So Long 'till Ellen (standard:mystery, 4425 words)
Author: SlowHand	Added: Mar 22 2002	Views/Reads: 3573/2632	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Sometimes the line between true love and obsession can be a very thin line indeed. (Better classified as Noir, but Art doesn't support such a category).

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

revealed her feminine torso. Topping her skirt was a white, sequined 
blouse unbuttoned to reveal glimpses of a baby blue, laced bra.  A 
thin, gold strand was looped around her neck, resting against a lightly 
freckled sternum. 

I moved to the dresser and uncapped the pint of whiskey I'd purchased
earlier in the evening. “Can I offer you something to drink?  Whiskey's 
my choice, but I also bought some gin, some vodka, and even some 
Baileys. I wasn't sure what you drink—or even if you do drink, for that 
matter. Is one of these appealing?” 

She looked at the array of bottles and smiled. “Candles.  Music. This is
all pretty sweet. Actually, I'm a whiskey girl myself.  Straight up is 
fine.” 

“Something we have in common.” I fixed the drinks and handed one over,
then motioned for a toast. “To us,” I said, clinking her glass with 
mine.  “To finding one another after all this time.” 

She smiled faintly. “Okay . . . to us.” She took a sip and tilted her
head back revealing a beautiful slender neck. “So, Frank, what's it 
going to be tonight?  That'll determine the price.” 

Her decision to bring up money caught me off guard.  Then again, she was
probably as nervous as I was.  In that way, we were both going through 
the motions. 

“I assume a thousand's sufficient without having to wade through a bunch
of gory negotiations?” 

“A thousand works for me. But I'll tell you straight up, if your gory
negotiations involve stuff like—“ 

I stepped forward and put a finger to her mouth, quieting her words. 
“Ellen, of course it doesn't involve things like that.  You'll find I'm 
a pretty ordinary guy. Your pleasure is what's most important to me and 
that will always come first.  I just want our first time together to be 
perfect . . . to be something we'll remember for years to come.” 

She gave me a nod and placed her drink on the dresser, then reached
behind her head and gave a tug, releasing her hair to tumble across her 
shoulders.  Her breath was warm against my chin as she moved closer, 
the lavender curl of her fragrance rising to fill my nostrils.  I 
swallowed hard as slender, red-tipped fingers loosened my tie and 
dragged it off my neck before dropping it to the floor. 

“Well then, Frank, I'll tell you what.  I'll go in the bathroom and
freshen up.  You put the cash over there on the dresser where I can see 
it when I come out, and we'll forget about that part until later. How's 
that?” 

I frowned, disappointed that she was bringing up the money again. “Yeah
. . . okay.” 

“Now don't get all grumpy.” She grazed her lips against mine, unbuttoned
my shirt, and pushed her fingers through the hair on my chest. “Can we 
start with me on top, Frankie?  That's how I like it best. I want it to 
last a long time . . . we don't have to hurry, do we?” 

I shivered with her words. “God, no, Ellen. We have all night.” 

I was going to remind her that we had the rest of our lives when she
leaned in and delivered a gentle kiss to my cheek. 

“I'll be right back,” she whispered. 

~~:~~:~~ 

It was two hours later when I pushed myself up against the headboard, a
hollow pit forming in my stomach as she dragged the money off the 
dresser.  Anger returned when she began counting. Like after everything 
we'd shared, I'd actually try and cheat her. 

“It's all there,” I said, making no attempt to hide my disdain. 

Her lip curled into a grin. “Take it easy, Darlin' . . . it's just
business. Have you seen my necklace?” 

I wanted to be a smart-ass.  I wanted to tell her a real professional
wouldn't misplace her clothes, not even her jewelry.  But I didn't.  
That would have been my bitterness talking, which didn't make much 
sense.  After all, if it weren't for her profession, we might not have 
found one another. So I stayed quiet and watched her. Like I had a 
choice. 

From the moment I opened the door Ellen captivated me. She was
everything I'd imagined, even though in my dreams her face was always 
blurred.  How incredible it was to piece together this picture, to see 
the woman who'd haunted my sleep and now my days, this woman I'd spend 
the rest of my life with. She was so eloquent, so graceful. Even the 
way she scooped her clothes off the dingy carpet left me breathless. 

“I could iron that for you,” I offered. 

“Like where are you going to find an iron?” 

“In the closet. Or I could call down to the front desk and have one sent
up.” 

She shook out the skirt and laid it on the bed, then turned to lean
across the dresser. Her face moved close to the mirror, her Victoria 
Secret underpants extending towards me as she fidgeted with a lock of 
hair that wouldn't behave against her forehead. “Honey, places like 
this don't have irons they send up to rooms.” 

I looked around, taking in the cheap lacquered furniture with cigarette
burn accents and my sense of regret deepened. “I should have taken a 
chance and had you come downtown.  I'm staying at the Regency Square.  
You know it?” 

“Of course I know it. Jeez, you are a big spender.” 

“We should have met there. It would have been more appropriate for our
first time together.  Something we could look back on when we're old 
and gray. Something we could tell our grandkids about.” 

She glanced over her shoulder. “Whatever, Frank.” 

Her necklace was on the nightstand next to the bed.  She stood in front
me in her bra and panties; chin tucked down, slender arms reaching 
behind her neck as she fastened the clasp. Next she pulled on her 
skirt, and then her blouse, smoothing out the uneven ridges before 
returning to the mirror to fluff out her hair. 

“Why don't you spend the night?” I asked. 

She ignored me and searched through her purse, lining out various
make-up accessories on the dresser. 

“Ellen, did you hear me?” 

My insistence earned me a caustic glance in the mirror's reflection as
she dragged a crimson wax tip across her lips. It was the same look my 
mother gave me when I asked questions that didn't deserve answers. 

I pulled back the sheet and searched out my boxer shorts that had
crawled under the bed, dragged them on, and went to her.  She was warm 
to my touch and I could still taste her perfume.  I dragged my mouth 
across her shoulder and nestled my lips behind her ear, feeling myself 
harden for the third time that evening. 

“Stay the night, Ellen.  Let's wake up in one another's arms.” 

“The meter's not running any longer, Frank.” 

“I can take you away from this lifestyle,” I whispered. “This isn't you.
 This isn't what you're about.  It's served its purpose and brought us 
together, and for that we can be thankful.” 

She capped the lipstick and swatted my hands away.  “You're weird, you
know that? And why is it every guy I meet thinks he knows more about me 
than I do?  All this, what's-a-nice-girl-like-you, bullshit.” 

“I'm not saying that.  I'm just saying if it's money, I can give you
that.  I can give you everything you'd ever want.” 

She turned and clutched my wrist, raising my hand and rubbing the gold
band on my ring finger. 

“You haven't priced divorces lately, have you Frankie?  Don't tell me.
Wifey doesn't work.  Probably stayed home all these years banging her 
tennis pro while you were out scmoozing customers at fancy restaurants. 
I'm right, aren't I? 

“Well, let me tell ya, when that happens, there's no splitting things
down the middle.  You get caught doing what we did tonight and she'll 
take you for everything you've got—everything you'll make until you're 
six feet under.  Something to think about.” 

She stared up at me and smirked. 

“So what,” I countered. “My wife means nothing to me. Let her have it
all.  There's no kids.  I've saved that part for you, Ellen. Sure, we 
won't have much money, but we'll be together.  We'll live cheap.  We 
can eat Chinese food out of cartons and take long walks and hold hands 
and we won't need anything or anybody but each other.” 

She laughed a little.  “You're a fucking loon, you know that?” 

Before I could respond, she ducked her head under my arm and moved
towards the bathroom, locking the door behind her.  I stared at the 
reflection in the mirror over the dresser, wondering for just a second 
if she was the one.  They'd been others I thought were Ellen, only to 
be proved wrong. 

Of course she was the one.  I knew the moment I stepped off the airplane
that this was the city where I'd find her. This confusion we were going 
through now was part of some test, that's all: a way to measure my 
commitment to her. 

But then the thud of the toilet seat snapped me back to reality. Yes,
she was the one: my destiny, my fate, my soul mate. But it's too soon 
for you to understand. 

Ellen, Ellen, Ellen . . . why must you be so stubborn? 

I pulled on my suit pants, then my tee shirt, and finally my shoes,
skipping the socks.  I was careful to quiet the snaps on my briefcase 
as I lifted the cover and retrieved the handkerchief and bottle of 
chloroform from the inside flap.  Capping what was left of the whiskey 
we'd shared, I stuffed the bottle in my pocket, grabbed my smokes, and 
called out towards the locked bathroom door. “Ellen, sweetheart, I'm 
going to go get some fresh ice.” 

Silence. 

“I'll be right back!” I added, wishing that the door would spring open
and she'd rush into my arms, apologizing for the things she'd said. 

But there was only more silence. 

Like a child forced to accept that his lost puppy wasn't coming home, I
stuffed Ellen's purse in the nightstand drawer where I knew she 
wouldn't find it. I stepped outside the motel room and whipped the ice 
bucket, flinging the standing water to an empty parking space. 

Neil and I spotted one another immediately.  He was sitting three cars
down in a battered red convertible, straightening a newspaper under a 
faintly lit dome light. The ice bucket in my hand and my barefoot 
tee-shirt ensemble made it obvious I wasn't leaving anytime soon. I 
smiled and gave him a nod, then lit a cigarette and took a long drag as 
he scowled and returned to his reading. 

I walked the corridor to the end of the motel; opposite where I knew the
ice machine was located. With my best, puzzled expression, I stepped 
off the curb.  A glance in Neil's direction told me he wasn't paying 
attention. I made my way towards his car and rested the ice bucket on 
the adjacent vehicle's rear bumper before ducking down and blotting the 
handkerchief from the chloroform bottle. 

He was strong and, for a minute, I thought I might have a problem,
especially when he leaned on the horn.  But the liquid worked fast and, 
as powerful as he was, I felt his strength bleed away like air escaping 
from an untied balloon.  When he was still, I stuffed the rag into his 
mouth, pinched his nose, and waited patiently for some final heaves.  
That's when headlights appeared at the far end of the parking lot. 

Shit, was anything going to go right tonight? 

I'd finish him off later when nobody was around. No matter, he was out
for the night.  I poured some whiskey in his lap, then dabbed some 
around his mouth, before wiping my prints off the bottle and lodging it 
in his fat-fingered hand.  I nudged him and he collapsed sideways in 
the seat.  Anybody walking by would see an oaf who didn't make it back 
to his room before a night of too much partying got the better of him.  
I ducked in front of his car and waited for the other vehicle to pass. 

After a pit stop at the ice machine to make my side-trip legit, I
returned to the room and opened the door to find a fully styled Ellen 
frantically rummaging through my brief case.  She turned to me, a 
venomous fire in her eyes. 

“Where's my fucking purse, Frank?!” 

I closed the door and placed the bucket on the dresser. “I think we need
to talk this through, Ellen.” 

“Listen to me,” she said.  “You were kind of funny at first.  Even a
little cute.  But this shit's getting old.  If I have to, I'll stick my 
head out that door and Neil'll be in here in two seconds and you won't 
want to know what'll happen then.  Now give me my money!” 

As much as I hated to admit it, Ellen was getting on my nerves. But I
understand that's how relationships work.  It's a give and take 
proposition.  I went to the nightstand and opened the drawer. 

“I only hid it so you wouldn't leave before I got back. Now can we talk
through this like two adults?” 

She grabbed the purse from my hand and flipped it open. 

“I didn't take your money,” I said, already feeling lonely. 

“I am so outta here,” she countered, rearranging things, long after
she'd confirmed that her cash was still there. 

I took her in my arms and pulled her to me.  “Please, darling . . . we
can work through this.  I know we've gotten off to a bad start, but 
that's how the best relationships begin.  It's driven by passion—a 
passion that's bigger than the both of us. Why are you fighting it?  
We're soul mates, Ellen. We're meant to be together.” 

I'd barely finished my sentence when she landed her knee in my groin.  I
gulped for air and groaned, my knees giving way, a searing pain ripping 
me from the bottom up, grabbing me like a vice that wouldn't let go.  
Ellen's smiling eyes were all I saw as I stumbled backwards, cupping my 
hands between my legs, any sense of modesty now long gone. 

“I'm sorry about that, darlin'” she said. “But you're just too weird.” 

She moved across the room and started to open the door. With all the
strength I could gather, I lunged after her, slamming it shut.  She 
stepped back, the confidence she'd exuded all evening washing away. 

“Neil!” she screamed.  “Neil, I need you now!” 

I unlaced my belt from around my waist and stepped towards her. “You're
making me do this, Ellen.  You know that don't you.” 

“Neil!” she screamed again, then turned to run. 

I caught her in front of the bathroom and looped the belt over her head
and around her throat, pulling the end through the buckle to form a 
tourniquet. Her shoe slid off her foot as I dragged with me until we 
stood together at the foot of the bed. Propping her up, I pushed her 
forward until her pelvis was sandwiched between my hips and the edge of 
the dresser. 

The pain between my legs continued to throb.   Resting my chin on her
shoulder for support, we stared together in the mirror's reflection.  I 
hated losing my temper like this, but goddamn it, a guy can only take 
so much. I tightened my grip and the white bulbs of her eyes became 
more pronounced. She continued to struggle, her lips drawing back into 
a wide snarl that made her perfect white teeth and pink gums almost 
unattractive. 

“I love you, Ellen,” I managed between broken breaths. “Even when you do
stupid things like kicking me in the balls, I love you. I know it feels 
too soon to say that, having just found one another and all, but I do.  
I've known it for a very long time. I love you so much.  And I know you 
love me too.” 

I pulled harder, stealing another notch in the belt.  Her complexion
began to darken into a subtle shade of blue that accented her suit. Her 
eyes welled with tears and her teeth moved up and down like a puppet 
without a voice. 

“I still think you're different from the others. They were just sluts
and the world's a better place without their filth. And even though 
you've used your body to make money with other men, you're still 
different, and it's important you know I understand. And I don't hold 
tonight's argument against you, either.” I tightened my grip. “It's 
true, we can't be together in this lifetime, but I'll see you in the 
next.  And then we'll have forever.  It'll be so wonderful, Ellen.” 

She began to fade, the weight of her body sinking to the floor as the
strained sounds of vanquished breaths followed.  Her head bobbled on 
her neck as I pulled the belt one last time, my knuckles turning white, 
until she collapsed at my feet. 

I lowered myself and sat with her, dragging her by the shoulders until
her cheek rested in my lap.  I unfastened the leather noose from around 
her throat and threw it aside and pushed her swollen tongue back into 
her mouth.  Gently I stroked her hair as I cried and tried to push 
aside the emptiness that came with knowing it would be years before I'd 
see her again. 

Why did she make me do this?  Why did she force this wedge between us
when there was so much in this world we could enjoy.  I was going to 
miss her.  I was going to miss her so much. 

My mourning was interrupted when the doorframe ruptured into splinters
and Neil appeared, his pudgy face blotchy and white as he blinked away 
the chloroform hangover.  Filling his hand was a polished stick about 
three feet long.  It took me a second to recognize it as a severed ax 
handle. He wiped his eyes and looked around, staring first at me, then 
to Ellen. 

“Oh, you mother fucker,“ he grunted, charging me like a bull. 

I tried to move, but my seated position and Ellen's weight in my lap
held me down.  He dropped the stick when he reached me and grabbed my 
neck with both hands, jerking me from the floor. I reared back to 
swing, but there was no time.  His ham-sized fist connected with the 
side of my head, sending me tumbling towards the ugly landscape print 
that was screwed to the far wall. My head was spinning like a ferris 
wheel, but I thought I might recover.  That is, until his second punch 
landed in my gut, robbing my lungs of any retained oxygen. 

He reached behind his back and I saw the black snout of a revolver
appear, felt the cold press of the steel circle against my forehead. I 
sank to the floor and stared up at him, a tiny bit of air returning as 
my stomach heaved. 

“Is she dead?!” he demanded, looking back to Ellen's still body. “You
mother fucker, is she dead?!” 

“She's so beautiful. She's so different from the others.  We were meant
to be together, but it was too early for her to understand.  She gave 
me no choice, Neil. I love her so much.” 

I saw him look back to Ellen, then again to me.  His eyes were wet and
his globular chin trembled.  His hand holding the gun started to shake. 


I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. “Take me to her,
Neil,” I said.  “Take me to Ellen.” 

I waited. 

It would be soon. 

Ellen and I would be in one another's arms.  We'd know the meaning of
eternal happiness.  We'd know forever. 

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if it would hurt when he pulled the
trigger, but the fear only lasted a second.  I didn't care. It was such 
a small price to pay to be with Ellen.  Now I just wanted him to hurry. 


But then the barrel left my forehead as he took two steps backwards.  I
opened my eyes to see him return the gun to the hidden holster behind 
his back. 

“What?” I asked.  “What's wrong?” 

His face was worn, but stern.  He shook his head. “Nah . . . you want it
too much . . . and she was too good for you.” 

I shuffled to stand up and he covered the top of my head with his
oversized palm, shoving me back to the floor.  “Sit the fuck down.  
You're not going anywhere.” 

Before I could move again, he picked up the ax handle.  Like slow
motion, I watched his arm rise above his head as I braced myself for 
the downward blow.  I expected a crushing headache or immediate 
unconsciousness. But that was nothing compared to what would happen 
next. 

I let go of a suffocated howl as tunnel vision enveloped me, the room
becoming dark and then scattered with bursts of light like random 
fireworks. The stick he wielded had bypassed my head and landed on my 
right kneecap. 

Never in my life had I felt so much pain.  The knee-lift to the balls
that Ellen had delivered earlier felt like an orgasm compared to this. 
I couldn't move, I couldn't speak; I couldn't beg him not to hit the 
other knee, which he did with a blow that was more violent than the 
first. 

I was lying on my side, my legs gone, by lips parted, drool tracing down
my cheek as he walked to the nightstand and picked up the telephone. 
Still holding the stick in his hand, he pinched the receiver between 
his cheek and shoulder and dialed a single digit.   There was a moment 
of silence and then he said, “Give me the police.” 

I tried to talk, to beg him not to do this, but the words wouldn't
materialize. 

“Yeah, I'm calling you from Timberock Motel on Drury Drive outside of
town,” he said. “I don't know what the fucking address is. Trace the 
call to get it.”  He turned to me and grinned. 

What he said after that was a blur. After a few minutes he hung up the
phone and stared down at me. 

“So long . . . “ I mumbled. 

“So long yourself, pal.” 

I closed my eyes. “So long ‘til Ellen. . . so long.” 

+++ 

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im_slowhand@yahoo.com 


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