Inspired on viewing the classic erotic film Emanuel, again after a ten year period.
Emanuel was essentially a newly-wed, having married Karl Gehringer only a week before moving to the outskirts of Los Angeles a little over a month ago. She quickly learned that she was reasonably good at tennis, well at Karl's club anyway. She was nineteen and virtually everyone else at the club was in their thirties, or older. Her youth gave her an advantage especially in the longer sets.
She played twice weekly with the ambition of improving her game by the fall. She didn't flirt with any of the men she encountered at the club. After all she had her man; and while Karl was her first lover as far as she was concerned, sex with Karl was more than interesting, it was compelling.
And so, when Karl was forced into leaving her at home while he flew to Hamburg, Germany to work out the details of a promising merger of his business with that of the largest auto manufacturer in Germany, Emanuel threw herself into tennis on a daily basis.
Emanuel parked her Jaguar in the country club's parking lot rather than have the valet park it for her. She considered it her car, and didn't want just anyone handling it.
Emanuel walked into the women's locker room and looked for an open locker. She found an empty one between two women who changed into street clothing without exposing any naughty parts.
Emanuel opened her locker and began removing her outer garments. Another, older woman stood across from her, slowly undressing but her eyes remained on Emanuel.
As the woman removed her bra, she began a conversation with the younger Emanuel. "I hear you're quite the tennis player. It's Mrs. Gehringer, isn't it?"
Stepping out of her dress, Emanuel said, "Yes, but its Emanuel, please, not Mrs. Gehringer."
"Emanuel ... what a lovely name," the woman turned toward Emanuel, presenting her with a full view of her generous breasts.
Non-plussed, Emanuel plucked her bra strap and dropped the bra into her hand then turned to the other woman; they were nipple to nipple with only inches separating them.
"I don't believe we've met, Emanuel said softly.
"Haven, Mrs. Muriel Haven," the woman replied. "My husband..."
"Is the noted heart surgeon," Emanuel said, finishing Muriel's sentence for her.
"Yes ... you seem to be in excellent condition, Emanuel. Do you work out with anyone here at the club?"
"Only if you count my tennis playing," Emanuel replied.
"Oh, you're that Emanuel," Muriel said coolly.
Emanuel gave Muriel a puzzled look, and the older woman was forced to explain herself.
"I only meant that I have heard of your abilities in tennis. Why you're already considered the best woman player to come along in years."
Emanuel picked a sports bra out of her gym bag and donned it. Muriel tugged her shorts off and stood there wearing only a lace embroidered thong. Emanuel turned away to pull on a tennis skirt and then a tennis top. For all practical purposes, other than her sneakers, she was ready to play.
Muriel peeled the thong off and tossed it into the bottom of her locker as five other women stopped several feet from them and without any particular ceremony, began removing leotards and sports bras then chatted with one another like magpies in their under things and less. As they continued talking, they dressed and filmy, wired brassieres, satin panties, and thongs were much in evidence. The ladies presumably were headed out on the town after taking their leave of the country Club.
Most of the women were well endowed in the mammary area; and more than a few were candidates for breast reduction surgery. Nipple jewelry proved to be quite popular among them and downstairs, Brazilians outnumbered the bushes while several labia rings winked and twinkled here and there.
The women ranged in age from late twenties to late fifties, but most of them appeared to be in their thirties. Regardless of their ages, most of the women were in good shape, with only one or two needing to do some more work on their bellies and thighs.
Emanuel, having experienced how surreptitiously men check up women, was surprised to notice the women openly gazing at each other, appraising each other's bodies without embarrassment.
Muriel, on the other hand, now stood nude, with one foot up on a stool, rubbing a lotion onto her leg while still watching Emanuel out of the corner of her eye. It occurred to Emanuel that Muriel was the type woman who would much rather spend an hour prancing around the locker room stark naked, than actually doing any kind of exercise.
Emanuel couldn't help but hear bits and pieces of the women's conversation, which seemed to be about husbands and boyfriends, and sex, sex, sex. She overhead one pretty, petite redhead recounting that she had taken home one of the girls from purchasing the night before, as a mid-week treat for her husband. Apparently the buyer was happy to have dinner and quite a bit more. The woman the redhead was talking to, who apparently had just met her, giggled and said, "You should invite me over for dinner sometime!"
Suddenly, Muriel called out to the women, "Where's Felicia?" The redhead laughed and nonchalantly replied, "She won't be here today. The boss is boning her for lunch."
Embarrassed, Emanuel said, "It was nice meeting you, Muriel, perhaps we can play a set or two someday."
"Doubles, perhaps. With a couple of those handsome tennis pros the club keeps handy," Muriel shot back, and then smiled knowingly.
"Yes, I'd like that," Emanuel responded as she picked up her tennis kit and closed her locker.
"Join me for a drink later?" Muriel asked, as Emanuel turned and started walking away.
Emanuel looked back over her shoulder and said, "If the match doesn't take overly long, I'd love too."
Still nude, Muriel sat down on the stool and wrapped up in Emanuel's beauty, just managed to catch herself a split second before she actually touched herself. Even so, she clearly heard the redhead's scornful laugh and knew it was directed at her.
Muriel dressed, and never once glanced in the direction of the other women until ready to leave the locker room. "Give my regards to Jim, will you Brenda?" she said and as she walked past them drew satisfaction from hearing two of the other women laughing; and one saying, "She's got a lot of nerve, doesn't she?"
Brenda laughed and said, "She knows him quite well; for that matter I'm very close to her husband too."
The tennis pro Emanuel was playing with was a thirty something, single guy named Jon. He had played and lost at Wimbledon several years before and was considered to be a very good player and an even better teacher.
They had been paired up by the club's match organizer to represent the club in a county mixed doubles knock out tournament.
Jon was tall, well built, funny and witty and always seemed to have a tan. Nearly all the women, Emanuel included, thought him a potentially great lover, but at the dances and parties he always had a cracking looking, sophisticated woman on his arm, who, he reputedly told others, "Was just a friend, nothing serious." Although he flirted quite outrageously with most of the women, Emanuel had not heard of him bedding anyone at the Club.
They went one on one for a set before their opponents arrived, and polished them off, love and love in just over half an hour. They had a quick drink with their opponents before Jon stood up and readied to leave.
Emanuel felt a certain attraction to him, but tried to put it out of her mind. Her husband Karl had taught her many things sexual on their two-week long honeymoon. And watching Jon roam the court had caused a certain stirring in her loins.
Jon had noticed her watching him and since he had already bedded a number of wives belonging to the club, he assumed Emanuel was about to join the group. To make it simple for her he whispered, "I'm in number 304, if you have need of me." And then he left her sitting there.
Emanuel had another drink, although less potent than the previous one, and then said goodbye to her gracious opponents and made her way into the women's dressing room and sat down in front of her locker. She was alone in the locker room. A minute later she stood nude and was carefully tucking her sweaty garments into a small duffle bag.
As she closed the locker and prepared to take her much needed shower, Muriel entered the locker room and strode toward Emanuel.
"Hello again," she said.
"Hi, how did your exercise session go?" Emanuel inquired, noting that Muriel appeared not to have broken a sweat since she'd left the locker room.
"It went well enough. I happened by the tennis courts and saw you make short work of last year's champion."
"That was more Jon's doing than mine," Emanuel laughed, and reached into her locker for a towel.
"Mind if I join you, I really need a shower myself," Muriel chirped.
"Not at all," Emanuel replied.
"May I ask how long you've had those nipple piercings?" Muriel said.
Emanuel laughed and said, "I felt really daring on my honeymoon, and my husband took me to this charming Jamaican gentleman." She turned her body so that Muriel could examine them up close, and the older woman did so, although she resisted the temptation to reach out and touch them.
"I'm actually quite fond of them," Emanuel said, examining Muriel's breasts without the woman being aware, or perhaps not caring that she was doing so. Emanuel thought Muriel's breasts far more pendulous than her own; no doubt a product of having children who were now approaching their teens.
.... There is more of this story ...