Donna and the Elephant

Nellie sidled up to me at work one morning. I think I mentioned that aside from her duties as bartender at the Old Jill and Whistle, she also works in my office. I knew it was Nellie approaching my desk because there was a tital eclipse (spelling intentional) of the sun. I looked up and saw a nervous looking Nellie. I asked her what was worrying her. She sat down in a chair beside my desk and said,

‘I have a favour to ask.’ I told her I’d do anything I could for her. ‘Well, you know my Dad ran off with the woman from the Twerton fish and chip shop?’ I nodded. ‘Well, Mum won’t let him anywhere near the wedding so I haven’t got anyone to give me away. That means nobody to give the speech he should have given.’ I could see the problem. Nellie’s fiancé was from a wealthy family and intended their super sport star son was going to have a proper send off into married life. This was putting some pressure on Nellie whose family was not exactly loaded. I still couldn’t see how I could help. ‘I was wondering if you’d give me away?’

You may appreciate I was flabbergasted. Before I could recover from the shock, Nellie continued. ‘I want you to be my Matron of Honour and say a few words like my Dad would have if he’d been there. Please say you will. You’re my best friend.’ I agreed, hiding my reluctance since I loved Nellie and wanted her to be happy. I didn’t fancy the job at all but, well, you do things for friends because they are friends, no?

Donna thought this was an absolute hoot. We went to the pub after I had told her about Nellie’s request and found the pub quiet and Nellie indolently washing a few glasses. She stopped when we got to the bar and gave us wine on the house to thank me for agreeing.

‘She’ll have to mention your tits, Nellie.’ Nellie looked aghast but Donna continued, ‘They are your magnificent signature, Nell. Everyone will be thinking about them and you know you’ll have them proudly on display. If she doesn’t say anything they will be like,’ and here Donna paused for dramatic effect, ‘They’ll be like the elephant in the room.’ I couldn’t help myself. I almost choked on my wine and some of it went up my nose from inside my mouth. When I had recovered I was surprised but pleased to see Nellie was laughing too. She was roaring with laughter in fact. I had nearly peed my pants but hadn't been sure Nellie’d take it so well.

She hefted her tits onto the bar and stroked them affectionately. ‘Well, if anyone’s going to say anything it about them it had better be College.’

Donna patted my arse appreciatively. ‘She will look like Pippa Middleton, Nell, so you’ll have to be ready for some competition.’

‘So will you, Bee Stings,’ said Nellie kindly. ‘Half the rugby team will be wanting to convert College to the Church of Hampton.’ (Author’s note: for our American cousins, this is an example of rhyming slang, originally created by cockneys to confound the Peelers or Police – a sort of code. In this instance ‘Hampton’ means Hampton Wick and the rhyme is obvious). Her use of the soubriquet ‘Bee Stings’ reflected their healthy breast-related banter.

The pub became a bit busier and Donna and I retired to dyke corner (as it had become known), our usual seats. ‘Elephant in the room! How could you?’

‘Well, it’s true, College. You’ll have to make some comment or one of the blokes will and he won’t get it as right as you will.’ I loved her faith in me. ‘And don’t you worry about making a speech. You have gifts and you’ll make her happy.’ I kissed her and a small cheer went up from the Tit Supporters Club at the bar. Donna said, ‘We ought to get badges made up for that lot! Perhaps we could do a newsletter for members. We could call it “Keep Abreast with Nellie.” Not my idea – some blonde tart said it to me the other night.’ Her foot caressed my leg under the table. ‘One more glass, College, then I’m taking you home.’

I don’t want you to think that life with Donna was one long round of sex. We did other things too but I cannot deny we had a healthy and active physical side to our relationship and, on our return home later that evening, Donna decided we might explore each other on the sofa. It got a bit steamy and by the end of it the room was scattered with clothing and my hair was distinctly bedraggled. I showered and made some coffee and carried the cups through to rejoin Donna on the sofa. I nestled against her and she kissed my damp hair.

‘Father of the Bride, eh, College? And there’s you always saying you’d never have kids.’ She cupped a breast, ‘No-one will believe it, it’s genetically unsound.’ I kissed her coffee tasting lips.

‘What are you going to wear to the wedding?’

Donna mused on this for a few moments. ‘I’ll wear a dress if you’d like me to.’ I smiled. ‘But there’s a condition.’ I looked questioningly in to her lovely blue and brown eyes. ‘You have to promise to wear the stockings. And,’ she added, 'keep them on in bed after.’ Who could refuse her that?