Glamour, Sand and Ellen Page

This story is a bit long, but I tried to use the intro to build some kind of a story and make it a little romantic. Hopefully I'll make it worth your while to read. I'd love to hear what you think of it, positive or negative, so please leave a comment if you have the time. Thanks!

--------------------------------------------

The road is lined with marvelous trees and hedges, which are perfectly trimmed and manicured. It's a sign of hours of hard work and dedication, none of which were spent by the homeowner. I cruise along the endless road, reaching the grand parking lot at the end. Row upon row of Mercedes-Benz, BMW, Rolls Royce, Porsche, and other assorted luxury cars fill the lot. I roll up to the front, conspicuously driving past numerous people who eye me curiously. A man in a white suit jacket, fancy white hat and dress pants greets me as I get out of my car. My engine produces a rattling sound. My mechanic assures me it's not a serious problem.

"You have to turn the wheel a bit to the left when you're pulling the keys out," I say to the gentlemen in the white jacket as he enters my car. I adjust my tie in the reflection of the rear window before he drives off to park my '96 Corolla.

As I walk up the cobbled path to the house, I am able to take in its true size. It was completely made of stone, at least three stories high and was probably close to one hundred yards long. This house could hold a small village, yet it is the permanent residence of no one. It is one of the various houses my Uncle shares with the director Christopher Nolan and a few others in Hollywood. He is a cinematographer and has worked on nearly all of Nolan's films. It is my Uncle's fourth wedding with his third wife, and the first one I've been invited to.

The front door is made of iron, and is at least ten feet high. I imagine there must be a small crew designated for opening and closing it. Most of the party is in the large dance hall, which has a massive ceiling that stretches all the way to the roof, and houses dozens of chandeliers which are all equally magnificent as the one in the foyer. Here the rich and famous are congregated and broken off into small groups. I walk over to the bar. I have no intention of drinking alcohol; I have to drive myself home tonight. I order a soda with lime.

As I stare out across the room, I spot my cousin, the son of the groom. His short blond hair is completely spiked, and he wears a perfect amount of stubble on his chin. He, like me and handful of others in the room, wears a suit instead of a tuxedo. Unlike me, his suit is made by Giorgio Armani. It's a sharp grey ensemble that fits perfectly to his body. He only has one button done up at the front. He sips scotch or whiskey--I can't tell which--while he talks to a woman in a fantastic blue dress who is probably a model. She is billboard sexy.

She is laughing and grabbing at my cousins hand. He has never had a problem with women. He's arrogant, gorgeous and loaded. He pretends to stumble and grabs her breast. She laughs and smiles. Maybe she's playing along, or maybe she's too stupid to notice he's groping her. Either is viable.

He sees me, excuses himself, and walks over. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he gets closer.

"Hey Drew, how's it goin'?" He says, patting me on the back.

"Splendid, Nick, thanks."

"Glad to see you made it, thought the old rattlebox might crap out on you."

"You're referring to my car?" I ask. "My mechanic assures me--"

"Yeah, he assures you it's not a problem, I know."

"Then why would it break down on me?" I say, in confusion. I like screwing with him. He's not very bright.

"I'm just making conversation," he says, laughing and patting me on the back again. "Did you come here with anybody? A girl?"

"No."

"Then why are you standing here? There's a room full of gorgeous, single, women who are looking for a one night stand--a fuck and forget."

"You know I'm not very good with women," I say. That's not true--just most women.

"It's only 'cause you've never tried. It's easy. Open with a joke. Always talk about her, she doesn't want to hear about you. Be assertive, confident. You've got to be the biggest motherfucker in the room and she has to feel it."

"Not right now," I say. He needs to disappear.

"How long has it been since you've dated someone? Or given someone the gift that is your cock?"

"What does it matter?"

"What does it matter?" he says, repeating me. "Are you not horny? Are you not itching to get any one of these girls and take her home tonight?"

"No."

"Then why are you here? So you can drink tonic water all night?" I don't answer him, hoping he'll leave.

"Alright, well suit yourself," he says, and he walks away.

The girl he was groping before has moved onto another guy, equally handsome and probably equally charming. Nick looks discouraged, but circles around, looking for more prey. He spots a girl standing against the wall on the far the side of the room. She's small and has brown hair. That's all I can distinguish from where I'm standing. I can hear his words in my head: 'Open with a joke, flatter her'. He approaches her and says something. She doesn't laugh; I can't tell whether she smiles. I decide to move closer, and find myself standing against the side wall, not forty feet away.

The woman is Ellen Page. She's in Juno and Inception, Nolan's latest blockbuster. I can't hear what they're saying, but I can see their reactions. He tells a joke, he laughs at it. She smiles. He continues to talk to her, and she listens, responding with a couple of nods, and smiles.

The band starts to play a slow jazzy tune. Within a minute most of the room is paired up in a slow dance. Nick extends his hand to Ellen. She shakes her head, and I see her lips mouth "I don't dance". He asks again, she still says no. He insists, but she shakes her head at him and walks away. He watches her move through the swaying crowd. Leaning against the wall, he sighs. He storms off towards the bar. I have never seen him get turned down by a woman, ever.

I watch the guests dance, one hand in the other's, one hand on his shoulders, one hand on her waist, or ass. They are smiling at each other. He looks in her eyes or down her shirt, and she looks in his eyes.

Ellen Page reappears, moving through the crowd as she had before. She is moving in my direction, and it is until she's twenty feet away that I realize she is staring at me. I stand up from the wall, clear my throat and sip my drink.

"Is he gone?" she asks.

"Is who gone?"

"Don't act like you don't know, I saw you watching."

"Is he tall, handsome, dressed like a millionaire, arrogant as a millionaire?"

"Yes, him," she confirms.

"He's gone off to the bar," I reply, looking into my glass. "He's my cousin."

"I feel sorry for you."

"Well, it's not terrible. His dad pays for my tuition. I just have to play nice, and make him feel loved." I look to her for the first time. "He's never been turned down by a woman before."

"I wouldn't doubt it, I had a real hard time with it," she says. Sarcasm, I hope. She takes a sip from her glass of water.

"So what about you?" She asks. "Do you get turned down a lot?"

"I don't ask a lot."

"Scared?"

"Maybe a bit, but I'm more disinterested than anything." I explain.

"Disinterested? Are you gay?"

"No, not like that. I'm just not very interested in the average person. People bore me."

"You must be fascinated by your cousin then. He's a fine specimen," she says. I'm sure I detect a hint of sarcasm. I nod my head, not knowing what to say next.

"Well I don't want to continue boring you, so I'll just--"

"No, don't please. I enjoy talking to you." That's the truth. I'm fascinated by her resistance to Nick.

"Oh really? So are you telling me I'm special? Above average?"

I open my mouth to speak, but say nothing. All I do is shrug. She laughs, and turns to the twirling crowd.

"Care for a dance?" She asks, extending her hand.

"I thought you don't dance?"

"That's only what I tell stupid people. 'Average people'." I wonder what Nick would think if he knew she thought of him as stupid. Or 'average'. He'd probably be more offended by 'average'.

"Sure, I'll dance," I say, kneeling and putting my drink down.

I give her my hand and she leads us to an empty spot on the dance floor. She swings around and throws both arms loosely around my neck, ignoring the hand in hand position everybody else is in. I grab her waist and we waddle in a circle to the rhythm of the song. She's is many inches shorter than me, and has to crane her neck to meet my eyes.

"I'm Drew," I say to her.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Ellen." I decide to pretend I don't know her already.

Her hair is tied up in a loose bun at the back, and her bangs are splayed across the side of her face. She smells of roses.

"You smell like roses," I tell her.

"Thanks, it's my new perfume," she says in a wry smile. She leans in and gives me a whiff. "You smell like a real man."

I don't know what to make of the comment; I hadn't put on any cologne, or deodorant for that matter.

Her eyes are the colour of melted chocolate, and sparkle like topaz as they reflect the dozens of chandeliers hanging in the ceiling. They're small, cute and gentile like the rest of her face.

"You have beautiful eyes, Ellen."

"Well aren't you a sweetheart?" she says rhetorically.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Nick watching us from across the room. Ellen sees him and smiles. He watches me dance with the only girl who's ever turned him down. The same girl who closes her eyes, pulls my head down, and gives me a soft, delicate kiss on the lips. They're warm and plump and I can taste spearmint on her breath as she locks our mouths. Taken by surprise, I don't do much to react and before long it's over. I see the back of Nick's head as he storms out of the hall. Ellen is beaming. My heart and mind are racing. The song ends, and everyone is applauding.

Nick was right about one thing--it has been a long time since I've dated somebody. I've forgotten what it is to have feelings for another person. Those emotions have lied dormant for years, and are now resurfacing because of the lips of Ellen Page. I'm unsure of what it is about her. She's very attractive, but in a room full of movie stars good looks are not hard to come by. I hardly know her, so I can't possibly comment on her personality. However, I'm plainly very interested in her, which is something I don't find myself saying about most people. Perhaps it's the fact she is unlike most people. She wears a plain black dress, and while it is elegant, it is nothing like the glamorous rainbow of sparkling outfits which are worn by nearly every other woman in the room. She drinks water, not because she is forced to but because she chooses to. And she is the only woman I've known to reject Nick and his phony façade. Not only did she reject it, but threw it in his face. I've never met a girl like her before, and this must be why I'm so infatuated with her.

I can feel the warmth of blood in my cheeks. They must be a magnificent magenta. Ellen blushes a bit too, but she doesn't break her dazzling smile. The murmur of dozens of conversations returns to the room as the guests reform their groups and pick up where they left off. We don't say anything for a long time.

"It's kind of hot in here don't you think?" Ellen says, breaking the silence. "Care to join me for a walk?"

It must be close to midnight. The only light we'll have is the moon.

"I could go for a walk," I say. My reasoning and common sense is gone. I'd follow Ellen off a cliff.

We weave through the crowd and find our way out the back door. The moon is almost full, and illuminates the cloudless sky and the coast line. Small, gentle rolling hills covered in long, wispy grass stretch across the landscape. They smooth out to a sandy beach at the water. Ellen hops through the grass, running her hands through the blades as she goes. When she gets to the sand she flings off her shoes and sprints down to the water, where she stops. I catch up to her, and having also discarded my shoes and socks, join her in the shallow water, letting the waves lap at our ankles.

Ellen stands with her arms spread out, the wind playing with her bangs. She breathes deep and long, and stares into space, blinking. Her lips are parted. I can taste spearmint in my mouth.

"This place reminds me of home," she says longingly. I watch the reflection of the shimmering water in her eyes as she gazes at the sea. For a while no one says anything.

"I'm sorry for kissing you so unexpectedly earlier. I promise I'll never do it again," she says.

"Oh, don't do that."

She turns to me, with a cheeky smile. I wink at her.

We turn back and take a seat on the beach, staring out at the rolling waves. She plays in the sand, as if she's making a sand castle. She picks sand up between her toes, raises it, and then drops it. Suddenly, she stops.

"Oh my god, Drew, I've got the best idea."

I look at her.

"Have you ever been skinny dipping?"

"As in swimming naked?" I ask. She nods her head. "No, I haven't."

"Have you ever wanted to?"

"I've never really thought about it." I say.

"Think about it now. Do you want to?"

I don't say anything. I am perplexed.

"I'd understand if you don't, if you're a bit shy," she says. I wonder what someone would say if they saw us. I take a long pause, before deciding.

"Why not," I say, shrugging my shoulders and chuckling.

She smiles and bites her bottom lip. "I'll go first."

With that, she hops to her feet. She unzips her dress hastily, and pulls it over her head. It lands in the sand with a plop. Her newly exposed skin glows in the moonlight. I look up, and see her toss her bra on top of her dress. I watch her skip down to the water, awkwardly stepping out of her panties on the way, before running into the sea, naked as the day she was born. She turns around and falls into the water on her back. I catch a glimpse of her nipples before she goes under. I think she is smiling at me.

"Your turn!" She yells out.

Ellen Page sits, within shouting distance of me, naked. There is only one way I can get any closer to her.

I pull off my pants and belt, and toss them in my own pile. They land with a plop. I hustle out of my jacket and shirt, but my inexperienced fingers fumble with the buttons. I give up and pull it over my head, half-unbuttoned. Mimicking her, I jog down to the water, kicking sand and stepping out of my boxers along the way. The breeze is cool against my exposed groin. The water is freezing, and before long I'm waist deep in ocean.

She drifts over to me, staying beneath the waves the whole time.

"I like the way your junk bounces when you run," she says. I have no response. A silence ensues.

We move out into deeper waters, and I stop when it gets to her shoulders. It doesn't take long. She has managed to keep her hair dry. She chews gum, I can smell spearmint. We stare at the waves for a long time.

"Hey Drew, guess what?" She asks, breaking the silence. She slowly saunters over to me. I can see the moon in her eyes. We both shudder when her rock hard nipple brushes over my bicep as she leans up and cups both hands around my ear. She whispers, "I'm naked."

"I know," I reply, smiling.

"No, now you have to say it, but louder."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"Okay, 'I'm naked'," I say in a normal speaking voice.

"Good." She turns to the open sea. "I'm naked," she exclaims triumphantly. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. "Your turn."

"I'm naked," I shout.

"I'm naked!" She screams.

"Okay, this is stupid..." I say.

"No, it's fun. Go."

"What is the point--"

"Just do it," she says, interrupting me. My chest heaves in a deep sigh.

"I'm naked!" I roar, nearly at the top of my lungs. I quickly turn around to see if anyone has come out to the shore to inspect the scene we were creating. I'm surprised to find myself laughing.

"No one's coming, don't worry," she says giggling and spinning me around. "Okay, we're going to do the next one together, as loud as we can. Ready, three--Oh come on! It'll be fun! Three, two, one..."

We both inhale. Ellen has both hands around her mouth for maximum volume.

"I'M NAKED!" My body shakes as I propel the words out into the night. I feel as though my auditory health is jeopardized.

Quickly, the air is quiet again. In the silence I realize how loud we were screaming. Ellen starts laughing, and laughing. She stumbles over and collapses on my shoulder, still laughing. I can see her small breasts in the dip of each wave that passes us by. Eventually she starts to breathe again, and recovers from her fit. Soon she is coughing and taking deep breaths and standing under her own power. She sighs, and stares at me.

"Thanks for coming out here with me," she says calmly.

"It's my pleasure." I should be thanking her. A breeze rolls over us. She is shivering. I am shivering too.

"Pretty cold isn't it?" she asks. I nod. She looks back to the coastline. "Hey, I've got a question... now that we're all wet, what do we do now?"

I scour the shore, and spot a gazebo or some kind of shelter, where I think there might be a pool. I point to it.

"I think there's a pool there. Maybe there are towels there too."

"Worth a shot. Hopefully I'll make it there before I freeze." She looks to me. "I'll race you."

She takes off, and starts trudging through the water. She's very slow at first, but as the water gets shallower she starts splashing wildly. I'm right behind her, and the salty spray from her frantic running splashes into my mouth. She turns around, and before I can react, trips me and sends me falling into the water. By the time I've recovered, she's on shore, laughing like a maniac, and moving her little legs as fast as they will take her. Her equally little butt bounces with each stride. I blame it for distracting me and slowing me down. There is a small cabinet under the roof, and she stands before it with the door open, not moving. I finally catch up to her, and look inside. There is only one towel.

We look at each other, but say nothing. She reaches in and takes the towel, unfolding it. She slowly wraps it around my back, over my shoulders, but there still a lot left that hangs over my arms. She stands a few feet away from me. Her toes are pointed together. Her nipples look as hard as diamond. For a while we stand, staring at each other, not saying anything. Her hair blows in the wind, she tries to hide the fact that she is shivering.

I outstretch my arms, inviting her to join me in the towel. She doesn't move, and looks repeatedly from my naked body to my eyes. She takes one step, very slowly. Her arms are crossed. She takes another step, very slowly. She avoids looking me in the eyes as she gets closer. When she steps into my arms, she is facing away from me so her shoulder is in my chest. She is cold, and still very wet. She stares at the ocean while she violently shakes under the towel. Her side is pressed against my body, against my crotch.

Eventually her shaking calms down. She turns to face me and looks me in the eyes. She wraps both arms around my torso. I can feel my penis press against her belly.

"You're so warm," she says.

I rub her back with the towel, drying her off. I stop at her waist. She stands on the tips of her toes, kissing me on the neck and bringing her butt cheeks into my hands. I take that as an invitation, and continue to dry off her body. I avoid grabbing or any other sort of sexual behavior, and simply rub and pat down her legs. She's holding onto me the entire time.

When I finish she turns around, pushing her butt against my thighs. She pulls the towel down and brings her arms out, and places her hands over mine. We slowly caress her abdomen, and move up to her chest. Special attention is given to her breasts. She takes her hands off mine, and allows me to gently massage them dry. I can hear the wind escape her lips as she exhales.