"Ellie, eh?" My best friend Nuala roared with laughter. Heads turned at other tables. She calmed down. "Well, I can put your mind at rest on one front. She's hetero. I know, because I asked her."
"You did?"
"I did. Pretty lady. Super body. I'm not the only one ogling her in the changing room, believe me," Typical Nuala. No nonsense. "So why would I not ask? Them as doesn't ask, doesn't get. I don't think I've ever been turned down so politely. Doesn't mean I won't try again, though. So, what's bothering you about lovely Ellie?"
"Her height...and mine. She's so tall."
"Look at Rupert Murdoch and Bernie Eccleston," Nuala said. "They're both shorter than you and that hasn't stopped them from attracting tall women."
"Well, yes, but the bulge in their trousers is a well-stuffed wallet," I protested. "The only bulge I can offer Ellie is firmly attached to the rest of me."
Nuala pulled an appalled and disgusted face. "Well, thank you kindly for that, John. That's far more information than I would ever want. More to the point is that you're not too bad looking, you're a good person, for a man, you're intelligent and you're fun." She grinned and pointed through the window at where the Beast was parked. "You may not have millions, but you're not a pauper either.
My other weakness is cars, and the XK120 Jaguar that Nuala was pointing at through the cafeteria window is my pride and joy. I'd decided that if Ellie accepted the beast as part of my life, she and I might work out.
Nuala said: "You and Ellie, huh? Why not?" That was good enough for me. One of the many great things about Nuala is that as a lesbian with a crew cut, her, not me, is that I know that she won't lie to me when I ask her what she thinks of my potential dates. She's saved me from heartache more than once. I've known Nuala since we were at primary school, and once we'd reached a standoff in our fights as six-year-olds, we had become friends for life, if reaching the age of twenty-seven counts.
Nuala is a fierce five foot four of solid muscle, a gym trainer in good standing. Ellie is a little over six feet tall, as against my five feet seven and a bit, willowy where I'm chunky, and, I was starting to suspect, decisive where I'm permanently rethinking things. We met through work. I'm a district manager and she runs one of our IT offshoots.
"Hi, I'm Ellie," she said as she shook my hand. "What have we done wrong now?" It was said with a rueful grin that I found myself returning. Her voice was low and warm, and it reverberated in a spot at the base of my spine.
"Personally, I wanted to thank you and your team for fixing the software update," I said. "Officially, I'm here to cite a memo to you from the big bosses upstairs. I'm to remind you, quote, that the firm does not ever have problems, although it may encounter issues. These are speedily and efficiently resolved and at no point do they impact on the positive client experience, unquote".
Ellie laughed, a frank belly laugh that did things deep down in my entrails. Bloody hell, she's tall. Magnificent breasts at about my eye-level. Don't stare at them. Look her in the eyes. Bugger, that's no better. Big, brown, honest eyes. I could drown in those. Concentrate on how business-like she looks. Deep breaths, John. Ellie was speaking to me, but all I was hearing was the music in her voice. My head was spinning as she gave me the tour of her gang, as she called them. I tried to walk alongside her, so as not to be transfixed by the undulations of a neatly-turned bum.
I made an excuse to visit her section again the following week, pretexting a very minor question about security. The impression Ellie had made on our first contact persisted. Two weeks later, I was there again, unable to keep away. She was wearing a skirt this time. It was perfectly decent, but it might as well have been a micro-mini by what it was doing to my pulse-rate, which was about to reach machine-gun levels. I didn't get a chance to use my carefully-thought-out excuse for being there.
"I'm just going for lunch," Ellie said. "There's a pub up the road. Fancy a pint? You look as if you could do with one."
I've no idea what I replied, but ten minutes later we were sitting facing one another in the bar, with only the two beer glasses and table between us preventing me from begging on my knees for her phone number.
"Are you all right, John?" Ellie asked, pushing her shoulder-length, light-brown hair back from her forehead. No ring. That's a start. "You look a bit concerned about something. Can I help?"
The voice was mine, but I had no control of what it was saying. "I think I'm in love."
"That must be nice." She sounded as if she was just being polite. "I hope she deserves you."
"It's more a question of whether I deserve her. It's you."
Ellie raised her eyebrows. "That's an... interesting... thing to say, John. Thank you. Can I point out that you don't know me at all?"
"True. I'd like to, though."
"Supposing I might be interested, what are you going to do about it?"
"Can we meet up some time, perhaps?" I stammered. I picked up my glass, for something to do with my hands.
"Hmm." There was a silence. Well, at least she's thinking about how to turn me down, rather than laughing in my face. "I have a gym session until eight tonight," she said, "but after that I'm all yours,"
I just avoided spraying her with my mouthful of beer. I swallowed, hard and croaked: "Meet up here? I assume this is your local?"
"Oh, no. I've never set foot in here before. How about a bite somewhere? I'm always starving after the gym."
"Which one? Can I pick you up?"
It was the gym where Nuala works, which is why she and I had now been sitting in the coffee bar there since seven, so she could figuratively steady my shaking knees and hands. A figure appeared behind the frosted-glass doors that led to the changing rooms.
"Right. I'm off," Nuala said. "Here she comes. She'd better be nice to you, or I'll kill her. You can tell her that from me."
A baggy, oversize Fair-Isle sweater hid the charms of Ellie almost down to her Lycra-clad knees, as she plonked herself down at my table.
"I'm shattered. John, could you be a darling and get me a glass of water?" Ellie asked. I leapt to obey that voice.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking the glass. "It's only just now I realised I'm not fit to be seen in public."
I was about to protest when she added: "I can offer you a decent meal, though, if you can put up with my home cooking?"
Can I? Oh yes!
She finished her water and I led her out to the beast. Her eyes lit up.
"Oh, so she's yours. I was wondering who the lucky owner was. A real 120. She must be worth a fortune. She's beautiful."
"I'm impressed. That she's a Jaguar is obvious, but how can you tell the model?"
"Easy. The split screen."
I was speechless. Nobody but a real car nut would have known that. Head buzzing, I followed her directions to the outskirts of town and to an industrial estate.
"Give me a minute," she said. She got out and disappeared round a corner. There was the sound of machinery and a huge garage door rolled slowly upwards. Ellie waved for me to drive in. I parked the beast, got out and looked around. My car looked at home here, among other classic cars in various states of assembly.
"My brother's repair and reno shop," Ellie explained. "I have the flat above."
I followed her up the metal staircase, curbing the urge to lift her sweater and bite that tempting bum through her Lycra leggings. Upstairs was an open space with a double bed, a kitchenette, a sofa, an old wardrobe, a table and a single chair. A curtained-off corner had to be a loo and shower. More minimal you could not get. Posters of vintage cars covered the walls and I could have spent the following half hour drooling over them. I didn't, though, because Ellie went over to the wardrobe and took out a pink, Indian-style robe. She pulled off her sweater, revealing a white sports bra, and slipped the knee-length robe on. I tried not to stare when she reached up under it and pulled her tights down. She caught me looking, of course.
"Sorry," she said. "I spend so much time here on my own. I was thinking about what to cook. Just for a moment, I'd forgotten you were here."
"That's me. I'm easy to ignore, and if it means I get to see a pretty lady changing her clothes, I can live with that." Keep it light. It probably doesn't mean anything to her.
Ellie came over and used those eyes on me. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to ignore you," she said. "But first, I'm going to cook. I hope you like Thai?"
"Love it. What can I do to help?"
Ellie laughed. "You said that as if you meant it,"
"Because I did. I live on my own, too. You can trust me not to cut myself if you give me a knife."
We spent the next twenty minutes chopping, peeling and preparing food. I'm a decent cook and I could tell she was good. We hardly spoke. It was almost as if we had been cooking together for ages and didn't need to.
"There's beer in the fridge," she said as we took dishes over to the table. While I fetched it, she pulled a box over to make a second seat. "As the guest, you get the chair," she said. I didn't comment on the fact that the box was a few inches lower than the chair and brought her down to my height. We ate, concentrating on the food.
As Ellie was gathering up the empty dishes, she said: "I think you and I have a problem in common,"
"We do?"
"Can I be blunt?"
"I suspect you usually are,"
"You noticed. So. Our problem is that I'm far too tall for a woman and you're a bit short for a man."
Ouch. Unflattering, but accurate.
"And?"
"In general, men tend to overact with me, as if they are doing me a favour by asking me out. I don't sense that with you."
"Then I'm hiding how intimidated I'm feeling better than I thought,"
"I feel relaxed with you, have done from the moment we met. I want us to be friends, John. We'll see what happens after that. You are an attractive man."
"For a short-arse," I chipped in.
Ellie reached across and took my hand. "I know that's your defence mechanism, but you don't need it with me. Trust me, I know how it is to be outside the norm."
"Not in the attractiveness stakes," I riposted, as I struggled to get my pulse-rate back down from the touch of her fingers. "My best friend Nuala thinks you're lovely and so do I,"
"Nuala from the gym? Has she told you what I look like with no clothes on?" Ellie laughed.
"No."
"I'm amazed. She has no discretion at all. She eyes up anybody with a decent body. It's interesting, though, that you have a female best friend."
"Why?"
"Because it gives me hope that you and I can at least be friends, too."
Here goes...
"I might find that difficult."
"Oh." Ellie's face fell. "Why?"
"When I said I was in love, I meant it...at least that's how it feels. Nuala and I is different, because she isn't interested in me as a man. Objectively, I can see that she's an attractive woman, but I'm used to her and her sex never crosses my mind. You, on the other hand..." I got stuck for words.
"You find me physically attractive?"
"I do."
"Then it's mutual. Let me do some thinking about that." She gathered up the dishes and deposited them on a little table beside the sink. "So right now, I think it's best if you go home. Leave me your number and I promise I'll call you tomorrow."
And that was that. Five minutes later I was on my way home, with a bone in my pants that ached. When Ellie had bent over to put the plates down, her thin cotton shift had clung to her bum. No VPL. A thong? No knickers? Had I been sitting making light conversation with a woman without underwear? If so, was it a message to me? Did she bend down on purpose? Did she notice that I'd noticed...if, of course, it wasn't just my dirty mind playing tricks on me? It was a hard night in all senses.
My concentration at work next morning was shot, not great when you're checking spreadsheets done by an inexperienced member of staff. Eventually, I took the coward's way out and delegated it, to give someone else experience. I'd sunk into a black hole by going-home time with no word from Ellie. I'd already left my desk when my private email pinged. "It's Ellie. I lost your number. Please forgive me. I had to use dark arts to dig out this address. Busy tonight? If you're available, I am. Come when you're ready."
The sun came out, birds sang, a brass band blew a fanfare. I was on my way within minutes, hoping that I could find Ellie's flat again and that arriving on a bicycle wouldn't make me look too ridiculous. Work was still in progress in the garage, but one of the guys jerked a thumb towards the stairs.
"If you're the one she's waiting for, you're in trouble. She's been singing."
We met at the halfway point. Ellie kissed me. It wasn't a full-on, tongues and tonsils kiss, but the lip contact was generous and sent bolts of lightning down my spine. She pulled back and looked at the cycling helmet in my hand.
"I was looking forward to a drive in the Jag," she said, "but I suppose I could sit on your crossbar. Never mind. I have a better idea." She turned to the tall guy who had to be the brother: "Marcus, can I borrow the Morgan?"
Our first outing, therefore, was with us squeezed into a 1938 three-wheel sports car, with a big v-twin engine on the front that made conversation impossible. I could have trailed my hand along the ground as Ellie wrestled it round corners. She stopped in a carpark by the river and turned to me with glowing eyes.
"How was that?"
"That was fun," I said. "Nice driving."
"Thank you, John. Okay. You pass. You weren't sick, you didn't scream, and you didn't try to grope me."
"Too busy hanging on for dear life," I joked.
We extricated ourselves and set off down the riverside path. After a moment, Ellie took my hand. Shortly after that, I kissed her properly for the first time. The difference in our heights was less of an issue because we were sitting on a bench.
"Tell me about yourself," she said. "I've read your professional links, but what about John, the person?"
"I'm twenty-seven, male and short. I like sports, although I'm the wrong size and shape for most of them. I like to fiddle with and drive the XK. I can spend days polishing her. I read history, because I'm still trying to understand how the world got into its current state."
"Love life?"
"I've had girlfriends and a few short-term relationships. I'm very single at the moment...or rather I was until I met you." We kissed again. "How about you?" I asked. "I haven't spied on you...so far."
"I'm thirty. Does that matter to you?"
"Absolutely not. I'd assumed you were my age. But it's only a number anyway. How have you done thus far?"
Ellie took a deep breath and poured out her story. "Not great. I got married at eighteen. Even as I signed the register I knew it was a huge mistake. He'd been my boss, he was ten years older than me and he treated me like a doll, for him to play with when he felt like it and ignore when he didn't. He couldn't resist putting me down. One day, he'd say I looked a frump, the next day, with the same outfit, apparently I looked like a tart. He was over two metres tall, and I had hoped that would make people forget my height, but he was always pointing it out as a joke. Then it pissed him off when I didn't get pregnant. At first it was accidental, but then I decided that if I was going to have a child, I didn't want it to be his, so I took the pill in secret. He made my life very difficult for nine years. I left him two years ago. It's only in the past year that I've been able to do the things I like doing."
"Such as?"
"You know about the gym. You've seen that I love to drive fast. I go to track days when I can afford it." She gave me an embarrassed glance. "My love life since then...and to an extent during those nine years... has largely involved me and my fingers."
"That's a nice thought. I'll look forward to watching that, if I may."
Ellie kissed me, rather than replying.
"And you're sure that being with a miniature man isn't a problem?" I joked when we separated.
"Stop it. You're not that small. Besides, it won't matter once we're lying down," she said.
It was a good month later when we explored that option, at my flat. In the meantime, we only met in public, at Ellie's insistence.
"I don't want to have sex with you just because we can," she explained. "It's a temptation, but I'd like it to mean something more."
So, I took her for drives in the Jag and she took me for drives in vintage cars she "borrowed" from the garage. For what it was, it was very enjoyable, but I did a lot of beating off each time we parted.
Ellie said she was ready to become more intimate, so I lashed out on a new double bed, mattress and bedding for my flat, in her honour. After I'd fed her, and we had spent a little canoodling time on the sofa, I led her to the bedroom.
"Are you sure about this?" Ellie asked. "It's not too late to change your mind."
"Totally."
"Then will you undress me, please?"
Ellie had come to dinner wearing another loose ethnic dress, turquoise this time, just above knee-length and not unlike the one that had set my heart pounding at her place. Now she stood in my bedroom, arms raised above her head, waiting.
I knelt and started with her shoes, dancing pumps without heels. I caressed each foot with care. Her legs were bare and smooth, and I worked my way slowly up them, stroking and kissing her calves and knees. There was a sharp intake of breath as I began to slide her dress upwards, so I paused, stood up and kissed her. This time there was no holding back. We clung to each other until we were both panting. I closed my eyes, wanting to explore her by touch alone. When I ran my hands up the backs of her thighs under her dress, they found only bare skin.
"Do you like that? Remember the first evening we ate together?" Ellie asked. "At the gym I wear a thong under my tights and it came off when I was changing. I could feel your eyes on my backside when I bent over, so I thought you'd enjoy it if I didn't wear knickers tonight."
"What a lovely surprise," I said, running my hands over the smooth skin of her firm bottom. "May I continue?"
"Please."
Ellie was, however, wearing a bra, so I unclipped it and enjoyed the feel of those warm, heavy breasts through the thin cotton shift. Her nipples were hard. When my hand started to travel down her belly, she flinched, so I stopped.
"Ellie? Tell me if something is wrong, won't you?" She nodded, her face buried in my shoulder. Her pubic hair was clipped short and my fingers combed through it. Just as I was expecting them to slip into the slot of her sex, my fingertips hit an obstruction and Ellie shuddered. It had to be her clitoris, standing out from between her labia, hot and swollen. I touched it again and she groaned. Her knees wobbled.
"I think you need to lie down," I said and eased her on to the bed. She lay on her back, one arm hiding her eyes.
"May I look?" I asked. Ellie wrapped her arm more tightly across her face and gave a vestigial nod. Her chest rose and fell quickly with her shallow breaths. I could feel her anxiety without touching her. I lifted her dress to expose her sex. Her prominent, fleshy outer labia had been pushed aside by what looked like a miniature blind penis, almost an inch long, protruding from its hood.
"Wow. Spectacular,"
"You don't mind?" Ellie sounded surprised.
"Mind? It's beautiful. Quite wonderful," I said. "Let me show you just how wonderful it is." Unable to resist, I buried my face between her legs and filled my mouth with her labia and that gorgeous, proud clitoris. Ellie came, and then came again, before at last she begged for a moment's respite. I came up for air.
"So far, so good?" I asked.
"Completely wrecked," Ellie said. "I'd better not ask how you learned to do that, had I?"
"Well, get used to it, because if it's anything to do with me, it's going to be happening quite often from now on."
Ellie laughed, and I sensed the tension leaving her body. "Threat or promise?" she asked.
"Promise."
She pulled her dress off over her head and I admired the rest of her body. Her full, firm breasts had small, tight, dark-brown nipples that were standing up. I kissed her there and she shivered.
"Sensitive?"
Ellie pulled a face. "There's a very fine line with them between pleasure and discomfort. Kissing them is lovely, but anything more vigorous just hurts. As long as you are gentle with my nipples, though, you can play with my tits as enthusiastically as you like. And when you play with them, remember they are tits, not breasts, okay?"
I made a mental note, but I think we both knew that a major focus of our sex life was going to be Ellie's amazing clitoris. When she got onto hands and knees on the bed and asked me to take her, though, that came a very close second. To watch her reflection in the mirror, with her breasts swinging and her face showing how much she was enjoying my thrusting into her, made me sure she was the right woman for me. I was in love, or at least in lust with Ellie.
The firm's Christmas party was our first public outing together. I went to pick her up and found her dressed as if for a board meeting. Her wardrobe stretched to gym wear, work clothes and a few Indian bits and pieces like the shifts I'd seen. That was it. I didn't say anything, but she sensed my disappointment, I'm sure. For some bizarre reason, I'm quite popular with the people who work for me, and I saw a couple of them shutting down off-colour comments about the disparity in our heights. I made eye contact with the people concerned too, so they knew that they'd been noticed. It calmed things down.
A few days later, Ellie turned up at my flat after supper, with her laptop under her arm. She sat me down at the kitchen table and fired it up.
"Watch," she said. She'd made a slide show of tall women with shorter men. "What do you notice?"
"That you're at least as attractive as any of these women and I'm not as fat or as ugly as most of the men?" I ventured. "At least I hope I'm not,"
"Concentrate on the women. Apart from height, what do they have in common?"
"Long legs? Show-off clothes? Eastern European names, mostly?"
"Right second time. Could I dress like that? It's time I had some new clothes."
"You could, and you'd look great. But why would you want to look like a trophy wife?"
"I want to find out how it feels to dress up for you - for me, too." She drew a deep breath. "It's probably far too early to say this, John, but I'd be happy to be your wife, trophy or not."
She said it lightly, but her words struck me as being serious.
"I hadn't thought of us in terms of getting married," I confessed, "but let's just say I don't have any philosophical objection. Can we give it some more time?"
Ellie kissed me with affection, rather than passion. "I'll settle for that," she said.
I took another, closer look at the photos on the screen. "Some of those outfits are seriously revealing," I said.
"Too much so?" Ellie asked.
"It depends on for what. I wouldn't know. These are red carpet type photos and my invitation to those sorts of events always gets lost in the post."
Ellie laughed. It seemed almost any stupid thing I said could make her laugh, but always with me, never at me. "How would you feel if I were dressed like that?" she asked.
"I can't tell. I've never accompanied a six-foot-tall beauty who was significantly under-dressed in public. It's an arousing thought, though."
I enlarged one of the photos to fill the screen. The woman was wearing a dress that made her, to all intents and purposes, naked to the waist. "That might be taking it a bit too far, though," I joked.
"But doesn't she look fantastic," Ellie exclaimed.
"She does. I wonder, though, whether the choice of clothes was her own or if she was allowed to choose," I said. "I'd be happier if she looked happier. That's a very fixed smile on her face."
Ellie looked more closely. "I take your point. I think it would excite me to dress like that, but I'd want you to be with me."
"Well, we can always practise at home first," I joked. The implication of what she had just said hit home, though. I had a sudden lurch in my insides that manifested itself as an imminent erection. Ellie in public, dressed like the woman in the photo? She'd be almost topless. Almost? Her nipples would be in full view. She would look just amazing. And Ellie sounded interested in dressing like that?
Ellie was speaking, but I'd missed what she said.
"Pardon?"
"I see. Daydreaming over a photo while ignoring me. You'll pay for that," she said.
"Can I make a down payment now, then?" I asked, making a grab for her. She fled in mock-terror into the bedroom, where I caught up with her. We were quickly both naked and on the bed. I reached for her.
"Stop. Hands off," Ellie said. "Tonight, I'm in charge and I want to try something. You're going to play with my tits. Only with my tits. I'll tell you how I want it and if I want anything else." She got into what I was learning was a favourite position, on hands and knees, letting her breasts hang down. I began by stroking them. "More pressure," she ordered. Soon it was as if I was milking her, using both hands on each breast in turn to squeeze her from her rib cage towards those sensitive nipples. Ellie was moaning her pleasure. "Nails," she muttered. "Use your nails." I raked her breasts, lightly at first, but then harder as she demanded more. "So good," she murmured. I patted between her legs. My hand came away wet. "No," she gasped. "Only my tits. I'm close to coming. When I say, I want you to suck as hard as you can on one of my nipples."
"But..." I began.
"Do it," Ellie interrupted me. I went back to work, very conscious of leaving red marks on her skin.
"Now. I need it now," Ellie gasped.
I rolled under her, took her right nipple into my mouth and sucked like a vacuum cleaner. Ellie squealed and shook her upper body and I lost grip.
"Use your teeth if you have to but don't dare to let go," Ellie was almost sobbing. I gripped the nipple with my teeth, cushioned with my lips, while she shook herself like a wet dog. I heard the growl of sexual intensity in her voice as she came, shouting "Yes...Yes...Yes,", before collapsing on top of me, her whole body convulsing with the power of her orgasm. I slid out from under and held her until she calmed down.
"When I was a teenager I used to scratch my tits like that and get really close to coming," she said after a visit to the bathroom. "Until now, I've never trusted anyone enough to do it for me and carry on to the end. But it was as mind-blowing as I hoped." She examined the red scratches that criss-crossed her breasts and winced. "It isn't for every day, because they are very sore now, but it was worth it many times over." She kissed me. "Thank you for indulging me. I could only go through with it because I trust you. That was one of the strongest orgasms of my life."
I'd watched her come like a tsunami from my work on her clitoris, so this orgasm had to be something special for her to say that. She got dressed, gathered her belongings, kissed me and went home, leaving me with a buzzing head and a throbbing dick. I didn't care, though. My relationship with Ellie was developing in new directions every time we met, and I was looking forward to whatever might happen next. What she'd had me do to her breasts was still visible a few days later and we agreed that we'd keep this aspect of our sex life only for some special occasion when Ellie demanded it.
Our relationship then hit a snag. I had to work in Sweden for two months and then Ellie was booked out to troubleshoot a problem in Canada. We kept in touch online, but it wasn't easy for such a new love affair. Ellie wanted me to visit her in Toronto, but I had already booked and paid for a Spanish holiday before we met, and I was loath to write that off. She didn't exactly complain, but her little references to tanned and topless women on sunny beaches didn't go unnoticed. My one attempted joke about lumberjacks died a death as it left my lips.
When we met again, we struggled to get back to where we had been. Ellie seemed never to be available when I called, so I stopped calling. I killed the time by fitting aero screens to the Jag and polishing her to within an inch of her life. Eventually, we coincided in a supermarket on a wet Saturday afternoon and went to the cafeteria. After we had been sitting there like China dogs for half an hour, hardly talking and not really looking at one another while our tea went cold, I snapped.
"For fuck's sake, Ellie.I can't go on pretending we're fine when we're not. We are two independent people, and neither of us only exists in relation to the other. I love you, Ellie, and I want to be with you and for you to be happy, but I can't do it for you. You have to want it, too. Do you?"
Ellie stood up, her face flushed. "It's like that, is it? Very well. Come round tonight at nine in the Jag," she said. "We'll deal with it then, once and for all." She stomped away.
I was intrigued as the garage door started to rise open that evening. Thinking it didn't look positive if I just sat in the car to wait for her, I got out. Ellie appeared, backlit by the workshop neon tubes. I could see right through the long skirt she was wearing, and her upper body had only a scarf crossed over her chest to cover her breasts. I caught my breath. She strode over to the car, slid behind the wheel and held out her hand. I dropped the keys into her palm.
"I told myself I need to get into the driving seat," she said. "Literally and figuratively. Get in."
I hadn't responded to Ellie's earlier subtle hints about wanting to drive the Beast, partly because I'm selfish, partly because I wanted Ellie just to come out and ask. Without a word, I got into the passenger seat and we set off. There's a nice undulating country road not far from town, with swooping bends and little traffic at night, and Ellie put her foot down and made full use of it. With only the little aero screens, Ellie's hair flew in the wind, like a 1950s poster-girl. I sat back and admired the view and her skill. Twenty unspeaking miles further on, she pulled off the road. Her eyes were glowing as she kissed me.
"Thank you, John," she said. "I know how you feel about the car. You trusted me with her without hesitation and I trust you in exactly the same way with me."
I kissed her. Words didn't seem necessary or useful.
"Can I drive back, too?" Ellie asked.
"Of course you can. Go for it. It's a while since she's had a good, fast run and I'll enjoy watching you."
"And will you enjoy watching me more if I do this?" She unfastened the scarf covering her breasts and dropped it behind her seat
"Definitely,"
She scattered the gravel as we headed back on to the road and she ignored all speed limits as she roared back to town, singing at the top of her voice. The evening had cooled down and Ellie's nipples were standing to attention, but she didn't seem to care. Even when we hit the outskirts, she stayed topless, and ran laughing in that state from the car into the garage and up the stairs to the flat. I followed as fast as I could. When I caught up with her, we didn't fuck. We made love, with controlled passion. My orgasm left me drained, but for once, it wasn't the point. We were together again.
We lay side by side on the floor, getting our breath back. When I could speak again, I asked:
"What brought that on?"
"I thought we needed something new, to kick-start things again."
"You certainly succeeded. I'd been waiting for you to ask to drive the Jag. I was always going to say yes, but I wish I'd thought of saying you had to do it topless,"
"I loved it. Such a thrilling car to drive and even better doing it with my tits out," she said. "John? Would you mind if I did that sort of thing again? I'm tired of being sensible and reasonable."
"The driving? Not at all. The topless bit? Why not? You looked fantastic."
"I loved how you looked at me when I took the scarf off. It made me wet...it's a good thing the car seats are leather." She paused and blushed. "John? Would it bother you if other people saw me like that, tits out and all excited?"
"Would you like them to?"
"I'm not sure. I'm tempted. I think perhaps I would, but only if you were with me."
I thought for a moment, but there could only be one answer. If Ellie wanted to show off her charms, she didn't need any permission from me. I could already feel the twitch that said it would be a turn on for both of us. "The only way to find out is for you to try it and see," I said. "We're both in on this... but I'm glad you'll be the one on show, rather than me."
Ellie laughed and hugged me. "Silly man," she said. She was thoughtful for a minute. "Around here wouldn't be sensible for repeat performances, though. Today was a one-off."
"Agreed. If you're serious about it, shall we both think about where it would be possible?"
Ellie's eyes were sparkling. "And when we can do it, too? Soon, I hope?"
I thought. "Fancy a weekend away somewhere? London? Paris?"
"Anywhere."
It turned out to be Amsterdam that had the special-offer prices that coming weekend. On our way into the city from the airport, Ellie, wearing her usual oversize sweater and leggings, said: "I brought the skirt and the scarf I wore in the car, but I'm hoping to find other things that will do the job. Will you come with me?"
"You don't think I'm letting you out of my sight in a strange city, do you? Especially not given the sort of clothes you're looking for."
It was gone four o'clock by the time we had found our little guest house, checked in and headed for one of the flea markets. The ethnic style of outfit Ellie had worn most of the time on the drive had really suited her, making her look even more elegant than in her work suits, so I wasn't surprised when she made a bee-line for a stall selling Moroccan fashions. Even from a distance I'd noticed the young stall-holder eyeing up Ellie. As we approached, he was already beginning his spiel. Ellie went through the clothes racks like a hurricane. Item after item was held up to the light and scrutinised.
"Lady can try on in here," said the man. Here was a canvas cubicle behind the stall, with a two-foot gap between the bottom and the ground. If Ellie had to take her leggings off, anyone passing by would certainly know about it. She gave me a glance and closed herself in as well as she could. The vendor and I stood side by side, watching. I had assumed that Ellie would put something on, come out and get an opinion and go back in for something different. Item one obviously did not meet with approval. She lobbed it over the top with a clear call of "No". Item two fared no better. There was a pause. The leggings were coming off. I checked on the vendor. His eyes were glued to the scene. He may have been wondering, but I was in no doubt. Ellie's black thong had come off with the blue leggings and she was bare-arsed in a Dutch market with only a canvas screen to hide her. My pulse rate climbed. The zip fastener on the cabin opened and Ellie stepped out.
"Wow," I exclaimed. The stall man was speechless, his eyes bulging. Ellie's choice was in black cotton with gold thread embroidery. On any of my previous girlfriends it would have been a knee-length dress, but because of Ellie's height, it was a mid-thigh tunic, but with splits up each side that gave glimpses of another good five inches of leg. The neckline was high, but the deep slit at the front was pushed open a little by Ellie's generous breasts, so I knew that she'd taken her bra off, too. She took one look at the market man and at me and smiled.
"I'll take this one," she said. She closed herself in again.
I had high hopes of the final top she'd chosen to try. Maroon in colour, the material was so delicate that it had virtually disappeared when Ellie had held it up against the light. I wasn't disappointed when she emerged. She'd put her bra back on and I could have read its label through the ultra-fine mesh. The stall-holder wasn't looking at her tits, though. Ellie hadn't got round to putting her leggings back on, and seemed blissfully unaware that she was giving him and me a good view of the rest of her bits, plus, when she suddenly realised and spun round to go back into the changing cubicle, of her bare bottom. He and I grinned at one another in a shared conspiracy.
Ellie emerged fully dressed, but a little pink in the face. She ignored us for a minute while she added a white, knee-length, sleeveless jacket with a Nehru collar, spectacularly embroidered in gold, to her purchases.
"Ever done any bargaining in a street market?" she asked me.
"No, never."
"Then go and grab a beer and a sausage over there. Order me some, too. Watch and learn. This won't take long."
I did as commanded and observed from ten yards away as Ellie battered the price down. By the time she was satisfied, the vendor was pleading imminent poverty, if not bankruptcy. Then, just to put the cherry on the cake, she said something to him that sounded like Arabic. Suddenly they were best friends and he insisted on taking her purchases out of their plastic bag and making her a present of a leather one. A kiss on both cheeks and she was coming towards me with a big grin. Half a sausage and most of her beer disappeared in short order before she explained:
"When I was at school, my best friend was Egyptian. I taught her how to program and she taught me enough Arabic to be able to barter."
"Most impressive. Not half as impressive as you looked in those clothes, though,"
"I know. You and he both got more of an eyeful than I intended. I promise you'll get an even better look, but it will have to wait until I've finished my beer and sausage. Thirsty work, getting the price you want."
"As a matter of interest..." I began.
"I only got about sixty percent off. I took pity on him."
"Remind me never to argue with you about money. Poor man."
"Oh, he still made a profit. He's used to selling to tourists, but in a market, I take no prisoners."
She stuffed the last bit of sausage into her mouth. "Now I need you to leave me to sort out something to go on my feet," she said. "I have an idea that I think you will like."
I headed off to wander round the market and got lost among the canals. When I found my way back to the guest-house, the door to our room was locked. I tapped on it.
"John?"
"No, Father Christmas,"
"Give me a moment.."
I waited a couple of minutes before the door was opened a crack. I went in. Ellie was wrapped in a bath sheet.
"John? I'm scared. I want to do this, but it's making me very nervous. Have you worked out where we're going?"
"I've a restaurant table booked for eight o'clock and there are bars galore for afterwards...or even before."
Ellie looked down from the window at the sunny street outside. "It's too early. I think this first time, I need a little less daylight," she said.
I glanced at my watch. "It's half-six. Since we're here, shall we play visitors?"
"What I fancy is sitting over there and having another beer," Ellie said. I followed her pointing finger. On the far side of the little canal was a café with a couple of tables outside. "Go and claim a space and I'll be with you in a moment."
I strolled across the bridge and got lucky. The couple at one of the tables was just paying, so I sat down in the early-evening sunshine and ordered two beers. I'd just made a start on mine when I almost choked. Ellie was walking towards me, wearing her black and gold number and some new glittery sandals. The length of shapely leg revealed was getting admiring looks from other passers-by as she approached. I leapt up and pulled a chair out for her. She sat and crossed her legs, which let me see the little scarlet triangle that covered her sex.
"Is that it?" I asked, turning to Lottie. "Not really my thing. And where's Ellie?"
"There." Lottie pointed over my shoulder at the stage and the opening curtain.
Ellie was standing at full stretch, centre stage with her hands tied off above her head, wearing her bra, the skin-tight shorts and those ridiculous bunny ears. Her eyes were covered with a blindfold. I was shocked to the core.
"What's this all about, Lottie?" I demanded. The music made it hard to be heard, and I had to put my head close to hers to follow her.
"The presenter asked for volunteers to take part in the show. Milly put her hand up straight away. I knew she would, because this is her sort of scene. She said something to Ellie and after a moment, Ellie put her hand up, too. I didn't expect that at all. Before she went backstage, Milly said to call you, so we did. I take it this is a surprise for you, too?"
"Totally." I was almost speechless. Meanwhile, Ellie was turning and twisting uncomfortably in the spotlight. Then Milly strode out of the wings. She was naked but for a headset microphone. Her thin, girlish body and little tits were emphasised by her total lack of pubic hair. She went up close to Ellie and put a similar headset on her. The loud music died right down.
"Can everyone hear?" Milly asked. Lottie gave her the thumbs up.
"We aren't using names, but you do understand that I know who you are, where you live, where you work, your phone number and even your email?" Milly said to Ellie.
"Yes."
"So, you are completely in my power. I could ruin not just your evening, but your life, if I chose to. Understood?"
"Yes." Ellie's uncertain voice said that she hadn't thought of that aspect of the deal.
"So I have complete control over you. Tell everybody what I'm allowed to do to you."
Ellie's response was barely above a murmur. "I will let you do whatever you want to me."
"You know it will not be comfortable and you accept that it may hurt?"
"Yes."
Milly went to the side of the stage and came back waving a large pair of scissors. She started to cut away Ellie's shorts. She pulled the wreck of the shorts from between Ellie's legs, making her gasp as the Lycra scrubbed between her plump labia and past her swelling clitoris.
"Your bra is next," Milly said: "You agree I can cut it up?"
I saw Ellie grimace before she said "Yes." She spent a lot on good-quality bras to support her 36C breasts, and I knew she was fond of this one. Milly snipped the straps and released Ellie's breasts. Under the circumstances, Ellie would have surely said tits. Her nipples were hard.
Milly played with Ellie's tits, lifting and dropping them, squeezing them tightly together, flicking the nipples with her nails and finally giving them a couple of slaps. Ellie whimpered.
"Are you going to keep quiet?" Milly demanded. "Or do I need to put the gag on you?"
"Please don't use the gag. I promise I won't make a noise," Ellie said. I could hear both tension and arousal in her voice.
Milly went backstage again and came back with a roll of cord. She formed a loop and put it round Ellie's neck. I saw Ellie gulp. Over the next few minutes Milly spun Ellie round and round, passing the rope above, below and between her tits, making a harness. From there, she bound up Ellie's tits with the thin rope, lifting them to pass the rope underneath and wrapping it tightly round each one close to her ribs, squeezing them ever more tightly. I watched in fascination as the skin tightened and they began to change colour because of the suffused blood forced towards the nipples, which were soon standing out like pear stalks. Milly was talking again as she worked.
"Isn't it a pity John isn't here," she asked. "Wouldn't you like him to see what I'm doing to you?"
"No," Ellie gasped. "He'd be horrified. I would be so ashamed. Humiliated." Her head drooped. "And he might not want to know me, and I couldn't bear that."
"You should have thought of that. Have you ever done this before?"
"Never."
"Will you want to do it again?" Milly was pinching Ellie's nipples and Ellie's stomach muscles were contracting hard as she tried not to cry out.
"I don't know. Please. You're hurting me."
Milly slapped her between the legs. The sound said Ellie was very wet.
"You know you will, don't you?"
"Yes."
"And it's turning you on, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"What would happen if I clamped your nipples now?"
"I'd come."
"You want that?"
"Oh, yes, please." The visceral note in Ellie's voice gave away how much she wanted it.
"Well, I'm not going to let you, not yet." Milly ignored Ellie's sob of disappointment and frustration. She bent down and probed at Ellie's sex. "Time for something different," she announced. She went backstage again.
"Shit, this is hot," Lottie muttered from beside me. She grabbed my hand and stuffed it down inside her shorts. "She's not the only one who's desperate to come. Help me out, John, please?" I worked my fingers into the sopping wet slot of her sex and masturbated her. She came within a minute. She pulled my hand clear and said "Thanks".
Milly was back, carrying a variety of clamps. "Move in closer, everyone, or you won't be able to see," she said. We sat on the edge of the stage and watched Millie play with Ellie's clitoris, using its hood to work it like a little penis. Ellie was writhing, obviously dying for an orgasm, to release her agonising tension. Milly chose a clamp and, without warning, snapped it directly on to Ellie's swollen clitoris. She was unable to hold back her cry of shock. Milly slapped her, right on the clamp. Ellie bit her lip and managed to stay mute. Milly added clamps to Ellie's outer labia and gradually clipped weights to them, stretching them. Ellie was panting now, rather than breathing. Milly paused and sat back on her heels.
"It's late and I'm getting bored," she said. "Running out of inspiration. So, let's just finish off by letting everyone see how you respond to...this." She snatched the clamp from Ellie's clitoris and clipped it on to one of Ellie's distended nipples.
Ellie howled. Her whole body weight hung from her arms, as she sagged in a massive orgasm, stomach muscles spasming time and again as the waves of contractions racked her. Milly waited until the initial phase was over, before releasing Ellie's hands and unwinding the cord from her tits. Ellie squeaked and bent over at the waist, all her concentration on scrubbing at her misused tits with both hands, to try to restore a normal blood flow. It was when she stood up that Milly turned her towards me and said: "Look who's here."
Ellie shrieked. "No. No. No. oh please, God, no. Tell me you're not here, John, and you weren't watching me do all that." She was distraught and weeping now. "Please. Oh, please."
"Well, you said you'd feel ashamed and humiliated if John witnessed your performance," Milly said as she unwrapped Ellie's breasts and released her arms. "Now you know you were right. Go to your man, and see if he still wants you."
I was as shattered as Ellie. This was so far out of my comfort zone that it almost met itself on the way back. This was an Ellie I didn't know - that she maybe didn't know herself - and it wasn't going to be simple to come to terms with it. What I did know was that I loved Ellie and that we would have to work it out together - somehow. I opened my arms to her as she stumbled off the stage.
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