---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “The Unbridgeable Canyon” Down in the Dirt v218 (4/24) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology The Limits of Imagination the Down in the Dirt January - April 2024 issues collection book		get the 422 page January - April 2024 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Jenna

Bill Tope

    Ellis sat upon the rich, butter-colored leather sofa in the television room of the main house on his vast estate, entertaining yet another “companion,” This one, a stunning, 30-something dark-haired beauty, had given her name as Jenna. A professional appelation, perhaps, thought Ellis cynically. He realized suddenly that his chronic headache was not now present. He smiled a little at the relief from the ever-present pain. Ellis was presently boasting about the structure in which they sat; his companions always seemed to expect such self-involved behavior. Probably they were instructed to get a man talking about what most interested him — himself. Elllis’s luxurious home was a bright spot in an otherwise unhappy existence. But for these carefully arranged visits, Ellis was a lonely man. Gently, he shifted his prosthesis to a more comfortable position.
    “I’ve 250 acres,” he was saying, waving toward the picture window in the room. Outside, a fierce winter wind was tearing across the landscape, bending the many beautiful willows gracefully toward the earth. Jenna’s eyes followed his gesture and gazed out the window.
    >O?“You’ve so many trees,” she remarked in awe. She was dressed all in black, in an evening gown with a daring decolletage and wonderfully sexy spaghetti straps. Jenna, thought Ellis, was perhaps the most nubile, lustfully alluring creature he had ever met. Unconsciously, he licked his lips. Jenna had been here for several hours, yet had done nothing overtly sexual. which was itself interesting. She had remarked knowledgably about the fine art which hung from the twelve-foot walls of the manor house and she seemed to know her designers, complimenting him on the furniture. At the very least, she knew a Federal from a Biedermeir. For that, he gave her points.
    He nodded at her observation. “19,213 trees, to be exact,” he said.
    “You actually counted them all?” she asked in surprise, smiling. Again, he nodded. “You’re an intriguing man, Ellis Foster,” she remarked warmly.
    Now Ellis smiled. It was flattering to hear such an intelligent, physically attractive woman as Jenna tell him he was interesting. Even if he knew it was all an act. Nor was Jenna too young for him, as many of his previous companions had been. Some of them had actually been teenagers and far beyond the normal scope of a man of 40 years, as Ellis would be tomorrow. To celebrate four decades of life, he had decided to treat himself. He asked her again if she’d like a cocktail. They had both consumed several. Jenna held her liquor well, he thought with approval; her face was only a little florid. Ellis climbed with difficulty to his feet and went to the mahogany bar and began mixing the drinks. Under Jenna’s seemingly magical influence, he had almost totally forgotten about his life-long disability.
    She narrowed her beautiful green eyes at him and asked coyly, “Ellis, are you trying to get me drunk, so that you can seduce me?” She tossed her raven hair off her shoulder and pouted.
    “Of course not,” he replied, with feigned innocence. “Now, Jenna, would I do something like that to you?” he asked winsomely.
    “I hope so,” she whispered huskily, staring him in the eye and slowly pulling the strap of her gown off one sculpted shoulder. Her skin glowed golden in the fading afternoon sunlight.

One Year Later
    Ellis hummed merrily as he fixed breakfast, going to the trouble of preparing French toast, crisp bacon and shirred eggs, which were all Jenna’s favorites. She had enjoyed many, many such breakfasts at the estate. Over the past 12 months, Ellis had come to the inevitable conclusion that Jenna was The One. He loved her deeply, and eagerly anticipated the time they would spend together, despite what she did for a living. Which would have been par for the course, had she been any other companion. But, after their first date, she had refused remuneration, saying that she couldn’t accept his money. Still, she visited him, several times a week now. Such an intense and skilled lover he had never known before. But, clearly, things were changing.
    “I’m sorry, Ellis,” she’d told him only last night, “but I’ve fallen desperately in love with you! Can you forgive me?” she asked him, brushing his cheeks with exquisitely tapered fingers. Where she touched him, her hands felt warm.
    He felt his chest swell as he held her intimately in his arms. “That isn’t a problem,” he assured her, “because I’ve fallen for you, too.” Their kiss was the warmest, most passionate that they’d ever shared. It had at one point during their romance naturally occured to Ellis that Jenna was perhaps only after his money. After all, he was wealthy. But she’d resisted becoming a kept woman and even the handful of times when they went out together, she’d paid her own way. It was to Ellis unexpected behavior, and it made him respect and yearn for Jenna all the more. She continued to make money as an escort, while still seeing Ellis. And he found himself becoming increasingly more proprietary. He couldn’t help it; he didn’t want to share his lover with anyone. Today, at long last, he raised the issue.
    “This is our first anniversary, baby,” he told her that morning after breakfast.
    She smiled languidly, muscles rippling as she stretched back on the leather sofa that was her favorite spot in his house — excluding the bedroom. “You’re a year older today,” she reflected, smiling that beautiful, pink-lipped smile. “What can I get you for a gift, Ellis?” she asked him.
    He took a seat beside her. “Your hand,” he said earnestly. “I want us to be married, Jenna.” Her green eyes widened and her lightly-freckled face flushed. He observed her lower lip quiver a bit.
    “Do...do you mean that, Ellis?” she asked. “You know what I do for a living,” she pointed out gently, peering deeply into his eyes.
    “You can give all that up now,” he suggested. “Jenna, it’s gotten to the point where I can’t bear what you do. I don’t want to share you with anyone. You won’t need to use your body to earn a living anymore. Stay here with me! I’ve got plenty of room and money, and...”
    But, she was shaking her head. “It’s who I am,” she said in a stricken voice. “It’s what I am! I can’t change that, not even for you.” She rose from the sofa and pulled her coat over slumping shoulders. She looked, he thought, so small and forlorn.
    “You’re leaving, just like that?” asked a stunned Ellis, standing up too.
    “I have to,” she said. “I can see now how I hurt you, just being what I am. I can’t continue to do that to you, Ellis. I love you far too much.” He thought he spotted tears in her eyes. He took a step forward, but she pulled back and stepped toward the door, to depart for the final time. “I didn’t intend to fall in love,” she told him, turning back. “I’ve never been in love before.” Then she added on a sad note, “it just happened.” And she was gone.
    Ellis sat back on the sofa and stared for a long time at the closed door. Suddenly, his head began to throb again. He turned to stare out the window, and saw there the solitary cypress which dominated the swampy morass that was his tiny back yard. He ran his fingers lightly over the worn cloth upholstery of the sofa and things seemed to fade out for just a moment. Then he came to and could hear and feel the cold, harsh wind whistling through the openings in the unadorned walls. He reflected that tomorrow was his birthday — he would be 71 years old. A big black cat leaped upon the back of the sofa and head bumped Ellis’s chin. “Good girl, Jenna,” he said, idly scratching the cat’s head. “Now,” he cautioned gently, “don’t you run away again.”

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...