Christmas Carol

It was seven-thirty on the morning of Christmas Eve 1959. Carol's alarm clock sounded, she groaned, reached out to silence it and accidentally knocked it onto the bedroom floor; it continued with a laboured, muffled ring until it finally 'gave up the ghost.'

The short silence was broken by the sound of milk bottles clanking in metal crates as a milk float made its way along the street. Carol opened her eyes and switched on the bedside lamp; she hated this time of year, getting up on cold, dark mornings and coming home in the dark. Although it was Christmas Eve, today was no exception.

She lived alone in a small 1930s semi-detached house in a suburb of a northern English town. She was thirty-seven-years-of-age and both of her parents were dead. Her father was killed in the war, seventeen years ago; her mother died during the previous summer, leaving the house and a small sum of money to Carol.

There were no other members of her family left alive. She was single, had no real friends and she was sure that this Christmas was going to be the loneliest she had ever known. She sat shivering at her dressing table, a one-bar electric fire struggled to take the winter chill off her bedroom.

She looked into the mirror and, as usual, focused on aspects of her appearance that she didn't like; her small breasts, her weak chin, a slightly hooked nose with a prominent nasal bridge. What she found harder to see were her beautiful blue eyes, her lean, almost model-like figure with its slim waist and her shapely bottom and legs.

Over the years she had taken little pleasure from her staid, unfulfilled life. She'd had no luck with men; boyfriends had let her down. She'd almost been engaged a couple of times and when things had not turned out as planned, her unsupportive mother had been quick to say, "I told you so."

She had little experience in matters of sex; even though she was well acquainted with her boss's cock. For the past eighteen months, since he'd joined the company, she'd masturbated him in his office, once a week, on a Wednesday afternoon, when the rest of the staff had left work. At first, she'd been faintly flattered by the attention, but as she began to realise that their 'relationship' was going to be a one-way street, she became disillusioned.

Not that she was ever particularly attracted to Reg Brown. He was forty-eight years of age, married, a heavy smoker, overweight, and a womaniser. He strung Carol along with half-promises of promotion that never materialised; when she realised what his game was, she became reluctant to play. She told him that she wanted it to stop, but he said that it might not do her prospects any good; she could easily be replaced, he'd said. It was always a hand job, she didn't want him to touch her. He tried to get her to take his cock in her mouth, but she drew the line at that; she was repulsed by the idea.

When she was twenty-three, she'd allowed one of her boyfriends to penetrate her in the back of his Morris Minor. It had been a clumsy, messy, unfulfilling affair; he'd come just as he was entering her, leaving her to mop up his semen while he paced up and down outside the car, frustratedly smoking a cigarette. He'd driven her home in embarrassed silence; as soon as she'd got in, she'd cleaned the drying semen stains off her dress before her mother had noticed.

In her late twenties, another boyfriend talked of marriage; he fucked her numerous times over a three-month period before she discovered that he was also fucking his sister-in-law. She'd enjoyed the sex very much, but she'd lost her confidence with men and found it difficult to trust them. The only orgasms she'd had since then had been self-induced; fingering herself underneath the bed sheets and stifling the sounds of her release so that her mother didn't discover her guilty secret.

The rest of her life was quiet and uneventful; she liked reading and needlework, and she loved looking at women's fashion magazines. She fantasised about being a model, but she suspected that she'd never be anything more than a senior clerk at an insurance company.

It being Christmas Eve, a staff party would commence as soon as the office closed for business. She put on her white bra, corset and satin underskirt with its lace trimming and then sat in her dressing gown as she applied her makeup. She didn't know why she was making a special effort with her appearance today, except that was what was expected for the office party.

She made sure that she got the seams of her tan-coloured stockings straight before clipping them carefully to the suspender straps dangling from her open-bottomed girdle. She removed her dressing gown, put on a clean white blouse, and then got into her best, dark blue, calf-length, wool flannel, straight skirt. Stepping into her black, three-inch high heeled court shoes and putting on the stylish short jacket that matched her skirt, she made her way downstairs for a slice of toast and a cup of tea.

As she ate her breakfast, she cringed at the thought of what Reg would be expecting her to do with him later on in some dark store cupboard; she made sure that she'd got two handkerchiefs in her handbag. She put on her coat, picked up the old biscuit tin, that contained mince pies that she'd baked for the party, and set off through the sleet to catch the bus into the city centre.

On the journey, she overheard a conversation between two women about last-minute Christmas shopping and realised, sadly, that she had no reason to do any. She hadn't bothered to decorate at home, a small artificial tree was her only concession to Christmas. Her melancholy increased at the thought of the sardines on toast and a mince pie that would be her Christmas Day lunch; meagre offerings that symbolised the deeper sadness of her lonely, unfulfilled life.

Her mood lifted a little when she got into the office and was greeted by Brenda's and Mike's smiling faces. Brenda was in her mid-fifties; she was a wise old head and often provided a listening ear for Carol. She'd helped her deal with the death of her mother earlier in the year; she also suspected that Reg was using Carol for his own gratification but she didn't know the details.

Mike was the office junior, he'd been with the firm since he'd left school at sixteen; he was nineteen now and was making the transition from a boy to a tall, handsome young man. He played football and cricket and liked going out for a drink with his mates. Carol had always watched out for him at work, she'd taken him under her wing when he first joined the firm. She liked his kind eyes and gentle manner; she sometimes wished that she was younger and he was older. He had a thoughtful and considerate nature that helped make him popular with all of the women in the office.

In the past few months, as he'd begun to develop physically and mature mentally, she had found herself casting glances in his direction; furtive glances, the kind that sometimes made her nipples tingle.

Although it was Christmas Eve, it was a normal business day, like any other Thursday; the only concession to the holiday season was that the office would close an hour early, at four o'clock. The firm had provided a limited quantity of drinks which had been augmented by booze brought in by some of the staff. Some of the women had baked sausage rolls and mince pies to help soak up the alcohol once the party got underway.

During the morning, Carol had half a mind on her work and half a mind on the job application she put in several weeks ago. The office supervisor job had become vacant; she'd hoped, forlornly she expected, that her weekly masturbation of Reg's penis might stand her in good stead. Reg had said that he would make the appointment before Christmas. The problem was that Carol now had a rival.

Diane had joined the company six months ago. She was twenty-five, ambitious, pretty, and had a good figure and she knew it. The attractive blonde-haired woman had played the field; she'd been engaged a couple of years ago and had broken it off. She was engaged again now; her boyfriend wanted to settle down and marry but, unbeknown to him, she was having an affair with his best friend. Carol had noticed how she'd gradually got her hooks into Reg and now she was reeling him in.

What Carol didn't know, but suspected, was that Diane was playing hard to get; something she thought with hindsight, that she should have done. She knew that Diane had also applied for the job. Diane was being clever, although they hadn't spoken directly about it, she'd made sure that Reg understood that she wouldn't touch his cock until she'd got it in writing that she had got the job. Despite Carol being much more experienced, and having previously done the job in an acting capacity, she knew that Diane was going to be appointed.

Her worst fears were confirmed just before lunch when she witnessed Reg handing an envelope to Diane. They were both in his office, he was leering at her and she had a look of self-satisfaction on her face. Diane left his office and gave Carol a smug grin before telling her that Reg wanted to see her.

"Er, I've made a decision about the supervisor job Carol, and I'm afraid you've been unsuccessful on this occasion..." said Reg.

"Oh, I see, well if that's all I'll get back to my desk."

"It, it was a difficult decision, I..."

"Please don't patronise me, we both know why she's got the job," said Carol, stung by her own hypocrisy as much as Reg's decision to give the job to Diane.

"I hope it won't interfere with our 'arrangement,' we can still..."

"Oh no we can't, you'll have to hope that she keeps her side of the bargain."

"Don't be like that Carol, I might still be able to find something for you in future, in fact, I've been meaning to talk to you about a pay raise."

"Keep your pay rise, I'll be looking elsewhere for a job after Christmas, now if there's nothing else, I'd like to get on with my work."

What Carol was not in the mood for now, was to be pestered by Jim, the sleazy insurance assessor who had leched after her on previous occasions. He must have assumed that, as it was Christmas Eve and Carol was looking smart and sexy, he was entitled to pester her for a Christmas kiss; he sidled up to her desk.

"Hello, mmm, I must say you look very fetching today; are you making a special effort for a boyfriend?"

"No, I'm making a special effort for me."

"Still no boyfriend then, hmm?"

Carol gave him a withering look but he pressed on.

"It's a shame to go to all that trouble for no reason, maybe I'll catch you under the mistletoe later and we'll see where that takes us eh?"

"Yes, and maybe you'd like to sell tickets, perhaps your wife would be interested."

Carol realised as soon as the words had come out of her mouth that he'd seize on her mistake.

"God yes, a threesome eh? You're getting me all excited you sexy little tease."

Brenda had overheard most of what had been said and she decided that Carol needed rescuing.

"Clear off Jim, and stop being such an obnoxious creep."

"Oh, I see, Matron did't like our little tete-a-tête,"

He turned to Carol as he left, "You don't know what you're missing."

She felt that she did and she was only too glad to be missing it. She told Brenda that Diane had got the supervisor job.

"Oh, I'm sorry Carol, he's a bastard. She won't last five minutes in that job."

The rest of the day dragged on for Carol. Mike told her that he was sorry that she didn't get the job; he said she deserved it and that she was easily the best candidate. He had no idea that she'd been pumping Reg's cock on a weekly basis for the past year-and-a-half, or that Diane had Reg eating out of her hand. Carol had managed to keep her 'obligation' to Reg secret, but she felt even more grubby and ashamed of her intentions now. She thanked Mike for his kind words and told him that he'd make a young woman very happy someday.

*******************

As four o'clock approached, the staff ranged between those who were up for a good time and those who couldn't wait to leave work. Several of the women laid out a spread of food and the party got started. Someone had brought in a Dansette record player; the sound of Christmas crooners filled the office.

The insurance assessors smoked and drank; they flirted and tried to kiss female staff under a sprig of mistletoe that was hanging from the ceiling; they made rude jokes and one or two of them got very tipsy in no time at all. The young female office workers were flattered by the attention from the smooth-talking older men.

Mike laughed and joked with colleagues, but mostly, he watched Carol as he had been doing all day. He'd always thought that she was desirable but she was eighteen years older than him so he'd kept his thoughts to himself. Mike hadn't had a serious girlfriend; he'd never had sex, except with himself, like many single young men, he masturbated frequently.

His fantasies had featured his mother's two younger sisters, his married thirty-something next-door neighbour and a former school teacher whom he bumped into occasionally; she always asked how things were going. In fact, he was besotted by her; she was very pretty and fresh-faced with an engaging smile. She was in her mid-thirties and married; he thought that her husband was a very lucky man.

It had occurred to him that most of his masturbation fantasies featured women who were significantly older than him; Carol was included in this group. He fancied her in the way that lots of men casually fancy lots of women. He loved to watch her walk through the office, especially when she wore a close-fitting skirt. He loved the way her buttocks swayed and her thighs moved against the material; he loved her slender, stockinged calves and her sexy heeled shoes.

When she stretched up to reach a high shelf or bent down to a lower one, he would sneak a look at her suspender straps straining against the taut material of her skirt; he admired her flat stomach and narrow waistline; he could imagine her on a catwalk.

Bottles of beer, babycham, sherry, gin, whisky, tonic and ginger ale had all been opened and consumed. The party was in full swing, staff danced, laughed and joked. Everyone had a good time except Carol, she was still feeling foolish and embarrassed. There was no way Reg would get a hand job from her today or any other day for that matter.

It was almost six o'clock, the party would be winding down soon. Emboldened by several glasses of sherry, she went looking for Reg to give him a piece of her mind. She hadn't thought it through, if she'd taken the trouble to look around the main office, she'd have noticed that her nemesis, Diane, was also absent.

She found them in the cleaner's cupboard; Diane with her skirt around her waist, her knickers on the floor, legs spread wide and Reg's erect cock in her hand. Diane looked at her over Reg's shoulder and gave her a smug, victorious smile. Carol turned away, upset, feeling anger and frustration mixed with regret; regret that she'd ever allowed herself to be used by Reg. When he'd said, in the early days, that he'd leave his wife for her, she'd been mortified; she definitely hadn't wanted that; she hadn't known what she'd wanted, except to be thought attractive.

She went back to the party looking upset. Brenda asked her what was wrong but she put her coat on hurriedly and picked up her handbag; tears of frustration filled her eyes.

"What's wrong Love? Has someone upset you?"

Embarrassed, she said, "It's nothing, just a headache, I'd better be getting home."

"I don't like to think of you all on your own tomorrow, are you sure you won't come round to me Bob for the day? We'd love to have you, just say the word and Bob'll come and pick you up."

"Thanks, Brenda, that's kind of you but I'll be okay, I'll see you on Tuesday, it'll all be over before we know it. Have you seen Mike?"

"I don't know where he is; he was here a minute ago."

"Wish him a Happy Christmas from me."

With that, Carol made her way to the main entrance at the front of the building and let herself out. Just as she was leaving, Reg's wife arrived. She didn't know Carol, and Carol only knew her by sight. As she made her way to the bus stop it started to snow. She hoped that Reg was still being entertained by Diane and that his wife would catch them at it.

Back in the office, in one of the side rooms, Mike was trying to avoid the attention of a slightly plump, plain-looking girl. She was one of the typists and she had a crush on him. He decided that his best bet was to leave with a crowd of insurance assessors who were setting off for the pub. The party was winding down; Brenda and some of the other women were beginning to clear up.

"Oh, there you are," said Brenda, "Carol's just gone, it's a shame because she's missed all the fun."

"What fun?"

"Reg's wife has just turned up unexpectedly and found him under his desk with Diane; I don't think they were discussing the state of the carpet."

"Wow, what happened?"

"I heard shouting and a door slam, and then Mrs Reg stormed out, about a minute later, he left with his tail between his legs. He'll be spending Christmas in the dog house, you can depend on it."

Just as she finished tidying Carol's desk, she noticed something.

"Oh dear, Carol's forgotten her reading glasses. She'll be lost without them; you know how she loves reading and embroidery. You live out her way don't you?"

"Yes, about a quarter of a mile away, I know the street she lives on but I don't know the house number."

"Oh, I've got a note of it in my diary, I sent her a sympathy card when her mother died. Here it is; number sixty-nine Longwood Avenue. Will you drop them off for her on your way home?"

"I'm just off to the pub with Malc and his team."

"Well, you could push them through her letter box later on."

"Okay, you're right, I'll do it."

"Thanks, and don't forget will you, I know what you men are like when you've had a few beers."

"Don't worry, I won't forget, have a good Christmas and I'll see you on Tuesday."

"You too love, oh, and Carol said to wish you a Happy Christmas as well."

Mike set off to the pub with the rest of his colleagues; he had a couple more pints and made an effort to join in with the banter, but he kept thinking of the glasses case in his breast pocket.

Carol was at home drinking more sherry and feeling low. She was angry with herself for losing her glasses. Christmas would be even more dull and lonely without them. She thought about her sardines on toast and a mince pie for Christmas lunch. It seemed pitiful; she'd be glad to get back to work in four day's time for a bit of company.

She listened to the radio, alternating between the BBC Home Service and the Light Programme. Mike entered her thoughts; she was sorry to have missed him earlier and felt churlish at not seeking him out to wish him a Merry Christmas. She thought about his kindness when he had commiserated with her about not getting the supervisor job. He'd been so tender and thoughtful that she'd wanted to hug him; she allowed herself to dwell on the prospect.

********************

It was eight-thirty, Mike had made his excuses, wished everyone a Merry Christmas and set off for the bus stop. He got off the bus at the end of Longwood Avenue and trudged through the light covering of snow looking for number sixty-nine. By eight-fifty, he was standing outside Carol's house. There was a light on; he thought he could hear a radio. With a flutter of nervous excitement, he pressed the doorbell.

It felt odd and out of context to be calling at the house of an older woman as though it was some kind of assignation. Of course, he saw her every day at work, but this was her private domain. He wondered whether he should be there at all. His nerve failed him, he began to push the spectacle case through the letterbox just as Carol opened the door.