Under The Mistletoe

The sounds of traditional Christmas music, intermixed with more conventional party fare, filled the air as the employee Christmas party at Hanson Brothers Auto Mall entered its fourth and final hour. As company parties went, this one was better than most, despite the fact that it was taking place in the temporarily emptied showroom, as opposed to one of the restaurants or rental halls that most other companies in town booked for the occasion.

Hanson Brothers was a fairly good-sized business, consisting at one time of four different dealerships. It had been in operation in one form or another since just after the Second World War, having been founded by the father and uncle of the current owner. With the changes in the economy over the last few years, Hanson Brothers had to downsize a little, closing one of its franchises. Still, George Hanson was determined that the fifty-nine people that worked for him would still feel appreciated at Christmas.

If anyone minded the change of locale, no one was heard to complain about it. After all, the food was great, the drinks free and plentiful, and for the most part, the companionship quite enjoyable. All these things passed through Tracy Smith's thoughts as she stood in a far corner, next to an already depleted buffet table, and nursed the eggnog she had been drinking. After almost two hours of non-stop dancing, the twenty-four year old redhead was content to watch others fill the makeshift dance floor.

Originally, since she had only been with the company for a few months, Tracy had planned to skip the year-end celebration. The receptionist had changed her mind at the last minute, partially due to some old fashion begging and pleading from a few of her male co-workers. Since the male to female ratio at Hanson Brothers was over two to one, they needed every girl they could get at the party. In the end, she was glad they convinced her since she had done more bonding with her fellows in the last three hours than in the last three months.

Some of that had been due, understandably, to the not inconsiderable amounts of free booze that had been indulged in by the partygoers. Libations on that scale tended to break down most barriers. Some of them, perhaps a little too much, she thought as she reminded herself of the three cases of roving hands that she'd encountered on the dance floor. In two of those, a simple relocation of the wandering hand had proved sufficient.

Why was it, she asked herself as she brushed back her short hair, did some guys just assume that being willing to dance with them also entitled them to other liberties as well. Still, it had been a distinct minority of the number she'd been with so maybe it was best to just chalk it up to the overly festive atmosphere.

It wasn't that she was a prude, far from it. Tracy thoroughly enjoyed the touch of a man in many an intimate place. She just liked to be able to control the who and the when.

In keeping with her desire to stay in control of things, the woman in the green party dress had stopped drinking alcoholic beverages halfway through the party in order to give her body plenty of time to burn away any detrimental effects. Back in her college days, she had learned the hard way that she didn't make great decisions under the influence. Thankfully, it had been a very long time since she'd woken up in a strange bed and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Merry Christmas, Tracy," the obviously inebriated man in the Santa Claus suit said to the younger redhead as he suddenly appeared in front of her and moved to give her an affectionate hug.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Hanson," Tracy said as she returned his hug in such a way as to restrict the movement of his hands. She had heard from one of the saleswomen that while a nice man when sober, the sixty-something store owner wasn't above copping a feel when he was in his cups. Three times in one night had already been quite enough.

"Please, how many times have I asked you young people to call me, George," the white haired man said with a smile. "You make me sound so old with that Mister Hanson nonsense."

"Merry Christmas, George."

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" George said as he pulled his hands back and gave her an even friendlier smile.

It seemed that the information that had been imparted to her earlier had been in error. Santa was quite satisfied with a kind word, a brief embrace and a chaste kiss on the cheek before he moved on to the next partygoer. Tracy was glad he hadn't copped a feel because she really liked the auto mall owner. When she had lost her job at Datatech when the company folded, he had been only too glad to hire her as a receptionist even though she was vastly overqualified for the position and would undoubtedly leave the moment something better came along. What was more, he came right out and told that to her, saying that if she found something better he expected her to grab it. After all, she'd be foolish to waste all that education she worked so had to get.

Turning back to her view of the dwindling crowd of dancers, Tracy almost wished someone had made a serious pass at her tonight. Not Mr. Hanson of course, but there were a number of cute, unattached guys that worked in various departments. Unfortunately, most of those that weren't married seemed to have brought dates of their own or else were already matched up with other women from the dealerships.

Up until a little over two weeks ago, Tracy imagined she would be going to the party with Tom Jackson, her boyfriend of the last nine and a half months. That was of course before her former associate at Datatech had proven himself what her little sister, Karen, liked to call a VC boyfriend. The sort that you meet just after Valentine's Day and breaks it off just before Christmas, thereby avoiding the two biggest gift days of the year. Tracy really didn't think that was the case with Tom, but it did seem awfully coincidental. Especially since she had spent the night before his coming to the revelation that they just weren't right for each other by screwing what little brains he obviously had out.

But that was the past, and if there was one thing she had learned for sure in her short life, it was that there was nothing that you could do about things that had already happened. If she had to spend the holidays alone, well there was always her little battery-powered friend that she kept in a locked drawer of her night table. It was a wonderful age to live in, she told herself, when you could replace a lousy boyfriend with a simple piece of technology.

"Oh Jesus, just what I need!" Tracy suddenly thought as her focus shifted from modern wonders to Neanderthals when she spotted Michael "Monk" Webber coming toward her with a smug look on his face.

The office rumor mill hadn't gotten wind of her break up with Tommy more than a few hours before Monk had first tried to hit on her. She'd lost track of how many times she tried to make it perfectly clear to the former high school jock that she just wasn't interested. Monk had been an all county fullback who had several colleges' offering scholarships until an injury during senior year had ended his running days. He had taken a job at Hansons, arranged in part by his father who had once worked there while he went to the local college, in the hope that the former athlete would follow in his footsteps.

Instead, the six foot one blond had tossed aside any idea of higher education and demonstrated an inborn talent as an auto mechanic. In that at least he had succeeded, now holding a position as one of two assistant mechanics. Unfortunately, in other areas of his life, specifically his relationships with women, old number thirty-one still saw himself as the star around which cheerleaders and other adoring fans just swooned. Which was not a bad way to see yourself at seventeen, but not at twenty-nine when your glory days were a decade behind you.

It had been Monk, who after cutting in on her dance with another employee, that Tracy had earlier had to use more than a suggestion to avoid an unwanted touch. Even then, he didn't take the hint and she wondered if his head was as thick as the muscles he still cultivated three nights a week at the local gym. The song ended right after that and she quickly put distance between them.

"Hey Tracy, baby," Monk grinned as he moved up to her, "I was hoping that I'd find you here."

His comment didn't make sense to the smaller woman in the little thought she gave to it. Tracy's more immediate concern was how to finally drum into his thick skull that she just wasn't interested. She wondered if a swift kick in the balls would really be out of place in this season of peace on earth and goodwill towards men.

Thankfully it never came to that as a woman dressed in black slacks a white top and a matching black jacket stepped in-between Tracy and her tormentor. Despite being a full head shorter than the former football player, as well as less than half his weight, the thirty-one year old Hispanic woman stopped him literally in his tracks.

"I was here first, big boy," she said in a strong, but still feminine tone. "You'll just have to wait your turn."

The new arrival was Nina Castro, who was without question, the top saleswoman in any of the dealerships. Like Monk, she had been a local star during her high school days, in her case, winning several state track competitions. Also like Monk, an injury had prevented her from getting the scholarship she deserved. Unlike the mechanic, she had still managed to finish college and get her degree, even if it took her twice the normal time since she was also holding down a full time job. She had her sights set on nothing less than taking over as general manager when Mr. Hanson retired.

"Or maybe you and I could ... well you know," she added, totally confusing Tracy who had no idea what was going on. "After all, it is a tradition."

Monk never said a word in response, but the look on his face was one Tracy would long remember. It was one that she had never seem him exhibit before. He was actually afraid of Nina. In one quick motion, he turned and went back the way he came.

"Would somebody tell me what the hell that was all about?" Tracy said after a moments pause.

"You don't know where you're standing, do you?" Nina laughed.

Before Tracy could reply, Nina pointed to a spot over the younger woman's head. Tilting her head back, the redhead saw what was hanging there and now understood.

"Oh shit!" she said as she recognized the large twig of mistletoe.

"Well I don't think he'll be bothering you for at least the rest of the party," Nina said.

"I guess I owe you one."

"Think nothing of it," Nina replied.

"No, I really mean it," Tracy repeated, "I was thinking that I was going to have to kick him where it would hurt the most to get my message across."

"Well that certainly would've reached the head he usually thinks with," Nina laughed.

Tracy laughed as well, thinking it funny. At the same time, she remembered Monk's reaction to Nina and wondered what that had been all about.

"Why was he so afraid of you?" she asked, thinking that maybe Nina might actually tell her.

"It's been a great night, let's not ruin it by going there," Nina said.

"Please, I'd really like to know," Tracy went on. "Who knows, maybe I could use it to keep him away from me for good."

"I don't think so," the olive skinned woman said with a smile.

"Oh come on, tell me," Tracy implored, her curiosity now fully piqued.

"He's afraid that I might be contagious," Nina finally said.

"I don't understand."

"Monk is a first class homophobe, and I'm a first class homosexual."

"You're gay?"

"You've been here four months and no one told you?" Nina said in surprise. "That's got to be a new record. I thought for sure that some narrow minded biddy or other would've warned you by now about staying away from the butch dyke saleslady."

Tracy was about to say no, but then remembered something Carol Gates had told her about Nina after she had been there a month. It hadn't made much sense at the time, seeing as the fifty-two year old beat around the bush rather than coming right out and saying what she meant. It hadn't taken long for Tracy to decide that Carol was the local gossip queen and to disregard most of what she said about people. In fact, it had been Carol who had warned her about Mr. Hanson's traveling hands after he'd had a few.

"If they did, I don't really remember it," Tracy said instead.

"And here I've gone and outed myself for nothing," Nina said in mock exasperation. "What a dummy I am. Here I have you under the mistletoe and I blow my chance on trying to get a Christmas kiss out of you."

"You'd want to kiss me?" Tracy said, trying to ask the question light heartedly.

"That's a silly question," Nina laughed as a broad smile filled her face. "Who wouldn't want to kiss a beautiful girl like you. I'll give Monk credit for one thing, asshole that he might be, he does have good taste."

Tracy was sure that, if she could see herself through Nina's eyes at that moment, she would see herself blushing. If the woman in front of her had referred to her as pretty, she could've accepted that with no problem. People had said that to her most of her life. Beautiful, however, was not a term she often heard.

Looking at the taller woman through her own eyes, Tracy felt hard pressed to come up with a single word to describe her. If she was a man, handsome might apply, but somehow it didn't really seem right. Nina had dark, curly black hair that was cut even shorter than Tracy's. A well defined athletic build was clearly evident beneath her outfit, but no one was going to mistake her for a man, at least not once they got a look at the more than impressive bust straining against her blouse. The receptionist felt a twinge of envy when she thought of her small mounds.

"Have I shocked or scared you?" Nina asked.

"Not at all," Tracy replied, realizing that she had zoned out for a moment, "why would you think that?"

"Well, some people feel a little uncomfortable around gay women," Nina explained, "and the way you looked for a second, I thought that maybe you were trying to think of a way to graciously end this conversation."

"Not at all," Tracy insisted, thinking that Carol Gates and a few of the other female employees would undoubtedly fall into the category Nina mentioned. "In fact, I was thinking pretty much the opposite. That a kiss might be interesting at that, seeing that it is a holiday tradition and all."

"Oh really," Nina grinned. "Is that what I am to you now, interesting?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Tracy quickly interjected. "I just thought that ..."

The redhead didn't have the chance to finish her sentence as Nina, after taking a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure that no one else was nearby, learned forward and took her Christmas kiss.

The press of the older woman's lips against her own certainly took Tracy by surprise, but it was a very pleasant encounter nonetheless. Over the years, she had shared kisses with a few girlfriends, but they had always been the sort of quick pecks that you'd share with a relative. This was the first time she had ever had another woman kiss her back.

Brief as it was, the warmth and softness of Nina's touch stayed with the twenty-four year old after their lips parted. Tracy couldn't really be sure, but for just a heartbeat, she thought she felt the other woman's tongue brushing against her own.

"Curiosity satisfied?" Nina asked as she took a long step backward, putting a respectable distance between the two of them should anyone now glance in their direction.

"I don't really know what to say," Tracy said, her lips still tingling.

"Well you could say it didn't suck," Nina smiled.

"It definitely didn't suck," she said. "In fact, I think it was really nice, you're a great kisser."

"I'd be careful how you toss those compliments around, little girl," Nina replied, reverting now to mock seriousness. "Otherwise I might be tempted to take advantage of all the alcohol you've undoubtedly been consuming all night and take even more advantage of you."

"I'll have you know that I haven't had a drink in over two hours, and am in full command of my facilities," Tracy replied, her tone projecting the thought that she didn't feel taken advantage of in the least.

"Was that the first time you've ever kissed another woman?" Nina now asked, wondering if this was just idle banter between them or perhaps something more.

"If you're talking about a real kiss, yes."

"Not even when you where in high school with your girlfriends, or in college?"

"Not a one," Tracy grinned. "You're my first."

"Then I guess I should feel honored."

"You certainly should."

Both of them were now smiling at their playful exchange. Nina was impressed that Tracy could give as good as she got. So few women seemed to be able to do that around here. Most just gave her a wide berth, not wanting to socialize with the dyke, but at the same time, not wanting to piss off the top money earner Hanson had.

"But you have had boyfriends?" Nina asked.

"Yes I have," Tracy replied, "how about you?"

"No boyfriends, at least not since I was seventeen."

"No," Tracy clarified, "I meant do you have a girlfriend?"

"We sort of went our separate ways over the summer," Nina said, "then again, I understand that you and your boyfriend split up a few weeks back too."

"How did you know that?" Tracy started to ask, then answered her own question. "Oh yeah, interoffice mail has nothing on the rumor mill."

"That and the fact that you have the look of a woman who hasn't been laid in awhile." Nina added.

Tracy paused for a second, wondering if there really was such a look or was Nina just playing with her.

"You know, I only live about ten minutes from here," Nina unexpectedly said, again changing the subject.

"Your point being?"

"Well, seeing as being direct as worked pretty well so far, I might as well go right ahead and see where it leads," the dark haired woman said as she took a half step closer and lowered her voice. "As I see it, you have two choices right now, no make that probably three."

"And what might those be?" Tracy asked, curious about what Nina thought those choices were.

"Well, first of all, you could go back to the party," Nina began. "It's beginning to wind down but there are still a few not too bad prospects that haven't passed out or been snatched up by someone else. I'm sure you might be able to find someone to take care of the deficiency that I mentioned a minute ago."

"Go on," Tracy said, not wanting to comment further until Nina was finished.

"Or you could go home and take out that little plastic vibrator that you have hidden somewhere in your bedroom and take care of some of your needs yourself."

"What makes you think that I own anything like that?" Tracy asked, unable to keep to the decision she'd made a moment before.

"Honey, I haven't met a woman yet who doesn't own at least one toy for those empty nights," Nina chuckled. "I myself have three. I think the only women who don't have one are either in an old age home or a convent, and I sometimes wonder about those Nuns."

"You said there were three possibilities," Tracy reminded Nina after the Hispanic woman paused for a few seconds.

"Oh yes, so I did," she smiled as she moved even closer and lowered her voice again. "Well, if you're really feeling a little adventurous, you can come back to my place where I can practically guarantee you that before you could even find someone out there to pick up, I'd have given you the first of what could be a night full of orgasms, each of them better than the last."

There, it was now out in the open, Tracy thought. She had just been propositioned by another woman, and rather blatantly at that. What had started as just a little sexual interplay had quickly progressed to an invitation to engage in what the redhead was sure most of her friends would view as an immoral act. The respectable thing to do, keeping with the idea that she really didn't want to alienate Nina who seemed a nice person in all other aspects, was to simply say thank you, but no thanks. Instead, Tracy answered in a way that would no doubt have shocked her friends and coworkers had they heard it.