Author’s Note: Yeah, it’s a Christmas story. What happened is I’m clearing out files from my iPhone, and there was a period of time when I wrote quickie confessional stories on the phone. Too bad I didn’t find these things on April Fool’s. So I’ll be posting my phone stories over the next five weeks or so.
I hate office holiday parties. Not so much that I hate people, just that I hate going to parties where everybody can drink except me. One of the many prices of being a recovering alcoholic. All the happy, carefree idiots getting hammered on the loneliest night of the year—Christmas.
But this last year, I had to go. Boss’s choice. Otherwise he was going to make me file stock reports during my vacation.
So I sucked it up, wore my best blue pinstriped suit and a grey argyle tie like a piece of armor, and went to the party. I was only going to stay for half an hour, that was the deal.
Until I saw her.
Joleen from IT. Long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, high cheekbones I’d love to cup in my hands, and amazing green eyes that make me sweat every time I ran into her in the hallway. I’d only talked with her now and then, just innocent small talk and nothing more.
She waved at me from across the room and smiled. She wore a velvet green dress with white fur on the edges and a matching Santa hat. Her sheer pantyhose were shiny black. I walked up to her.
And then she offered me a glass of wine.
I slowed my pace to her, not entirely sure what to do with myself now. Bail and turn around the other way? Small talk to her and excuse myself before the wine became too tempting?
Joleen’s smile turned bittersweet. And then she surprised me. She dumped both her wine and the one offered me into a nearby fern and the set the empty glasses on the buffet table. My heart ached for the wasted alcohol.
But what do they say about not crying over spilt milk? I think the same applies to wine.
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
“Happy Kwanza,” Joleen said with a cute wink that made the room feel a hundred degrees hotter. Then she touched me on the arm and giggled.
“I don’t celebrate either, personally,” I said.
“Why not?” Joleen squeezed my arm once and let go. She bunches up her eyebrows.
I waved my hand. “Just me these days. I’ve cut a lot of ties over the years.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. She pointed to the coffee canteens at the far end of the buffet. “Want some plain old fashioned caffeine? I could certainly use some company.”
I looked into her eyes, the desire to cup her cheeks and hold her close nearly overwhelmed me. “I take mine black with sugar.”
“Your coffee?” Once again, that wink. So cute and innocent.
“Of course.” I winked back.
Joleen grabbed me by the hand and led me to the coffee. I poured for both of us in little cream colored ceramic cups. She dumped French vanilla in hers, and a sugar packet in mine. Then I stirred both with a plastic stir thingy.
We sat at a table in the corner, all by ourselves and talked about everything and nothing. Life, dreams, college. I always figured she was smarter than me, but never knew she was an Ivy League graduate. She didn’t know about my struggles with alcohol. The more we talked, the more relaxed I felt around her, the more I let slip out about myself.
And then, when the coffee was gone and we both starred at each other like goofballs in love, she held my hand and gave me a funny look. She leaned forward, close to my lips.
“I know a quiet place we can escape to,” she said.
Feeling good about myself and perhaps a bit too over-confident, I leaned closer to her. “The janitor’s closet?”
I half hoped she would take that as a joke, half hoped we’d slip off together to make out. Joleen let the silence linger for an embarrassing moment.
“How did you read my mind?” She leaned even closer to me.
“Lucky I suppose.” I took her hand. “You sure you wanna do this?”
“Certain,” she said. “Right when I laid eyes on you.”
I stood up and helped her out of her chair, the. Led her to the janitor’s closet. She shut the door behind us. The room was small and dark, only a slim crack of light underneath the door. It smelled of cleaning solutions and wet mops.
We immediately attacked each other. Fingers fumbling in the darkness, breathing slow and heavy, I pushed her up against the metal shelves. Joleen tore at my necktie. I lifted her skirt above her hips and pressed her body to mine. Articles of clothing were shed. More than a few times we scratched each other.
And then I turned her around. I tried to be gentle. But in the dark, neither of us could figure out exactly what to do, which oddly made it more exciting. Not only could we get caught by our coworkers, but I didn’t know what she’d do until she already did something.
Suddenly there was a rough and clumsy tug on my cock. I hadn’t realized how hard I already was. Or how wet Joleen was. The tip of my cock touched her wet hole. It was electric, like coming alive when I didn’t realize I’d been dead.
I took her by the hips, forcing her butt out and up, and entered her slowly. She moaned in pleasure. Her writhing body made me feel hot, even though I couldn’t see her. But every other sense seemed heightened. Her perfume mixed with sweat, and over all of that her pussy smell. I surprised nobody outside our little sanctuary smelled it too.
Joleen made throaty pleas for it faster, rougher. I gave it to her. And then it was like somebody pouring warm water down my balls. Joleen collapsed underneath me. I lifted her up by the arms, pushing myself deeper inside her. I tasted her sweaty hair. Her hot breath on me, she babbled incoherently.
And then I turned her around and lifted her up in my arms. I went slower. Made her beg for it. She came again and I couldn’t hold back anymore. Amazingly she came a third time.
I was about to blow my load when she smacked me on the arms. I let her down, thinking she needed something. And then Joleen got down on her knees in front of me. I would’ve loved to see myself come on her face. I had no idea if I managed to. But after the way she sucked me off, I swore I couldn’t stop coming.
I held her for a little while. And then i fumbled with putting my clothes back on. Joleen flipped the light switch.
“You knew that was there the whole time?” I said.
Joleen winked. “I saw it on the way in.”
We dressed each other and went back out to the boring party. I didn’t need a drink that night. It was simply the best Christmas ever.
And the most fun “blackout” I’ve ever had.
Copyright © 2020 Hermit Muse Publishing
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