Ellen’s Big Day
Joe Brewster
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Joe Brewster
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
oooOOooo
Ellen’s day turned into one clusterfuck after another. It was just petty stuff-- but urgent. It made for a long day.
It was 7:10 PM before she was able to cut loose and flee that cheese-maze of a workplace known as ‘the office’.
She heard Joe’s keyboard still going rat-a-tat-tat. He was the last person there-- except for her. Looks like he wins Chump of the Day honors, she thought, because I’m out of here!
Joe's cubicle was next to the exit. Ellen was just moving past when she thought she heard him chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” she stopped and asked, thinking he was laughing at her.
“Nothing,” Joe told her, “just these jerks on the radio.”
The volume was set so low that Ellen hadn’t heard it.
“You weren’t laughing at me, then?” she asked.
“Why would I do that?” Joe asked.
“No reason,” she mumbled.
All day long Ellen had clomped around on five-inch heels in a mini-skirt and a V-neck top. It was a new look for her and she felt self-conscious about it. That’s why she thought Joe was laughing at her.
The idea was to put some excitement into her wardrobe by wearing tighter fitting, more revealing clothing. But the whole thing backfired. It felt fake.
Ellen got the idea from a new fashion magazine directed at ‘Full-Figured’ women. It advised plus-sized ladies to flaunt their big beautiful bodies and dress as sexily as thin women did. It was supposed to make you feel more confident about yourself.
Tight skirts, low-cut tops and sheer black stockings were just the thing to re-energize your self-image. Slip on a pair of stiletto pumps and--- Look-out World here I come! --- watch the fireworks explode!
What a crock!
Ellen couldn’t wait to get home, kick off her killer heels, and get out of this sexy get-up. She had a pair of fluffy pink slippers with her name on them just waiting for her. Baggy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt would complete the cozy couch-potato ensemble and cover-up her so-called ‘Big Beautiful Body’. Ellen started to smile just thinking about it.
“You know,” Joe said, ”I don’t want to sound like I’m hitting on you or anything but you really look nice today, Ellen.”
“Really?” she asked. “And why not?”
Joe winced.
“I mean, you look nice everyday,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say you don’t usually-“
Ellen interrupted, “I mean why don’t you want me to think you’re hitting on me?” She had locked onto the one phrase that could conceivably be construed as negative and she construed it for all she was worth. “I look nice for a fat chick, is that what you mean? You wouldn’t want me to jump to any conclusions, right? I might get the idea you actually want to go out with me, huh?”
“God, no!”
“You’re a dick!” Ellen said, ready to knock him on his ass.
“No!” Joe said. “I mean, ‘No you’re wrong’. You’re attractive. Very attractive.”
Ellen wasn’t happy with that.
“I have a pretty face, right?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you really mean? It’s too bad I have a blimp of a body to go with it, huh?”
“God, no!” Joe told her. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
They stood there a moment looking at each other.
Ellen finally spoke, “So...? Want to grab some coffee or something?”
“Uh, you mean, right now?” Joe asked.
Ellen glared at him, “If you don’t want to be seen with me just say so.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Joe told her. “There’s just something I really have to do right now before I can go. You can hang out, if you want, while I finish up.”
“Sure,” Ellen pulled up a chair and sat quietly, listening to the radio, while Joe rummaged through files.
Joe was a neat freak. He kept his cube tidy. His desktop shined. The few papers lying on his desk were piled with their edges absolutely parallel to the desk’s edges. All square and straight. Ellen liked that.
Ellen started to chat, “What was so funny before? On the radio?”
“Oh, yeah,” Joe had to think a second to remember the bit, “These crazy ‘relationship experts’ gave the Top Five Pick-Up places. Y’know, for single people to hook-up. It’s a bunch of baloney. The top two were supermarkets and laundromats. Please.”
“What’s your take?” Ellen asked.
“It isn’t about ‘Place’. Any place is a good place if you have the right attitude for it,” Joe said, as he began stapling papers together. “Otherwise it doesn’t much matter where you are.”
“Oh?”
”The biggest stud I ever knew could get laid in a rain storm,” Joe said. “And it’s not like he had a great line of talk either. He could pick up chicks by reciting nonsense syllables.”
“He must have looked like a movie star,” Ellen said.
“Not even close,” Joe said. “It’s just that he acted like he was God’s gift to women. That’s all. Pure attitude. That was enough. Women sucked it up.”
“I can see that,” Ellen said. “It’s like wearing this stuff.” She indicated her clothes with a wave of her hand. “Some girls have the attitude for it. Like Dee in accounting, I’m prettier than her. And she’s fatter than me. But she’s comfortable looking like a slut and I’m not. Guys seem really into her. They take her seriously. I feel silly wearing this and, of course, guys think I’m a joke. They think I’m ridiculous.”
“Come off it already,” Joe told her. “You look terrific. I’m a guy and I say you’re way hotter than Dee in accounting.”
“You’d never know it by the way you act. How come you never flirt or ask me out?”
“I’ve never hit on anybody here,” Joe told her. “I like this job. I’d like to keep it. The way most of these chicks operate I’d be dead meat in about two weeks.”
“Oh?” Ellen asked, sitting up straight and peering right at him. “And what about me? How do I operate?”
“You’re cool,” Joe said. “You aren’t flighty or catty or any of that stuff. Up to now I thought you were all business. Totally ‘nose-to-the-grindstone’. You don’t play games or gossip. You’re someone I would’ve loved to have gone out with but I figured you were already involved or-- I thought -- out of my league.”
“I’m not involved,” Ellen said.
“Exactly,” Joe said, putting the stapler away and looking right at her.
“So-o-oo?” Ellen asked, puzzled.
“Well, until today-- when you started acting all pyscho about being fat and looking ridiculous-- I thought I didn’t stand a chance with you,” Joe said. “You were my idea of the perfect woman. Way out of my league. But... ” Joe paused.
“Go on,” Ellen said, “I’m listening.”
Ellen kicked off her heels and put her feet up on Joe’s desk to get comfortable.
“Could you please not put your feet up like that?” Joe asked.
“Sorry,” Ellen said, “I didn’t mean to wreck your desk or anything.” She put her feet on the floor. “That better?”
“It’s not my desk I’m worried about,” Joe told her. “The thing about me is I compartmentalize a lot of stuff. That’s one reason I’m so neat and organized all the time.”
“I’m not following you,” Ellen said.
“I just naturally file things into different mental compartments,” Joe said. “Not just work but life in general. Mentally, emotionally and, uh, sexually.”
“Okay...?” Ellen said, still at a loss for where this was going.
“So,” Joe said, “it let’s me be able to function in the midst of all you women—for instance – and not get worked up and horny about it. Like you said, I don’t flirt or talk trash. Around here, at work, sex is kept in a separate compartment.”
Ellen felt dimly aware of what he meant but still didn’t get it. She put her palms up and shrugged.
Joe went on, “See, here’s the problem. These other chicks are easy enough to ignore. Like you say a lot of them dress like sluts and, as a guy, that would usually turn me on.”
Ellen shot him a look.
“I’m human, what can I say?” Joe said. “Those tight skirts and heels... All that skin... But anyway... I know I’d have a good shot at scoring with a few of those sluts but it wouldn’t be worth it-- all the drama and gossip. Forget-about-it. Automatically my mind just blocks them out. I deal with them as coworkers but that’s it.
“You,” Joe said, “on the other hand, are an entirely different compartment. You are so much hotter than those dizzy broads it isn’t even funny. And you had such class. But that was cool, see? That worked. You were on such a higher level you were unattainable. I was able to block you out, and not get hot and bothered around you, because getting together with you was beyond hope. I didn’t stand a chance.”
Joe paused. He had more to say but didn’t know how to say it.
Ellen chimed in with, “So now you know better,” helping him out.
“Better—and worse,” Joe told her.
“How so?” Ellen asked.
“For instance,” Joe started saying, “when you put your feet up just now, it threw me for a loop. Bare feet in black stockings always drove me wild. My ex and I used that as a signal. When she walked out of the shower and put on her sheer black thigh-highs that meant she would let me go down on her. It meant I had the green-light.”
“Really?” Ellen shifted in her seat.
“Yeah,” Joe said, ”she wasn’t into oral sex like I was. She thought it was kinky. She liked it well enough but not as much as I did. She thought I was a perv the way I constantly asked to go down on her all the time. It got on her nerves. It made her self-conscious and ruined her mood. So, for a while, I stopped. Asking, I mean. I never stopped going down.
“I tried to be smooth and spontaneous and just casually kneel down and ease my face between her legs as she watched TV or something. Just randomly snuggle up and rub my cheek against her thighs and kiss her tummy and stuff. Pretty soon she’d start getting wet and I’d peel off her panties and go down on her.
“That worked for a while but I blew it. I pissed her off. I made such a habit out of it that it became a cliché. The novelty wore off. Instead of being sneaky and keeping it under wraps, I made her self-conscious about watching TV. She couldn’t relax. So there was no more of that.
“The thing is,” Joe said, “she didn’t like initiating sex. Not verbally, anyway. So I never knew when she was in her ‘Kinky Mood’ and when it was all right to go down on her. Regular sex was no problem. I knew instantly after a light smooch or two if she was in the mood for that. And, to be fair, she almost always let me go down on her as part of foreplay.
“What I’m talking about,” Joe continued, “is letting me eat her pussy as a separate thing. You know what I mean? Where oral sex is the whole point of it for both of us; a complete end in itself. Where I take my time and devote one hundred percent of my energy to eating her out and devote all of my attention to giving her pussy and clit a thorough work-out and stay completely in the moment. Totally immersed in going down on her. Not as a warm-up or foreplay, but as an exclusive sexual act; totally devoted to building her sexual arousal until she is dreamily fatigued from having so many multiple orgasms until she has a final squirting climax. God, that’s so exciting.”
Ellen squirmed in her seat. She felt herself getting liquid at the thought of having her pussy licked like that. She loved the thought of having her pussy licked at all.
Joe continued, “She always got a special charge out of her wearing black stockings. They made her feel kinky. Thigh-highs, you know? They always cranked things up a notch for me, too. So at one point in our relationship she just laid it out. No more talk. I didn’t get to ask. If she put on the black stockings I had the green-light. She was feeling kinky and I was allowed to go down on her. Otherwise I kept my mouth shut. Literally.
“You make me feel so conflicted,” Joe said. “It’s killing me.”
“Hey, no problem,” Ellen said, eyes shining. “It’s cool. I’m into it,” she smiled.
“Not everyone is like your ex,” she told Joe. “I’m cool with letting guys go down on me as much as they want.” Ellen was eager with anticipation and having a hard time keeping herself in check. “I’ll let you,” she told him, ready to rub one out on his nose just to get the first one out of the way, “right now-- if you want.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Joe said, “I’m all jumbled up. All my signals are crossed. All my compartments are trashed!”
“Wha-a-t?” Ellen had no idea what was up with Joe.
“You fucked up everything!” Joe yelled.
Ellen just stared. Completely shocked at the change in Joe.
“You turned out to be just a whiny loser wench!” Joe ranted. “Back when I still respected you I had wet-dreams about going down on you! But that was before I knew what a colossal, insecure, big, fat, Drama Queen you are. All worried about what people think of your big, fat, ass! What a cunt! You’re no better than any of those other sluts. At least they have the decency to respect themselves. In their own delusional way.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Joe paused to take a deep breath. “I really meant what I said.” Joe looked at Ellen, “I think you’re beautiful.” He paused. Then continued ranting, “But what does that matter? You’re so bugged-out about things you’d just turn it around on me like everything else I said. If I went down on you now you’d call me a ‘Chubby Chaser’ or some crap like that. A guy can’t really just care about you for who you are, can he? No! It’s gotta be a lie. Or he’s a perv with a fat fetish or some crap like that, right?”
Ellen had to admit Joe had her head-trip pretty much down pat.
“Maybe...,” she whispered. Joe’s rant opened up a sudden blast of self-awareness in Ellen. It was so completely out of nowhere. So sincere. So right on the money. She couldn’t help but take it to heart.
“I’m sorry, okay?” said Ellen. “I didn’t mean to piss you off like that, all right?” She looked at Joe with big eyes and an apologetic pout on her lips. “I won’t make a fuss. I’ll let you go down on me and not get all defensive about it. I won’t think you’re a ‘chubby chasing’ pervert. Honest. I promise. I won’t get weird. All right?”
“Fat lot of good that does me now,” Joe said. “You’ve ruined everything.”
Ellen wasn’t going to be denied this easily. Not after all of his talk about going down. She was wet and ready. Horny as hell. She tried being nice and apologizing. That didn’t work. Now, either Joe was going to go down on her – right here and now --- or she was going to take her frustrations out on his hide. At this point that meant beating his ass to within an inch of his life.
“Listen, Mister,” Ellen said as she approached Joe, closing in on him, “I said I was sorry, all right? So cut the crap.” She had Joe backed against the partition. Looking down on him. Invading his personal space. Even without her heels she was almost a full head taller than Joe. He had his chin practically in her cleavage.
“A girl’s got a right to fish for compliments from guys,” Ellen said. “That’s the way it is. Deal with it. If I went overboard and played it off a little strong because maybe I’m a teeny bit sensitive about my weight—oh well-uh... But you ain’t the only one with compartments, Mister.”
Ellen clamped her hand around Joe’s crotch, “I got your balls in my compartment now— it’s the one marked Eat Me, Bitch! You want them back? You’re going down.”
Joe was so charged with arousal he barely even winced. Ellen played him perfectly. She took command. She completely reframed the situation into a totally new compartment for him. She commanded Joe’s respect.
All in a day’s work, she thought.
Joe went down on Ellen like she owned him. He reveled in it. He went at it like an artist who’s just been given the commission of a lifetime. She would be his masterpiece.
Ellen didn’t call him off until she heard the housekeeping crew roll in well after 8:00 PM – Or, roughly, 10 orgasms later by Ellen’s count. She didn’t know for sure. She’d lost track. “No Problem,” she thought. She could hit the re-set button and start over once they got back to her place.
The End