and lay contentedly together. They looked lovely.

I had seen the girls sleep together, of course. Many times over many years. Especially when it was cold. But that was when they were little girls, not grown women. That was before I had-

I checked myself, closed the door to their room and went to bed. Too much, I told myself. Too much had happened and I couldn't understand it. Sleep. I needed sleep.

I went to my room and slept. In the morning, when the radio brought me to a proper waking, and daylight was streaming through the slits in the curtains, I felt much better. Much more refreshed.

At breakfast, I cooked the girls a hearty one; to make up for not having a proper dinner (or so I assumed) the night before. We sat round the table, slouching in pyjamas and dressing gowns, talking about the local news. But what I really wanted to talk about- what I felt I needed to clear my head - was about yesterday's events.

"Were you very cold last night Emma?" I said, raising the question as though it had just popped into my mind. Emma looked up and me, then back to her bowl of cereal.

"Nope."

"Oh. It's just that I, uh. I checked in on you last night and you were curled up in Carolyn's bed."

The two girls shared an 'Emmalyn' look over their breakfasts.

"You looked so sweet, the two of you." I continued. "Just like you used to do when you were both younger. Only you're bigger now. You do know those are single beds, right? Thank Goodness neither of you weighs much!" I smiled, chuckling at the hollow comment. There was a silence. Far too long to be comfortable. And Carolyn's response didn't sound right.

"We do it a lot, mom." she said. The discomfort around the table got a little cooler.

"But why? Are the rooms too cold? I could turn up the heating..."

"No, it's not that. We just- we just like cuddling up sometimes, that's all."

Emma shot her sister a glare and growled a warning. But Carolyn shrugged.

"But honey" I said, smiling and still trying to be reasonable, "You can cuddle up to Mr Jingles. He's been your teddy bear since forever."

"Yeah mom" Carolyn replied, raising her eyebrows in casual defiance. "I'm, like, a grown woman now. Mr Jingles is nice to have in bed but he's not exactly cuddle material. But Ems is." She said the last words to her sister, winking. Emma had grown pink spots on her cheeks but wasn't saying anything.

"Well" I said, not quite holding back the anger welling up inside me. "There are plenty of people to cuddle up to, I'm sure. And, and there's nothing wrong with cuddling your sister, but you know it's not right! It's not-"

"Why not mom? Why isn't it right?"

"Carolyn, leave it."

"No, I won't 'leave it', Emma. Why isn't okay for me and Emma to cuddle up. We're sisters, right? Twin sisters. We've shared everything we've ever had, so why not some intimacy, huh?"

"Carolyn!"

Emma reached for her sister, but Carolyn shrugged her away.

"Carolyn Louise; you stop that right now!" I said, stammering. "You can't- you can't-"

"I can't what, mom: cuddle up with another woman? Oh please don't give me that line, mom. Not you of all people!"

"What do you mean, 'not me of all people?"

"Would you rather we brought home someone from college? Or a nightclub? Or a-" she paused here for a moment, "-stranger? Is that what you'd prefer mom? That we fucked some stranger to get our kicks?"

"I said, what do you mean, 'not me of all people?"

Carolyn went to answer, the flame in her eyes all fire and brimstone, but then she stopped herself. Dropped her spoon onto the table and got up.

"I'm done." she said, and stormed off. Emma sat quietly in her chair staring at her untouched, unwanted cereal.

I sat, stunned for a moment, too shocked to say anything. What was Carolyn saying? What exactly did she mean by the 'intimacy' she and Emma shared?

"Emma, honey. Emma what was your sister talking about?"

Emma shook her head, unable or unwilling to answer.

"Emma, sweetie-" I reached across the table for her hand but she shook her head again and flinched away from me."

"Mom, you wouldn't understand."

"Understand what, honey?"

"Between me and Carolyn. You just wouldn't."

I went to reach out for her again, but Emma jerked backwards from the table and got up. Face flushed, eyes staring at her feet, she half walked-half stumbled away to the room she shared with her sister. I sat for a moment, confused and-. And if I had to put a word to the feeling, heartbroken. That's what I felt like. Heartbroken. I didn't know why.

I got up, my own breakfast untouched, and went back to my own bedroom. I lay down for a while, but couldn't sleep. Then I went and had a long, long shower. I stood under the hot rainfall in my little en-suite cubicle and let the water patter onto my skin and drain away my fears. I stood for a very long time, until the hot water started to run cold and my feet were getting sore. When I went back out into the main house, dressed in clothes and my familiar old tenacious mood, I found it was empty. Even the kitchen table was free from the unwanted breakfasts we had fought above earlier on. My daughters had cleared up and cleared out for the day. I called the Library, told them I would be in after lunch, and went back to the sofa.