Something penetrated the fog in her brain. A noise. A mumble. A breathy gasp.
Through the crack in the door, she saw a tumble of sheets on the bed. Frank's voice, low, "Did you hear the door?"
And Mobeen, answering. "No. Carry on..."
Ciara smiled, and the fog cleared a little. She crept back downstairs, grabbed a pastry from the kitchen, and wandered out to the summerhouse at the bottom of the garden. She slid into her hammock and rocked to and fro.
The induction was over. She'd achieved her aim. She was complete. Was she going to book Danny for more private sessions?
She thought maybe not. Not for a while, at any rate.
And Frank and Mobeen?
She was happy for him. She knew it was going to cause him spiritual discomfort, but she was sure they could work through it.
Mobeen had a good body.
She wondered if she might even convince Frank of a threesome. It seemed unlikely. But then, even having an affair had been unlikely. She realised she was proud of him for giving in to his lust.
And she did like a challenge. The induction with Danny was over. But her sexual journey was not: she had a new target, now.
Ciara finished the pastry and tumbled into a deep, restorative sleep.
###The end ###
About the author:
Gia Vanna is a British author with a love of history, discipline and sexy stories. She is keen to show independent, feisty heroines who only choose to submit to the very best of men; and a sucker for an old-fashioned hero!
You can find all of Gia Vanna’s books on Amazon and follow her on Facebook!
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The Naked CEO & The Horny Freshmen Interns
A Modern Gay Sex Christmas Carol # 5
© 2012 Rod Mandelli
A voice called out across the boarding school cafeteria, "Dickteaser Splooge! Merry Effin' Christmas!" A terrible cough followed.
Dickteaser and the Spirit of XXX-Mas Past tracked the gaze of the younger version of Dickteaser as he looked to see who had called his name. A rail thin young man unwrapped his scarf and smiled broadly. His wireframe glasses fogged up from the change in temperature from the outside. He had bony features and his delicate lips were turned blue from the cold.
"Frank!" the young Dickteaser said in surprise. "What are you doing here? You left campus two days ago when classes ended."
"I've come to bring you home."
"Home?" Dickteaser asked.
"Well, to my house anyway, for the Christmas break," Frank explained. "I couldn't stand the thought of the nicest guy in school stuck here over the holidays on campus by himself. I asked my parents if you could stay with us and they loved the idea. My mother said the house has been too quiet at Christmas ever since my older brother got married and moved out two years ago. You can stay in his old room."
Dickteaser high-fived his friend. "Frank, that's so thoughtful of you. I don't know what to say."
Frank coughed again. "Sorry, this cold is driving me nuts. Anyway, say yes and let's go back to the dorm and get your stuff. My dad is waiting outside. We've got a three hour drive back to our house now and we want to get home in time to open presents tonight."
"But I won't have anything to give, I'll feel so awkward..."
"You just come and be yourself, Dickteaser, telling jokes, making everybody laugh, like you do here in school every day, and that's more than enough."
"Thanks, Frank, you're a real friend." Dickteaser smiled and slapped his buddy on the back as they left the cafeteria. Frank coughed one last time as he fastened his scarf on his way out the door.
The Spirit of XXX-Mas Past and the older Dickteaser watched the two younger guys walk away. The emo ghost commented, "I'm partial to skinny guys myself, but Frank there seemed like a strong winter wind could blow him over. Always a delicate creature, but with a large heart."
"Yes," agreed Splooge.
"He died young, did he not?" the ghost asked.
"Yes," Splooge acknowledged with a lump in his throat. "Those colds he always got turned into serious lung infections. Eventually, it was just too much for his lungs and they..." Dickteaser couldn't finish his sentence.
"Despite the stereotype to match his looks, Frank wasn't gay, was he? He later married a wife and had children, I believe?" the ghost prompted.
"One child," Splooge returned.
"True," said the ghost. "And that child is now all grown up and he is your neighbor. What is it you call him again?"
"Flaming Fred," Splooge admitted in a voice barely above a whisper and with downcast eyes.
"Indeed," said the ghost.
After giving Dickteaser a moment to stew in his own juices, so to speak, the ghost declared that it was time to move on to another past Christmas Eve in Dickteaser's life. He placed the skateboard on the cafeteria floor. "Hop on!" Dickteaser tightened the belt of his bathrobe and stepped up. "You know what to do next," the spirit told Splooge as he tweaked his nipple ring with the back of his black-colored fingernails.
Dickteaser obeyed, giving the ghost's nipple ring a good pull. The skateboard lurched forward at an incredible speed. The emo apparition laughed like he was on an amusement ride and Dickteaser grabbed the ghost's arm to steady himself. The cold feel of flesh surprised Splooge, but there was little time to think of that as the skateboard raced towards the wall. Dickteaser closed his eyes just as the tip of the board hit the wall.
When he opened his eyes again, the skateboard was calmly rolling to a stop on a carpeted floor in the busy hallway of a skyscraper office building. As they approached the double glass doors of an advertising agency at the end of the hallway, the ghost said, "Do you know this place?"
"Know it!" Splooge said. "I was a college intern here!"
Splooge jumped off the skateboard with a spring in his step. They entered the offices and Splooge felt a rush of nostalgia just as he did every time he watched an episode of Mad Men since their sets reminded him so much of the real office he had worked in. A distinguished looking thirty-eight-year-old in a suit was looking over the sketches of a younger employee and complimenting him on the great job he had done. The older man made a couple suggestions and gave the employee an encouraging pat on the back. The employee said he would take another pass at the drawing and give the client exactly what he wanted.
When the man in the suit turned around to move to another desk, Splooge cried out, "It's old Jizziwig! Bless his heart; it's Jizziwig alive again!"
Mr. Jizziwig was the CEO and founder of Jizziwig & Associates, a successful advertising firm. Mr. Jizziwig checked his watch. He rubbed his hands together with excitement. It was time! "Dickteaser. Peter. Come here, please." The younger version of Dickteaser, who was now a college freshman came rushing over to Mr. Jizziwig accompanied by his fellow freshman intern, Peter Johnson.
The older Splooge remarked to the Spirit of XXX-Mas Past, "I can't believe it. Peter Johnson! We were such good friends in college." Dickteaser had forgotten over the years how cute Peter was. Peter wore a white dress shirt and a dark green Christmas tie. His cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled up several times, revealing fine strands of hair on his forearms. Peter's brown hair was neatly combed to one side with a distinctive part. There was a little wisp that stuck up in the front. Peter achieved that look by coating his fingers with hair gel and flicking them through the front of his hair every morning. Peter had a full, round face and a beefy, football player's build.
Mr. Jizziwig clapped his hands and announced to everyone, "OK, guys. No more work tonight. It's Christmas Eve everyone! We need lots of room. Let's get this place ready to party!"
Dickteaser and Peter scrambled around that office like mice running from a hungry cat. They closed all the sketch pads and moved the easels. The two of them playfully taunted each other about which of the two was faster and getting more work done as they moved the potted plants near the waiting area chairs and the heavy electric typewriters off the secretaries' desks. They pushed all the desks and roll
ing chairs to one side of the wall so they could clear a large opening in the middle of the room. Dickteaser grabbed the vacuum cleaner and gave the newly exposed carpet a quick once over while Peter tore into several boxes of garland and festively hung strands of it from doorknobs, window blinds, and the chairs piled against the wall.
Over the next hour, a succession of people poured through the double glass doors of Jizziwig & Associates. All the employees who worked for their advertising agency came with their spouses or dates. The hired band members arrived with their various instruments and speakers. They played practice notes and melodies to get the instruments tuned. The tuxedo clad caterers carried trays of food and desserts covered in plastic wrap. It was a feast for the eyes as well as the stomach. Dickteaser happily inhaled the smell of fresh chocolate cake as they unwrapped the goodies. A bartender with a red bow tie and green vest came through the door wheeling a portable bar stocked with drinks.
When the preparations were finished, Mr. Jizziwig gave his traditional holiday speech thanking all the employees for their hard work over the previous year and crediting them for making him look so good in the advertising industry. He shook a strip of jingle bells and declared, "Let's get this party started!"
Everyone cheered wildly. The musicians picked up their instruments and played a rock and roll holiday song to start followed by many then-current hits. The drinks flowed freely. The employees piled that delicious food on their snow flake theme plates. The dancing was so intense that the partiers were able to work off all the calories from the desserts.
The older version of Dickteaser Splooge was so enthralled with all the sights, sounds, and memories of the party that he actually forgot for a few minutes that he was no longer an active participant in the merriment, but just an observer of a long ago event. He was reminded of that fact when the Spirit of XXX-Mas Past nudged him on the arm and directed his attention to the younger Splooge and Peter catching their breath and having a drink by a windowsill overlooking the city.
"This is totally the coolest party ever," said Peter.
"I know, right," agreed Dickteaser. "This is even better than the frat parties at the dorm."
"Totally, dude."
"I don't think I've ever had such fun."
"We're so lucky we got to be interns with Mr. Jizziwig."
"Someday, when I'm a CEO, I'm going to be the best boss in the world and throw parties for my employees just like this," young Splooge promised.
The two young men clinked their glasses together. They sipped their drinks and smiled, neither realizing that they were both secretly eyeing each other and wishing they could be partying, just the two of them, when the rest of the party ended!
Eavesdropping on their conversation, the Spirit of XXX-Mas Past commented to older Splooge, "Such a small matter, this party, to make these silly people so full of gratitude. Really, Jizziwig spent a few hundred dollars, perhaps a thousand, of your mortal money. Is that so much that he deserves such praise?"
Upset at this insult against Mr. Jizziwig, Splooge automatically leapt to his defense as if he were still the young and impressionable college intern. "It isn't that he spent so much or so little money. He has the power to make us happy at work or miserable at work. When you add up all the happiness he gives, it's quite as great as if it cost a fortune."
"I see," said the emo spirit. "In other words, a pat on the back when you're frustrated? Costs nothing. A genuine inquiry into how you're doing when you pass in the hallway? A moment of your time. A forgiving smile and word of encouragement when you've made a mistake on a client report? A second or two. Add them all together? Priceless!"
Splooge turned away from the ghost. "What's wrong?" the spirit asked him.
"Nothing in particular," said Splooge.
"Something, I think," the ghost insisted.
Splooge sighed and said. "I wish I could say a few words to my assistant, Bob Crotchlick, right now. That's all."
The emo ghost simply shrugged in response. No words were necessary. The message was as plain as if it was written on the ghost's scrawny bare chest: one should always say the proper words when one has the first chance to say them, as one may never get such a chance again.
"The party is winding down. Mr. Jizziwig is passing out holiday bonus envelopes to everyone. Let's check back in with younger you and Peter," the ghost suggested.
"Wow, I can't believe Mr. Jizziwig gave us bonuses too, just like the real employees!" Peter said tearing into his envelope the second the boss walked away.
"He never just treats us like lowly college interns," Splooge said opening his envelope with equal enthusiasm. "Oh, it's an invitation for tonight at midnight," Splooge said with surprise.
"Mine too," Peter confirmed.
The guys looked down at the papers in their hands which invited them to a private after-party in the CEO's office!
Peter and young Dickteaser looked at each other. Older Dickteaser and the Spirit of XXX-Mas Past exchanged glances as well. "I can't wait to see this," the ghost said. He flicked the wheels of his skateboard.
The emo ghost and the older version of Dickteaser were suddenly in the CEO's office which was located one floor above the area where the party had taken place. The room was dark except for the strange glow that emanated from the Spirit of XXX-Mas Past's nipple ring. The grandfather clock in the corner struck midnight.
The door opened slowly. A sliver of light from the hallway shone upon the leather couch inside the office. It also caught Mr. Jizziwig's stately oak desk in its beam.
"I can't see shit," Peter whispered.
"There's nobody here. This must be some kind of joke," Dickteaser whispered back.
"Then why are we whispering?"
"Beats me!"
"I bet one of the guys in the mailroom switched what was in our envelopes as a prank."
"Yeah, let's get out of here," Dickteaser suggested.
"Not so fast, gentlemen," a deep voice said in the dark.
The voice startled Peter so much that he accidentally shut the office door. A hand reached over and yanked the chain on the banker's lamp on the desk. It clicked and the light illuminated a large gold watch. There was no surprise that the hand belonged to Mr. Jizziwig as the boys knew he wore that watch every day.
They were, however, quite surprised to see his bare forearm as they had never seen his arms in anything but a long sleeve dress shirt and full suit jacket. He had a prominent naval tattoo of an anchor with an intertwined rope centered on his bicep, which bulged even without him purposefully flexing the muscle. Still, this surprise was nothing compared to the sight they took in as their eyes traveled up his arm to his shoulder - he was sitting at his desk shirtless!
The picture in front of him caused quite a stir in young Dickteaser's pants. He couldn't take his eyes off Jizziwig's defined pecs which were neatly covered in a layer of closely clipped hair. His nips popped off his chest and seemed to point down slightly due to their position toward the bottom curve of his well-developed pectoral muscle. The hair made a beautiful pattern on the thirty-eight-year-old CEO's chest as it seemed thicker towards the center and then faded out as it reached his shoulders and armpits. Dickteaser could tell that the CEO's stomach was also hairy, but it had been shaved that day so it had stubble on it, like a five o'clock shadow on a man's face.
"I, I think there's been a mistake," Peter blurted out.
"There has been no mistake, gentlemen," said Jizziwig as he rose from his seat.
Dickteaser's jaw dropped open. The light from the banker's lamp no longer illuminated Jizziwig's chest as it had done when he was sitting. From his boss's new standing position, with his face now in shadows, the light landed on Jizziwig's waist and upper thighs - his naked waist and upper thighs to be exact.
For the first time, Dickteaser understood the real meanings of the descriptions he had been reading in those dirty sex books since high school. Mr. Jizziwig had low hanging, bull balls. His scrotal sac reminded Splooge of the last t
wo onions in the bottom of a mesh onion package hanging on a hook in a kitchen. Then there was the slab of uncut meat resting between Jizziwig's man nuts. It had to be eight inches long and it wasn't even hard. Hell, it wasn't even semi-erect yet. The way the foreskin covered it and left a little round opening for the head made Splooge think the two were playing hide and seek. Staring at his boss's massive dong, young Splooge now knew what the phrase "one eyed man snake" meant.
Observing the scene and quite enjoying it, the Spirit of XXX-Mas Past said to older Splooge, "Am I the only one who sees the humor in the fact that everyone always referred to the company Christmas party as Mr. Jizziwig's Annual Holiday Ball?"
"Really!" older Dickteaser said in a voice intended to convey outrage while he was actually trying to suppress a smile.
"I don't wish to be premature, gentlemen, but thank you for coming," said the naked CEO with a sly smile. When neither Peter nor Dickteaser responded, he realized that his pun to break the ice had gone over their heads. Mr. Jizziwig realized that he was going to have to be more direct, perhaps these two interns were less sexually experienced than others had been in previous years. He asked Dickteaser to turn on the overhead ceiling lights.
Dickteaser flipped the switch next to the door and was treated to the sight of his boss's fully nude body all at once. Young Splooge knew he had a woody in his pants and it was probably showing now that the room was at normal illumination, but he was too enthralled with staring at Jizziwig's monster cock to care.
"The reason I invited you young men to my office tonight is because of a holiday tradition here at Jizziwig & Associates. Every year, I host a private Christmas party here in my office at midnight on Christmas Eve for one lucky intern during which I give him the holiday boner bonus." Peter and Dickteaser both displayed looks of excitement and anticipation mixed with fear and pent-up sexual energy. That was the exact combination the businessman had come to expect and enjoy from horny young interns. Jizziwig continued, "For the first time, this year I have two equally deserving interns, who are, of course, the two of you. My dilemma is that I don't know how to choose which of you should receive the bonus so that's why I invited both of you. As long as you both agree..."
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