by Dee Ellis
Dear Sexy Swimmer by Dee Ellis
© 2019 by Dee Ellis. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
Cover Design: Dandelion Cover Designs
Interior Design: Dee Ellis for Indies Ink
Publisher: Hummingbird Press
Maia
Maia
Pike
Pike
Maia
Pike
The Matchmaker Shorts
Dee Ellis
Dee’s Other Books
Maia
Dear Sexy Swimmer,
Feels like now my week begins once I get my letter from you. Until then I'm just waiting. For word from you, for updates about your week, your life. For a chance to update you about mine. What do you think that means?
How was your holiday? Quiet holidays make me wonder about families. About how different they all are. And how my own might be some day.
Desperate. I feel like my words sound desperate. Mostly because it seems I feel desperate lately. With every letter sent, and every one received I grow more desperate. Every single week I decide I won’t write another letter. It’s foolish, pointless, and pathetic. And yet every single week I send my letter right on schedule.
A few months ago, tired of spending my nights with wine and Hallmark movies, I signed up for a dating service. Guess I’m a bit old-fashioned because instead of using apps to hookup or websites to post profiles, I chose to exchange letters with likely matches. Grace Graham at What the Heart Wants is known for her matchmaking prowess so I thought why not?
Admittedly it was strange to sit down and write about myself to a stranger. I thought for sure it would take a few misses to truly be matched with someone I wanted to write to. Until I opened that first letter. Clearly Grace knows what she’s doing because that first letter had me hooked.
Dear Sexy Gem,
Someone who knows about matches thinks we are a perfect match.
After I got your profile, I think Grace might be right. Couldn’t wait to write to you. Something about that profile called to me. Sounds like a terrible line now that I write it, but I mean it.
I like that your pen name is Sexy Gem. Something about your profile makes me feel like I found a diamond in the rough.
Waiting for your words,
Sexy Swimmer
XOXO
For the past few months my Sexy Swimmer has done just that. At least one letter a week. Lately it's been more like two or three a week, to be honest. I crave opening my mailbox every single day. Opening that box to see my name in his handwriting shoots excitement through me like nothing else.
At first we wrote about the basics. While keeping a little mystery. I let him know I was a teacher at a university. He let me know he was a swimmer training for Olympic trials. We talked about where we were from—he was here from Colorado where his whole family still is and I told him about my move here from a tiny Montana town.
I told him I am a new teacher but not that I’ll be starting at Blackburn College. He knows I’m single but not because my high-school sweetheart eloped with my sister. Safe to say I didn’t tell him I hadn’t been home since my entire family seemed perfectly fine with their nuptials.
It was just about the only thing I had not yet admitted to him. We talk about movies and music, books, what we like to do for fun. I told him how much I enjoy making jewelry and being creative. He has told me how much he wants to be something more than a swimmer, though he’s not sure what since it’s all he’s ever worked towards.
Took us three letters to admit our names. Four more for him to convince me to send a photo. My eyes fly to the photo that’s pinned to the board above my desk. Inside my chest my heart kicks up, my thighs quiver, and my insides twist.
Smiling back at me is a Goddamn Adonis. Sun-kissed sandy blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, sharp jaw with the fairest dusting of stubble. Lean and muscular, his swimmer body is all sharp angles with dips and curves I want to lick. White teeth flash a dimpled crooked smile.
And... he is absolutely drenched. Much like my panties.
Smiling up at whoever is behind the lens, sun shines down on him as waves crash around him. In his natural habitat, I suppose. It’s a glorious image. One I seem to picture every single time I close my eyes.
“Pull back from the edge of pathetic, Maia.” I grumble as I throw my pen down and look out the window beyond my desk.
It’s a lovely fall afternoon with a crisp breeze and shining sun. I could be out in it. Could be living out there instead of pretending in here. A little whine comes from my feet and I smile, reaching down to fluff my dog Booker’s ears.
“Come on Book,” I smile as I hook his leash up, “Let’s go pretend to be normal for the neighbors, huh?” He barks once as if to agree and we head out.
Before I hit thirty, I was all about normal. I had my life figured out. Plan A: I’d be a wife, a mother, and make a home for my husband. Plan B: Maybe I’d teach someday. Instead I was forced to go with Plan B as my Plan A ran off with my sister.
Booker makes his rounds out in our courtyard before we head back inside. After pouring him dinner and warming my own in the microwave, I’m back to my letter. Wondering what a fool I’m being. Pining over a man I only know through words on paper and a photo.
Still, those words and that photo make me feel things I never knew possible.
Dear Sexy Swimmer
Monday is my first day with a new class. Never been so nervous in my life. I don’t know if I’m in over my head or not. I was never sure this was what I wanted to do. It is just what made sense to do. I don’t know if that is why I am so nervous. Because I don’t know if I want to do it.
How do you deal with nerves before a swim meet? How do you find faith in yourself to go out there and give it your all? And how do you do it over and over again? And win? Because you always win, I have no doubts. I want to see you win. I can’t wait to come watch and cheer for you!
Pretty sure that is the fourth hint I’ve dropped about wanting to meet up. Someplace safe. Someplace that allows me an escape if this thing is all in my head. I write a little more about my class schedule before signing off the same way I always do.
Until I get your words again,
Sexy Gem
XOXO
“Not pathetic or anything, right Books?” I sigh and ready the letter for the post before I shower and call it a night.
Pathetic or not every word I have put on paper to him has been real. Me, raw, uncensored and honest—more so than I ever have dared to be. For the first time in my life I don’t hold back anything about myself, about my wishes, and my wants. And if that’s pathetic, I’m okay with that.
Pike ‘Sexy Swimmer’ Paine either can take my pathetic or leave it.
Maia
Dear Sexy Gem,
Truth be told my week doesn’t start until I get your words and it doesn’t end until I send you mine. Monday will be great for you; you are brilliant and kind so your students will adore you. I have no doubts. You should not either.
I have so much faith in you. Enough to carry you through anything you will ever do. Any doubt you will ever face. I believe in you, baby.
I read Pike’s letter once again—for about the dozenth time—as I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. A slow smile curves my lips as I shake myself, peering out at the empty classroom in front of me. Ten minutes before I
find out if his words are true.
Ten minutes before I become a teacher.
My time at Oak Ridge University had not fully prepared me for this. I joined Mi Alpha Alpha, fully enjoyed my youth, and graduated with a masters reserved for someday if Plan B happened. Turns out, someday is today.
While I'm terrified—it's a college English Literature course in a big city—I find I'm excited too. And because of Pike’s sweet letter, I feel my doubts fade away as I tuck it into my skirt pocket. I pat it once as the doors open and draw strength from his sweet words.
It is a slow start for me after my first class fills up. Barely able to say my name, knees shaking, hands trembling, I start my first day as a teacher a nervous mess. Until I feel the weight of that letter in my pocket. After, I say my name with a smile and the punch of confidence I need to lead a class.
By my last class—I will lead five a day—I feel like a real teacher. As each class comes and goes, I find myself growing excited about it. About talking English and literature with these students, working through my syllabus, and growing with them.
“Hello class, I'm Ms. Gamble,” I pat the letter in my pocket and a smile takes over my face, “Welcome to English 101. We will be...” Looking out over the class, I break off from the same speech I have given all day.
Two things happen at once. First, a thrill of need and want cuts through me so sharp and deep I stumble. Seconds later panic and shame flood me as I look into the eyes I have dreamt of for months.
Fantasies hardly did my Sexy Swimmer justice.
Pike Paine is something you need to see to appreciate.
Staring back at me with his bright blue eyes that sparkle in the sun pouring in from the windows, Pike looks as stunned as I feel. His silky blonde hair is short on the sides and messy on top, falling a little into his ice-blue eyes. Eyes that skim over me from my cheap stilettos to my threadbare cardigan.
Impossible. He cannot be here now. Here in my school, in my class. Pike’s letters led me to believe he was older and training for trials for the Olympics. Not swimming between classes. Not that I know when training for the Olympics starts, I suppose.
Pike cocks his head as his intense gaze slides over me. Beneath that gaze heat feathers through me soft and slow until his eyes meet mine. A slow smirk twists his full mouth. Suddenly I feel so foolish. As if all our letters were some kind of game for him.
“We will be working with the syllabus I sent you all last week. Please let me know if you have questions or need more time to gather materials. If you do not, we will begin with an introduction to fiction next week. That is all for today.” It’s my fourth time giving the same speech but it sounds different. My voice is unsteady and unsure and I'm so angry I spin away from the class with tears in my eyes.
The letter in my pocket crinkles as if in cruel reminder of how foolish I am. I tear it out of my pocket and start to throw it in the trash. I can’t bring myself to do it though. I shove it back into my pocket and gather my things. Once I'm sure the class has emptied out, I swipe at my cheeks and turn to head out.
Just to be stopped once again by what I find waiting for me.
“Class was dismissed.” I glance everywhere but at him, but there’s no one left but us.
“Class was dismissed. Not here for class right now, Maia.” I wince as Pike says my name soft and sweet just like I imagined he would.
“Meaning you are here for what, Pike?” I speak his name into the cavernous space between us.
Space Pike eats up in four long strides. Startling me, he reaches both hands out to cup my face, tipping my jaw back. Staring down into my eyes, he smiles the same smile from the photo I have adored for months. Something lights in his eyes as he shakes his head.
I want to be angry. I want to believe I am foolish and stupid for signing up for the matchmaking service. I even want to be furious at Grace for pairing me with someone so much younger. Someone who can’t possibly want his teacher.
I am none of those things. Instead I feel relief to be so close to him at last. Pike presses against me and for the first time in ages, I don’t feel alone. I feel the way I feel every time I am reading his letters. I feel connected to him in a way I have waited so long for.
And when he speaks, when his eyes flash, I realize he feels the same way.
“I'm here for you now. My Sexy Gem.” Pike husks as he blocks the fading sun while pressing into me.
Standing in the middle of my very first classroom on my very first day, Pike kisses me like a man kissing his woman instead of a student kissing his teacher.
Pike
Dear Sexy Gem,
Feels like I miss you between letters. How is that possible? Never felt anything like what your letters make me feel. I want to hear your voice. Look into your pretty brown eyes and tell you what you do to me. And I want you to tell me if I make you feel the same way.
I hope I do.
Before this matchmaking business, I was lost. Lonely. I just wanted someone to talk to, honestly.
But this, Maia…it is so much more than having someone to talk to. It is so much more than a few words exchanged between strangers. I don’t feel like you are a stranger.
I feel like you are mine.
Maia tastes exactly the way I have spent the last months dreaming she would.
Claiming her mouth like I plan to claim the rest of her, I crush her to me as she pushes away. Because even as she pushes weakly at my chest, Maia melts into my chest with all her soft curves.
Curves I have waited months to feel beneath my hands.
Walking us backwards, I head for her desk even as my hands cup her plump ass. Maia gives me a sexy moan that makes my dick jerk in my jeans. Once I hear that sound, I want to do anything, give anything to hear it over and over again.
Walking into my English lit class still exhausted from practice I was less than enthusiastic. But I made a promise to myself—and to my Sexy Gem Maia—that I was going to smash it this year in and out of the pool. Looking up and seeing my woman leading the class gave me a whole new lease on that promise.
In all the letters we shared, we never talked about what college she would be teaching at. Never talked about what college I attended. Talked about all the important shit that had me falling for her more with every letter.
Dear Sexy Swimmer,
Hope training is going well. I'm certain you will blow them away at your trials. I have no doubts. I have faith in you, Pike. Truly, I do. Can’t wait until we step out of these words and into the flesh.
Feeling that sweet silky flesh beneath my hands as I lift her atop her desk makes my cock ache. Signing up for that damned matchmaking place had been a way for me to not feel so lonely. Before, all I had was swimming. For a while it had been enough.
Now, I had her words. Knew what she looked like and imagined what she felt like, what she sounded like. Now swimming wasn’t nearly enough.
I never expected to find Maia.
But the moment I read her profile and saw she wanted to go old fashioned with hand written letters, I was intrigued. Before I even held her photo in my hand, I was hooked.
Hooked by words that made me feel connected to her in ways I never knew possible.
I never once shared with someone the things I share with her. I never really dated but each letter we send feels like another date. Another chance to open up to one another. And every letter I get back gives me a little more of her. I am so hooked she has no idea.
All my life I was headed towards a goal. Gold. Get the gold. Win. Swim, win, repeat. When I realized that was all I was expected to do I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it at all. But until Maia, I had never told anyone how I felt. Never told anyone else I wanted more.
Before I started reading her letters and writing my own, I wasn’t sure what more I wanted. But, now, I do. I want something outside of the water, beyond the gold. I will win gold because it’s what I have spent my life training to do. Now, I know I want more and I can have it.
; I want a life with Maia.
I want all the things we talked about. And over the past few months, we have talked about plenty. About all the things we want to do and how many of them we want to do together.
Maia wants to make jewelry but teaching is safe. I don’t want her to be safe. I want her to do what feeds her soul. And I want to be part of what feeds her soul. The way she feeds mine.
Maia moans as I slip my hands beneath her skirt and my hips jerk between her thick thighs. Fuck, that sound. Mixed with the weight of her big soft tits against my chest and her heat welcoming my throbbing cock home, I can barely hold back.
“Waited to kiss those lips and hear those sounds for months, baby.” Maia tangles her hands in my hair as I work my lips down her jaw to the column of her throat. Beneath my lips, her pulse thrums and drives me wild as it beats against my tongue.
“Pike... we can’t do... that here.” I grunt when I realize what ‘that’ means as my fingers hook into her panties.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby. Want you spread out completely bare in my bed where I can take my time with you. Can’t help how badly I need to touch you now, Maia. Thought I had weeks to go before I got my hands on you.” I bite at her neck as her hips roll her sex against the press of my dick.
“Weeks?” Maia sounds needy and fuck if the brush of her hard nipples against my chest doesn’t confirm how needy she is.
“Swim meet. Promised me you’d come for me. Lift your hips or I’m tearing these panties off. Gong to make you come for me now.” I growl as I tug at the lacy scrap, needing it out of my way.
For weeks I counted down the days until she kept her promise. I knew my woman was shy and a date or meet up somewhere random would never happen. But she promised me that she’d be at my meet. Both of us made sure to mention my coming meet every single letter.