Hi again
Last story was too long by all accounts, though some enjoyed it. Those that understood it I guess. Thought I'd pop this short one in before I go off on holiday. Hope I've managed a half way house with the hang 'em and dump them brigade.
I enjoyed writing this one, so maybe I'll make a little series of similar stories.
Any bright ideas?
Sorry, no explicit sex at all.
"Wow, just look at that."
Oh bloody hell what was my wife looking at now?
It would be one of those bloody magazines. 'OK Magazine' or 'Today', they were the ones she preferred, anything that filled her tiny head with images of minor celebrities, be they singers or footballers or just hangers on.
Wasn't fair to say she had a tiny head, as she was really quite intelligent, but of late her life just seemed dominated by her obsession with celebrities and the golden lives that some of them led.
What did I see in her? What did I ever see in her?
Stupid question if you looked at her. Ellie was bloody gorgeous by any standards you would wish to set. Twenty-five, a good bit younger than me, five foot four, slender with a model like figure, and I mean the sort that modeled swim suits and lingerie, not the skinny ones that looked under fed. Long lustrous brown hair, big dark eyes, and legs that just seemed to go on for ever.
And she was bright really, not super intelligent, but much brighter than most, with a degree in business studies, and a good job in the city that bought home a fair wage.
I blamed her friend Shelly.
Shelly was as big and busty as Ellie was slender, but they'd been friends since university so she actually pre-dated me.
Difficult to ease someone like that out of your wife's life, even though you thought her a bad influence on her. It was Shelly who had led her along this line, working for some PR agency which bought her into regular contact with these minor celebs.
Unfortunately Shelly had invited Ellie to a few parties and things where these precocious, fatuous, people who lived in an unreal world existed.
It had bowled her over poor girl, and though I knew she would grow out of it eventually, I was beginning to wonder how long it would take.
We'd been married nearly three years and of course we loved one another dearly, just this obsession with celebrities being a constant irritant.
"God, just look at him."
I looked up at her, and didn't really want to look at 'him', but made the effort to please her, and asked her who she was talking about.
"Ashley Collins of course," she replied, adding, "The footballer, you must know who I mean."
I did.
I'm more of a rugby man myself, but it would be difficult in the Uk not to know the names of any number of premiere league foorballers from the amount of press they received, and Ashley Collins was one of the stars, an England international.
He was also one of the celebs that featured just a little too often in my wife's imagination, and I wondered how often when we were making love together, it was him in her thoughts rather than me.
Then again I had my fantasy women as well, and old Ashley might have been surprised at quite who he had ended up with in our marital bed without either of them having any idea whatsoeverthat they were there.
I could live with it ______ I loved her and she'd get over it eventually.
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"Bill," she started one evening, after we'd finished dinner.
I waited for her to continue, but waited in vain. She was after something that much I knew, as this was her way of making sure she had my attention. I did tell you she was a clever woman, didn't I?
"Bill," followed by another long delay. OK, it had worked, and I was actually interested in what she had to say.
"Bill," she continues at last. "You weren't planning anything for us for next Friday evening, were you?"
I wasn't, and if I had she would have known, as Ellie was the one who organized our social calandre.
Silence ______ she didn't follow it up. Try as one may, you cannot just dismiss a question like that. She was up to something, and knew I'd want to know, but was playing me along ______ What a tease.
"Well?" I asked at last, reluctantly giving in to her ploy.
"Nothing Bill," Ellie responded off handedly. "Nothing important."
Another ten minutes of silence, while she studied her damn magazines again, and I pretended to read the newspaper. I was near to breaking but held on.
"Bill," she said again.
"For Christ's sake Ellie, what do you want?" I demanded. "Just tell me."
Ellie looked up at me and smiled. Not just any ordinary smile, but one of those when she knows she's got me just where she wants me.
"Shelly's got some invitations to some event next Friday," she admitted at last. "Could be really exciting."
"What sort of event," I asked, my interest waning already.
"Some awards ceremony up town," Ellie gushed, obviously very keen to go.
"I really don't like things like that," I reminded her. "But if you want to go so much, then we'll go."
"Ellie bit her lower lip, a habit of hers when under pressure, and stared at me for a few moments before continuing.
"Actually Bill, you weren't invited," she informed me at last. "Invitations are like gold dust, and she's only got one spare."
I looked at my wife and got the picture.
'EYE CANDY'
Both her and Shelly were both beautiful girls, and not for the first time she'd been invited to these things for her looks rather than her brain, or who she was. I trusted her however, and wasn't at all worried. Told her she could go, and promptly dismissed the event from my mind.
I knew I had pleased her, and would look forward to my reward a little later in bed.
I wasn't disappointed! My wife really knows how to please me when she can get her head out of those bloody magazines.
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The evening of the event arrived, and I looked forward to spending the time in front of the TV. I didn't do that too often, but there was a program on ocean sailing that I particularly wanted to watch, and in fairness to Ellie it would have bored her to tears.
"Wow!"
This time it was my turn to utter the comment as Ellie came down the stairs ready to go out for the evening.
She looked gorgeous, and I felt my cock twitch just looking at her.
"Have I seen that dress before?" I enquired.
"Oh you must have done," she responded, smiling at my positive reaction. "I've had it a few weeks. I showed it to you when I bought it."
Maybe she had, but letting me peep at a new dress in a bag, was hardly the same thing as wearing it out for the first time when I wasn't with her.
It was somewhat revealing!
Not too far over the top, but certainly not the sort of thing that she would wear down the pub.
Christ she looked gorgeous! She was going out without me, dressed like that and I was jealous.
Unreasonable? ___ Yes.
Unfair? ____ Yes.
Was I jealous of who she would be with?_______ Abso-bloody-lutely.
Her little red dress had not much back to it, and was undone a few buttons at the front, just enough to show off a little more breasts and bra than I was entirely happy with. I suggested she did up two more buttons, but we compromised on one. The skirt stopped a good three or four inches above her knee. Too short for my liking when she was going out on her own, though there was little I could do about that.
"See you later," Ellie called as the door bell rang. "Don't wait up honey."
"What time will you be home Ellie," I demanded as she traipsed out to join Shelly, seemingly having dismissed me for the evening.
"Oh I don't know," she replied nonchalantly. " Eleven maybe ______ No probably midnight. I'm not really sure. Don't wait up."
No problem really.
It left me free to watch my program on TV, and I wasn't bothered.
Like hell I wasn't.
Shit, she looked so gorgeous in that little red dress.
I wondered who else would think the same as I did.
Who else that would be at that bloody event would think the same as I did.
Shit!
Damn and blast that bloody Shelly. If it wasn't for her, then my Ellie would be there by my side tonight.
Get a grip man I said to myself. She's just going out for the night with her pal. An opportunity to live out one of her fantasies.
Then I thought of my fantasies. Bloody hell, I really, really didn't want to go there.
It would be Ok. I told myself over and over that it would be OK.
The program on ocean racing started, and within moments I was lost in the intrigues of international sailing.
Strange isn't it?
One moment I'm worrying about my wife being seduced by international celebrities, and the next moment I am lost in a flurry of luffing and tacking.
No problem. I'd been worrying about nothing.
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The program finished and I picked up a magazine on sailing. I nearly laughed at my duplicity, as it dawned on me how much time I spent reading my magazines on sailing while she read Ok or Today or whatever.
OK, we had our differences, but surely that is what made a stable relationship.
I flipped the page, and there it was. The boat I dreamt of, even though I knew I never would have it.
We were the same really, Ellie and I, both had our unattainable dreams, but would be happy with each other for years to come. I continued to read.
'And here comes Ashley Collins ______"
I'd left the TV on, but was lost in my magazine, only that name breaking into my concentration.
Ashley Collins _____ Who the hell was he??
Oh yes ____ It came back to me, as I remembered he was a top footballer. The one Ellie had mentioned earlier.
The one she had talked about so much over the last year or more.
Good looking bastard _____ I had to admit it as my attention was drawn from my magazine to the TV screen.
Young, fit, tall, muscular, black.
What woman wouldn't lust after him, especially since he was famous and all.
I chuckled to myself. Sorry Ellie but you and ten thousand other women. Gorgeous you may be, but really let's get serious.
"And what do you think of the award you have been given this evening?" asked the lovely young lady who was hosting the program.
"I feel truly honored," answered the footballer, surprising me with his sincerity. "Footballers don't always get a good press, so this award is a bit special."
Bloody hell ____ an intelligent footballer. I didn't think it existed, which just shows what a prick I was at the time.
"What are you going to do for the rest of the evening then Ashley?" Asked the commentator, displaying less common sense than the man had himself.
