Emily comes home

The buzzer rang at 3:17 PM. I buzzed her up and opened the apartment door, leaning against the frame. The elevator doors opened, and Emily stepped out looking like she'd been through a war.

Her hair was tangled, her mascara smudged in dark crescents under her eyes. The black dress from last night was wrinkled, and she was carrying her heels in one hand, her feet bare. She looked pale, fragile, and deeply, miserably hungover.

"Hey," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"Hey, you." I opened my arms, and she shuffled into them, resting her head against my chest. She smelled like stale perfume and something vaguely sweet, like spilled cocktails. I held her for a moment, rubbing her back. "Rough night?"

"The roughest," she mumbled into my shirt. "I'm so sorry I didn't text. My phone died and then I just... crashed."

"It's okay. You're home now."

She pulled back and gave me a weak, apologetic smile. "I'm gonna shower. I feel disgusting."

"Go ahead. I'll make you some tea."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the water start. I put the kettle on, pulled out two mugs, and let her have her space. When she came out twenty minutes later, she was wrapped in my bathrobe, her hair wet and combed back, her face clean of makeup. She looked younger. More like the Emily I knew.

She sat down at the kitchen table, cradling the mug of tea I set in front of her. I sat across from her with my own coffee. Steam rose between us.

"So," I said, keeping my tone light, "what happened with your Instagram? I tried to check your story this morning and it said your account was suspended."

Emily's expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed, and she let out a short, sharp breath. "Oh, it's bullshit."

I blinked. I'd never heard Emily swear before. Not once in two years. She said *heck* and *darn* and *fudge*. She called things *poopy* when she was really annoyed. Hearing her say *bullshit* was like hearing a nun drop an F-bomb.

"Some of my videos from last night accidentally included the strippers doing their, you know... thing," she continued, her hands gesturing animatedly. "And I guess some people reported it. Because it wasn't just one post, they've suspended my account pending some sort of review." She rolled her eyes. "It's so stupid. I didn't even realize they were in the shot. The lighting was all pink and weird."

She stopped talking, her face crumpling. She pressed her fingers to her temples, her eyes squeezing shut. "Urgh. Sorry. Head's still killing me." She took a slow, careful breath. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll appeal or whatever."

Strippers. I didn't realize there'd be strippers at the party. She'd told me karaoke. Maybe it was a surprise. Bachelorette parties got wild, I knew that much from movies and TV.

"Sounds like it got pretty wild," I said, chuckling, trying to keep things easy.

Emily let out a small laugh, though it sounded strained. "Yeah. It was... a lot." She took a sip of her tea, then set it down. "I think I need to lie down for a bit. Is that okay?"

"Of course, babe. Go rest."

She stood up, came around the table, and kissed the top of my head. "Thanks for being so understanding. Love you."

"Love you too."

She shuffled to the bedroom, and I heard the creak of the bed as she collapsed onto it. A few minutes later, her breathing went slow and even.

I sat at the kitchen table, finishing my coffee in the quiet apartment. Strippers. That explained the late night, the lost phone, the hangover. It all made sense.

The Instagram thing was annoying, but it'd get sorted out. She'd appeal, they'd reinstate her, and everything would go back to normal.

I washed my mug in the sink, dried it, and put it away. Then I grabbed my book and settled onto the couch, letting Emily sleep off her long, wild night.

---

When I woke the next morning, the clock on my nightstand read 6:47 AM. Emily's side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool.

She'd already left for the gym.

I lay there for a moment, blinking at the ceiling. Iron Temple. Six in the morning. That was dedication. I couldn't remember the last time she'd voluntarily woken up before seven for anything.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone. First, out of habit, I tapped over to Instagram and searched for her handle.

*User not found.*

I refreshed. Searched again. Nothing. The account hadn't just been suspended. It was gone. Wiped. Like it had never existed.

I frowned at the screen for a long moment. Then I typed out a text to Emily: "Hey, hope you have a good day at work. Saw your Insta is totally gone now.. guess the suspension turned into a deletion? Bummer. See you tonight. Love you ❤"

She replied about twenty minutes later, while I was in the shower: "Yeah, it's whatever. I'll find something else. Have a good day! Love you too! "

I smiled at her upbeat tone and got on with my day.

---

The evening came, and I was pleasantly surprised when I heard the door at 5:45. I was mid-way through chopping vegetables for a stir-fry.

"Hey!" I called out. "You're early."

Emily walked in, still in her work clothes, looking tired but relieved. She dropped her bag by the door and came over to kiss me on the cheek. "Told my boss I was still feeling rough after the weekend. Couldn't face staying late." She peeked at the cutting board. "Ooh, what are we making?"

"Your favorite. The spicy peanut thing."

She smiled, a genuine, soft smile. "You're the best."

We cooked together, which was rare on a weeknight. She chopped the bell peppers while I handled the chicken. We talked about her day, my day, nothing heavy. It was comfortable. Easy. Exactly what I needed after a strange weekend.

Over dinner, she brought up the Instagram thing before I could.

"So, it's officially gone," she said, twirling noodles around her fork. "They sent me an email saying the account was permanently deleted due to 'multiple policy violations.' I tried to appeal, but they basically told me to kick rocks." She shrugged, but there was a flicker of genuine disappointment in her eyes. "I had a lot of photos on there. Years of stuff."

"I'm sorry, Em. That really sucks."

She sighed. "It does. But it's just social media, right? I'll find something else. Maybe I'll start a TikTok or something." She gave a wry smile. "Or maybe I'll just, like, touch grass or whatever the kids say."

I laughed. "You’re so hip." I bumped her hip with mine. She laughed too.

After dinner, we cleared the dishes together and migrated to the couch. She curled up against me, her head on my chest, and I wrapped an arm around her. We put on a documentary about deep-sea creatures, but neither of us was really watching. Her hand traced lazy circles on my stomach. My fingers ran through her hair.

The snuggling deepened. Her hand slipped under my shirt. My mouth found hers.

We kissed, slow and warm, and somehow we ended up in bed, still tangled together, the documentary forgotten. The lights were off except for the soft glow from the hallway. Her skin was warm against mine.

Then she pulled back, looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. A mix of nervousness and something else. Something eager.

"I know we haven't done this before," she said quietly, hesitantly, her hand resting on my chest. "But, I think I'd like to try."

She didn't specify, but when she started kissing her way down my stomach, I understood.

I opened my mouth to say something. Surprise, maybe, or a question - she’d been so against the idea the one time we’d discussed it, but then her mouth was on me, warm and wet, and the thought evaporated like morning mist.

She started slow. Tentative licks, the tip of her tongue tracing the head with a mischievous lightness that made my breath catch. She played there for a moment, teasing, exploring, like she was learning the shape of me. Then she opened her mouth wider and took the head fully, gentle suction pulling me in, her tongue still swirling in slow, deliberate circles.

I gasped, my hand finding her hair. "Em..."

She didn't stop. She sank deeper, her head bobbing up and down, her hand cupping beneath my balls, fingers massaging gently. The rhythm built, steady and confident. Her pace quickened. The wet sounds filled the quiet room, her soft moans accompanying my own.

It was incredible, to think she’d never done this before. I felt the pressure building, coiling tight in my gut. "Em, I'm gonna.."

She didn't pull away. She sped up, took me deeper, her throat opening. Her nose brushed against my skin as she reached the bottom, and I felt her throat muscles contract around the head.

And then I was coming, a wave of release that pulled a low groan from my chest. She stayed there, taking it all, swallowing around me, until I was spent and trembling.

She pulled off slowly, a string of saliva connecting us. She looked up at me, her lips glistening, and licked them with deliberate leisure.

"Mmm. Creamy."

She giggled, winked, and then climbed up my body, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss against my lips. I tasted myself on her tongue.

"Maybe we should do that some more," she murmured against my mouth.

But the call of sleep was already pulling me under, warm and heavy. I managed a gentle nod, my eyes half-closed.

I heard a chuckle, "Good night," a whisper, her voice soft and close to my ear. "I love you."

And I smiled, drifting off. Creamy. Where had I .. heard that .. before …