Ellie & Her Adversaries

"Will…you…give…it…to…me…Rich-ard?"

"Rit…I…awww…fuck!" I groaned as I looked into her lovely, open face, smiling ecstatically…non-judgmentally…just…accepting, I thought.

She shivered and shook her head involuntarily to some nervous spasm, which flung her gorgeous hair over her swollen nipples, and we both began keening one another's name as our orgasms rose from our separate depths to sweep over us. I growled as the first jet of my hot seed squirted into her deeply, and she screamed the first of several peals as we locked onto one another. Her phenomenal musculature fluttered around my turgid flesh involuntarily as my butt froze into position two inches off the table, and my testicles poured forth their copious contents into her heated, ravenous chamber. For the longest time she just clung to my rigid body – accepting my load in her center – softly whimpering, "Yes…yes…yes…yes…yes…yes," until I collapsed onto the table, drained and exhausted.

We lay, embraced, for the longest time, with Rita's hair covering both of our faces, so relaxed that we nearly fell asleep. Finally, gathering my wits as best I could, I muttered, "Rita…I had…no idea."

"Ssshh, sweet man," she whispered. "No words now. They'd just spoil it."

An hour later I let myself into Ellie's apartment. She was already in bed, asleep apparently, and facing her edge of the bed on her side. I undressed quickly and slipped in beside her, hugging her from behind, which failed to rouse her. After a few minutes I rolled over to face away from her and recall the pleasures I'd felt with Rita.

"Rick?…honey?" Ellie asked in the darkness after a while. "Would you mind taking a shower and washing that woman stink – Rita's smell – off of you? I just can't bear it."

Part 8

Rita was right, of course. I would have been blind not to know there were a lot of women at the bank…a lot of women in the city!…who were anxious to be taken to bed by an eligible man. The pain of losing Ellie as my sole lover gradually subsided, though I continued seeing her at least weekly for over a year, chiefly as a "maintenance" lover. My professional life advanced – almost without effort – but it was my sex life that took on immense proportions. I quickly lost count of the women, on staff and off – of all types, races and ethnicities – who shared my bed…sometimes two at a time. With my comfortable income I moved to Marin County, a suburban area north of San Francisco, and began to plow new feminine fields. The time was still before AIDS became known, so the fear of unsafe sex was something rare. For the most part in the new environment, any woman on the pill was fair game.

Life was good. I cut back substantially on my drinking, though was still a fair hand with a glass, and bought a small home in Sausalito, a beautiful, upscale hillside town that 150 years before had been a Portuguese fishing settlement. When Ellie announced her intention to marry a man she'd met it hurt me, yet I was so busy that the event became just a large blip on my emotional radar. Given my priapic existence, it didn't seem odd that we made love sporadically, even spending a couple of evenings together a week after she was married. But then our sex life ceased – temporarily she said – given her plans to become pregnant.

Rita was steadfast. She became to me what I'd previously become to Ellie, an extraordinarily close companion who was there when I needed her. My selfishness toward her became sick, and I used her magnificent beauty and compliant physical talents any time the spirit moved me. She was available either at work or on the odd evening or weekend afternoon when she could spring free from her longtime room mate, John, whom I later discovered knew of our carnal relationship. I was a far cry from the sensitive, intellective guy who had been devoted to saving a small part of the world ten years' previously. Aside from my insensitivity – though I hardly knew it – I was also desperately lonely.

Over two years after Ellie had been married, she called one evening and asked, "Can we go to Carmel for the weekend?" My heart jumped with joy. I was suddenly in love all over again, and agreed without asking a single question.

"I made reservations at Nepenthe," she confessed as she got into my car…a new Porsche. "You remember, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah!" I grinned. "Want to stop by Howard Johnson's to see if that septuagenarian cocktail pianist is still playing?"

"Sure!" she beamed, and talked my ear off until we reached Monterey. She'd become an after-work runner and looked in phenomenal shape, even doing some 5 and 10K racing. I learned more about her husband than I ever wished to, yet conceitedly gathered why she might still keep me as a sometime lover. She hadn't gotten pregnant, but didn't tell me why. But, she was happy…content in her existence…and was determined to continue with her life as it was.

At the hotel lounge north of Carmel I had a martini – she had a soft drink – and we headed south after a short stay, giggling at the pianist's poor rendition of our request…As Time Goes By. At Nepenthe we ate an early dinner and walked on the beach, where she invited me into her cave. My heart beat like a trip hammer as I walked in behind her, remembering that first day, as I ogled her perfect, smooth calves with the evening light fading behind us. She wore just a short cotton skirt, sleeveless top and sandals.

She glided to the large flat rock where she'd lost her virginity as a teenager and looked toward me in the darkness. "I want to fuck you here, Rick…right now," she whispered, lifting herself atop the rock, grasping me by my waistband and pulling me between her spread knees.

"Ellie! It's too cold for you!" I wheedled.

"I can't feel it. I'm so unbelievably hot for you," she murmured, grappling for my crotch. "I should've done this on our very first day!" she said frantically, as she unzipped me and pulled my rising cock free of my pants. "Please!?"

She lifted her legs, spreading them further open for me, and my heart nearly stopped. I looked down in the dim light and – of course – she was without panties, having not worn them on the trip down. She'd let her pubic hair grow out during her marriage. "Ellie…what can I say? I…".

She squelched whatever meaningless objection I might have uttered by sealing her open mouth to mine and tonguing me to distraction. We didn't hesitate. Her hand drew my prick to her opening, and I plunged ahead into her steaming wetness until my pelvis was locked to hers. "Oh, my God! Please forgive me!" she cried – almost as a paean – as I hushed her softly, mumbling that I loved her and she could do no wrong. Her breathing came quickly in my ear as she took me again and again into her moist center, murmuring, "And…I love you…so much…baby."

We fucked sweetly – with me imagining myself the teenage boy who had taken her for the first time on this very spot many years before – until both of us climaxed mightily, my sperm squirting deeply into her as my knees shook from the pleasure. Her little heels pulled my hips to her saddle until her thighs trembled from the tension while I shuddered repeatedly, blasting my seed against her cervix. I held her little body closely for a long time, and whispered tremulously, "Ooohhh…Gawd…I love you, love you, love you, Ellie." As I pulled back from her, her beautiful eyes had filled and, at the moment, inexplicably, two tears were rolling down her tan cheeks.

"I brought a bottle of that vodka you like so much…in my bag," she said, as we walked up the path to the restaurant, across the road from the motel. "That way we can order food in from the restaurant and not leave the cabin," she explained.

And we didn't leave the cabin, hardly the bed, until we checked out the following day. Unlike before, when I'd had difficulty cumming with her, I filled my little Filipina love with so much semen that she was nearly floating. It'd been years since she and I had experienced such an exhausting couple of days with each other.

On the drive north she admitted something to me, off-handedly. "I apologize for bringing Rita between us," she said. "But you needed someone and she's a good woman. She'd do anything for you."

Rita had already done nearlyeverything for me, I thought. But it appalled me that Ellie and she had become temporary allies almost three years previously, if only to drag me from the depths of my depression.

"She tells me that you're very…active."

"I'm still a single man, hon," I said, assuming that such a simple fact would explain my philandering behavior.

"I know," she said. "But don't get married, Rick…until you're an old man." I got the feeling that she meant more than she was saying.

"Why would I? What sane man would get married with a lover like you?"

She didn't answer me, and gave me a long kiss at curbside down the street from the apartment where she and her husband lived.

"Please don't call me. I'll call you," she said, squeezing my hand.

She did call every once in a while. But, I didn't see her for nearly three more years, in a small hotel-restaurant outside of Sausalito...a haven for lovers who could slip upstairs for assignations in dark rooms made up in the style of an old British inn. My companion on that night was a thirty-five-ish, divorced woman with whom I was fond of taking hikes through the Marin hills on weekends, stopping to screw or be fellated in the woods as convenience would allow.

Ellie saw me first and waved, smiling. She was seated with a rather nondescript white man about her age who wore glasses and had thinning black hair. He struck me as being about 5'10" tall, with a soft build…an archetypal "yuppie."

Next to Ellie in a restaurant highchair was a very cute little boy about two years of age. He had a soft, light complexion, and two marvelous hazel eyes that flashed devilishly as he looked around. I was struck by the color of his blond-ish hair, so unlike that of both of his parents, but forgot about it as I was focused on speaking with Ellie.

I excused myself and walked to their table. She had put on a bit of weight, but was still ravishing. She wore black wool pants that hugged her luscious bottom, visible to me as she fidgeted on seeing me walk toward them.

"Hello!" she smiled warmly, offering her hand for me to shake it. "Rick, this is my husband, Len."

Len stood and we shook hands, mumbling a salutation. Yeah, about 5'10", I thought.

To Len, Ellie said, "Rick was one of Tess's old boyfriends. We haven't seen each other for years."

And to me she said, "This is my son, Ben," placing her hand on the toddler's shoulder.

"How ya doin', big guy?" I asked, offering him a finger to grab.

"How ya doin', big guy?" he imitated, then giggled slightly, juggling a spoon so that it dropped to the floor.

"Oh, Bennie. Now look what you've done," Ellie scolded, getting up and retrieving the piece from the floor. As she put it on the table, she looked up at me and my gaze scalded her upper torso and breasts, hidden as they were under a crew neck wool sweater with horizontal, multi-colored stripes. I so wanted to reach out and touch her there. She must have sensed my prurient thought because she flushed immediately and looked down, slipping back into her chair.

I'd never seen her look more appealing than at that moment. Yet, all that needed to be said had been, and I excused myself for interrupting them, exchanging farewell pleasantries with her husband. They'd finished their dinner so soon left.

As they walked past the restaurant windows outside, Ellie was carrying little Ben in her arms. She stopped, said something to him and held his hand, waving it goodbye to me as he gave me a laughing smile. Then they were gone.

A couple of years later I ran into Ellie's doctor brother-in-law, Will, in a San Francisco wine shop. We talked for a good half-hour, reacquainting ourselves.

"Boy, you really caused a rift in the family, you old dawg," he said. "I can understand why. Wow, that Ellie's always been so hot! You heard she got married?"

"Oh, yeah. I met her new husband sometime back. Seemed like a nice guy."

"He's okay. They tried to get pregnant for a coupla years…fertility treatments…everything! He was shootin' blanks there for a long while. Then, he musta eaten his Wheaties, 'cuz all of a sudden – bang! – she got knocked up. After two years o' practice! Had a son, Bennie. Kid's a pistol. As for Tess, she's teaching at Indiana…got tenured recently…never married. You married?"

"Naw, maybe someday," I said, feeling progressively more uneasy as I started putting together the disturbing scenario of the past several years.

"Well, there's no hurry, right?" he grinned, lecherously. "Oh, didn't tell you," he said, dropping his voice. "Ellie got breast cancer. Had a radical mastectomy. Really tore her up emotionally…aswell as physically. Can you imagine? Ellie? What a crime!"

I was stunned. A sharp bolt of pain hit me in the vitals and I found it hard to breathe. "Uhh…no, I can't imagine. That's…tragic!" I said, fighting the impulse to be sick. All I could do wasimagine…imagine my little love being cut, then being left so horribly scarred.

"Yup." Then he changed the subject, saying cheerily, "Man, from what I've heard, you've led a charmed life." Glancing at his watch, he said, "Oops, I'm late. Gotta pick up Cassie. Listen, Rick, stay in touch. You were always one of my favorites! See ya!"

I made my wine purchase and sat in the car. I started the engine and, on the radio, was Chopin's First Piano Concerto…the one that at Nepenthe Ellie had thought was orgasmic.

I switched off the ignition and sat staring straight ahead. Behind my dark glasses my vision was blurred from moisture. My karma had played itself out. My life had been gutted because I'd let my little Filipina love slip through my fingers. And, I'd spoiled the fruit of that love by blindly fathering our baby without knowing it.

Waves of self-contempt and pity washed over me. I'd let myself be used again, but this time more deeply than ever. I'd been paid well with great sex and the creation in my soul of a love greater than I'd had before or since, but nevertheless had been used by Ellie to feebly beat her sister at something. And, at what? Controlling a man? And at what cost? Perhaps she, herself, had been dealt a cruel – surgical – blow that stemmed from her profligacy.

I'd never be able to give Ben things. I'd never be able to help him learn how to be a man…how to think critically. I couldn't help him financially or spiritually or socially, or in any other way, because that would be suspicious…especially to those ignorant of the facts.

Damn my luck at having met the little guy! I'd anguish for the rest of my days as I wondered about my son, Ben, my inadvertently abandoned son.

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