Discovering Ellie

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“Ellie, eh?” My best friend Nuala roared with laughter. Heads turned at other tables. She calmed down. “Well, I can put your mind at rest on one front. She’s hetero. I know, because I asked her.”

“You did?”

“I did. Pretty lady. Super body. I’m not the only one ogling her in the changing room, believe me,” Typical Nuala. No nonsense. “So why would I not ask? Them as doesn’t ask, doesn’t get. I don’t think I’ve ever been turned down so politely. Doesn’t mean I won’t try again, though. So, what’s bothering you about lovely Ellie?”

“Her height…and mine. She’s so tall.”

“Look at Rupert Murdoch and Bernie Eccleston,” Nuala said. “They’re both shorter than you and that hasn’t stopped them from attracting tall women.”

“Well, yes, but the bulge in their trousers is a well-stuffed wallet,” I protested. “The only bulge I can offer Ellie is firmly attached to the rest of me.”

Nuala pulled an appalled and disgusted face. “Well, thank you kindly for that, John. That’s far more information than I would ever want. More to the point is that you’re not too bad looking, you’re a good person, for a man, you’re intelligent and you’re fun.” She grinned and pointed through the window at where the Beast was parked. “You may not have millions, but you’re not a pauper either.

My other weakness is cars, and the XK120 Jaguar that Nuala was pointing at through the cafeteria window is my pride and joy. I’d decided that if Ellie accepted the beast as part of my life, she and I might work out.

Nuala said: “You and Ellie, huh? Why not?” That was good enough for me. One of the many great things about Nuala is that as a lesbian with a crew cut, her, not me, is that I know that she won’t lie to me when I ask her what she thinks of my potential dates. She’s saved me from heartache more than once. I’ve known Nuala since we were at primary school, and once we’d reached a standoff in our fights as six-year-olds, we had become friends for life, if reaching the age of twenty-seven counts.

Nuala is a fierce five foot four of solid muscle, a gym trainer in good standing. Ellie is a little over six feet tall, as against my five feet seven and a bit, willowy where I’m chunky, and, I was starting to suspect, decisive where I’m permanently rethinking things. We met through work. I’m a district manager and she runs one of our IT offshoots.

“Hi, I’m Ellie,” she said as she shook my hand. “What have we done wrong now?” It was said with a rueful grin that I found myself returning. Her voice was low and warm, and it reverberated in a spot at the base of my spine.

“Personally, I wanted to thank you and your team for fixing the software update,” I said. “Officially, I’m here to cite a memo to you from the big bosses upstairs. I’m to remind you, quote, that the firm does not ever have problems, although it may encounter issues. These are speedily and efficiently resolved and at no point do they impact on the positive client experience, unquote”.

Ellie laughed, a frank belly laugh that did things deep down in my entrails. Bloody hell, she’s tall. Magnificent breasts at about my eye-level. Don’t stare at them. Look her in the eyes. Bugger, that’s no better. Big, brown, honest eyes. I could drown in those. Concentrate on how business-like she looks. Deep breaths, John. Ellie was speaking to me, but all I was hearing was the music in her voice. My head was spinning as she gave me the tour of her gang, as she called them. I tried to walk alongside her, so as not to be transfixed by the undulations of a neatly-turned bum.

I made an excuse to visit her section again the following week, pretexting a very minor question about security. The impression Ellie had made on our first contact persisted. Two weeks later, I was there again, unable to keep away. She was wearing a skirt this time. It was perfectly decent, but it might as well have been a micro-mini by what it was doing to my pulse-rate, which was about to reach machine-gun levels. I didn’t get a chance to use my carefully-thought-out excuse for being there.

“I’m just going for lunch,” Ellie said. “There’s a pub up the road. Fancy a pint? You look as if you could do with one.”

I’ve no idea what I replied, but ten minutes later we were sitting facing one another in the bar, with only the two beer glasses and table between us preventing me from begging on my knees for her phone number.

“Are you all right, John?” Ellie asked, pushing her shoulder-length, light-brown hair back from her forehead. No ring. That’s a start. “You look a bit concerned about something. Can I help?”

The voice was mine, but I had no control of what it was saying. “I think I’m in love.”

“That must be nice.” She sounded as if she was just being polite. “I hope she deserves you.”

“It’s more a question of whether I deserve her. It’s you.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows. “That’s an… interesting… thing to say, John. Thank you. Can I point out that you don’t know me at all?”

“True. I’d like to, though.”

“Supposing I might be casino şirketleri interested, what are you going to do about it?”

“Can we meet up some time, perhaps?” I stammered. I picked up my glass, for something to do with my hands.

“Hmm.” There was a silence. Well, at least she’s thinking about how to turn me down, rather than laughing in my face. “I have a gym session until eight tonight,” she said, “but after that I’m all yours,”

I just avoided spraying her with my mouthful of beer. I swallowed, hard and croaked: “Meet up here? I assume this is your local?”

“Oh, no. I’ve never set foot in here before. How about a bite somewhere? I’m always starving after the gym.”

“Which one? Can I pick you up?”

It was the gym where Nuala works, which is why she and I had now been sitting in the coffee bar there since seven, so she could figuratively steady my shaking knees and hands. A figure appeared behind the frosted-glass doors that led to the changing rooms.

“Right. I’m off,” Nuala said. “Here she comes. She’d better be nice to you, or I’ll kill her. You can tell her that from me.”

A baggy, oversize Fair-Isle sweater hid the charms of Ellie almost down to her Lycra-clad knees, as she plonked herself down at my table.

“I’m shattered. John, could you be a darling and get me a glass of water?” Ellie asked. I leapt to obey that voice.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking the glass. “It’s only just now I realised I’m not fit to be seen in public.”

I was about to protest when she added: “I can offer you a decent meal, though, if you can put up with my home cooking?”

Can I? Oh yes!

She finished her water and I led her out to the beast. Her eyes lit up.

“Oh, so she’s yours. I was wondering who the lucky owner was. A real 120. She must be worth a fortune. She’s beautiful.”

“I’m impressed. That she’s a Jaguar is obvious, but how can you tell the model?”

“Easy. The split screen.”

I was speechless. Nobody but a real car nut would have known that. Head buzzing, I followed her directions to the outskirts of town and to an industrial estate.

“Give me a minute,” she said. She got out and disappeared round a corner. There was the sound of machinery and a huge garage door rolled slowly upwards. Ellie waved for me to drive in. I parked the beast, got out and looked around. My car looked at home here, among other classic cars in various states of assembly.

“My brother’s repair and reno shop,” Ellie explained. “I have the flat above.”

I followed her up the metal staircase, curbing the urge to lift her sweater and bite that tempting bum through her Lycra leggings. Upstairs was an open space with a double bed, a kitchenette, a sofa, an old wardrobe, a table and a single chair. A curtained-off corner had to be a loo and shower. More minimal you could not get. Posters of vintage cars covered the walls and I could have spent the following half hour drooling over them. I didn’t, though, because Ellie went over to the wardrobe and took out a pink, Indian-style robe. She pulled off her sweater, revealing a white sports bra, and slipped the knee-length robe on. I tried not to stare when she reached up under it and pulled her tights down. She caught me looking, of course.

“Sorry,” she said. “I spend so much time here on my own. I was thinking about what to cook. Just for a moment, I’d forgotten you were here.”

“That’s me. I’m easy to ignore, and if it means I get to see a pretty lady changing her clothes, I can live with that.” Keep it light. It probably doesn’t mean anything to her.

Ellie came over and used those eyes on me. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to ignore you,” she said. “But first, I’m going to cook. I hope you like Thai?”

“Love it. What can I do to help?”

Ellie laughed. “You said that as if you meant it,”

“Because I did. I live on my own, too. You can trust me not to cut myself if you give me a knife.”

We spent the next twenty minutes chopping, peeling and preparing food. I’m a decent cook and I could tell she was good. We hardly spoke. It was almost as if we had been cooking together for ages and didn’t need to.

“There’s beer in the fridge,” she said as we took dishes over to the table. While I fetched it, she pulled a box over to make a second seat. “As the guest, you get the chair,” she said. I didn’t comment on the fact that the box was a few inches lower than the chair and brought her down to my height. We ate, concentrating on the food.

As Ellie was gathering up the empty dishes, she said: “I think you and I have a problem in common,”

“We do?”

“Can I be blunt?”

“I suspect you usually are,”

“You noticed. So. Our problem is that I’m far too tall for a woman and you’re a bit short for a man.”

Ouch. Unflattering, but accurate.

“And?”

“In general, men tend to overact with me, as if they are doing me a favour by asking me out. I don’t sense that with you.”

“Then I’m hiding how intimidated I’m feeling better than casino firmaları I thought,”

“I feel relaxed with you, have done from the moment we met. I want us to be friends, John. We’ll see what happens after that. You are an attractive man.”

“For a short-arse,” I chipped in.

Ellie reached across and took my hand. “I know that’s your defence mechanism, but you don’t need it with me. Trust me, I know how it is to be outside the norm.”

“Not in the attractiveness stakes,” I riposted, as I struggled to get my pulse-rate back down from the touch of her fingers. “My best friend Nuala thinks you’re lovely and so do I,”

“Nuala from the gym? Has she told you what I look like with no clothes on?” Ellie laughed.

“No.”

“I’m amazed. She has no discretion at all. She eyes up anybody with a decent body. It’s interesting, though, that you have a female best friend.”

“Why?”

“Because it gives me hope that you and I can at least be friends, too.”

Here goes…

“I might find that difficult.”

“Oh.” Ellie’s face fell. “Why?”

“When I said I was in love, I meant it…at least that’s how it feels. Nuala and I is different, because she isn’t interested in me as a man. Objectively, I can see that she’s an attractive woman, but I’m used to her and her sex never crosses my mind. You, on the other hand…” I got stuck for words.

“You find me physically attractive?”

“I do.”

“Then it’s mutual. Let me do some thinking about that.” She gathered up the dishes and deposited them on a little table beside the sink. “So right now, I think it’s best if you go home. Leave me your number and I promise I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And that was that. Five minutes later I was on my way home, with a bone in my pants that ached. When Ellie had bent over to put the plates down, her thin cotton shift had clung to her bum. No VPL. A thong? No knickers? Had I been sitting making light conversation with a woman without underwear? If so, was it a message to me? Did she bend down on purpose? Did she notice that I’d noticed…if, of course, it wasn’t just my dirty mind playing tricks on me? It was a hard night in all senses.

My concentration at work next morning was shot, not great when you’re checking spreadsheets done by an inexperienced member of staff. Eventually, I took the coward’s way out and delegated it, to give someone else experience. I’d sunk into a black hole by going-home time with no word from Ellie. I’d already left my desk when my private email pinged. “It’s Ellie. I lost your number. Please forgive me. I had to use dark arts to dig out this address. Busy tonight? If you’re available, I am. Come when you’re ready.”

The sun came out, birds sang, a brass band blew a fanfare. I was on my way within minutes, hoping that I could find Ellie’s flat again and that arriving on a bicycle wouldn’t make me look too ridiculous. Work was still in progress in the garage, but one of the guys jerked a thumb towards the stairs.

“If you’re the one she’s waiting for, you’re in trouble. She’s been singing.”

We met at the halfway point. Ellie kissed me. It wasn’t a full-on, tongues and tonsils kiss, but the lip contact was generous and sent bolts of lightning down my spine. She pulled back and looked at the cycling helmet in my hand.

“I was looking forward to a drive in the Jag,” she said, “but I suppose I could sit on your crossbar. Never mind. I have a better idea.” She turned to the tall guy who had to be the brother: “Marcus, can I borrow the Morgan?”

Our first outing, therefore, was with us squeezed into a 1938 three-wheel sports car, with a big v-twin engine on the front that made conversation impossible. I could have trailed my hand along the ground as Ellie wrestled it round corners. She stopped in a carpark by the river and turned to me with glowing eyes.

“How was that?”

“That was fun,” I said. “Nice driving.”

“Thank you, John. Okay. You pass. You weren’t sick, you didn’t scream, and you didn’t try to grope me.”

“Too busy hanging on for dear life,” I joked.

We extricated ourselves and set off down the riverside path. After a moment, Ellie took my hand. Shortly after that, I kissed her properly for the first time. The difference in our heights was less of an issue because we were sitting on a bench.

“Tell me about yourself,” she said. “I’ve read your professional links, but what about John, the person?”

“I’m twenty-seven, male and short. I like sports, although I’m the wrong size and shape for most of them. I like to fiddle with and drive the XK. I can spend days polishing her. I read history, because I’m still trying to understand how the world got into its current state.”

“Love life?”

“I’ve had girlfriends and a few short-term relationships. I’m very single at the moment…or rather I was until I met you.” We kissed again. “How about you?” I asked. “I haven’t spied on you…so far.”

“I’m thirty. Does that matter to you?”

“Absolutely not. I’d assumed you were güvenilir casino my age. But it’s only a number anyway. How have you done thus far?”

Ellie took a deep breath and poured out her story. “Not great. I got married at eighteen. Even as I signed the register I knew it was a huge mistake. He’d been my boss, he was ten years older than me and he treated me like a doll, for him to play with when he felt like it and ignore when he didn’t. He couldn’t resist putting me down. One day, he’d say I looked a frump, the next day, with the same outfit, apparently I looked like a tart. He was over two metres tall, and I had hoped that would make people forget my height, but he was always pointing it out as a joke. Then it pissed him off when I didn’t get pregnant. At first it was accidental, but then I decided that if I was going to have a child, I didn’t want it to be his, so I took the pill in secret. He made my life very difficult for nine years. I left him two years ago. It’s only in the past year that I’ve been able to do the things I like doing.”

“Such as?”

“You know about the gym. You’ve seen that I love to drive fast. I go to track days when I can afford it.” She gave me an embarrassed glance. “My love life since then…and to an extent during those nine years… has largely involved me and my fingers.”

“That’s a nice thought. I’ll look forward to watching that, if I may.”

Ellie kissed me, rather than replying.

“And you’re sure that being with a miniature man isn’t a problem?” I joked when we separated.

“Stop it. You’re not that small. Besides, it won’t matter once we’re lying down,” she said.

It was a good month later when we explored that option, at my flat. In the meantime, we only met in public, at Ellie’s insistence.

“I don’t want to have sex with you just because we can,” she explained. “It’s a temptation, but I’d like it to mean something more.”

So, I took her for drives in the Jag and she took me for drives in vintage cars she “borrowed” from the garage. For what it was, it was very enjoyable, but I did a lot of beating off each time we parted.

Ellie said she was ready to become more intimate, so I lashed out on a new double bed, mattress and bedding for my flat, in her honour. After I’d fed her, and we had spent a little canoodling time on the sofa, I led her to the bedroom.

“Are you sure about this?” Ellie asked. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Totally.”

“Then will you undress me, please?”

Ellie had come to dinner wearing another loose ethnic dress, turquoise this time, just above knee-length and not unlike the one that had set my heart pounding at her place. Now she stood in my bedroom, arms raised above her head, waiting.

I knelt and started with her shoes, dancing pumps without heels. I caressed each foot with care. Her legs were bare and smooth, and I worked my way slowly up them, stroking and kissing her calves and knees. There was a sharp intake of breath as I began to slide her dress upwards, so I paused, stood up and kissed her. This time there was no holding back. We clung to each other until we were both panting. I closed my eyes, wanting to explore her by touch alone. When I ran my hands up the backs of her thighs under her dress, they found only bare skin.

“Do you like that? Remember the first evening we ate together?” Ellie asked. “At the gym I wear a thong under my tights and it came off when I was changing. I could feel your eyes on my backside when I bent over, so I thought you’d enjoy it if I didn’t wear knickers tonight.”

“What a lovely surprise,” I said, running my hands over the smooth skin of her firm bottom. “May I continue?”

“Please.”

Ellie was, however, wearing a bra, so I unclipped it and enjoyed the feel of those warm, heavy breasts through the thin cotton shift. Her nipples were hard. When my hand started to travel down her belly, she flinched, so I stopped.

“Ellie? Tell me if something is wrong, won’t you?” She nodded, her face buried in my shoulder. Her pubic hair was clipped short and my fingers combed through it. Just as I was expecting them to slip into the slot of her sex, my fingertips hit an obstruction and Ellie shuddered. It had to be her clitoris, standing out from between her labia, hot and swollen. I touched it again and she groaned. Her knees wobbled.

“I think you need to lie down,” I said and eased her on to the bed. She lay on her back, one arm hiding her eyes.

“May I look?” I asked. Ellie wrapped her arm more tightly across her face and gave a vestigial nod. Her chest rose and fell quickly with her shallow breaths. I could feel her anxiety without touching her. I lifted her dress to expose her sex. Her prominent, fleshy outer labia had been pushed aside by what looked like a miniature blind penis, almost an inch long, protruding from its hood.

“Wow. Spectacular,”

“You don’t mind?” Ellie sounded surprised.

“Mind? It’s beautiful. Quite wonderful,” I said. “Let me show you just how wonderful it is.” Unable to resist, I buried my face between her legs and filled my mouth with her labia and that gorgeous, proud clitoris. Ellie came, and then came again, before at last she begged for a moment’s respite. I came up for air.

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