Nailing Ellen

Winter was just a total madhouse for everyone in our family. Both kids were signed up for nearly every extracurricular activity created by man. Muffy's practice had gotten so big, she'd taken on a young assistant, just out of grad school, and of course it took a lot of time to mentor her and work her into the job. My job was hectic as always, but there were a lot more jobs that took me out on the road and I was often away for 2-4 days most weeks. It was not a good way to live.

To while away hours of hotel boredom, I made good use of every exercise facility I could get my hands on, with the result that by February, I was looking pretty buff, if I do say so myself.

Muffy, on the other hand, couldn't seem to get it together with her busy schedule, and while she did lose weight, it was only in tiny increments, with the result that she was pretty depressed about it. I told she should just give some of her clients to the new girl and clear away a couple of hours around lunchtime to visit the gym. Somehow, clients or other crises always seemed to get in the way.

I got email updates from Ellen every now and then, but they were broadcasts to the whole class, and that wasn't very satisfying.

As spring approached, my wife had pretty well decided that she wasn't going to go to the reunion.

"I won't know anyone. Those people mean nothing to me." Then she got to the real heart of the matter. "You look so good now, I'd be ashamed to be seen with you. I am so fat and so dumpy looking."

In spring, out of the blue, a deal involving a manufacturer in Rochester, NY, came up in the company. I asked to be put in charge of it with the result that in early May I'd have to make a trip out there to do an inspection. I could not believe my luck!

Since it was up to me when I went, I made sure that it was towards the end of a week. I also emailed Ellen. The next morning, I received a reply:

Ron, That's great news! If you can wait until Friday, I will have the evening free, otherwise it will have to be a 1-hour lunch. I've got things on Wednesday and Thursday after I leave the school. Why don't you come over to dinner? Looking forward to seeing you!! ---Ellen

The night before I was to catch a plane east, my wife dragged herself into bed after 11, dead tired from a very long, hard day.

"You look like you could use a bit of TLC, my love," I said to her. "How about a back scratch?"

She looked at me. "That would be great."

Pulling back the covers, she sat up and removed the long t-shirt she had worn to bed, then lay back down on her side. I began to run my nails very lightly over her back and I could feel the tension leak away as she sighed.

While I worked on her, I was thinking of Ellen. What would she be like after all these years? I wondered what her husband was like. Probably, based on the two people I'd seen her get close to, he would be a bit overbearing. But being able to see her again, I could easily tolerate hanging around a dork for an evening.

Muffy, when she's really tired, will often fall asleep while I scratch her back, and I thought that was the case that night.

Then she spoke. "Looking forward to your trip?"

"It's just another in an endless series of trips from home. I'm going to be pretty busy."

"That's not what I mean. I'm talking about seeing your old school mate. You've told me you had a major crush on her all through high school."

"Yeah, so? That was 20 years ago."

"Have you though about her much over the years? You've told me many times about that night you graduated."

Christ, where was this going? I'd been feeling pretty guilty about the fantasies I'd been having: Ellen's husband having to work, leaving us alone; Ellen not even being married anymore. My mind (and hand) had been a blur the past two weeks thinking of all the possibilities.

It's not that a had ever cheated on Muff. Lord knows, there'd been enough opportunities over the years, but I'd always held off. I didn't want to hurt her or do anything to jeopardize our marriage.

But the fantasy of Ellen had become so much a part of my psyche that it couldn't be torn away -- or resisted. Since I'd been 14, I'd wanted to be able to touch her, pleasure her, make her cry out my name as I thrust into her. I knew it was useless to pretend that I wouldn't take advantage of any chance I got with her. Through what my wife would have called "cognitive dissonance" if she were analyzing me, I could somehow justify stepping out of my marriage to be with my fantasy woman.

"Yes, Muffy," I eventually answered, "I do occasionally think about it."

"It's always sounded to me like one of those seminal situations in your life, something that's shaped who you are now."

"I suppose so. You're the doctor."

She rolled over to face me.

"I am. And I've been thinking about this trip -- a lot. I realize that after all these years of saying you were going to get in shape, and then never doing it, right after that phone call from your friend Ellen, you found the focus. Look at you now. You are even more handsome than you were when we met. I know what the impetus behind your transformation is.

"You think I don't know about your collection of yearbooks and that every single one of them falls open to her photo. Do you still fantasize about her?"

I was really uncomfortable, but I knew I had to answer -- and truthfully. "Yes. Sometimes."

"Have you been fantasizing about her recently?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean---"

Muffy put two fingers to my lips. "Hush. I don't want there to be any lying between us. For the 15 years we've been together, 15 wonderful years, we've never lied. Let's not start now."

"What are you getting at?"

She sighed. "All right, I'll be blunt and honest. I know you'd like to fuck her. You always have. If she hadn't been so dumb and blind in high school, you would likely be married to her now. But thanks to the fact that she had no sense, I captured the prize. I know you've often been frustrated sexually with me. I knew that I was probably driving you to a secret life, and it was pretty clear to me long ago that this involved Ellen. As long as you didn't try to contact her or something, I felt secure. Then she called, and although you probably didn't realize it, you changed. I've known and felt you thinking about her."

"You're right. I have. That doesn't mean that I'm going to disappear this week and never come back. I love you, I love our kids and I love our life. That's more important to me than any fantasy lover. I'll make some excuse and not see her. I don't want you to be worried the entire time I'm gone."

"That's not what I'm saying." She went silent for a long moment. "I love you and I trust you, but I also don't want to keep you away from seeing her. I know this means you could...might be tempted.." She was beginning to cry now. "Oh damn! I'm trying to say that if it happens, I want you to enjoy the evening without guilt."

I was thunderstruck. First of all, I couldn't believe that I'd been so transparent, but then Dr. Muff was a VERY able psychologist. She'd seen right to the heart of the matter. I could not believe she was being so generous, though. Here she was giving me permission to step out of our marriage if I wanted to. We're not particularly religious, so our union didn't have those added complications. However, we did take our relationship seriously, and what she'd just said was about the last thing I would have expected.

"I don't know what to say."

She leaned over and kissed me passionately. "Just say you'll come home to me, no matter what."

"I will, Marilyn, I will."

She pulled back. "You haven't called me Marilyn in years!"

"I want you to know how serious I am."

Our lovemaking that evening was fierce and passionate. Maybe she was trying to remind me what it could be like at its best, to help me remember what I had at home, or maybe she'd just let go of something.

As we lay back in bed, covered in sweat, she said something that further astonished me, considering how she's always felt about her practice.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to clear the middle of the day and start going to the gym. I won't look any different when you get back, but in the next few months you're going to see someone you won't be able to keep your eyes or hands off of -- no matter how many Ellen's are in the room. And you can take that to the bank!"

I leaned over and kissed her tenderly. "Don't worry. I will be back."

Next morning, I boarded a plane heading into the unknown.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The last few days had been hell. Here I was trying to close a big deal and only half my brain was functioning. I think I covered myself pretty well, but one of the execs I was working with asked at one point if I was feeling okay. Bearing down after that, I got through it all at the end of the day, but concentration was in short supply.

Each night, I'd gone to the hotel's gym and worked myself into the ground, just so I'd be so tired I'd be able to fall asleep.

On the phone afterwards with Muff, we'd talk as if nothing momentous was happening in our lives. It was the usual conversations we always had about the kids, work, things around the home.

Thursday night, though, she closed off with, "Well, have fun tomorrow evening."

My heart immediately started to pound. "Relax. Ellen will probably turn out to be 250 pounds, a mass of wrinkles and nasty, to boot, and with a very nasty and jealous husband. I probably won't be able to wait to get out of there."

"But if she isn't, do what you need to, then come home to me."

My mind was a mass of contradictions, my hands slick with sweat as I drove to the town outside of Rochester where Ellen lived. It was getting more and more rural. Finally, I turned onto the dirt road and about 2 miles down was the farmhouse where I would meet my fate -- maybe.

I pulled into the gravel drive and stopped, turning off the engine. There was one car parked closer to the house, old, sort of rundown-looking. The big red barn behind had definitely seen better days. As I opened the car door, I realized how quiet it had become and I drank that silence in.

Walking up onto the porch, shaded by two big maples, I knocked on the screen door. From the depths of the house came, "Just a minute!"

I watched her as she walked towards me. Ellen had changed but not much, and those changes filtered through the screen between us, appeared to have been for the better. I tried to calm the hammering of my heart.

"Ronny!" she cried as she opened the door, "I am SO glad to see you," and gave me a hug.

"It's great to see you, too," I answered, drinking in her scent.

She stepped back, but kept her hands on my arms. "Let me look at you. The years seem to have agreed with you. Wow! You have kept care of yourself."

I admired her, too. The most noticeable thing was that he hair was shorter, now just barely reaching her shoulders. Her face was thinner, probably just missing the baby fat of youth, and there were a few lines around her eyes. I couldn't see how the rest of her had fared because she was wearing an ankle-length, flowered dress with a high neck line. Most women wear those to try to hide extra pounds. Her feet were bare.

"Come in, come in," she said and grabbed my hand. "I've got dinner in the oven and we have some time to sit and catch up on all those years. Would you like some wine?"

"Sure."

"Red or white?"

I shrugged. "Whatever you're having."

"White then. We'll save the red for dinner."

I'd also brought a bottle which I'd stupidly left in the car. She came out with me.

"This is a very expensive bottle," Ellen said when I handed it to her. "It's not the sort of thing you'd drink with pot roast."

"You can save it for a special meal with your husband."

Her body sagged a little and I knew I'd said the wrong thing, but my heart also began to hammer faster if that were possible.

"Um, you have a very nice place here. How big is it?"

"Fifty acres. We bought it as sort of a hobby farm. I'm going to have to sell it now, of course. It's too bad. I love this place."

We began to walk back to the house. "I'm assuming you and your husband aren't together anymore? Sorry if that's a painful question."

She stopped and sighed. "No. Not really. When I spoke to you last fall we were heading towards a separation. He left before Christmas and called last week about making it permanent."

"I'm really sorry to hear that."

She said way too loudly, "Well, shit happens."

Back in the house, Ellen disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an open wine bottle and two glasses. After pouring, we sat on opposite ends of the sofa and talked over old times as the room darkened with the setting of the sun.

Something in the kitchen dinged and Ellen excused herself. While she was gone, I looked around. The place was nicely decorated in "early farmhouse" but it wasn't fancy, just comfortable. The TV across the room was a few years old. The wall where the stairs went up was covered with photos so I went over to look.

Most of them were of Ellen. Some were of her youth and she looked so familiar in them. Her grad photo was there and some others from various yearbooks. The later ones from college were very interesting because I could see her gradually age. Towards the top, several had obviously been taken down. At the very top of the stairs was a last one of her and it had an immediate effect on my cock.

It was in black and white and shot so that some of her was in deep shadow and very harsh light. What had my pulse racing was that she was naked. She was in profile with her far knee pulled to her chest, the near one stretched out. Her arms were wrapped around that one knee so that her one breast was pressed flat and the other exposed. You could also see the top of her bush. The expression on her face was sort of blank, as if she were deep in thought. Even if I didn't have any sort of history with Ellen, I would have found it a VERY erotic photo. It looked as if it may have been taken not that long ago. The only difference in her appearance was longer hair.

From down below came, "Dinner's served." Ellen came into view at the bottom of the stairs and I was caught ogling her naughty photo. "Oh, there you are," she said as she looked up. "Thought I'd scared you off with my whining."

"Ah, no. I was just looking at all the photos," I answered, somewhat flustered.

"Tom was an amateur photographer. He used to like taking pictures of me."

If she'd realized I'd seen the last one, she made no sort of overt reference to being embarrassed. As I descended the stairs, I hoped she wouldn't see that my cock was at half mast.

We ate beef stew by candlelight in the dining room, and Ellen's previous funk dissipated as we chattered about high school and our friends there. Being on the reunion committee, she had up-to-date information on just about everyone, as well as a lot of our teachers.

"So what about your life, Ronny?" she asked.

I told her, filling in the years for her. I even pulled out my wallet to show her photos of my wife and kids.

She grew wistful again. "Marilyn is very pretty. She has a nice smile, and your kids certainly show clearly who their father is. Your son looks an awful lot like a certain ninth grader who used to sit in front of me. You've been very lucky." A tear trickled down her face.

I reached across the table and put my hand on top of hers. "I understand you're having a hard time right now. Would you rather be alone this evening?"

Ellen looked up quickly. "No! Absolutely not. That's the LAST thing I need. It's good having an old friend around."

"Want to talk about it?"

"I don't like to burden people with my problems."

"I'm not 'people'. I'm an old friend."

A tiny smile appeared on Ellen's face but her moist eyes glittered in the candlelight. "It's just that Tom's lawyer had the divorce papers served on me in school today. I knew it was coming, but it was still a big shock."

"How did things go so wrong for you two?"

She took a deep breath. "In a nutshell: kids. He wanted them and I couldn't give him any. The doctors told me flat out that even if I did get pregnant, trying to have a baby would kill me.. For a while it didn't matter -- at least he said it didn't matter. But the rot set in. We stopped talking, he hassled me all the time, even over little things, then one day he announced he was leaving. Turned out he'd knocked up a woman he works with, so now he's going to have his goddamn family."

"You must feel awful."

"Not awful. Old and worthless."

"That's pretty harsh. You're neither! You---"

"Ronny, I'm a frigging school secretary. I'm not even the head one. I couldn't give my husband what he wanted most and now he's gone. All I have is this house and he wants to sell it. Some days, it's pretty hard just to keep going." She wiped away her tears and smiled, but it had no depth. "Listen to me whining. I have someone I haven't seen in 20 years and all I can do is whine."

Picking up my wine glass I said, "You have a lot to complain about. I don't mind listening to you, especially if it's doing you some good. Pick up your glass and let's toast to having a shoulder to cry on when you need it. Damn the torpedos!"

Ellen actually giggled as she picked up her glass and clinked mine. "To friends."

I looked into her eyes. "To friends."

The wine was gone and we'd eaten our fill of beef stew. She said, "Why don't we have dessert in the living room?"

I got to my feet and Ellen was starting to do the same. As usual (how had I forgotten this about her?) she'd been sitting with one foot curled under her. When she put that leg on the floor and started to rise, she groaned and she sat down heavily, grabbing at her calf.

"Damn! Damn!"

"What's wrong?" I asked, full of concern.

"Cramp," she gasped. "I get them sometimes. Should have known better than to sit like that."

I went over and picked her up easily.

"Ronny! What are you doing?"

Without answering, I carried her to the sofa and laid her down. "Do you have any massage oil?"

"Massage oil? No. What do want that for?"

"I'm good with these kinds of cramps. Is there olive oil out in the kitchen?"

"Sure. It's on the counter."

I was back in a moment. Sitting at the end of the sofa, I opened the bottle, poured a bit into one hand and warmed the oil by rubbing both hands together.

"Can you pull your dress up a little?"

Ellen stopped rubbing her calf and looked at me. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Yes. My mom tends to get these things in her legs. I'm just going to ease the muscle tightness a bit. You won't even know you had one of these when I get done."

She pulled the long dress up to her knees and lay back. Those luminous eyes were big and anxious-looking as I put a dish towel on my leg to protect my pants, then put her left foot up on it. Then I began to spread the oil on my hands onto the back of her leg. Once it was oiled, I began to gently work the muscles.

Ellen sighed. "That really does feel good. It was fortunate you were here. I would have been hobbling around tomorrow like an old lady."

I smiled but didn't answer. The cramp was easing up nicely and I could feel the tension flowing out of the rest of her body, too.

Her skin was soft and very warm. As I worked I thought about the situation. Things just hadn't worked out the way I'd been imagining all these years. Ellen was obviously in a very vulnerable state because of a number of things she'd told me about and probably dozens of other she hadn't. The last thing she needed was to have to tell me, whether it was gently or harshly, that my advances weren't welcome. My stupid seduction ideas had turned to naught. Right now, this woman whose allure I'd carried inside of me for so many years needed a friend, not a lover.