Christmas Bells in New York

Another contest, another deadline missed. But it was still worth the effort and practice writing for themes. This will probably be the last one for 2023 so I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read, favorite and comment on my first few stories on the site. You have made the experience so much more positive and fun than I had hoped for.

Christmas Bells In New York

Snow. In New York City. Take an inhospitable, faceless Beast that on a good day is malevolent and doesn't necessarily want to kill you but doesn't really care if you live or not, and make it wet. Freezing and wet. Winter in New York isn't magical. Maybe in the dead center of Central Park. In most of the city snow very quickly turns into something more akin to gray sand if you are lucky, and slippery, soggy gray muck if you aren't.

At least tonight, I didn't have to get wet, then sit on the subway for forty five minutes then get wet again. The manager in my department has left for a six-day ski trip to Aspen with friends for the Christmas break and roped me into looking after her cat for the holidays. I'm not a cat guy, but when she gave me the pitch, she really sold me on the swank pad she lived in and it's proximity to our work place. A twelve to fifteen minute walk, including a stop at a market or liquor store.

I have to admit, when I arrived after work yesterday, I was a little gob smacked at how nice the place was. Fifteenth floor. Floor to ceiling windows in the living space/ kitchen. Big en-suite with a Jaccuzi. She even had an extra room that was office on one side, Peloton bike and dumbbell rack with a bunch of resistance bands hanging off it. She had herself set up pretty good.

It became clear that this level of luxury was not from the salary she was pulling in at the ad firm. Not to take anything away from her talent, dedication and work ethic. She did a good job and took it seriously. But she was twenty seven. To carry the cost of this place on her pay scale it was obvious she had either, won the lottery or the genetic lottery.

Just one example of this was the lavish seven foot Christmas tree centered in the window, decked out in silver, white and blue. When lit up it, it was magnificent. Why go to all the effort and expense if you knew you were going away for the holidays?

I wasn't judging - it was just my working class upbringing and my frugal lifestyle where anything frivolous I saw was instantly converted into a monetary value of what percentage of my rent it would cover. The tree alone, with all it's trimmings and the related electricity was forty to fifty percent of my monthly nut. Easily.

I entered the building and took the elevator, going over my nightly to do list. Clean the litter box, feed the cat, take out the bag of scoopings and any garbage to the shoot and plug in the tree. Tonight I wanted to get my chores done as quick as possible so that I could have a couple of drinks and relax in the Jacuzzi. I had the next four days off, so I could unwind. I couldn't afford to fly home to Ohio for Christmas, so this sweet gig was like a mini in city vacation.

I entered the apartment and sensed, rather than saw the cat running to hide. Velma the Siamese had yet to warm up to me, but as long as the food I was putting out disappeared and was converted to small pooh sticks, I did not have to push the issue. I knew from pictures that she had a little bell on her white velvet collar, and it alerted me when she was on the move.

I plugged in the tree first, I guess out of some sense that the place being lit up would make me feel warmer. The other tasks took five minutes. I went to the bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I have always tried to do core exercises every workday. Twenty - five or thirty minutes in the morning. Having the Peloton bike on hand was a nice switch up for some cardio. I was by no means gym bro ripped, but I could still fit into most of my clothes from high school.

Forty minutes later I toweled the sweat off, filled the Jacuzzi tub and fixed a drink. I knew I would be in there for a bit so I grabbed a big plastic protein shake bottle with a flip cover, dumped in four ice cubes, six ounces of Kraken, and filled it up with tropical fruit juice. December in North East - get your vitamin C in any way you can.

I made my way to the en suite and grabbed a towel for after my soak, placing it, my drink and my tablet in easy reach before pulling down my shorts, peeling my t-shirt off and sliding into the hot water.

The jets did their magic and slowly massaged away the stresses of my workweek. I worked away at my drink and just relished the comfort of the water. I didn't even end up touching my tablet. There was nothing it could give me that would enhance what I was experiencing right now.

I must have drifted into a deep reverie, because I was roused by a twinkling sound. The cat must be on the move. I reached for my drink and noticed all the ice had melted, so I must have been dozing off for a while. I downed the rest shut off the jets and lifted myself from the water. As I was toweling off, I thought I heard a pop from the great room. Shit. The cat must have knocked an ornament off the tree.

I was bent, drying my legs and heard the bell again. I had better get out there before the cat tears the whole tree down. As I exited the bedroom and moved towards the tree, I noticed the overhead lights had dimmed. Maybe it was a motion thing and they did it on their own after a certain amount of time. I strode towards the tree, looking for my feline nemesis, but found nothing amiss. I crouched, looking for the broken ornament but found nothing.

"Nice ass," a female voice said behind me, "I assume since you took a bath that you aren't a burglar."

I spun, shocked and was face to face with a white haired woman, dressed in a white, above the knee cocktail dress, holding a glass of wine, bending slightly to sit on the sofa. She set her wine down and tugged at the hem of her dress, smoothing it out and covering what I noticed were two very lovely shaped thighs, encased in white wool tights, not the silk stockings or pantyhose you would expect to be paired with such an elegant dress. She didn't appear to be wearing a lot of make-up, but her hazel green eyes glowed in the light from the tree, mischief and playfulness sparkling in them and off of her lips that were curling into a smile. Again, instead of lipstick, they shone with lip gloss. Everything about her was a contradiction that said she was cultured, well off, but completely bored with the trappings of propriety and having to be 'classy'. This woman didn't give a fuck what anyone thought about her and enjoyed being the best goddamned version of herself she could be.

"Okay we'll try this another way. I'm Daphne, Becky's Mom, and this would be far less awkward if I knew your name so that I could ask you to get dressed because trust me, tonight is not the night to stand there with your tackle all on display!"

That, dear reader, is when I realized I had not wrapped the towel around myself and was indeed standing starkers in front of my managers Mom. My mind was racing, seeing vignettes of my future. Out of work, soon after homeless, crawling back to the one street town I had been raised in. I clamped my hands over my crotch, frozen with fear, unable to process the mess I had gotten myself into.

Daphne clapped her hands together loudly. "Name?"

"Uh, I'm Marcus..."

"Awesome. Listen Marcus, you aren't in any trouble. I'm the one that isn't supposed to be here. I apologize for intruding on you. I'll make you a deal. You don't tell Becky that I showed up here tonight and I never tell her I could pick you out of a waist down line up. Now, I really need to get some alcohol into me, so I need you to go put clothes on so that I can concentrate on that instead of ogling your junk like a horny old cow."

"I'm so sorry Ma'am. I thought the cat was tearing down the tree. I heard a pop and I thought that an ornament had fallen. Then I heard her bell and..."

As I was saying this, she leaned her head back slightly and ran a hand up her chest to her neck, hooked a finger under the white silk ribbon around her neck, and waggled it, showing me that she too wore a bell. As it chimed softly, I noticed the beautiful lines of her slender neck, the absence of wrinkles and the smoothness of the skin. In fact, I became aware that she seemed to be wrinkle free everywhere. Since Rebecca had an older brother, that means this snowy beauty had to be at least fifty five. Minimum. And yet, she held my attention like women my age couldn't.

I snapped out of my daze and walked past her to the bedroom in search of clothing and dignity. I pulled on some gray gym pants and a knit sweater. As I pulled on my socks, Daphne called out to me, "Marcus?"

"Yes Ma'am?"

"Yes what?"

"Yes Daphne?"

"Much better. I couldn't help noticing you had some Kraken out. This wine is horrible and not doing the trick. Would you be okay sharing some of your rum with me?"

"Of course. All I have for mix is tropical fruit juice. Rebecca might have some cans of coke in the fridge." I felt a need to please and was about to offer to go out to find whatever she needed.

"Oh, no honey, I could just take it like that over three ice cubes. I don't need anything fancy, I just need to let the liquor warm me up. Oh, and some company. You will indulge an old crone and drink with her, won't you? It's Christmas. Charity for the needy and all that."

"No problem." I fixed our drinks and walked to the sitting area and passed her a half full tumbler of dark liquid. She wasted no time making a third of it disappear in the first gulp. No sipping here.

I held out my glass "Slainte. Merry Christmas Mrs. Dunsmore."

She wiped some rum off her lower lip with the back of her hand and caught it with her tongue. She clinked my glass with hers. "Merry Christmas. But - drop the Mrs. Dunsmore crap. I don't think that is going to be a thing for much longer." There was the fire in her eyes again. She closed them and threw her head back.

I sat down on the sofa beside her. "Ouch. I might be a kid, but I can recognize a fresh wound. Want to talk about it?"

She pursed her lips, mulling over the propriety of airing her dirty laundry to one of her daughter's co-workers.

"I get it. You just met me. Sometimes those are the best people to talk to, an unbiased ear."

"Okay," she said exhaling. "I'm going to go get changed into something more comfortable. These tights are starting to get warm. You go get the bottle." She took another big swig of rum then stood in front of me, facing away. "A little help?" It took me a second to process the request before reaching up and slowly pulling down the zipper. She headed for the bedroom and sat inhaling the waft of perfume that her movement left me sitting in.

I went to the kitchen and got a glass full of extra ice cubes and the bottle of rum. On my way back to the sitting area, I saw movement in the bedroom. Daphne had not closed the door. She was slipping out of her dress and letting it fall to the floor. She stepped out of it, hooked her thumbs into the waist band of her tights she bent and pulled them down, revealing an incredible ass divided by the pristine white lace of her thong. Her ass cheeks swayed and jiggled as she worked the wool down over her foot, then repeated the process with the other leg before picking them and the dress up to place on the bed.

She stood back up and reached behind her to unhook the matching bra. As she pulled it off her chest, she must have sensed she was being watched and looked to the side over her left shoulder. She didn't turn to confront me, but turned her lips into a sly smile. I hoofed it to the sofa and unloaded my hands before sitting down.

I heard the sound of the toilet flushing and Daphne appeared beside me dressed in a above the knee white night shirt. She was also carrying a fleece blanket.

"Comfy?" I asked admiring her sexy legs as she flipped them up onto the sofa in the space between us. I helped cover them with the throw, tempted to sneak a backhand brush along her calf, just to see if her skin felt half as soft as it looked.

"Much better thank you." She grinned. I was surprised to see that she still wore the satin choker and bell. I filled her glass back to the halfway point, guessing that that was six ounces in total for her. I would have to be careful not to get my boss's mom totally shitfaced. "And thank you for humoring me. I've had a rough night." She took a drink and shivered. I couldn't tell if it was because of the rum or if it was the memory of whatever was making her drink.

"I have nothing better to do. No plans at all for the next four days. Seriously, if talking it through would help, I'm a great listener."

"Aren't you just a perfect gentleman. Too nice to be one of Becky's usual crowd. I love my daughter, but she and her friends are some of the most self-absorbed narcissists I've ever met. I thought the place would be empty and one of the neighbors would be feeding Velma."

I snorted and almost spit out the sip I had just taken of my drink when I realized the hilarity of the cat's name now that I have met the reason behind the name.

Daphne laughed out loud. "Oh it gets even worse. That isn't even the first cat. I think that is Velma The Third." We both howled is laughter until our sides hurt and were both wiping tears away.

As we composed ourselves, I could sense Daphne tensing up a bit. She was ready to talk.

"Tonight my husband had a small Holiday party for the employees at the bank he runs. Nothing fancy. Eighteen people and their plus ones if applicable. Cold buffet, open bar and a DJ. In a reception hall a few blocks from the bank. Just over on East 27th Street."

"After he made his speech and the dancing started I went to the powder room. When I got back, I looked around but Didn't see Tom. I asked around a bit and finally the young man manning the buffet table said he had seen him by the back fire exit doors."

"I may have been blonde in my younger years, but that doesn't mean I could play one on TV. As I made my across the room in that direction I became aware of several sets of eyes tracking me. They all knew. When I got to the door, I could see that it wasn't blocked open. I turned and noticed there was a door ten feet back. I approached it and could hear muffled sounds from inside. I got my phone out and opened the camera app. The handle didn't have a key hole, but just one of those vertical slots for a child proof lock. I dug in my purse and found a nail file that would fit the slot. I popped it to the side and flung open the door. I started taking pictures while reaching for the light switch." Daphne took another big drink. There was no indication that the rum was hitting her at all.

"My loving husband had his face buried between the thighs of Karen Rawlings, who handles investment portfolios at the bank. She is quite a curvy lady, and when the lights came on she tried to scramble off of the four stacked chairs she was perched on. The whole stack went over sideways with Tom still trapped between her legs. I got a few more shots of them trying to regain their feet and get her skirt pulled down."

"I stormed off into the reception hall in search of my coat. The screams emanating from the room behind me were rising above the music and all of the faces in the room were watching me. Their looks split, between shock and pity. That told me that whatever was going on between them wasn't new and was common knowledge. I felt like I was doing a walk of shame. Me! What had I done?"

Daphne spun her legs off the sofa and reached for the bottle, splashing another few ounces of darkness and adding a couple of ice cubes into her glass. She took a sip then turned to me.

"I've known for years that Tom had his little flings and dalliances. But for the sake of the kids I turned a blind eye. As long as he was discreet. Whenever I would see the signs that he was with someone else I would cut him off for a while until it seemed over, then after an appropriate amount of time we would begin relations again. I wasn't catching something from one of his trollops. The last three years he has lost interest altogether. When I went through menopause, he took that as a sign the candy store was closed up.

"It was actually the opposite. My sex drive went through the roof, and I've got enough sex toys to open my own shop. I mean except for the fact that they are used."

Daphne saw how red I had turned. "I'm sorry Marcus. TMI. The rum is starting to talk. Am I traumatizing you?"

"No, I'm okay. You are the one who had the shock tonight." I was definitely not okay. Thinking of this beauty getting herself off with toys had my cock swelling in my sweatpants. I was low key trying to cover up with one corner of the blanket.

"You know what hurts the most? I would understand better if Tom had been off banging a twenty or thirty year old. But Susan can't be more than a couple of years younger than me. Do you know how that makes me feel. I've stayed faithful to the ass for thirty-four years for what? Well I'm done. We have a prenup and now I have some proof. All Tom is getting for Christmas is served!" Daphne eyes were straining to contain tears.

"Daphne, I know we just met, but can I give you a hug?" She lost the battle as tears streamed down her cheeks and she started nodding.

Daphne got up and held out her arms. I took one hand and guided her to sit on my lap. This wasn't going to be a hug. It was going to take time. This was going to be someone coming apart from the grief of a relationship that has lasted more than half of her life and the joy associated with realizing that someone who has mistreated and disrespected you wouldn't be able to hurt you any longer because there was no more love there, no more caring. She wrapped her arms around my neck, buried her face on my chest and let the sobs come. At first, I held her tight to me, my hands clasped over her left ribs. As the sobs gave way to tears again I raised my left hand to cradle the back of her head, running my fingers along her neck and up into her hair while I rubbed her back with my right hand.

As I started to rock her gently, I became aware that even though I had just met Daphne an hour or so before, this was probably the most intimate moment I had shared with anybody in my life. Sure, I had dated, I wasn't a virgin by any means. But the emotion in the embrace, the feeling of loss I was feeling for her was stronger than any feelings I had ever had for anyone. And I was content to sit there as long as she wanted, comforting her, until all the highs and lows of her day, reached equilibrium again. After a few minutes of the rocking and hair scratching, she began slowly turning her head back and forth, wiping the last of the moisture from her eyes, rubbing her face against my collar bone. The sobs had turned to mewls, the mewls to sighs and finally the sighs to an almost purring sound. I was struck for the second time that evening by how much she resembled the cat I was babysitting. All in white, with the same little bell choker, and now the purring.

The movements of her head and face migrated north and she was now rubbing her nose along my neck and under my jaw. I could feel her hot breath, coming increasingly erratic and could feel her whole chest rising and falling under my right hand that was still stroking her back. Once her ragged breath hit that soft spot just behind my ear I let out a sigh, and before I was done processing the moment, her left hand was cupping my right cheek and pulling me to her lips.

Usually the first time you share an intimate kiss with someone, you have known the person for a bit, had social interactions, invested time in making yourself desirable to that person. And you have built up things in your head. As have they. There is a nervousness to the first kiss. In my experience. Granted, I knew, but had not experienced, that kind of animal lust first kiss often associated with one-night stands. That kind of feral kissing that leads to buttons being lost and underwear being ruined because the elastic waistbands weren't meant to stretch like that.