Barry's Banana Christmas

© PennameWombat November 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is my exceptionally late entry for Literotica's Winter Holidays 2021 Contest. It's a visit into a corner of reality that is celebratory for some. For others, well, it's up to you.

Tags: WINTER HOLIDAY 2021, Anal virgin, Bareback, College, Cunnilingus, Lube, MF, Pussy eating, Romantic, Straight sex

*****

"This is one of my housemates, Tom. Tom, Hester."

"Good to meet you, Hester," Tom said as they shook hands, "Paul told me you were coming, but a bit later?"

"Thanks, Tom, good to meet you too. I skipped a toilet stop on the freeway, ya know, those truck stop restrooms! Ugh! So, uh..."

"Down that hall," Paul pointed to his right, "first door on left."

"Thanks," Hester said and she walked quickly and the door closed behind her.

Paul turned with the parka. He walked past the dining room table that faced a large bay window and turned left into the little kitchen to arrive at the nook they used as a wet room.

"I'll turn the lights on the Christmas tree," Tom said behind him, "it's mid afternoon, but not like it's bright outside."

"Good idea," Paul called. He put Hester's parka onto a hook. With Jeff away until the new year, that meant the spaces usually occupied by his and his girlfriend's outerwear were free.

"Ah, that's pretty," he heard Hester's voice, the slight hoarseness his memory said had always been there seemed stronger, "but not exactly your standard Christmas tree."

"This is Barry the Banana Tree," Tom said as he held his thumb and forefinger in an arc, "this big when I got him a few years back and..."

"Now his pot is half of a wooden barrel," Paul said, "and it is HEAVY. Only way we got it in here was with a hand truck."

Hester laughed as Paul bent over, put his hand on his lower back and groaned. The multi-colored lights strung across the broad leaves of the eight foot tall tree twinkled. It occupied the entirety of the floor space in the second large bay window that faced the street.

"Ah...," Hester's voice broke again before her amusement morphed to a broad smile, "do you get any fruit?"

"They're self-pollinating," Tom said, "but Barry hasn't come through. Paul's the one grew up on a farm, he should know what's up."

"We had some pear trees, but, well, look outside. This look like the tropics?"

Another round of laughter. Tom patted Barry's trunk and a broad leaf before he spoke.

"Need any help bringing anything in? I need to run a couple of errands, flying out tonight, but have few minutes. You guys'll have the place to yourselves."

He and Paul looked at Hester.

"Couple of bags," she said, "most of it can just stay in my van. I know Paul's back is shot but I can manage."

Paul snorted and shook his head.

"Later," Tom waved and traced Paul's path to the coat nook. The pair left behind gave quick waves back.

"Is Barry why you keep it so warm in here?" Hester asked before she grabbed the hem of her woollen sweater and pulled it off. She had a snug long-sleeved tee shirt under it. They heard the side door close and a moment later Tom's car backed out of the driveway.

"I mostly don't notice," Paul said, "my room's in the basement. Always cooler down there. The big couch is down there in the TV room, but no fold out."

"Told me that on the phone, fine with me. I don't roll around much when I sleep. And..."

Paul waited as Hester looked at Barry and her expression morphed from her happy smile to a sad one before it settled with a pensive sigh. Her smile lifted slightly when she looked at him.

"Anyway, help me grab the bags? Van can stay on the street."

"Let's go," Paul said and Hester tossed her sweater so it fell across the back of the nearest chair and the dining room table. He pulled the front door open and led her into the chilly afternoon air.

*****

"Anything else?" Paul asked as he set a duffel bag on the floor of the basement's large rec room. The large TV to his right gave the room its more usual name.

"This is it," Hester said as a rolled up sleeping bag bounced when she dropped it onto the floor, "definitely cooler down here."

"Uh," Paul forced his gaze back to Hester's face. Her face, with the same uneven tan he remembered, even faded this far after summer, was in a huge grin.

"Cold outside, too," she said, "guess I should've worn a bra?"

"Oh hell no," Paul said, "that would've been a bad idea. Not the first time I've seen you like this. A bra won't be needed while you're here."

"That game in the pouring rain," she said, "was summer. I took my bra off after the game. You and Brad were just as soaked through as any of us."

"Hey, coaching's a tough gig, sometimes. At least we won."

"Oh... that was the last game I played, wasn't it? Season ended..."

"That was June. We had the big party end of July and off you went to the other side of the country. Now you're a doctor."

She let out an amused exhale. "Yeah. A piled high and deep kinda doctor."

He chuckled. "You want anything? Drink? Hungry? Now we got your stuff in."

"Got tea?"

"Yeah. Upstairs. C'mon."

She followed him to the stairs and he led them out of the basement.

"You've still got a nice butt, you know that?" She said with a light tone. He stopped quickly and bent over. She let out a slight yelp and used a hand against his ass to stop herself. He shook his hips. She laughed and squeezed his right butt cheek.

He straightened and skipped quickly to the top and turned right. She followed and they laughed together. He grabbed a kettle from the stove and carried it to the sink.

"That cupboard," he pointed, "I never drink tea but Tom has a few different kinds. Help yourself. There's a bottle of instant coffee, it's shit but it's hot and black so fine for me. Mugs next cupboard over."

They worked in silence at their respective tasks. With the water heating and the mugs ready, they looked at each other.

"I'm kinda sad," he said, "I'm only your third or fourth choice for where to stay."

"Hey," she said, her voice firm but not angry, "try staying in one place for a while! I did call your number first. But, well, 'sorry, no idea who he is' was the answer."

"Oh... shit... yeah..."

"Comes the dawn."

"Two and a half years ago. Hey, you saw that place. Would YOU still be there? Always fast turnover, no surprise no one there was around when I lived in that dump."

She laughed. "I shoulda just gotten a hotel. But, well, I tried Brad and Karen's number, that's disconnected. Talked to Lil, but she only had your old number."

"Brad and Karen moved to Minnesota back in August. Jobs. I passed out my new number..."

Hester chuckled. "Finally got Crystal. She's headed out of town but at least she had your number here. But, guess I should mention it."

"Oh?"

"You're the only one I told I was coming. I just told the others I was just calling to say Merry Christmas."

Paul raised an eyebrow and his mouth froze as if to speak. She had her pensive expression again. The kettle whistled and he just nodded then filled the two mugs with boiling water. He dipped his head and led her to the dining table. She sat at the end of the table where she faced Barry's twinkling lights. Paul sat to her right where he could look out the window at the dismal afternoon. A couple of inches of icy snow remained on the lawns but the hard surfaces had been cleaned from the recent storm.

"So our secret. Not a worry you staying here."

"Sure? I don't want to impose..."

"Uh, my housemates are gone until after New Year's. This way I won't have to drink alone! Not like I have any classes to teach until January. I was either going to work on my thesis or play video games. Not like I was planning to rent the sofa out to anyone else."

"I won't interfere with all the chicks you plan to bring in?" Her grin was again broad.

"No freakin' way! This way I have a witness because NO ONE would believe that happened! So... if you have some ready, bring 'em in. My list's a bit, oh, short."

He grinned back and they shared a laugh.

"I've got my skis, been a while..." She did a slight shrug.

"That'll work, we'll go a day or two next week. But, uh, you know..."

She looked at him. Her expression went pensive again.

"You didn't really explain why..."

"I'm here."

"Well, I heard you're coming in the spring. You didn't bother to let me know when you skipped into town couple months back but I heard you got an assistant professor position here."

"Only had enough time to fly in, interviews, fly out. Kept it quiet so no one would feel like I slighted them so I skipped everyone. I'll have to go back, do my defense, teaching one class in the new semester. Dissertation's done, just final proofreading. Wanna take a look?"

"Sure, happy to help. Not that I'll understand it, but I'm good with grammar."

"You're finishing up the MS in the spring? Going for the PhD?"

"Nah," he chuckled, "leave that to you brainiacs. I like teaching but the research part, not so much."

She nodded slowly. "Jobs?"

"Few nibbles, couple local and couple not so local. Pretty sure one or two will come through, not sure which ones."

"So we can wave as I come back to town and you jet off to riches and fame."

"Yeah. Slaving away in a cubicle," he shook his head, "that's fame. But... well, that's not the only thing I heard about you. Something about... a..."

"Fiancé?"

"Yeah, that."

Her right hand released the mug and her fingers drummed. He slid his left hand to it. She accepted the light grip but kept her eyes on Barry. He saw reflections glitter in moist eyes.

"He found someone else."

"Oh... shit."

"Been kinda tunnel-visioned finishing my work, flat out this semester. Taught two classes, too much with finishing the dissertation too, but too good for experience. And the interview process here and one other school. But didn't think it was THAT bad. Didn't see it coming. At all. We were going to his family's place for the holiday weeks, only couple of hours drive, leave day after the semester ended. I got home from that last day and he sprang on me that HE was going... HE wasn't going alone... but I was NOT going with him."

"Ah, oh...," Paul managed but decided to just slightly tighten his grip.

She looked at her tea, then at Barry and his twinkling lights. The tip of her tongue caught between her lips for a moment before she sighed and continued in a quiet voice.

"So last place I wanted to be for Christmas was within a thousand miles. This is about double that, so good. Packed shit up and threw it in the van, first three hundred and fifty miles that night. He's promised his shit'll be out of the apartment by the time I get back. We'll see. But."

She turned and looked at him, a determined expression on her face. Her grip tightened.

"You and Sue," she said, "from what I'd heard, that was kinda, uh... serious."

It was Paul's turn to redirect his gaze for a moment. He looked at her.

"Ok. Yeah. Kinda, I guess."

"Out with it."

"She's staying with her parents for the holidays. I called her to see about getting together, only an hour away... she said her mother had invited people over and they were all staying in... so not a good night and tomorrow not likely to be..."

"And?" Hester's expression added emphasis to the word when Paul went silent.

"Was clear I wasn't invited, but I wasn't totally surprised. Last little while I've known something wasn't quite right, so somewhere my brain's more or less been prepped. But that wasn't the main thing that settled it," Paul sighed and took a moment to continue, "that was the exact same story she'd told me about the way she'd dumped that Malcolm. You remember, the guy she was with when she'd joined the team?"

Hester's mouth opened slightly and closed before she nodded. She spoke quietly.

"That's cold. I only knew her that last year I was here, but... fits what I remember. This shit always happens at Christmas, if there's a weak spot... breaks on the stress line."

"You're the PhD in physiology," he said quietly, "yeah. Fits. But not as cold as..."

Their hands squeezed a last time before they released. Both stayed silent and sipped before Paul spoke.

"Nothing on tonight, Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow with some other strays. Not soccer people, mostly school. Some Jews, Hindus, Muslim or two, folks with problem families. You're coming with me, unless you need to go elsewhere. Christmas Day, drop in to see my mom and step-dad. You should come. Give me an excuse not to stay any longer than is necessary. Oh, hey, not if you don't want to, it'll be, well..."

"Nothing changed there?" He shrugged at her question. She nodded and continued.

"Not sure which is harder this time of year, to not have any or have ones that are... problems. No. I'll come. And dinner sounds great. I'll let some people know I'm here next week. For now, I don't want to have to repeat my story, everybody will be well-meaning, but... strangers are okay."

"We'll make up a GOOD story to tell them! Anyway," Paul said, "you need a shower or anything?"

"Yeah, that'd be good. But, since nothing much tonight, I saw your VCR and bunch of movies. Got any Christmas movies?"

"Definitely. Real Christmas movies. Proper ones."

She mouthed an 'oh' and looked at him, her expression curious.

"We can start with 'Die Hard,' then it'll be 'Gremlins.' Then 'Silent Night, Deadly Night,' and one I can guarantee you've never seen."

"Oh?"

"'Last Stop on the Night Train.' It's truly an experience. It's like an Ingmar Bergman Christmas movie!"

She laughed. He liked it when she did that.

"The Pie still going strong?" He nodded to her question.

"Good. A pizza, plenty of popcorn and wine and we'll be set."

"Works on the pizza and popcorn fronts, but lacking on the wine."

"Okay," she said after draining her mug, "show me to the shower and then the wine store. My treat."

*****

Hester hadn't made it to the fourth movie. She snuffled and pushed closer to Paul as he sat on the couch. He shifted his left arm to rest along her side, his hand at the top of her right hip. Paul emptied his wine glass with a long drink. A glance told him the third bottle was as empty, due mainly to his efforts, although Hester had matched his diligence for the first two.

The final scenes of the Bergman-influenced "Last Stop on the Night Train" played on the television. He guessed the Swedish filmmaker would recognize the genesis of this movie as two of the movie's thugs met their gruesome fates at the hand of the vengeful father, but he might not appreciate it. Or, maybe he would. As the credits rolled he nudged Hester.

She had on fuzzy pajamas, light blue and decorated with schnauzers, arms and legs covered by the cloth. Her feet were in heavy socks. Her head was against his shoulder and her left arm across his thighs. She shifted slightly and the new angle meant he had a view of her right breast. It was as nice as he remembered it, but he'd had better views, that night he and Brad and half the team had all skinny-dipped at the hot springs after the Park City game chief among them.

"Hester," he whispered, "Hester."

She stirred. Snuffled. After another moment she shifted so she could look up at him. His view disappeared. Her heavily-lidded gray eyes blinked a couple of times.

"Hey, fell asleep."

"Yeah. We'll watch it another time."

"Toilet," she said and gave him a shy smile. She swung her legs and sat up. He stood and pulled her up. Both swayed for a moment before they balanced each other.

"Ah," each said, "bit dizzy."

He gathered the empty bottles into the large bowl they'd emptied of popcorn and set them at the base of the stairs as Hester emerged from the bathroom.

"Hey," she started but her statement was interrupted with a huge yawn, "thanks for letting me stay. But... I..."

She took two weaving steps and met him for a hug. She kissed his cheek before her eyes scrunched as she fought another yawn.

"C'mon," he led her into the rec room, "make yourself comfortable. I'll deal with the TV. Nothing to get up for, sleep late as you want."

"One bit of shopping to do," she slurred, her voice hoarser. Another yawn didn't help.

She unrolled her sleeping bag onto the couch as he extracted the cassette, restored it to its paper sleeve and turned the TV off. When he turned he saw Hester had removed her socks and snuggled into the bag and used the pillow he'd given her. She blinked as he walked to the door. He started to speak but simply smiled.

She was already asleep.

*****

"I'm a hooker," Paul stutter-stepped as he heard Hester's cheerful voice, "Hester the hooker. He bought my Holiday "girlfriend" special! I hang on his arm like his little sweetie so no one knows he's a lame wastrel who can't get a chick."

Paul stopped and stared as Hester and a man and a woman all turned toward him. All had broad smiles.

"But, well, look at me. I'm not exactly top tier," Hester continued, "but, not like he's flush with cash. I'm the budget model. Ah, thank you, lover."

He handed over a glass of wine and took a sip of his beer.

"Little? You're as tall as me," Paul said, "especially in those heels."

"And that's a beautiful dress, Hester," the woman, Esther, said, "you're the best-dressed one here."

"Like I said, I'm a pro. Pays to advertise!"

The flashed expressions Esther and her husband Prakash gave him seemed to indicate they knew she was joking. Well, maybe they knew. He hoped they knew. Prakash was part of his research group and Paul wondered whether this story would push his status up or down.

"She's actually an assistant professor of physiology," Paul said, "well, almost."

She shifted her wine to her right hand and wrapped his right arm with her left before she slid her hand until it slid into his. Her voice was on the boundary of husky and hoarse. Her light brown hair shook around her shoulders as her body did an amused shiver.

"Well, yeah," she said as she turned from Paul to face the couple, "but that pays like shit and I'm not one YET. Gotta keep the cash flowing somehow!"

They'd run their separate errands after a slow morning with lots of not-instant coffee and pancakes they'd quickly whipped together. Dual hangovers had faded with caffeine, carbs and chuckling as they revisited past years on the soccer field.

Reunited, she'd retreated behind the closed door of the rec room as he'd pulled on one of his better pairs of jeans and an actual button-down shirt over a tee shirt. He'd opened his bedroom door and was shuffling through papers on his desk when he looked up.

"Holy...," he'd said. Hester smiled at him in the doorway.

"I've never seen you in a dress," he said, "or a skirt. Shorts. Soccer uniforms. Jeans. Pajamas. But a dress... and heels! You look, uh..."

"Awesome? Incredible?"

"Yeah, those. Definitely. And hot. Yeah. Hot."

She chuckled. The dress reached her knees and was red with white trim and traced her athletic figure as she stood with one leg angled sideways and outward, her hips not broad. Its bottom four buttons were undone, which allowed it to expose her muscular left thigh.

"Stockings? Not panty hose?"

"Thought they fit," she said, "nice to know you're not totally clueless. Did Sue ever wear them?"

He sniffed hard. "Never saw her in a dress or skirt either. You know my taste in women."

He concentrated his gaze. She shook her head and pushed her chest out as he smiled. The top four buttons were in the same state as the bottom four.