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
