Ellie
Copyright© 2022 by Bondi Beach
Chapter 23: Not the same person
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 23: Not the same person - To whom it may concern: My therapist says if I tell this story it will help me understand and accept the events that caused so many people so much pain. I write this for Ellie and for myself. I love her but I cannot know the future, no one can, and I do not know if she will understand and accept what I say here. I pray she will. All I can do now is tell the truth. /signed/ Christopher James O’Brien, August 22, 202x [EDITOR'S NOTE: Check the codes. This is a love story, but there is a rape.]
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Teenagers Consensual Rape
THE FOLLOWING WEEK we did the same again. Only the two of us. When we were seated once more at the same coffee shop, she asked me straight out. “Christopher, what was it like in prison?” Her voice quavered a little.
I shrugged and immediately straightened up. “Sorry, Eleanora, I didn’t mean to look like I was blowing you off. It was hard, sometimes, all the time, on one hand, and boring on the other. I didn’t get hurt badly. I was lucky. A lot of guys got into trouble fast. It turned out I could help one of the guys on something he was working on, he told some of his friends, and I ended up helping a lot of guys, writing stuff, I mean. I think that kept me OK. Also, I got to take some courses and earn transfer credits.”
I thought we were making progress on a walk a week or ten days later. She didn’t pull away when I took her hand. We didn’t go for coffee this time. She led me over to a bench and sat down and turned to face me, and I knew the bad news even before she opened her mouth.
Ellie cried. It began to drizzle.
“Christopher, I’m not the person I was before. I’m not.” She held up her hand when I started to speak. “Wait. Let me talk. I don’t mean I’ve been ruined forever like some damsel out of one of those cheesy old novels, but I’m really slow right now. I don’t want to rush into anything.”
She put her hand on my forearm. Now the drizzle turned into a light rain.
“I don’t think we should keep seeing each other. At least not right now.” Her tears came and she sobbed. “I’m sorry, Christopher. I’m so sorry.”
I touched her hand. She didn’t pull away but she didn’t respond, either.
“No, Eleanora, it’s not your fault. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’m sorry, too.” My own tears began. “I’ll be here, Eleanora. Maybe if things work out we can be friends again.”
She nodded. “Call me Ellie, Christopher, like before.”
We stood up and hugged lightly. The rain was strong now.
“Ellie,” I whispered.
I watched her walk away with most of my heart.
Acknowledgements
According to myth, mulberry trees are a symbol of star-crossed lovers. Some Jane Austin enthusiasts believe a mention of mulberry trees in one of her novels to be Austin’s coded reference to an unsuccessful love affair in her own life.
