by Arizona Tape
Mary Had a Little Harem
Arizona Tape
Contents
Mary Had a Little Harem
Chapter 1: Erect My Tree.
Chapter 2: Stuff My Mailslot
Chapter 3: Bite My Pretzel
Chapter 4: Fondle My Mugs
Chapter 5: Admire My Elf
Chapter 6: Twirl My Spaghetti
Chapter 7: Smell My Rose
Chapter 8: Go With The Gay
Chapter 9: Blow My Bong
Chapter 10: Play My Piccolo
Chapter 11: Knock My Door
Epilogue
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Mary Had a Little Harem
By Arizona Tape
Copyright © 2017 by Arizona Tape
Copyright © 2017 by Arizona Tape
All rights reserved. No part of this publication or cover may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to Arizona Tape.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to people, places, or events, are purely coincidental.
For anyone who doesn’t need mistletoe to be a little bit of a ho.
Chapter 1: Erect My Tree.
Ding
With an annoyingly loud bing, the doors of the elevator slid back open as the cold air from the lobby wafted into the small cubicle. Mary quickly turned away from the mirror, whipping out her phone so she could act casual. Like she hadn't just tried popping a pimple. A muffled ruffle made her actually look up from her phone and with a yelp she jumped backwards.
"What the?"
A giant, walking Christmas tree was shoved into the elevator, the branches driving her into a corner.
"Ouch! Oi, there are people in here?!" she yelled out, waving her arms in the air to alarm whatever twat was shoving those prickly hard branches against her.
"So sorry, madam!" a man's voice called out from the other side. Mary pressed herself against the far back of the elevator and stood up on her tippy toes, trying to check out the other passenger. She hoped this random dude wouldn't need to ride all the way up to her floor. This was a nice building. Who the fuck was trying to move in a giant ass Christmas tree? That was not how you did things here in the city. Here, you got yourself a fake looking thing that you could just take out from the storage space.
"Could you be more careful? And it's miss!" she called to the other end of the enclosed room, her voice jumping a pitch. She did not want to be called madam, even though it seemed to have become a more regular occurrence. Mary glanced at her reflection, wondering if she had grey hairs or wrinkles of sorts that might tell people she looked older than she actually was. People at twenty-three didn't usually get called madam, did they?
"I'm so sorry. I just need to ride to the fortieth floor. I'll be out in a jiffy!" the man called, trying to rearrange the tree. From what he heard, the voice on the other end didn't sound too pleased with his...choice of plants. Even though she was a little rude, he certainly didn't want to pick a fight with the holidays right around the corner. That wasn't exactly in the spirit of Christmas.
Mary brought up her bag and groaned into the dark leather. Just her luck, he needed to get out after her. How was she supposed to get out of this damn elevator with a whole lot of branches and sharp twigs poking her?
"Any idea on how I'm going to get out?" she sweetly asked, but even the tree could hear the venom in her words. Mary hated Christmas, she hated the holidays, and she certainly didn't care for the absurd tradition of bringing trees indoors. There was a good reason trees grew on the outside. It was because they belonged on the outside.
"Which floor do you need?"
"Thirty-seven."
"I'll try and move the tree?" the voice replied, shaking the tree once more. Mary cringed as it rained little needles on her. Those would be a pain to get out of her hair.
Ding.
With a sharp sound, the doors of the elevator slid open. Mary checked the counter on the higher end of the wall and groaned. Only up to the twenties. Was this damn elevator always this slow?
With two female voices going: "We'll take the stairs," and the soft hum of the doors closing, the elevator got back in motion. Mary groaned and angrily stared at the branch poking against her thigh. That wasn't exactly what she liked pressed against her.
"Couldn't you have taken the stairs?" she called out, impatiently following the numbers sliding by as her floor approached.
"Not for forty floors," the voice answered reasonably. Mary pulled up her nose. She hated it when people made sense when she was being irrational. Of course, this person wouldn't have taken the stairs with a big ass tree.
"Could've waited till the elevator was empty," she muttered under her breath,
"What was that?" the man asked, pulling the tree closer to him.
"I said: Could've waited till the elevator was empty!" Mary repeated herself, squealing as a bunch of needles showered her.
"Well, excuse me." she heard from the other side of the Christmas tree, but it didn't sound in the slightest sincere. She’d probably pissed him off. Eh, what did she care? She just wanted to get to her flat, kick off her damn heels, and relax on her couch. With her flight cancelled and her holiday plans falling through, she was already in a sour mood. And now this kid was basically dry humping her with a tree. Not exactly the holiday season she had planned.
Ding.
Annoyingly slow, the doors of the elevator rolled open and with a lot of shaking and hustling, the tree was pulled out of Mary's face. Thank fuck, he was getting out of the elevator. She brushed over her coat, getting rid of all the pine needles and carefully waggled out of the elevator. Into the tree.
"Goddamnit, you're still blocking me!" she cursed with a mouthful of Christmas.
"I'm so sorry, I thought I’d gone backwards enough!" the guy called out, shaking the tree again and pulling it out of Mary's way. "Did I hurt you?"
"You only deepthroated me with your tree, but apart from that, I'm fuckin peachy!" she shouted, whacking the branches out of her way with her purse.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am."
"It's miss! Miss! Do I look old enough to be a freaking ma'am?" Mary yelled, finally squeezing through the gap of the elevator and the tree. She stumbled into the hallway and with blazing eyes, faced the man who had managed to thoroughly piss her off in the past couple of minutes. Definitely a record.
"What are you staring at?" she hissed at the guy blocking her way, snorting at his Christmas hat. What was everyone's obsession with the holidays anyway?
He quickly averted his eyes. "Oh no, no, no! Come on!" he called out, banging the little arrow to get the elevator back. No use. Almost mockingly, the elevator flashed its numbers as it descended back down.
"You're still in my way," Mary huffed, pulling up her nose.
"Well, excuse me..." he mumbled, slowly growing frustrated with the whole situation. Why couldn't this bitchy, albeit beautiful, stranger not be a little more patient.
"I'm sorry, I'm not being very polite, am I?" he suddenly heard. He slowly turned around, not sure he had heard that right.
"It's just a shit day, that's all," Mary explained, slightly embarrassed for being so rude to this stranger. This very handsome stranger. If only she'd seen his face before she started being pissy to him.
"Tell me about it," he sighed, impatiently hitting the little elevator buttons again. His face was contorted in a fr
ustrated frown, but it didn't make him any less handsome. In fact, Mary thought it even made him almost cuter.
"I haven't seen you around," she stated, deciding that if she was going to be stuck in the hallway with a tree and a handsome stranger between her and her flat, she might as well make the most of it. After all, it wasn't his fault her trip got cancelled.
"Oh, I don't live here," he mumbled, refusing to make eye contact. Mary scratched the back of her neck, feeling guilty for being so mean.
"So you're just Santa, bringing Christmas trees to random buildings?" she tried again.
"My nan lives here and she wanted a big tree," he explained, glaring at the number display. Mary helpfully pressed the buttons on her side, trying to speed up the elevator.
The faster she could get this man and his tree back in the elevator, the faster she could lounge on her couch. But then again...how often do you meet handsome strangers in your hallway? Not often enough, Mary thought, glancing at the blonde guy. Maybe she should offer him a hand. And then help him with the tree. She could use some distraction and holiday fun, instead of spending it alone with a dusty Christmas tree that, quite frankly, was a fire hazard.
"My name is Mary," she introduced herself, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder as she straightened out her posture. Also known as pushing her chest out. Just one of those things that nobody could resist.
"I'm Louis," the blonde guy muttered, his gaze fixated on the elevator display. Mary squinted her eyes, annoyed that he didn't seem to be affected by her little show. But that would change soon. With swaying hips and a grin on her lips, she approached the man still refusing to look at her.
"Hi Louis," she purred, curling her hand around the trunk of the tree. Immediate regret flashed through her as the sharp needles dug into her palm, but she hid her pain behind a smirk. "That's a big tree you got here. Maybe I can help you get it up."
Alarmed by her sudden change in mood, Louis clenched his fist harder around the tree. What was up with this girl? Was she saying what he thought she was? But then again, no, that couldn't be. People didn't flirt shamelessly like this in real life, that only happened in books and movies. And this certainly wasn't either of those.
Too annoyed to meet Mary's gaze, Louis impatiently banged the arrow buttons again and sighed in relief when the numbers on the display steadily rolled up. If nobody else interrupted the elevator, he could get out of this hallway and away from this bitchy woman, who was standing so close he could smell her perfume. Roses and vanilla. A slightly unusual combination of scents, yet somehow, she made it work. Not that he cared. Or at least, that’s what he tried telling himself.
Mary grinned as she noticed the blush appearing on Louis's face. So it was working after all.
"If you need help decorating, I'd always be willing to give you a hand. I know how to handle my baubles," she continued, enjoying the deer in headlights look in Louis's eyes. Inappropriately flirting with strangers was her favourite game, after all.
Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Only ten more floors. Louis counted out in his head, desperately begging the elevator to get there quicker. Mary's scent was distracting him and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore her standing so close.
"I haven't seen a real tree in a while. I only have a plastic one in my room, but that isn't nearly as fun," she purred, winking suggestively at Louis.
Ding
To Louis's relief, the doors of the elevator slid open. He quickly checked if it was empty and then shoved the tree clumsily inside. With a quick "bye", he quickly stumbled away from Mary, sighing as the doors closed, leaving her flabbergasted in the hallway.
"Damn it!" she cursed, not believing Louis actually ran away from her. That had never happened before.
Ding
"Did you say something?" Louis asked curiously, glad to have put some distance between him and Mary. With a tree to hide behind, he felt a lot more confident.
Only now realising the doors of the elevator had slid back open, Mary spun around. "No, no, no no no, nothing. Nothing," she stammered, caught off guard.
Chapter 2: Stuff My Mailslot
Angry, Mary stormed through the hallway to her flat. What did that hot nerd think, rejecting her? She wasn't exactly used to guys not hitting on her, let alone not reciprocating. Was something off today? She glared in the mirror, wondering if she had a massive pimple in the middle of her face and blew in her hand, sniffing the air. Assured she hadn’t turned into a hog, she glared at herself again. Why hadn't he reacted to her flirting?
"Stupid guy," she muttered, throwing her dark hair over her shoulder. She admired her reflection once more, deciding that she definitely looked okay.
Maybe he was just gay. Or happily married. She scoffed. Yeah, like such a thing existed.
Deciding not to care, she went through the stack of mail she’d brought up from her postbox.
"Damn it!" she cursed, noticing that more than half of the stack of mail was for one of the older residents in the building. Again. The stupid mailman kept messing up, confusing the two mailslots.
She could only blame him and her idiotic mother, who’d decided to name her Mary Smithfield, as if she was a grandma already.
With a bunch of postcards in her hand, she stormed out of her flat. The display indicated that the elevator was already on its way back down. Annoyed, she kicked some stray pine needles out of the way, and impatiently clicked the arrow button multiple times. She didn't have time for all this nonsense. Why couldn't Christmas be over yet?
* * *
To her dismay, the elevator was filled with a layer of pine needles, and as she arrived on Mrs. Smithfield’s floor, the whole hallway was scattered as well. Stupid guy with his tree. Already bitter about the holidays, she couldn't help but be extra annoyed at him for not even blinking at her advances.
Harder than necessary, she knocked loudly on Mrs. Smithfield's door. No reaction. For a brief moment, she considered just shoving the postcards under her door or dropping them in front of her flat, but Mary actually liked Mrs. Smithfield. She was always nice and it wasn't her fault that the postman was too lazy and kept dropping the mail in the wrong slot.
"Yes?"
Mary groaned and slapped the stack of mail against her forehead. "Not you again."
The blonde guy from in the elevator, Louis, squinted his eyes and glared at Mary. "I could say the same thing."
"What are you doing here?" she snapped, cursing at herself for not realising there was a good reason that there were a lot more pine needles in front of Mrs. Smithfield's door than anywhere else.
"I'm visiting my nan. What are you doing here?"
Mary waved the colourful postcards in front of his face, not believing he was Mrs. Smithfield's grandson. She must've been quite a beautiful woman in her time to have such nice-looking offspring. Shame he was gay. And a jerk. He was a gay jerk.
"I'm here to drop off her mail."
Louis narrowed his eyes. "Why do you have her mail? Did you steal it?"
"Of course not!" Mary exclaimed offended, resisting the urge to strangle him. "Is she in?"
"I'll give it to her," he protested, reaching out to snatch the cards out of her hand.
"Oi! How do I know you didn't break in and are holding her hostage? I'm not giving you her mail."
"That's ridiculous! Why would I break in with a Christmas tree?"
Mary had to admit that was a good point, but she wasn't in the mood to back down. "Maybe it's the perfect crime. Mrs. Smithfield? Mrs. Smithfield? Are you alright?" she shouted, trying to peek inside the flat.
"For fuck's sake, stop yelling," Louis groaned, opening the door wider so Mary could peek inside the flat. "Nan’s enjoying her cup of tea, can she drink it in peace?"
From inside, Mrs. Smithfield waved happily at Mary, not exactly understanding what all the hassle was outside her flat. But she didn't care. Her grandson was here to visit and the nice girl from upstairs was back for another visit.
"Fine.
Not a burglar then," Mary snapped, not particularly enjoying that she had to admit defeat.
Louis shook his head, running his hand through his blonde hair. This girl was a pain. "No, not a burglar. Can I get the mail now?"
Mary squinted her eyes, studying his extended hand. That was a big hand. And he seemed to have big feet. And you know what they say about guys with big feet... "I'll give it to her myself," she said stubbornly, making Louis sigh in frustration. For some unknown reason, this Mary girl managed to get right under his skin.
"Suit yourself," he muttered, swinging the door open and stepping aside to let her in. A whiff of roses and vanilla passed him by as she entered the flat. Again, not that he cared. Roses were not his favourite flower. Not at all.
"Mrs. Smithfield, so nice to see you," Mary smiled, placing the stack of postcards next to the old-fashioned tea cup. "I brought your mail."
"Thank you, my dear," Mrs. Smithfield croaked, waving her arthritis riddled fingers at her grandson. "Have you met my grandson? Louis, come here and say hello to this nice girl."
Reluctantly, Louis closed the door, accepting the Mary girl wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.
"Stand up straight, dear!" his grandmother lovingly scolded, bending down towards Mary. "He's still single. And isn't he handsome looking?" she whispered loudly, nudging towards an embarrassed Louis.
"Nan!" he exclaimed, his ears turning red. He didn't need Mary to know how pathetic his love life was.
"He's a tad messy and he leaves his socks lying about, but dear, he's such a great hugger!" Mrs. Smithfield added, ignoring any of Louis' protests. Mary grinned at his discomfort, nodding along with anything the elderly lady said.