It was in the early nineties when Eleanor Gallaher knocked on the door of number 35 Finchbottom Road.
It was the Shallowfield home of Gregory and Amanda George, and had been for 15 years, ever since they were married.
It was a house that was very well known to Eleanor as she had been friends with Amanda for about 8 years despite being ten years younger.
“Is Amanda in?” she asked urgently when Greg had opened the door, although she already knew the answer before she asked the question, but he wasn’t to know that at the time.
Eleanor was pretty, but not beautiful, with a long face, a big toothy smile and long wavy straw coloured hair and she stood around five foot three in her flip flops.
As was the fashion of the time she was wearing knee length denim dungarees over a white t-shirt.
“I’m afraid not Ellie, she’s gone to Abbottsford so I’m not expecting her back until late” He replied, and to his great surprise tears started to well up in her eyes and then they ran down her cheeks as she sobbed.
Greg in an act of chivalry stepped into action and put his arm around her and guided her into the hall away from prying eyes.
He stood and comfort her without speaking when she said
“I’m sorry” and buried her tearstained face in his neck.
He made encouraging noises and stroked her back but being a shoulder to cry on, was the full extent of his expertise with crying women, even pretty young women that he had feelings for, and Ellie certainly fitted that bill to a tee.
Not that he could or would have done anything about it, even though his marriage was in its death throws.
He and Amanda were only together for two reasons one was that she was catholic and didn’t believe in divorce and the other one was laziness, it had become easier to maintain the status quo and stay together and live separate lives than to take decisive action to get on with their lives.
Greg was stooped over holding Ellie for some time until her sobs began to get shallower and shallower and eventually abated altogether but still she held on to him very tightly and after a few minutes she began to nuzzle his neck and he could feel her breath on his skin, which was when thoughts of comforting her took on a different meaning.
While still nuzzling his neck her hands began to caress up and down his back until her nuzzles turned to kisses and Greg reciprocated the caresses and in an instant her mouth was on his, and he tasted her soft salty lips, and hot mouth.
Ellie’s hands began to claw at his shirt, dragging it free from the waistband of his jeans and when she had succeeded, her trembling hands were on his flesh and she sighed and exhaled through her nose.
Inside his head he questioned the morality of doing what he was doing but it was a short discourse, after all it was what he had imagined so often in his dreams, so decided to undo the buttons on either side of the waistband of her dungarees and Greg’s hands were on her hips and with great manual dexterity he undid both buttons simultaneously and his hands then mimicked the movement of her own and caressed the soft naked skin of her back.
However Ellie broke away suddenly from their embrace and backed towards the banisters.
There were still tearstains on her cheeks and her eyes were red but she had a broad toothy grin on her face as her hands undid the straps on her dungarees and she let them fall to the floor and then she stood there in a white t-shirt and navy blue knickers before then she kicked her clothes and flips flops aside and she returned to his arms which scooped her up and he carried her to the spare bedroom.
They were laying beneath the duvet in the afterglow when he said.
“What were you crying about anyway?”
“I broke up with my boyfriend” she said
“Oh I’m sorry, why was that?” he asked
“He said I was no good in bed” she replied
“Well now you have a second opinion” he said
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