by Carla Blake
The power company had booked The Chateaux. A large, Edwardian manor house whose second floor had been entirely handed over for their entertainment, including a five course Christmas dinner and an evening of jumping about on the dance floor.
They should have been delighted, surrounded as they were by opulence and riches and the promise of a free bar, and they might have been, had they been dining on the more prestigious first floor, but the first floor of The Chateaux, had been booked months in advance, and it wasn’t long before rumours began to fly around that someone rather special had reserved it. Particularly once the manager let slip that it was a masquerade party and strictly by invitation only.
Rachel, disinclined to believe half the twaddle her colleagues regularly came out with, thought it more likely to be just another company hyping up the event in the hope of drumming up a bit of business, rather than a true celebrity bash, but Kate disagreed.
It was well known that the hotel often played host to footballers and film stars, she argued. You only had to read the local rag to know that. Maybe it was one of them! Maybe that’s why no one had been at the night club that time, because they’d all been here, enjoying drinks on the lawn and fiddly bits on trays in more palatial surroundings.
Rachel, rolling her eyes, told her she’d been reading too many gossip magazines. An opinion that was further substantiated when on arrival they were faced not with a crowd of ‘beautiful people’ but by members of an insurance company, all done out in fancy costumes and with their faces hidden by a variety of extravagant masks.
Kate was devastated. “Typical!” She said sourly, once she realised she wasn’t going to be rubbing shoulder with George Clooney. “Just when you thought you were gonna be snuggling up to David Beckham and Brad Pitt, this bunch of losers turns up.”
“Shame.” Rachel mock sympathized, leaning forward to read the sign positioned near the steps. “ Harris and Palmer not good enough for you then?”
“ They wouldn’t give me a job.” Kate sulked. “Three times I applied to work for them and three times they turned me down. Said I wasn’t ‘ quite what they were looking for.’”
“Then maybe you had a lucky escape.” Rachel said. “Or they did. I can’t see Harris and Palmer putting up with you lounging around with your feet on the desk sipping neat vodka from a juice carton!”
“It wasn’t neat!” Kate retorted. “It had orange in it. And when have you ever seen me with my feet on the desk?”
“Last week. When we fucked on the conference table. Hey! Look at that one!”
Another limo pulled up. A white one this time, disgorging a bunch of giggling women who clutching champagne flutes and handbags, tried desperately not to trip on the gravel as they stumbled and chatted towards the stone steps, their faces hidden by Venetian masks covered in glitter and decorated with feathers.
“That one looks like an Owl.” Rachel remarked, watching the clumsy wearer negotiate the entrance.
“Or a pigeon.” Kate chuckled. “Hey, wouldn’t it be fun to gate crash! We could tell them we were from the RSPB. Checking for signs of bird flu.”
“Or we could just go to our own perfectly, good party. Why would you want to gate crash theirs?”
“Because it would be fun?”
“Yeah, right up until the point the Chateaux had you arrested for trespassing, and I don’t know about you, but I do not want to spend Christmas feeding you sliced turkey through the bars of a cell.”
“Not even if I promised to eat all my sprouts?”
“Not even if you promised to eat mine as well.”
Christmas week and on Christmas eve, Polly, having finally succumbed to her parent’s suggestion that it would be lovely if she could travel down and spend the festive season with them, found herself preparing to drive down to Devon.
Loading the car with presents, bottles of booze and a limited edition box of Harrods Christmas biscuits her mother had begged her to get before telling her it ‘really didn’t matter if she couldn’t’, she stood on the doorstep and said her farewells; a hug for Kate, who promised to take care of Rachel, and a tut for Rachel who made her promise not to open any of the presents she and Kate had given her until Christmas morning.
Polly dully promised her she wouldn’t, but Rachel didn’t hold out a lot of hope. The drive to Devon was a long one and she was certain Polly would only get as far as the first service station before she parked, dragged the bag over from the back seat and then gleefully sat there opening all her presents two days early. The inclusion of a red, felt hat, emblazoned with messages of the season, was therefore inspired.
Polly could wear it when her parents opened the door to her.
And at least she was getting to see them. Her parents had opted for a festive dinner served under the deep, blue canopy of a Caribbean sky, an invitation they had extended to both her and Kate, but which Rachel had graciously declined under the pretext that Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas if she had to slap on the factor 15 first.
Kate, of course, didn’t have a choice. Since the accident in which both her parents had died, Christmases had either been spent playing gooseberry at a well meaning friend’s house or on her own. The latter being the preferable option. Being single at a dinner party wasn’t great at the best of times, but at Christmas when everyone was happy and jolly and wallowing in family nostalgia it was even worse. Then the loneliness really crowded in and it wouldn’t be long before she started to feel out of place and then stricken with guilt when her host inevitably remembered why they had invited her in the first place and then proceeded to spend the next five minutes apologizing for being so thoughtless.
But this year would be different.
This year she had Rachel.
Christmas was now only 24 hours away.
And the hours crept by. At work, nothing was going on at all and switching on her computer, purely because she thought she should, Rachel then sat morosely staring at it, watching the company’s screen saver drift unchallenged across a sea of black.
Yet still no one in management announced they could all go home, and bored to tears, Rachel swung on her chair and chatted to Kate, who perched on the corner of her desk, bent a sheet of paper into the rough shape of a boat and then balanced it on the top of a pencil.
Pretending to be busy, Phil scowled at them from across the office and cast sour looks at Kate’s dangling legs, wishing he had the courage to tell the whole office what the pair of them were really up to and totally wipe the smiles from their smug, little faces, because Simon was right. It wasn’t natural. It was weird. Women were supposed to be fucked by men, not by each other.
But Christ, it was a turn on.
Hitting delete, Phil unfolded a paper clip and wound it between his fingers, trying to imagine how the pair of them did it? Did Rachel get on top, or did Kate? Did they strip naked and then screw or did they just shove their hands up each other’s skirts and bring each other off through their knickers? Fuck, he wished he knew. He wished he could watch, but he couldn’t see how that would ever be possible.
Unless he was really clever.
Christmas Eve and Rachel stayed over at Kate’s, after rather abruptly being barred the night before.
She’d been somewhat upset at the time, particularly as she couldn’t understand why Kate had needed her out of the way so desperately, and she’d lain in bed wondering what there was ‘left to prepare’, as Kate had put it. The decorations were up and the shopping done. The turkey was defrosting slowly in an ice box and the vegetables were all frozen so Kate didn’t have to waste time peeling and chopping. So what did Kate have left to do? Aside from cast her out and make her feel miserable?
But Kate had insisted and after seeing Polly off and waving until the car had turned the corner, she’d packed Rachel off home and told her not to return until tomorrow evening.
Rachel had hated it an
d feeling slightly anxious at being alone in her house, not to mention guilty that she was making poor Polly does this most nights, she’d wandered from room to room, picking up this and that and constantly telling herself not to be so silly. Kate wasn’t up to anything untoward and the only reason she was feeling disgruntled was because it was Christmas and she thought they should be spending every minute together. What it didn’t mean was that Kate had gone off her. And it was only one night, she should make the most of it. Have a long, soapy bath, stuff her face with chocolates, watch that crappy, old movie she’d been meaning to see for the last five months.
Or sit, alone on the sofa, missing her girlfriend like crazy.
Next morning, after sleeping fitfully and feeling oddly out of place in a house she had called home for years, Rachel arrived on Kate’s doorstep at the crack of dawn. Kate, though, was ready for her and answering the door seconds after Rachel rang the bell, she ushered her into the house and stepped back as Rachel took in the delicious aroma of fresh coffee and warm mince pies, and then stood, open mouthed at the transformation that had taken place whilst she’d been away.
Gone were the decorations she and Kate had put up together a week ago and in their place were new ones. In the hallway, tinsel in red and gold wound its way through the banisters and hung from the picture rails and a three foot Santa, taking up most of the corner near the stairs, clutched his belly and laughed heartily. A new tree stood in the lounge, smothered in twinkling, white lights and little Angel figurines. The windowsills and bookcase played host to real holly and tea lights, whilst a bowl of potpourri filled the room with the scent of cinnamon, and in the dining room, tied to scarlet ribbon hung across the ceiling, gold and silver baubles dangled above a table covered in a deep burgundy tablecloth adorned with a gold runner perfectly complimenting the gold charger plates.
Rachel was enchanted and turning to Kate, hugged her fiercely. “ It’s amazing!” She cried, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You must have been up all night doing this.”
“ Well, maybe not all night.” Kate pretended to yawn, “ but you haven’t seen the best bit yet. Take off your coat and I’ll show you upstairs.”
To Rachel’s astonishment, ‘snow’ followed them up the stairs and at first she couldn’t work out what it was made from, but then she picked up a handful and saw that it was made from crushed polystyrene. An effect Kate confessed to pulling off by shoving chunks of it under the sofa cushions and then wriggling about on top of it.
“Probably be finding it down the back of the sofa for years!” Kate laughed when Rachel congratulated her ingenuity. “Or in my knickers. Okay, now close your eyes.”
The bedroom was warm, but smelt oddly of crisp, cold air, and holding onto Kate’s hand, Rachel instinctively shivered, wrapping her other arm around herself before she realised that the ‘cold air’ was in fact the aroma of scented candles. A soft, crackling sound she couldn’t quite put her finger on, was also coming from somewhere, but by the time Kate told her to open her eyes, she’d forgotten all about it in favour of staring at the beauty Kate had created.
Candles were everywhere. On the bedside tables, on the shelf and in a wide circle around the bed. A blanket depicting a snow covered cottage set in an enchanted forest had been thrown on top of the duvet and on top of that, sprawled the biggest Polar bear she had ever seen. He was enormous and he was hopelessly soft and his slightly bemused smile rested on pads of feet the colour of dark chocolate.
“The polystyrene was in the box he came in,” Kate explained, “ that’s what gave me the idea. You like?”
“I love! This is wonderful Kate. I don’t know what to say?”
“Say ‘ Wow!”
“Wow!”
“Good. Now say ‘ what’s behind the screen, Kate?”
“What screen?”
Kate pointed.
“Oh. That screen!” Rachel said, noticing for the first time the clothes horse draped with a tablecloth, which, as far as she could tell, hid nothing more spectacular than an ancient and broken gas fire.
“Alright.” She smiled. “I’ll bite. What’s behind the obviously- thrown- together- screen Kate?”
“This!” Kate said, and whipping away the cloth, she triumphantly revealed an open log fire. “ Isn’t it wonderful?” She exclaimed, wandering over to poke the crackling flames with an iron poker. “I’d been meaning to restore this old fireplace for ages, but until you came along I couldn’t see the point. And before you say anything, it’s perfectly safe. I’ve had the chimney sweep round and a bloke from the fire brigade and they both say everything’s fine. So, what do you think? Like it?”
“I love it! “ Rachel grinned. “It’s amazing! But how the hell did you manage to keep it secret from me? It must have taken you months to do.”
“It did, but I just kept shoving the old gas fire in front of the hole and you never suspected a thing, and let’s face it babe, it was never that difficult to distract your attention once I got you up here.”
“I guess not.” Rachel chuckled. “But I still can’t get over it. Wow! All this effort. I don’t know what to say?”
“Then let me make a suggestion. How about you say, ‘ fuck me, Kate. Right here in front of the fire. “
Rachel thought that was a marvelous idea and allowing Kate to kiss her and draw her close until their hips touched and Kate could guide her down onto the carpet in front of the fire, she gave in to her lover’s embrace. Then they kissed again, more urgently this time, the warmth of the flames pressing against their cheeks as Rachel looked into Kate’s gorgeous brown eyes and Kate looked at her questioningly, checking to make sure this was okay? This was what she wanted. To make love on the floor in front of the fire and not in the comfort of the bed.
“It’s fine.” Rachel whispered. “It’s more then fine. Make love to me Kate. Please. I so want you.”
Kate unbuttoned her blouse, slowing and carefully, as though Rachel’s clothes were made from tissue and she would tear them at any moment. Then peeling the blouse aside, she gazed at the rise and fall of Rachel’s chest and bent to kiss the tops of her breasts and through the lace of her bra, her nipples. They stiffened instantly and easing aside the cup, she eased a finger inside and gently traced a line across the soft flesh, kissing Rachel’s mouth again as she trailed her hands down the length of Rachel’s stomach and across her naval, stroking her, touching her skin, cupping her breasts on the up stroke before sliding down again to the waistband of her jeans.
Popping the button, she slid down the zip, exposing the top of Rachel’s pale, pink knickers and through the thin material, the faint shadow of her fluff. She kissed her, moving her hand up again and unclasping Rachel’s bra then pushing the cup aside to fondle Rachel’s breasts and play a thumb across Rachel’s nipple before taking the other in her mouth and gently sucking, feeling the tiny raspberry stiffen between her lips as Rachel gasped and dug her fingers into her hair, begging her to make her come.
Kate moved to her jeans, encouraging Rachel to lift her hips so she could glide them down her legs and over her feet. Her socks followed and wriggling down she kissed Rachel’s toes, making her squirm and giggle before kissing her calves and moving her hands up Rachel’s thighs until she reached her damp knickers.
“Want me babe?” She breathed, cupping Rachel’s mound in her hand. “Want me real bad?”
“Yes!” Rachel replied breathlessly. “I want you! Please Kate, don’t tease me, I’m so fucking wet.”
“Turn over.”
Rachel turned. The firelight played across her forehead and the carpet felt harder lying this way, but she didn’t care. The moment she was lying on her belly, Kate slipped off her knickers and slipping her right hand beneath Rachel’s backside and between her legs, she found her fluff and buried her fingers in it, appreciating the fact that Rachel wasn’t one of those women who shaved it all off. She liked the feel of flu
ff. It was natural and welcoming. The purveyor of better things to come.
Her fingers found Rachel’s slit and Rachel instinctively raised her hips, presenting her moist pussy for Kate to take full advantage of until Kate gently pushed her back down again. “Relax babe.” She said. “I have plenty of room.” And she slid her fingers deep along the swollen flesh, feeling folds of sweet wetness as she made her way towards Rachel’s vagina and in one smooth movement, entered her.
She stroked her G-spot and Rachel shuddered as Kate pumped twice to keep her on the edge before going back to her G-spot and making Rachel moan with pleasure. Then she fucked her, moving in and out and frequently slipping out of her cunt to brush against her clit before delving back in again and giving it to her in long, slow strokes.
Thrusting her hips, Rachel begged her to make her come.
“I will.” Kate promised, easing her finger out of Rachel’s sopping wet hole and firmly stroking her slit. “But you have to be patient. Everything comes to those that wait.”
“And I’m gonna die if I wait much longer!” Rachel breathed. “Please Kate. I’m going off bang here.”
“Are you?” Kate soothed, touching Rachel’s clit. “ We can’t have that.” And raising Rachel until she was on all fours, she used her free hand to cup the swell of Rachel’s breast, whilst the other circled her clit. Stroking and rubbing her and squeezing her nipple, until Rachel finally came in a rush of warm juices that covered her hand.
Kate kissed her bum. “Bloody hell, girl.” She smiled, helping Rachel to turn over again and lie on her back. “If you’re going to come like that ever time I take you from behind, I’m definitely doing it again!”
“And I’m definitely going to let you.” Rachel smiled, a pink glow spreading across her chest. “You won’t get any complaints from me. But what about you? Can I get my grubby hands on you now?”
“Oh, I should think so, but would you be really upset if it wasn’t up here? I know it sounds soppy, but I’ve always wanted to make love beneath the lights of a Christmas tree. Do you mind?”