by Hazel Kelly
“Then what?”
I smile. “I’d probably ask for seconds.”
N I N E
When I wake up the morning after my night with Anthony, I have no idea what an unstoppable force of Christmas cheer I’m about to become. I’ve never been so overwhelmed by such good spirits and happiness. It was like he rewired me while he was in there or something.
Maybe it was the flood of happy chemicals he’d tripped up in my brain or maybe it was that having the undivided attention of such a handsome man made me far less inclined to question my value and station in life.
Whatever it was, I was the happiest Christmas elf on the continent. In fact, there were moments when I considered keeping my elf costume on just so people wouldn’t feel unsettled by my relentless smile.
I smiled through getting barfed on at the diner. I smiled through some mom cussing me out for trying to help her keep her kids under control. I even smiled when my boss said I’d won the lottery for getting to work on Christmas Eve. Yes, he has a sick sense of humor, but I will make time and a half. I expected to feel sort of bittersweet about it, but ever since Anthony…
And he hasn’t even called, which I am a little disappointed by. Of course, it’s only been two days and it is a manic time of year, especially for someone in retail. Then again, I’m starting to think there’s no end to the amount of excuses I would make for him after he lifted me up so high.
However, after double checking my phone for the six thousandth time, I’m now considering climbing on Santa’s lap at the next lull so I can ask for some kind of sign that I didn’t imagine the whole thing. Even though I can still get his smell off the shirt he let me keep… which I may have stretched over my pillow.
I’m counting down to my lunch break when my supervisor comes over and says we’re all invited to the Annual Burke’s Christmas Party. I’m not sure how much fun it will be if I only know the rest of Santa’s village, but Santa himself insists they’re famous for throwing one of the best parties in town and that we’d be crazy not to go. He says the only reason we shouldn’t is if we’ll be offended at how full on the Christmas theme is. Apparently the Burkes aren’t one of those politically correct “happy holiday” type families, and they spare no expense making the whole thing as Christmassy as possible.
As we walk to the cafeteria, Santa describes last year’s party to anyone who will listen. He claims there were girls dressed up like real Christmas trees handing out cocktails, that all the bartenders were dressed up like nutcrackers, and that the New York Ballet Company came in and performed the sugar plum fairies scene before midnight.
When we arrive in the staff cafeteria, a few other permanent staff member’s join in the conversation, but I’m so hungry I can’t listen anymore. Instead, I open the fridge to see if anyone has failed to adequately mark their lunch.
I blink when I see the red envelope with my name on it stuck to a white paper bag. I look over my shoulder to see if anyone else named Holly happens to be in the room before sliding it out of the fridge and taking it to a nearby table. Inside the white bag, there’s a turkey and cranberry stuffing sandwich, the mere sight of which causes my mouth to water. I take a bite immediately so I can feign ignorance if the card ends up not being for me.
But it is.
Dear Holly,
I don’t know what to do with my hands when you’re not around.
Enjoy your lunch and meet me in Homewares at 12:15.
XX Anthony
I stare at the notecard and turn it over. Taped on the back there’s a gift card for the Burke’s Café. It doesn’t say how much it’s for, but I can only assume it’s good for at least one more lunch. I’m equal parts flattered that he’s thought of me and embarrassed that I’ve led him to believe I’m incapable of feeding myself properly.
Also, I’m dying to know why he wants to meet me in the homewares section of all places. Maybe he wants me to move in. I laugh at the ridiculousness of my untamable fantasy and glance at the clock before tucking into my sandwich, chewing as I slip the gift card in my wallet.
I don’t want to be late to meet him so I wrap up the second half of my sandwich, put it back in the white bag, and mark it with the Sharpe I always keep on me in case I scuff my boots or run my tights.
I lick my teeth as I take a shortcut through the furniture department. Soon pots and pans and walls full of plates become visible in the distance. My eyes are scanning the store so hard my heart starts pounding in my chest.
Without warning, a hand grabs my elbow and pulls me between two armoires so I’m face to face with Anthony.
He’s even more handsome than I remember, and my knees go weak as my eyes bounce back and forth between his. I’m about to thank him for lunch, but he lays a finger across my mouth and grabs my hand.
A moment later, he’s leading me back through the furniture section towards a corner of the store where I’ve never been. We finally come to a show room, which contains a suite of furniture and a coffee table complete with some picture books, and he’s moving so fast I’m afraid to speak or look over my shoulder.
Just when I think he’s got us cornered, he grabs the edge of some thick curtains and pulls me behind them.
I prepare myself to be smushed against the wall, but instead we’re in the entrance of an unused dressing room.
“How did you know this was here?” I ask.
He leads me down the hall into the last cubicle and pulls the narrow curtain across so I can step inside. “This wasn’t always the homewares section.”
I shake my head and look up. The florescent lights are out and only a soft light drifts in from the main store. “Why do you know that?”
He shrugs and loosens his tie, stepping up to me until my back is against the wall. “My sister and I used to play hide and seek here for hours while my mom did her Christmas shopping. I know every corner of this place like the back of my hand.”
One corner of my mouth curls up. “And is this one of your favorite hiding spots? Is that why you’ve brought me here?”
“I brought you here because I had to see you,” he says, kissing me and pressing his hips against mine so I can feel how much he means it. “I’ve been going crazy trying to focus on other things.”
“What other things?” I ask, my neck falling to the side as he kisses his way down it.
“Work, mostly,” he says, sliding his hands under my jingling skirt and pulling my striped tights down around my thighs.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I whisper, my breath hitching in my throat as he slides two fingers in the silk between my legs.
“The other night,” he growls, warming me up.
“What about it?” I ask, spreading my legs for him.
He raises his face and fixes his eyes on mine as he forces his fingers inside me. “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” he says, his eyes dropping to my lips.
I struggle to breath in between the thrusts of his wrist while he devours me with his eyes. When he picks up the pace, my head falls back against the wall, and I think I thank him, but I’m not certain whether I’ve actually said it out loud.
“For this?” he asks as I gush around his fingers. “Or for lunch?”
I smile. “Both.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, sliding a wet finger over my asshole.
The shock of his movement sends a jolt up my spine, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s amused by my surprise as he fingers my rim until my knees begin to shake.
“Guess what I’m having for lunch?” he whispers in my ear.
My lips fall apart, but I can’t even think. “What?” I breathe.
“You,” he says, sinking to his knees and taking my tights the rest of the way down.
It’s only when he drops that I realize there’s a mirror in front of me, and my mouth falls open as I watch him lift one of my feet up onto the corner bench and bring his mouth to my wet pussy.
I look around for something to hold onto, but my options a
re limited so I grab a clothes hook with one hand and the top of the stall with the other. It seems I’ve braced myself just in time because my legs are almost useless as he laps at me, and I’m melting against the wall as I watch him eat me in the mirror.
His hands explore my thighs and my pussy and even my crack, where no one has ever touched me before- at least not this good, at least not so good I let them do it more than once and secretly hope they’ll do it again.
“Anthony,” I pant, squeezing my hand around the top of the stall as I watch my hips shake over him, entranced by how enthusiastically he consumes me. “I’m going to come,” I whimper, letting my head fall to the side as I keep my eyes on the mirror.
He plunges his fingers into me, hitting somewhere so deep inside me he bursts a bubble of liquid heat. It pours out and he drinks me down, holding my rocking hips in place as my suddenly sensitive clit tries to escape from his attention.
When I finally stop shaking, I drop my head against the wall and close my eyes.
His tongue travels up my inner thigh a moment later like he’s desperate to not miss a drop.
When I open my eyes, he’s standing in front of me. “I was going to let you go now,” he says, unbuckling his belt. “But I’m too worked up to go back to work like this.”
I look down at his dick as he frees it, feeling sexy and powerful that I turned him on so much, that I’m not the only one who feels out of control.
“Turn around,” he says, sliding a condom on.
“I want to watch,” I say, dropping my bent leg to the floor.
“What?”
I nod towards the mirror behind him and his whole face lights up. “Making a play for the naughty list are we?” he says, spinning me to the side.
I brace myself against the wall and turn my head, watching in the mirror as he lifts the jingle bell trim on my little skirt so he can look at my ass and find my opening.
He watches my face as he sinks inside me while I watch the length of him disappear.
He feels so good from this angle- and much too big- but I force my thighs together anyway to keep nice and tight for him.
At first he keeps it slow, backing his hips up and making sure his arm doesn’t restrict my view of him sliding in and out of me. But I can see in his face that this is torturous for him, and it’s not long before he’s squeezing my hips as he slams into me, sending shockwaves through my body.
And I can’t stop watching. It’s weird because doggy style is supposed to be the position where everyone’s face is irrelevant, but watching how he loses himself in fucking me is such a turn on, and seeing my own face twisted in pain makes me feel like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t, and yet, something I trust him to see.
I lower my hands and press my forehead against my wrists when he speeds up, and I hope he’s close because if he’s not, the extreme pleasure is going to kill me.
Finally, he lets out a quiet groan and turns his head up like a howling wolf as he empties himself inside me.
When he reaches around to fondle my clit again, it takes me by surprise and I lean up, letting the weight of his body pin me against the wall. He pants against my neck and slides his other hand up my shirt and under my bra, pinching one of my nipples with his fingers.
I’ve never felt so possessed in my life, and I can’t help but feel that when I’m with him, I’m in better hands. And as crazy as it sounds in my head, I’m convinced he’s the best I’ve ever had, too- though I’m afraid to say it because it’s too soon to believe he’s mine, too soon to put myself out there like that.
We get dressed as we catch our breath, and he smiles when he catches me looking at him.
“I don’t think you’ll have to repaint your cheeks,” he says.
“Well you ought to throw some cold water on yours,” I say, combing his hair with my fingertips. “You don’t exactly look like you had a working lunch.”
He kisses me hard and grabs the cheeks of my ass in his hands like he’s trying to squeeze every last drop from me. “Where have you been all my life?” he asks.
“The North Pole,” I joke, aching a little at the question myself.
“Please tell me you’re going to the Christmas Party.”
I scrunch my face. “For Burke’s?”
He nods.
“Are you going?”
“Of course,” he says, turning to straighten his tie in the mirror as if my underwear isn’t already wet enough. “It’s the best Christmas Party in the city. I never miss it.”
“I hadn’t really decided yet,” I say, smoothing my jingly skirt down. “I was worried I wouldn’t know anyone.”
“You’ll know me,” he says, turning around. “And that’s plenty since I’ve no intention of sharing your company anyway.”
I smile. “Is that so?”
“Of course. Sharing is strictly against Naughty List Policy,” he says. “And so far the naughty list is treating me pretty good.”
“Where’s the party?”
“The Abbott Hotel,” he says.
I scrunch my face. “Is it black tie?”
“I wouldn’t wear the elf costume if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Right,” I say, knowing the only thing I own that’s probably dressy enough for a party at the Abbott is my moth eaten prom dress in the attic at my folk’s house.
“It’s formal,” he says. “But you don’t need to worry. Dress codes weren’t invented for women like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ll look stunning in whatever you chose.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Great,” he says. “I’ll look forward to seeing you there.”
T E N
I stare at the pile of dresses on my bed. Every one I own is laid out and has been tried on at least twice. Frankly, I’m really starting to regret asking my coworker to cover for me at the diner so I could go to this thing.
I should’ve just said I was flattered to be invited and forgotten about it, but the last thing I want to do is make Anthony feel like I’m blowing him off when he’s done nothing but keep me pleasantly surprised since we met.
I take off the short black dress I’m wearing and put my robe back on, deciding I’ll finalize my decision while I do my hair since I’m running out of time to deliberate.
I plug in my curling iron and begin sectioning off my hair with some clips as my buzzer sounds. I don’t go see who it is since I get misbuzzed all the time during the holidays, but when it gets pushed a second time, I stomp to my front door and press down on the intercom. “Hello?”
“Special delivery for Holly Flynn.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. It’s in a wrapped box. I’m just the guy who-”
I groan and buzz him up. When he appears outside my peephole, I open the door a crack and take the package. “Thanks,” I say, kicking the door closed and walking to the countertop where I left the chilled glass of Franzia I poured to settle my nerves.
I glance at the clock before I pull the notecard with my name on it from the ribbon it’s taped to. It seems odd that the delivery guy wasn’t in uniform and that my address is nowhere on the box, but I’m in such a hurry I don’t waste time wondering about it.
Dear Holly,
Just in case you have nothing to wear.
XX Anthony
I toss the card down on the counter and set to unwrapping the package. I recognize the box as Burke’s branded gift wrapping and lift the black and gold lid off with two hands. Folded neatly inside is a sequin covered red dress with a plunging back and a generous side slit.
I recognize it because I noticed it on a third floor mannequin earlier this week. The dress has real weight to it, and I check the tag to see if it’s my size, which of course it is. I also recognize the name of the designer and not because I’ve ever seen it on anything in my own closet.
I drape the dress over the chair and go to pull the pape
r from the gift box so Rudy can play in it when I realize there’s something else inside: a pair of thong underwear with a note attached. All it says is, “I dare you to wear these.”
I lift up the lacey thong and am surprised at how nice it is- until I feel a strange lump in the crotch part. I stare at them for two whole minutes before I realize what they are, but I can’t find any buttons on the device or a control in the box.
I decide then that if I try the dress on and like it, I’ll oblige him by wearing everything he picked, and if I decide not to wear the dress, perhaps I’ll go with the panties as a consolation prize.
I do my hair in record time and try the underwear on first. The little bean shaped device in the crotch snuggles right next to my clit like a fingertip. I question whether I can really keep a straight face while I’m wearing them, but after I step into the dress and pull the straps up, I am blown away by how elegant I look.
No one in their right might would ever look at someone wearing a dress this stunning and guess that they were wearing sex toy underwear. Besides, if it’s super awkward, I can always just slip the little plastic bean out in the bathroom and go back to the party.
On the way there, I’m surprised by how excited just wearing the underwear makes me even though they’re not even vibrating. At the very least I’m convinced that wearing them will keep my cheeks blushing all night.
When I finally get out of my Uber, I’m bursting with excitement and beyond relieved that I’m not stuck serving breakfast for dinner on the other side of town. I’m also grateful for the dress because the women I see as I’m walking in are all so glamorously accessorized, I know I would about face if I were in one of my little black dresses right about now.
A man in a full Whoville costume hands me a red and white striped drink when I come in the door, and I follow the crowd into the main ballroom. Every table and bar along the perimeter is wrapped up like a giant present, and in the middle of the room, there’s a life size snow globe with a line of people waiting to have their picture taken inside it.