No Way Honey __ Ellie

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.

-------------------------------------------------

"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.

-----------------------------------------------

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.

---------------------------------------------------------

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.

"Well me and a special friend are going off to enjoy ourselves," he answered, cuddling the pretty girl that he had his arm around, squeezing her tight as he smiled down at her.

Lucky bastard, I thought as I watched him on the screen. A guy like that could probably pull almost any woman he fancied.

Like the doll he had in his arms.

Like the stunner who was gazing lovingly back up at him

Like the beautiful girl in the little red dress that................

Oh no!

Oh fuck!

Oh Christ!

I don't believe it. It can't be true.

My insides turned to stone and I stopped breathing as the camera panned back to include Ashley's girl ____ my wife Ellie.

She'd hitched her dress up, till the hem must have just been skimming her panties, and the button she'd done up for me was now undone, and a few more as well, the swell of both breasts quite clearly exposed through the gap which dipped down to near her navel.

Where the fuck had her bra gone? She was close to flashing her tits off.

"And who's the lucky girl then Ashley," asked the commentator lightly.

"Oh I think it's me who's the lucky guy," answered the footballer, cleverly avoiding the question, the answer to which he may not have even known, pulling her even closer to him as he bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips.

The camera panned back in again as their lips met, albeit briefly, catching quite clearly the top of her dress as it gaped open, quite clearly exposing her bare breast and her hard nipple as he crushed her against himself.

DAMMIT!

I am quite simply not one of those guys who get a kick out of some other chap making out with my wife.

I was furious ____ bloody furious!

I threw down my book, and stormed over to the TV, gripping my fists tightly together as the camera dwelled on Ellie's bare breast.

I knew it. I knew what this would mean.

The million dollar shot that the media yearned for, dreamt of, and I knew that by tomorrow that shot of my wife's breast would be spread all over the daily tabloids.

Dammit! Bugger it! Bloody stupid woman!

The neighbors, our friends, my work mates would all know.

How fucking embarrassing! How could she put us in this position?

I fought to control my emotions as I watched bloody Ashley walk my wife to a huge black limousine and help her in, his hand lingering far too long on her shapely bottom as he helped her get in.

The program passed onto another subject, but I sat there staring at the screen, oblivious to whatever it was that had replaced the story on the awards thing that had just been on.

I zapped it!

Didn't want to watch it.

Wished I hadn't seen it.

Hated it. Detested it. Never wanted to watch the television again.

Silence.

Thoughts.

Worries, disbeliefs, fantasies, imagination ______ I hated the world and wanted to get off.

Christ almighty help me _____ I didn't know what to do, or what to think.

I felt tears welling up inside me, as my insides knotted up.

Was I being stupid _____ Probably, but who wouldn't be in my situation.

Think about it ______ Just think about it ______ what should I do?

Ring her ____ yes ring Ellie. Demand that she comes home straight away.

Her mobile sounded , and rang for a few moments, till it announced that she was not available and would I like to leave a message.

"Hi Ellie, It's me Bill," I replied. "Don't do it Ellie. Please don't do it if you love me."

It was all I could think to say.

Waste of time I thought _____ But was it?

--------------------------------------

Eleven soon passed of course, and then midnight threatened. I sat there in our lounge waiting for her, desperate for her to come home, but dreading how she would be. I tried to read, tried to watch TV but all to no avail. I couldn't get the thought of her bare breast exposed to the public out of my mind, and what the hell she might be doing at that moment.

I came close to being sick.

Midnight passed.

OK, so how often had I given her a time, and been half an hour or more late.

One O'clock passed. Ok, so I had occasionally been wildly out with my time when out enjoying myself.

Two O'clock. I was running out of excuses for her.

Three O'clock.

Four O'clock.

Four forty, and I heard a car pull up outside.

I resisted the temptation to look out and see who had bought her home.

I heard the key in the door.

I heard her open and close the front door behind her.

I heard her high heels as she crept along the corridor, then hesitate as she realized that the light to our lounge was still alight.

One minute, two minutes, three minutes passed and then Ellie gingerly opened the door.

"Hi Honey," she said hesitantly. "Still up are you."

"How's Ashley 'fucking' Collins then Ellie," I demanded, abandoning my planned cool, calm reception.

She said nothing, just stood there and stared at me, the colour draining visibly from her face.

"Had a good evening then have you," I demanded. "Had a fucking good evening maybe, have you my dear wife."

Ellie turned on her heels and fled from the room. I wanted more confrontation, but I wasn't to get it that night. I should have chased after her, but I was frightened of quite what I might do to her the mood I was in.

-------------------------------------------------

The next morning was difficult.

Quiet.

Calm.

No conversation.

No anything really, till at last Ellie turned to me.

"I'm sorry," she admitted. "I was later than I expected to be."

"Much later Ellie," I replied.

"OK, much later," she admitted. "But Shelly and me went on to a party," she claimed.

"So both of you left the ceremony together did you?" I enquired as casually as I could.

"Yes of course."

"You didn't leave on your own with one of your celebrities friends then?" I asked.

"No ____ Of course not. Well not exactly."

"You didn't leave on your own with Ashley Collins then?" I ventured further.

"No! Of course not Mike. Where did you get that idea from?"

"The television Ellie," I told her. "I watched you get into his bloody car, and I watched as he put his arm round your waist, and feel your ass. That was after, with half the nation I watched your bare tit sticking out."

We stared at one another for several moments before I carried on. It was obvious at that point that she had no idea that the TV camera had focused in her bare breast.

"Then I sat here for five bloody, damn hours waiting for you to come home."

Another long silence while I waited her to respond, and she no doubt wondered what on earth she could say.

"Was I really on TV Bill?" She demanded at last, quietly, but I could hear the excitement in her voice.

I couldn't believe it.

I couldn't understand her.

I was trying to establish whether she'd cheated on me, and she's more interested in whether she'd been on TV.

"So how many times did he fuck you Ellie?" I demanded, ignoring her question, but she just sat there, a half smile on her pretty face.

"You just don't understand do you Mike?" She asked quietly after some time. "You live in a world of your own and have no idea of what really happens."

Oh blimey, Oh dammit where was this conversation going. She was trying to justify her behaviour before we had even established what she had done.

"So explain to me Ellie," I asked her as gently as I could. "Explain to me why I should not be upset that you have flashed your tits off on TV, then publicly gone off with some stud for the night, probably fucked him, and I should just accept it as normal."

Ellie looked up at me. At last she showed some remorse, as she realized quite how upset I was with her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked straight at me.

"Mike you know how much I love you, but this is just something I have to do. I can't help it honey, I just can't help it, but give me a bit of time, and maybe I'll get over it."

She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, till one rolled slowly down her cheek.

"Ashley is really quite sweet Mike. He really is. You'd really like him if you met him."

"Inviting me to meet your lover Ellie," I demanded roughly. "You really expect me to shake him by the hand and thank him for screwing you."

"How can you be so horrible to me Mike," she cried aloud. "Why do you have to assume that I let him make love to me?"

"So what the bloody hell did you do for four or five hours last night after you left with him?" I screamed at her.

She didn't answer. Wouldn't answer, but just clammed up and refused to speak about it. Short of hitting her or strangling her, there was no way I could get her to talk about her evening. It wasn't because she was ashamed, and if she had fucked this Ashley guy then I figured she should be.

So had she? Or hadn't she?

I had no bloody idea, and if anything not knowing was harder to live with than if she had just admitted it.

-------------------------------------------

The next morning she was up early before me, which wouldn't be the norm on an average Saturday morning. By the time I'd showered and got down for breakfast and whatever else awaited me, she was at the table eating some toast and pouring over the morning paper.