Ellie And Her Adversaries

This is a long romantic tale of jealousy, selfishness and cruel love, told in eight parts.

Part 1

I looked out the window at my car parked in the driveway, and noticed Ellie, my girlfriend's married sister, washing the inside of its windows. Tess, my girlfriend, was in another room playing the piano and I was bored – at loose ends – since no one else was in their parents' house, to which I'd been invited as a weekend guest. I gave Ellie a quizzical look through the window, she gave me a broad, dimpled smile, and continued with her work.

Curious, I walked outside and stood behind her, by the open car door, as she knelt on the driver's seat. "You don't have to clean my car," I said, somewhat embarrassed.

"I know, Rick," she said, "but you know how I love it. I figured that if I did you a favor you might let me drive it. I'm gonna do the upholstery next!"

The new, chocolate brown Porsche 911T was definitely a fine machine, but no finer than the beautiful, 26-year-old Filipina who was cleaning it. Probably by coincidence, this morning she was wearing an outfit that matched the car's color, a pair of skin-tight brown jeans and a ribbed turtleneck sweater that hugged her full-breasted upper body like a second skin. As I stared at the succulent round globes of her ass moving back and forth while she scrubbed, a hormonal charge zapped my groin and I muttered, "What a thing of beauty!"

"Yeah! This has always been my favorite car," she said, then looked back at me over her shoulder and saw where my eyes were resting. A brief smile came to her lips and her buttocks twitched, then she turned away and started spraying and wiping down the upholstery. "Well, are you gonna let me drive it? Tess'll be practicing all day for her concert in a few weeks, so you can come along and coach me!"

I'd been dating Ellie's younger sister, Tess, for almost a year, if "dating" means maintaining two separate apartments and otherwise being nearly inseparable. It was 1974. I was an early-thirties, white, Vietnam vet who'd gotten a doctorate and was working at an educational R&D lab that prepared inner-city kids for employment. The job now bored me, having evolved into a bureaucratic sinecure.

Unlike her curvy, 5'4" Filipina sister who'd inherited many Spanish genes, my girlfriend Tess was more "Asian looking," – a rather angular though willowy woman at 5'7" with true almond eyes – a grad student in music ten years my junior, and an already accomplished concert pianist. I'd met her when she was working part-time at the lab as a secretary to an African-American woman with whom I'd had a brief affair. That woman had subsequently resigned after a jealous blowup at the office involving yet another woman.

"Sure! A run down to Big Sur might be fun," I said, jumping at the chance to get out of the house. It'd become habit for Tess and me to drive from San Francisco to the sisters' parents in Carmel on weekends. Today her folks were gone, which allowed their youngest daughter a full day of uninterrupted piano practice. On this particular morning she was working on a piece by Josef Haydn. And, on this weekend Ellie's husband, Don, had stayed behind in the city, leaving we two significant others to fend for ourselves.

Before hooking up with Tess my relationships had been brief, fiery, and many. As a grad student I'd been married for a short while and had no intention of settling down again soon, regardless of how appealing a prospective mate might be. But Tess had captured my attention and I'd become at least monogamous, leaving behind a very active sex life. Aside from her exotic, Asian looks, she was mature beyond her years. And, the entrancing hours that I listened to her classical piano music soothed what in retrospect was my very troubled soul. Plus, we were phenomenal together in bed, which was of primary importance to me.

I wasn't yet aware of it, but my repressed memories of military combat – and a personality that today might be called "bipolar" – made me less than an emotionally stable boyfriend. Aside from these shortcomings, though I didn't yet know it, both Tess and Ellie had plans for me…quite apart from one another; on reflection, plans that I wish they hadn't had.

"How do you like the family?" Ellie asked, as we drove down Highway 1, the scenic road overlooking the Pacific, north of Big Sur. She'd switched on the local classical music station and we almost had to shout over the strains of a fiery piano

Etude

by Franz Liszt.

"Fine," I responded. "Your folks are very nice." I hadn't really gotten to know the girls' older half-brothers and sisters and their kids, who'd drifted in and out on previous weekends.

"We're a big family," she said. "You'll get to know the rest…but, there's plenty of time for that." The way her small, beautiful tan hands worked the steering wheel showed she was an accomplished driver.

Always wary of the commitment involved in getting to know a woman's relatives, I said, "I don't really know how to handle big families." I was comfortable with the relationship I had with Tess, as sexually charged as it was, and wanted to avoid complicating it with the inevitable pressures caused by parents and siblings.

"Tess'll bring you in slowly," Ellie murmured, down-shifting expertly to speed past a slow truck. "She'll do it a little at a time," she added, seemingly aware of my hesitance to discuss the matter.

"She hasn't met my Mom, even though she lives just three miles away," I said, hoping to use that fact as a standard. "Of course…

my

family's quite different." My Dad had died and I hardly knew my mother any more. Closeness had not been one of the values in the Pedersen household.

"I know," she said. "I had a white boyfriend before I married Don. There was always an undercurrent of…distance. The fucking was great, though."

I was struck by Ellie's candor, and apparently it showed. She'd never mentioned sex in any previous conversation, regardless of context. My eyes lingered for a moment on her stunning 34C-24-34 body while she drove, as I ruminated on its sultry feminine secrets.

She glanced at me quickly and snickered, "Does that bother you, Rick?"

"Uuh…no. Not much

bothers

me any more," I said dishonestly, wondering where our talk was going.

"Well, it worries Tess, since sex seems to be the focus of your relationship," she said. "Sisters gossip, you know."

Great! I thought to myself. I'll bet you two have even discussed the sounds I make when I'm rutting!

"She's happy that you're so supportive of her music…but she's concerned that you both seem slaves to your libidos. She also wants to live with you. She's tired of keeping two places and staying over with you just to fuck and play the grand piano."

I couldn't think of a better reason to be close friends with a woman – especially the same woman – yet I wasn't about to admit that directly to my particular woman's sister. Two nests are better than one, I thought. Separate addresses keep people…sane. In Tess's case, of course, there was the added appeal of her musical talent, which I respected tremendously. Yet, after nearly a year with her it seemed odd – though I refused to speculate on the reasons – that her sister seemed to be speaking in her stead.

Ellie pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant and said, "Let's get a take out sandwich and walk down to the beach. But wait just a minute," she whispered, grasping my forearm and holding on tightly. "I want to hear the end of this," as she listened to the radio.

I watched her lean back in the seat and close her thickly lashed eyes as the nippled ridge of her breasts rose and fell excitedly to the conclusion to the

Rondo

from Chopin's First Piano Concerto. The slight smile on her moist, succulent, half-open lips made my temples throb for a moment. So did her grip on my forearm.

"That's positively orgasmic," she muttered, opening the car door and stepping out when the piece had stopped.

"I didn't know you were a fan of classical," I said. Apparently, she

and

her sister were both devoted to the musical arts.

"It was my minor in college. I played the violin. Just never performed much," she answered.

Armed with our lunch, we descended the path down to the surf and Ellie handed me her sandals, which I stuck in my hip pocket. I watched her tiny, perfectly-formed, tan feet caress the wet strand as we walked, her polished red toenails acting like miniature stop signs for skittering sand crabs.

"Remember when I met you a year ago…at the party you threw when you were house-sitting for your folks?" she asked.

"Yeah…the night Don insisted on being the chef…when he burned the barbequed steaks," I laughed, recalling the evening of a year before.

"Uh-huh. He's still embarrassed about that, by the way," she said. "Filipino guys can't barbeque beef...only pork. It's just not in the gene pool!" she chuckled. "Anyway, on the way home he said that Tess would probably do anything she could to lasso you in marriage!"

This was becoming the most personal conversation I'd ever had with Ellie. Her almond eyes flashed brightly as she continued to talk while we ate.

"Yeah…?" I said, waiting for the next bit of illuminating information.

"I told him I hoped she would…that I'd like to have you close…uuh, in the family," she said, sitting on a large rock and drawing up her knees. Her sculpted tan ankles contrasted fetchingly with her dark brown pants.

"You probably know I've been married before, Ellie," I said, "and the last thing I'm ready for now is a new wife."

"I kinda thought that," she said. "Marriage is fine, for having kids…as long as people can remain faithful."

"You and Don seem to be doing okay," I said.

She seemed to ignore my comment. "Would you ever be unfaithful to Tess?" she asked suddenly, standing, looking down behind herself, and brushing sand from her high, round butt.

"The thought's never occurred to me," I responded, honestly. "We're pretty compatible…sexually."

"That's what she tells me," she said, looking at me appraisingly and allowing her eyes to sweep up and down my tall frame.

"I've been super straight since I met Tess," I said truthfully, implying to Ellie that I'd been completely faithful. "Before her, there were several women at work, and before that…".

"I'll bet you were a stud, weren't you, Dr. Pedersen," she interrupted, smirking.

"No…but pretty wild," I admitted, with due humility.

She turned and started walking away from the water, saying something that sounded like, "Don's being…," which I couldn't hear. I watched her round buttocks roll sensuously under her snug jeans as she walked through the soft sand.

There were other people on the beach, strolling, and a couple passed us, giving a smile and nod as Ellie continued pacing toward the rocky cliffs. I caught up with her and said, "I didn't hear you."

"Don's being unfaithful to me," she said, flipping her thick, black hair angrily over one shoulder and continuing her determined pace to a tall rock outcropping at the base of the cliffs. I walked with her, then fell in behind as the passage between two high rocks narrowed to a sandy trail snaking into a dark cave. She walked directly into the cave and disappeared from sight.

I stopped, honestly not knowing what to do. "Uhh…Ellie?" I called out.

"Come in here. I want to show you something," I heard from the darkness.

I entered the cave and she was sitting on a huge, flat rock, smoking a cigarette.

"How do you know he's playing around?" I asked. I couldn't believe that handsome, straight forward, naïve-acting Don – the honest, methodical, Filipino pre-law student – was having an affair.

"She's some chickie at State," she said. Don had worked for years and was now finishing college late while Ellie was the couple's breadwinner, working as an administrator at a business college. "They're probably fucking right this minute," she muttered, dejectedly.

"What're you gonna do? Can I help?" I asked, truly concerned about her obviously injured feelings.

"We'll see," she breathed quietly, taking a deep drag on her cigarette and briefly illuminating her stunning face. "Hear those booming waves?" she asked, drawing my attention to the sound of surf echoing from deep within the underground cavern. "They remind me of

timpani

– kettle drums – in an orchestra."

I failed to see the connection between kettle drums and her husband's adultery.

"And see this rock?" she asked, patting the top of the flat granite on which she sat. "I lost my virginity on it when I was in high school."

"Nice…very evocative," I exhaled, playing along with her as she relived her moment. I now could imagine two horny teenagers grappling at one another in the romantic gloom of this natural stone concert hall...experiencing their first carnal love. I'd popped

my

cherry on the shabby backseat of an old Chevy.

"I'll be honest, Rick," she said, rising and walking toward me, "you appeal to me…a lot." She stopped as her warm breasts touched me below my sternum, stubbed out her cigarette, and wrapped both arms around my neck, surprising me as she smothered me with an open-mouthed, tonguing kiss. Her sweet saliva was tinged with the taste of tobacco, but the fresh scent of her hair and the softness of her succulent figure immediately switched me on. Acting automatically, I raised her luscious body off the sand and she whimpered as my hands covered her butt, her back, her shoulders and – letting her slip slowly down to her feet – her full, fleshy breasts, which heaved as she gasped for breath.

"Touch me, Rick…

please

touch me," she begged with a whine, and without hesitating I unbuttoned her jeans, feeling her velvety skin for the first time. My hand slipped palm first over her silken tummy and into her bikini panties to part her wispy pubic hair. A thick, hot syrup oozed from the slit between her labia. Following my first touch, she frantically hunched her plump, soaking pussy at my questing fingers for about ninety seconds, shouting into my mouth as she reached an orgasm. She trembled for another half minute, then hung from my shoulders, mewling little sounds of feminine pleasure into my shirt.

When she'd regained her composure, she pushed herself away quickly – as if ashamed at acting so wantonly – re-buttoned her jeans, and walked to the cave's entrance. My heart was still beating rapidly as I wrestled ambivalently with the urge to proceed further. Still muddled, I brought my warm, slippery fingers to my lips to taste her juice as my mind raced to grasp the significance of the moment.

Staring out between the rocks at the breakers crashing to shore, she said, "I'm not an easy woman, you know. I've never been unfaithful to any man, least of all Don. At work I have to fight off guys all the time."

"But you're contemplating an affair…with me…as revenge," I said, guessing the direction of the conversation.

"I watch you and Tess a lot," she said. "She's very clever. Spoiled. Manipulative. Cunning. She's the baby princess, used to getting what she wants. She's like my husband in that way."

"I'm aware of her nature, Ellie. But that's not what's pushing you toward infidelity." We started walking back to the path leading up to the restaurant.

"I miss the closeness Don and I used to have, Rick…the sharing of emotions, thoughts and feelings. That's why I like you. You don't say much, but your eyes reveal everything. You're deep…sensitive…and mature. The way we respond alike to things…it's almost as if, inside, we're somehow…wired together."

Softly and truthfully, I said, "You don't know me at all," at the same time quickly weaving that emotional veil that had always protected me from the designs of others…especially females. For years with women, the only thing that had pierced its opacity had been my cock.

"Perhaps better than you think," she said, as we started climbing up to the restaurant parking lot. "Look, I'm gonna take this slowly. See those cabins across the road? That's a motel. I know your history. If all I wanted was your body I'd have either sucked you off in the cave or we'd be humping ourselves silly in one of those rooms."

We shared one of her cigarettes outside the car before driving back, this time with me behind the wheel. "Ellie…I'll need to think about this," I said, turning onto the highway.

"Go ahead. I already have," she said, her fingers tapping my right leg in time with the notes of a Debussy

Prelude

that was on the radio.

On the road back to Carmel she was silent, but her nimble hand never left my leg.

"Not a word to Tess, okay?" I announced, as we pulled into the driveway.

"Of course not," she responded. "Just tell her the truth…that we drove down to Nepenthe…that's

Neh-penn-thay

…and had a sandwich.

Tess was still practicing, playing a particularly difficult movement of a Schubert

Sonata

, when we walked in.

Part 2

The following weekend we didn't go to Carmel, but during the week I'd gotten sweet, daily calls from Ellie at the office...just saying hello. Saturday morning I went to Tess's place to do some maintenance on her older car parked in the garage. As usual, we made hard, noisy love when I arrived, then I went downstairs to the garage to work. A while later I went back upstairs to use the toilet. I heard the doorbell and heard laughter and talking before I came out. It was Ellie, I discovered, when I exited the bathroom. Though I'd kept my distance from her during the previous week, my heart rate – and my libido – spiked when I saw her.

"Hi!" she said, beaming and giving me a familiar hug. She was dressed in a dark blue cotton mini-dress, held up by two narrow straps, which showed the delectable tan slopes of her breasts, the full, curvy flesh of her flawless legs, and her tan shoulders and back, all of which rendered me breathless. I could almost see the stitching in her well-filled bra through the thin material. On her head was a white golf visor, which drew my eyes to the thick, black mane of her hair. On her feet were elevated cork wedgies, showing her plump little toes with polished nails.

"Careful!" I said. "I'm covered with grease from the car."

"Not

your

car!" she said. "There's not a spot of grease on it."

"No, I'm putting new shock absorbers on Tess's Ford." I was wearing a dirty tee shirt, baggy shorts and clunky climbing boots.

Raising her eyebrows, Tess said to me, wickedly, "We were talking about sex and how fast some men cum. I told Ellie that it took you forever," she said, and they both dissolved into conspiratorial laughter.

Slightly embarrassed, I said, "Well…I'll let you continue…," and turned to go back downstairs. I'd always become uncomfortable when women – and men as well – spoke about the sexual behavior of specific people.

"Does Don cum quickly?" Tess asked her sister in her usual pointed, disarming manner, as if I weren't there.

I saw Ellie blink her big eyes exaggeratedly and ask, "Is that quick?" and they both giggled at the suggestive reaction.

I'd been witness to their salacious bonding in the past – in contrast with their sibling competitiveness – and got the feeling that they'd discussed this matter before. So, I was glad to get back to the garage, under the car, and deal with something I could handle…something quite different from two lusty Filipina sisters with fucking on their minds.

A half hour later I heard Tess begin practicing her repertoire again…a few measures of one of Rachmaninoff's

Preludes

. After a few minutes I saw Ellie's flawless legs, from the knees down, approach the front of the car, which was propped up on blocks. The lower half of my body, from waist to feet, protruded from under the vehicle, just next to where she was standing. I took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her limbs…in terms of all feminine criteria, light years in advance of those of her sister. I reached unconsciously for a rag to wipe my hands of grease, inwardly hungry just to touch her legs…to feel their smooth, muscular resilience.