Emma Goes to Work, Part 2

by PensiveWriterType

Here's the second part of "Emma Goes to Work." I hope all you enjoy it. Again, please email me with any thoughts you have.

A few of the fastest moments of Emma's life later, she found herself standing in the wardrobe behind the desk, smashed between coats and peering through the slightest crack in the door as Mrs. Morgan and Abbey entered.

Emma tried to steady her breaths over the pounding in her chest. She gulped silently, trying to assure herself that she could find a way out of this as Mrs. Morgan took her position behind her desk with Abbey standing awkwardly beside it.

For several minutes, Mrs. Morgan busied herself about the desk, examining the various new information she found accrued there. She paid little attention to Abbey, but Emma at least was relieved that Mrs. Morgan hadn't noticed anything strange about her desk.

Eventually, seemingly satisfied that there was nothing too important on her desk, she turned her attention to her daughter.

"Well?" she said.

Abbey looked at her mom a little nervous, pulling on one of her long pigtails self-consciously.

Mrs. Morgan sighed.

"Did you win?" she finally said, annoyed that her daughter didn't seem to be getting her point.

"Oh!" Abbey said, understanding. "Yeah, it was close, but we did!"

"That's good," Mrs. Morgan said in a carefully weighed tone, "but did you win or did that pretty little Richardson girl win it for you like last time?"

The excited expression Abbey had worn for a moment faded.

"Well," she said, looking at her feet again. "Madison did do really well, and the judges and my teacher told her how pretty and smart she looked, but afterwards Mrs. Martel, one of the judges, came up to me and said I seemed very thoughtful for my age."

Abbey looked up hopefully at this, but her mother didn't seem impressed.

"So, basically, the Richardson girl won it for you again, do you know how much I hate that girl's father?"

"Yes, mother," Abby said. "I'm sorry, I tried to do better."

"Well, I suppose you did at least impress one judge, which isn't so horrible." Abby lit up at the backhanded compliment. "But that was probably more from my lucky necklace than anything else. It's always served me well. Please tell me you took good care of it for me. I think you know what will happen if it's not safe."

Abby's cheeks immediately filled with color at this and she looked pointedly away from her mother at the ground.

"Yes, ma'am," she said, in a voice so quiet Emma could barely hear it. "I... I took care of it like you said."

"I'm not sure I believe you," Mrs. Morgan said to her daughter.

Mrs. Morgan stood up at this and spent the next several minutes pulling papers and files off of her desk, then neatly organizing them else where. When the desk was completely clean except for her name placard at the front of her desk and a keyboard, mouse, and monitor which were pushed to the top side corner, she sat down and pointed to the place atop her desk directly in front of her chair.

"Sit, Abigail," she said. "I'll check to see how safe it is for myself."

Abby obeyed her mother's command and walked to the desk. Mrs. Morgan slid her very executive leather chair back enough for her to pass and watched as she slid up onto the top of the desk in front of her. Emma viewed all of this from her corner behind the desk, but the moment after she mounted the desk, Emma felt the sudden shocked detachment she might feel watching a taboo tv show or maybe more like a dream someone else was having.

Abby slid her bottom onto the desk, but instead of crossing her legs like any proper girl wearing a skirt, she continued to slide herself back until her shiny black shoes were also on the desktop, leaving her legs spread wide. The position shifted her grey wool skirt up until them hem rested on top of her knees, leaving her knee-high white socks, creamy thighs, and immaculate white cotton panties on display for her mother and her new friend in the wardrobe.

"Is this right, mom?" she asked in a quiet voice that was full of genuine trepidation.

"Yes, Abigail," Mrs. Morgan said, sliding her chair forward again towards her desk and her daughter and slipping her hands beneath Abby's skirt to rest on both her thighs.

Mrs. Morgan's face didn't lose any sternness as she gazed between her daughter's thighs, but the intensity of that gaze caused Emma's own eyes to fill with the sight and dilate. She pulled in air to her lungs, but she struggled to keep her breaths free. She didn't seem to be able to swallow right either.

Mrs. Morgan leaned towards her daughter. Her nostrils flared. Her eyes closed, and she let her normally passive face dance in and quickly out of the slightest smile as she inhaled whatever scent she found there. When she pulled away again and looked at her daughter it was as if it had never happened.

"Very good," she said, her hands still resting on Abby's hips.

The girl looked impossibly surreal, sitting there in her blazer and immaculate white blouse looking like the quintessential timid school girl, while spreading her legs lewdly beneath the prim pleated skirt for her own mother's inspection.

Mrs. Morgan hooked her fingers around the edge of her panties, pulling them to the side to expose her little girl.

Emma had seen other girls naked of course, growing up or in the locker rooms at school, but she had never seen another girl exposed like this. Or, maybe, she had just never really looked at another girl like this before. So much confusion and so many emotions were swirling insanely around in her head.

Abby's cunny (that's what her mother and grandmother had always called it when she was a little girl) looked a lot like hers. It was smooth and white, her lips tight but puffing out from her mound to form a straight, clean slit between her thighs. When her mother reached out, unthinkably, and separated her lips, Emma saw the bright pink color that hid between the folds. The girl's flesh there glistened with moisture, and Emma found herself thinking of the lips on her own face after she had just applied lip gloss and licked her lips.

"Oh, you were ready for me to check this, weren't you Abigail?" Emma heard Mrs. Morgan say.

Mrs. Morgan spread the girl's lips a little further still using one hand. She brought the other up to touch something strange, white, and perfectly round buried at the bottom of her slit.

"Still safe inside you," she said to her daughter with mild approval.

She gripped it between two fingers and pulled. Slowly, bead after bead, Emma watched as her new friend's mother began to pull glistening pearls from her inside her daughter.

Abby tried to stay silent, letting out only soft little moans as her mother pulled, but her pigtails shook each time her head shifted slightly from side to side. Each time her mother heard a moan she'd smile wider and bite a little harder on the tip of her tongue.

Finally, the last pearl pulled free and the necklace dropped to sway beneath her mother's hand. Abby let out sigh that mingled relief and subtle disappointment.

Mrs. Morgan held the pearl necklace up close to her face. It wasn't long, but it seemed very long to have all been inside the small girl. Each pearl glistened white and silver in the light, and Mrs. Morgan brought them even closer, her nostrils flaring and her eyes half closing heavily as she inhaled the scent she smelled then. Emma wondered what it was she smelt there that could make the woman lose her sternness for an expression so uncontrolled.

Mrs. Morgan's opened her full lips then and a red tongue slid between her lips. Emma and Abby both watched as the tip of her tongue guided a single pearl at the bottom of the strand between her lips. Her high boned cheeks puckered then as she sucked hard on the little globe. Her eyes closed fully this time, and she let out a low soft moan. Finally, she released the pearl letting it fall out of her mouth. She didn't take another between those lips, instead, she reached behind her, fastening the pearls—still glistening with her daughter's juices—around her neck.

"Well," she said regaining her composure, face straightening. She turned towards her daughter prostrated before her as if nothing had happened and stated, "I'm still disappointed in your performance, but you took care of my pearls. That's something."

Abby immediately blushed and looked away from her mother's face. "Thank you, Mother," she said.

Mrs. Morgan considered her daughter from down her nose, then leaned in towards her again. "Did you enjoy taking care of my necklace?" she said, her face losing none of its sternness, though her eyes seemed to twinkle slightly.

"Yes, Mother," Abby said, turning her big brown eyes back to her mother.

"That's good," Mrs. Morgan said, reaching to place her hand on her daughter's mound again. "Did it make you feel..." a red lacquered thumb nail slid up and down Abby's slit, "lucky?" she asked.

"Oh," Abby gasped, biting her lip and breathing sharply through her nose but still looking embarrassed, then, "y-yes, Mother."

"That's good," Mrs. Morgan said. Her thumb slid up and down, then up and down once more, and her finger now glistened wetly like the pearls she wore and the pink flesh she dipped her slender white finger into.

"Now, tell me truth, Abigail, did wearing Mommy's necklace make you feel horny?" Mrs. Morgan's finger slid up and down once more before the red lacquered nail slid up inside her daughter.

"Ah!" Abby gasped sharply. "Oh... ah... yes, Mommy."

"Say it, Abigail," Mrs. Morgan said, her face losing none of it's intensity, but her eyes suddenly full and sharp with a scarlet wickedness.

Daughter sat in front of her mother, skirt now fallen to bunch around her hips, which moved rhythmically to slide along the desk towards her mother's hand each time the slender thumb slowly moved into her. Her mother's forefinger slide up above her thumb to press her clit between tight white and pink folds. Her hands were pressed hard into the dark wood of the desk to hold her steady. Her pigtails swayed in the slow rhythm of her hips and her mother's arms. Her eyes still looked large and innocent above snow and rose blushed cheeks despite being half closed in reluctant pleasure. Her lips opened and closed and she sucked in breath, trying to speak, but eventually using each breath for another sharp gasp.

"You have to say it, Abigail," Mrs. Morgan said again. The fingers of her right hand moved in a deft and torturously elegant dance that seemed more delicate than everything else about the woman said should have been possible, but it was still obvious she meant more to tease than to pleasure with every movement. Her left hand, though, seemed to have disappeared below her daughter's line of sight to dance a different dance between her own legs. Emma suppressed a whimper that seemed to come from nowhere.

Abby gasped once then twice more before sucking in enough air to speak again.

"I-I like wearing your necklace... inside me... because it made me... it made me horny."

"Very good, Abigail," Mrs. Morgan said, bending down to place a kiss on her daughter's thigh above her finger where her thigh met her cunny mound. "Do you want to cum for Mommy now?"

"Yes, Mommy," Abby said in an excited but still whispered voice.

"Well, I will," she said, pulling her mouth and fingers away from Abby. Abby's eyes flashed open. "But, you know the rule, Abigail."

Abby's eyes were wider and prettier than ever but full of confusion.

Mrs. Morgan leaned back and spread her high heeled feet a little wider. "Don't look at me like that, Abigail. You know you have to do your part first."

"Oh yeah," Abby said, smiling sweetly, quick to please her. "I'm sorry, I just forgot."

Mrs. Morgan nodded as if this was beyond obvious, and Abby slid off the desk. It seemed so casual for a moment that it almost made the insanity inside Emma's head seem ridiculous. Her heart was pounding in her ears, it was hard to swallow, and she felt so hot. Her clothes seemed to be tied to her. Emma wanted to be gone from here—curled up in her bed at home, watching tv and knowing that this had never happened—but another part of her, well, it did want to be here, and that part scared her. Both parts could really only watch now though.

Abby slid off the desk, taking a moment to rearrange her skirt and panties before lowering herself to her knees. Mrs. Morgan watched her, eyes moving appraisingly over her blazer, blouse and skirt. Whatever she saw, she seemed to approve.

Abby was on her knees positioned in front of the empty area beneath the desk where the chair would normally slide in, except that Mrs. Morgan had slid further back, allowing her daughter room to kneel in front of her. Once she was on her knees though, Mrs. Morgan slid forward slightly.

She spread her legs much wider then and crooked her finger slightly at her daughter, beckoning her come forward between her long legs and softly shaped thighs. At first, from her angle, Emma couldn't quite see what Abby saw, but then as the younger girl drew closer, Mrs. Morgan took the opportunity to turn a little more and slide her pencil skirt up until her panties were fully exposed. They were black lace and very expensive looking. They weren't g-strings panties like strippers or bikini briefs like hers and the other girls she knew, but instead a pretty v-shape that raised high on her hips but still wouldn't show any embarrassing panty lines in a skirt that was tight like Mrs. Morgan's. They were, basically, exactly the kind of panties that Emma wouldn't feel sexy enough to wear for a long time.

Once her skirt was fully bunched around her hips, Mrs. Morgan drew her hand down her panties. She was almost perpendicular with the wardrobe now, and Emma could clearly see the older woman trace a heavy line along the crotch of her panties while looking at her daughter's eyes.

"Do you like these panties, Abigail?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am, they are very pretty," Abby said.

"Good," Mrs. Morgan said. "I actually wore them because I knew you were coming today. I... wanted it to be special."

"Thank you," Abby said turning her head and blushing but not looking away from her mother's exposed panties. By now, it wasn't surprising to see Abby blush; what was surprising, was the very faint tinge of color in Mrs. Morgan's cheeks. For a second, it even looked as though she might smile at her daughter.

"Here," Mrs. Morgan said, gripping her daughter's head just behind her ear and just below one of her pigtails. "See if you like how they smell," she whispered down to Abby, pulling her head into her crotch until the little brunette's nose was against the fabric of her panties.

"It smells nice," Abby said.

Mrs. Morgan let her head go, but Abby pulled back only slightly. Mrs. Morgan placed her hand along the seem of her crotch and pulled it aside, exposing her pussy to her daughter.

Abby's nose flared this time, and Emma gulped. The older woman's pussy looked different from hers or Abby's. Her outer lips still puffed primly out like theirs, but her inner thin lips were a little visible too. They were a darker color but still pink and seemed to shine with even more wetness. The sides of her pussy were as soft and hairless as her thighs and legs and stomach, but there was a neatly kempt fringe of soft brown hair above that. The hairs there looked soft and glimmered with a few little beads of moisture at the cleft.

Abby's pale, lightly freckled cheeks were still a red, but it didn't seem to be from embarrassment anymore. Her eyes were even wider and intent as they gazed between her mom's legs.

"Go on, Abigail," her mother said, her voice a little husky, and her hand tensed slightly on the back of Abby's head, encouraging her forward.

Abby obeyed. Her head moved forward, her lips parted, and her soft pink tongue extended to touch her mother's pussy.

Mrs. Morgan shivered visibly but she just pulled her daughter's head harder against her. Abby brought up her hands now, and her mother spread her legs even further to allow them room. They separated the lips of her vulva to expose the inner length of her slit. It was wet, but Abby quickly made it wetter.

It was impossible how well she seemed to know what she was doing, given how sweet and innocent everything else about her appearance and demeanor said about her. Her lips pulled at her lips, and her jaw worked as she sucked. The on her left hand rested on her clit, working on it, until she was ready to slide up and suck on it too.

Mrs. Morgan's feet arched in her heels, flexing her calves and thighs tight as she resisted the urge to clamp her daughter's face between her legs.

"That's it, Abby, sweetheart. Right there," she said, her stern voice falling away finally at her daughter's touch. Her hand alternated between pressing her daughter into her at the peak of pleasure and running down her pigtail to feel it and cup her head behind her ear. Her other hand moved to her stomach, unclasping her button and opening her blazer so that she could squeeze her breasts each in turn.

Abby's head had moved in the way so she could no longer see anything other than two pigtails between two long, creamy legs, but the ecstasy on Mrs. Morgan's face and the two hard pinpoints of her nipples peaking out through her bra told her enough of what the girl was doing there.

Emma's legs had clenched reflexively against the hot tingling sensations she had never felt there before. They were nice, and she place her hand on her thigh to support herself as she leaned against back of the heavy wardrobe, looking out through the crack. Her other hand had been in her hair a few moments before, twisting blonde strands around a finger like she always did when she was anxious, but that hand had slid down to rub absently beneath her collar bone, then down further to rub her finger tips along the top of her small breasts. Her other hand even seemed to even creep up her thigh a little more—no longer just there for supporting her.

There was a sudden beep then, and everyone in the room jumped. The beep came again, and Mrs. Morgan snapped her hands away from her daughter's head, Abby pulling sharply back from between her legs.

"It's just the intercom," Mrs. Morgan said, looking at the black box on her desk, more than a little out of breath. "Don't move, Abigail."

Mrs. Morgan leaned forward then and pressed the blinking green button on the box. A second later, the high, lilting voice of her young secretary spoke through the intercom, "Mrs. Morgan, Ms. Andrews is here to update you on brief you asked her to write. Do you want me to send her in?"

Mrs. Morgan looked down at her daughter between her legs, then gestured impatiently for her to slide into the dark area beneath her desk where the chair slid in. She didn't pause to let the girl situate herself before sliding her chair into the space. The desk was large enough that there was plenty of room for both of them, but Mrs. Morgan pushed herself so far that the only way Abby could fit was to position herself between her mother's legs again so tightly against the back of the desk that her chin rested on top the curly brown hairs at her mons. Luckily, the desk reached all the way to the floor so her feet didn't stick out, though this only made Abby curl her legs into an even tighter and more uncomfortable ball.

Mrs. Morgan leaned forward and tapped the intercom again.

"That'll be fine, Ms. Bell," She said. "Send her in."

A few moments later, the door opened and an attractive young associate with red hair, a curvy body, and a look of ambition on her face entered.

"Sorry to bother you Mrs. Morgan," she said, sitting across from Mrs. Morgan and placing a large file on the desk. "I just thought you'd want to be updated on this."

Mrs. Morgan just nodded and the associate began to speak in unintelligible legalese.

Emma's eyes fell down to Abby. The girl tried to pull herself away from between her mother's legs, obviously thinking she had to wait.

"Yes, go on," Mrs. Morgan said, lazily answering a question Emma had missed. Her hand slid beneath the desk at this though, grasping the back of her daughter's head and pushing her face back towards her pussy.

Abby looked surprised for a moment, but the insistence of her mother's hand won out and she softly opened her lips and moved back between her legs.

Emma looked at Mrs. Morgan in disbelief, but her face was still a smooth mask of authority and calm, except that her pale cheeks seemed to have spots of color in them again.

Emma felt something then. For the rest of her life, she would never be able to explain it, but that was the exact moment everything changed. She looked down below the desk and clearly saw the girl's big brown eye's looking up towards her mother, while her lips and cheeks and nose were buried between her lips. That sweet look of subservience sent a white hot heat through her, and it changed her. All at once, she let the anxiety and guilt fall away. She was just too hot. She didn't care that she was looking at something more taboo and wrong than she could have ever considered before, and she didn't care anymore that she knew it was wrong to be aroused by women. She was just too hot, and she just felt too much, and she just had to do something.

The voices of Mrs. Morgan and her employee were a dull buzzing inside her head compared to the white hot images and feelings in her mind, but she was still careful to be as quiet as possible as she undid the button of her jeans and unzipped them. Her hand slid down under her waistband, past the little tuft of blonde hair on her mound, to find that her panties were damp and her pussy was wetter than she had ever felt it.

She couldn't believe what she was doing! She had never masturbated in her life—she had always been way too embarrassed to try, only ever experimenting curiously in the shower—but now she ran her fingers up and down her slit as fast as she could. She found the hard little nub of her clitoris, and when she pressed it she felt her whole body react and she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to suppress a moan.

Mrs. Morgan had a bored expression on her face as she flipped through files on her desk occasionally answering the red headed associate or telling her to do something. But, below her desk, her other hand held her daughter's head against her while occasionally rubbing one of her cheeks or coaxing her hair back, and it was obvious from her heavy lidded eyes and the tensing muscles along her bared legs beneath her desk that the look of boredom and disinterest on her face was clearly for show. Although, it was an impressive show given the circumstances.

"Okay, Ms. Andrews," Mrs. Morgan finally said, interrupting her employee midsentence. "That'll do. You seem to have enough of an idea what you're doing. Get it done. Have it on my desk by tomorrow morning."

"But what about the-" She started to say, but Mrs. Morgan raised her hand, cutting her off.

"Tomorrow morning," she said, simply.

"Y-yes, Mrs. Morgan," Ms. Andrews said, trying to hide a gulp as she turned and left.

Mrs. Morgan watched the door shut, then slid her chair back, leaving Abby curled up under the desk. Emma could see her chin and cheeks and lips were wet—Emma felt her pussy throb at the sight.

"You did a very good job staying quiet while Ms. Andrews was here," she said. "Some girls your age just can't help but make noise in situations like that. You aren't quiet finished yet though," she said, her voice thicker and lower in her throat. She spread her legs far apart then and slid her finger up and down her wet slit, bringing her finger up to her mouth to lick it clean while looking into her daughter's eyes. With the same finger, she beckoned the little girl forward.

Abby's anxiety and embarrassment seemed to have failed slightly at this sight, and she was smiling as she crawled over to her mother and took her place between her legs.

"You're being such a good girl," Mrs. Morgan said as Abby began to move her lips between her legs again, "that I think I'm going to give you a very special reward when you're done eating me out."

Abby looked up to her mom at this with obvious eagerness. Emma was starting to realize that her new friend found her mother's praise as erotic as Mrs. Morgan found the sight of her own little girl between her legs. Emma gulped and slid a finger inside herself for the first time in her life at this thought. It felt nice, so she left there for a few moments as she touched her small breasts and watched the girl working even harder for her mother at the thought of her reward.

"Oh yes, Abigail," Mrs. Morgan moaned. "My sweet little angel is so good at licking her mommy's naughty cunny."

Abby pulled back slightly at this to smile up at her mother, and so that she could bring her small hand up to push two fingers inside of her. She looked embarrassed at her own boldness, but her mother's sigh and the way she pulled her face back to her loins wiped the embarrassment from her face.

Mrs. Morgan's hips began to slide forward into her daughter's mouth until her skirt was bunched above her waist and her panties were completely exposed. Her hand moved up to her chest, rubbing her breasts before beginning to undo the buttons of her blouse beneath her blazer until she was exposed down to where it tucked into her skirt.

Her breasts were white and full encased in a black bra beneath her blouse that looked to match her panties in style and expense. Her stomach was flat though still partially covered by where her skirt raised up over her hips. This combined with her face and the length of exposed legs and thighs and hips and high-heeled feet.

She was sexy. She still scared the crap out of Emma, but she was very, very sexy.

"Oh god," She moaned, her fingers slipping into her newly exposed bra. "Please, honey. I'm so close. Keep going."

Abby's fingers began to move faster between her mom's legs, and she pressed her lips hard into her mother, sucking her clit between her lips with her nose buried in her little mound of curly hairs. Her mother moaned again, wrapping her legs up and under her daughter pulling her into her while still keeping her knees spread apart so she could reach down and grip her little girl's pigtails.

"Oh god, I'm cumming, honey."

Mrs. Morgan jerked her body upwards, driving her pussy into her daughter's face leaning hard in her face, half lifting herself off the chair.

"I'm cumming for you baby," she moaned again, grinding her pussy up and down on Abby's face. "Mommy's cumming for you, Abby."

Emma was concerned that Abby couldn't breath, but the quiet moaning she heard underneath Mrs. Morgan's moans told her she was still enjoying herself. The fact that Emma's hand was rubbing harder and faster over her own pussy might have influenced this too.

She could feel something building in herself too. Her breath was coming so hot and fast she felt like it was filling up the small wardrobe, and her knees felt like they were going to give out, but there was also something growing from between her legs up through the bottom of her stomach, filling her up with something new and nice but also scary. She felt so close to something, but it freaked her out and she wasn't sure how she felt feeling it here and now with everything she was seeing.

"Oh god, sweetheart," Mrs. Morgan said, finally sagging back in her chair.

Abby stayed where she was in front of her mother and between her legs, her fingers slid from her slit to her knee where she rubbed her mother's skin a little diffidently, wanting to be close to her but seemingly unaware of what to do in her mother's afterglow.

Mrs. Morgan breathed heavily as she looked down on her daughter, rubbing her knee. Her lips and face all the way along her cheeks and below her chin were wet. For just an instant, Emma caught something new on the woman's face, it was warm and motherly.

"Come here, Abby," she said, straightening up in her chair and leaning down to take her daughter's hands in hers, pulling her up until she was standing and face to face with her mother as she sat. "Let me clean you up," she said.

She leaned forward placing a soft kiss on Abby's collar, but the soft kiss soon turned into her mother extending her tongue and sliding it up her neck. She repeated this again on the other side of Abby's neck, kissing and licking upward. She slid her tongue below her chin and along her jaw and over her cheeks and Abby put her hands in her mother's hair, looking deeply happy.

Finally, her mother found her lips. She licked them with the tip of her tongue, cruelly slow, before dipping between the girl's pink lips. Abby responded immediately, melting into her mother's lips, draping her arms around her like Grace Kelley, and for several long minutes their mouths moved against each other. Abby's hands played through her mother's hair and down her back, while Mrs. Morgan's hands dipped down to her daughter's legs and back up again to grasp her bottom beneath the knee-length pleated skirt.

Mrs. Morgan's hands lingered there even as she pulled away from Abby to look in her eyes.

"Are you ready for your reward, Abigail?" Mrs. Morgan said.

"Yes, Mommy," Abby said dreamily, her eyes half closed as she felt her mother touching her beneath her skirt.

"Good," she said, and Emma watched as the warmth in her face began to freeze. Her hands stopped moving and she looked away from her daughter's eyes.

"You might as well come out now," Mrs. Morgan said very, very quietly.

"What did you say, Mommy?" Abby said, brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden change in demeanor.

"I said, you might as well come out now."

Emma felt her blood run cold and her body freeze as Mrs. Morgan turned her icy glare towards the wardrobe in which she stood.

Mrs. Morgan's hands dropped from beneath her daughter's skirt and pushed her away. Abby looked scared and confused, but Emma didn't see that. All she saw was Mrs. Morgan looking at her hiding spot and rising from her chair.

It happened in a flash, Mrs. Morgan moved towards the dresser, Emma's body unfroze, she moved reflexively pressing herself to the back of the wardrobe while trying to pull her hand from her panties, but it was too late—the tiny crack she had peered through opened, light flooding the little space, and Mrs. Morgan's shadow fell across Emma... just as she managed to pull her hand from her open pants.

"I said you should come out, Ms. Ryan." Mrs. Morgan said.