Margaret had no qualms about staking her place under the mistletoe at the far end of the hall. She sipped her cherry martini demurely, a lovely splotch of red in her holiday gown against the white garlands and baubles dotting the wall. As the band wailed away in the corner and the men all sipped their colorless, masculine highballs, she scanned the clutches of gossipers and the rainbow of aluminum trees for Andrew and his own telltale girly drink.
Soon enough he emerged, pink drink in hand and every hair in place just as Diane had ordained it, feasting his eyes on Margaret just as hungrily as he had when she had cornered him in the kitchen in her underwear that afternoon. There was one last obstacle: one of the dozens of interchangeable balding men who'd been milling around all night accosted Andrew about the drink. "That what living with four ladies does to you, Andy?" he demanded. "You even drink like them?"
"By choice," Andrew said, casting a protective look at Margaret lest any of the other men try to get to her first; none did. "They set me free. Be who you are, drink what you like." With a polite nod, he made his way to her side in time to steal a fearless kiss. "We're already in for it with Diane," he said as he leaned in.
"Yes!" Margaret concurred. "Might as well go for broke!" And on that note, they shared a long, lovely kiss under the bright lights, neither of them caring that they had an audience for the occasion -- they had, after all, shared all sorts of intimacy in close quarters with Diane, Tara and Ariana. Most of the other partygoers took no notice of their very public display.
Underneath his fearless sheen Andrew was nervous. Margaret knew it, because she was feeling the same. Filled to the brim with Christmas cheer, not to mention with liquor, but nervous all the same, for Diane had caught them.
"I wouldn't worry, Andrew," said Margaret, knowing full well what he was thinking. "What's the worst she can do to us? And you know you always end up having all sorts of fun with her 'punishments'."
"It's what she won't allow to happen that bothers me," Andrew confessed, grinning through his nerves at the lovely memory of seeing Margaret dressed only in her bra, with her magnificent burning bush on full display, that afternoon when he was supposed to stay in his room until all the ladies were dressed. "I was sure looking forward to you and me finally having our fun!"
"Don't be silly, Andrew, you know Diane would never allow that anyway!" Margaret reminded him. "You know how jealous she is of your attraction to me. I'll bet she commented on that in the shower this afternoon, didn't she? Every time it's my turn to shower with her it's one snide comment after another, 'You and that big beaver, do you use Rogaine on it or what?'"
"She doesn't!" Andrew laughed. But he knew Margaret was surely right. He'd blown his chances with her when he'd let it slip that he loved her big, wild bush. Diane was the only one who rivalled her in that regard, and she would never forgive any of the other ladies for surpassing her in Andrew's esteem.
"She does. Every time," Margaret rejoined. "Be honest, Andrew, what does she say about me? Don't expect me to believe she didn't tease you about it while you were soaping up her bush. And wishing it were mine," she couldn't help adding.
"Just so," Andrew admitted. "'Gently, Andrew!'" he mimicked, recalling the saucy-yet-firm tone Diane had used as he soaped up her pubic hair with her favorite perfumed shampoo.
"Yes ma'am." Andrew had looked up through the steamy drops to see she was looking happy -- obviously he was in her good graces for the moment. "Will that do?" He'd given her soapy bush one final pat and backed off to let her turn around and rinse if she liked.
"It will if you rinse it off and then finish me off, dear," she'd ordered.
Andrew had nodded and, without complaint and definitely without asking if she would return the favor, he'd cupped his hands and splashed water in the abundant hair until every trace of soap was gone. Enticing even when wet, Diane's big bush was always a treat, after all, even when he was stuck on his knees in the shower. But oh, how he'd have loved to wash Margaret's even bigger bush while the others took their turns on one another and perhaps on him. And of course Diane had known as much.
Diane had moaned approvingly as his tongue went to work on her clit. But as if reading his mind, she had also added, "I know you'd rather have Margaret here. But I've got something she hasn't got: life experience!" So she was always reminding all four of them, and that was why she was the boss and got to decide who showered with whom and who got to play with whom and when.
As Andrew had buried his face in Diane's freshly-washed pussy and inspired her to wiggle and grab tightly to the towel rail for balance, he couldn't deny that she had a point about life experience. The way she dipped her hips into his face again and again, accompanied by her unapologetic howls of sensation that the others could doubtlessly hear in their bedrooms, was indeed an art-form that not all women could have achieved while standing in a running shower. He'd have loved to find out if Margaret was up to the challenge, but he had long since made the fatal error of failing to disguise his adoration for her dark red hair and green eyes and lithe figure and girl-next-door aura, and most of all her dark and thick hip-to-hip bush. Diane had rarely, if ever, missed the opportunity to keep the two of them just out of one another's reach; and Ariana and Tara, no doubt out of jealousy, had played along every step of the way.
"Sorry," Andrew said now. "But I did imagine it was you of course."
"You're sweet," Margaret said. "It won't be like this forever --"
"You guys haven't been smooching, have you?" teased Ariana, who had sidled up behind them in her milky white dress. "Aren't you already in enough trouble for this afternoon, both of you?" Shamelessly she tapped the tiny padlock on her charm bracelet, an unsubtle reminder of what they could both expect when they got home.
"Didn't I already serve my time, having to sit there tied to her chair and watch you all get dressed?" Andrew demanded. "I thought I was going to pass out from all the blood going to my dick and I couldn't even give it one little stroke!"
"It was no bed of roses for us either, Andrew, seeing you so aroused and not being able to touch you or ourselves," Margaret reminded him. "My panties were sopping by the time I got my dress on!"
"You didn't get a wet spot on your behind, did you?" Ariana asked, helping herself to a look at Margaret's derriere.
"Nope," Margaret declared smugly, twisting around to present her pristine rump. "When Diane wasn't looking, I took them off." She burst into naughty giggles.
"Margaret!" Ariana exclaimed. "You were already in the soup for going out in the kitchen in your underwear! What do you think Diane will do to you now?"
"Nothing worse than she was already going to do to punish Andrew," Margaret pointed out. "You think she was going to let us anywhere near one another tonight anyway?"
"Good point," Ariana admitted. She couldn't completely suppress a smile at the reminder that Margaret's loss was probably her gain with Andrew. She could feel his tongue in her pussy on Diane's orders already.
Tara, the quiet one, appeared out of the crowd then. Barely recognizable with her blonde locks teased up and her glasses gone, she was regal in the bright green frock that Andrew had been forced to watch her put on that afternoon. "There's talk of an after-hours party in the Village," she announced. "Do you think there's any chance Diane will let us go?"
"And miss a chance to have her revenge on Andrew?" Margaret asked.
"And you!" Tara corrected.
"And me," Margaret agreed. "Dare I ask you ladies to go gently on me?"
"Then you know what she'll do to us!" Tara reminded her.
"She'll do it to you just to get you out of your shell!" Ariana teased. The youngest and most petite, she was also the most daring of the bunch -- or had been until Margaret had insisted on going out to the kitchen for that glass of water in the afternoon.
"Then I guess I'd better show you all I'm out of it already!" Tara declared. After a hasty look around to make sure she could do it without anyone but the four of them seeing, she darted a hand between Margaret's legs and tickled her pussy. Margaret yelped and pulled back, but not before Tara had discovered her secret. "Margaret! You're not wearing any..."
"We know," Ariana said. "She just told us. Just how furious do you think Diane will be?"
"Can't wait to find out!" Tara grinned, with a hungry look at Andrew. "Andrew, you looked so adorable tied to that chair, I was dying to play with it!"
"If you still want to, don't let Diane know!" Margaret reminded her.
"Yeah, speaking of whom..." Ariana was always the best at spotting their mistress in a crowd just in time to shut up, and tonight was no exception. There she appeared around the tree just to their left, resplendent in a royal blue gown -- one of the few women in the whole room who'd been sharp enough not to wear red or green when everyone else would be doing the same -- chatting up two handsome older men who surely had no idea what she was about to head home to.
"Well, gentlemen, this is where I leave you," she purred with a look in both their eyes in return. "My brood here is overdue for calling it a night, I can see."
"Such a shame such a bunch of lovely youngsters won't be joining us downtown," said the older-looking of the two, with a leer that made all three of Andrew's friends exhale with relief that Diane hadn't asked him to join them. Every now and then their mistress did make it clear that she only cared to torture them so much!
"Perhaps next year, Harold," Diane said, and she permitted him to kiss her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Robert," she said to the other without offering up a kiss. She then gave the doorman a wave that sent him calling for their limousine. "Ladies, Andrew, shall we?"
"We shall!" Andrew said fearlessly, drawing snickers from all three of the women.
"Just what are you laughing at?" Diane asked them with a gleam in her eye. "You hardly think he's the only one in any trouble, do you?"
"Somehow he never is, is he?" Ariana agreed as they all strolled towards the door, waving good night to the other guests. As always, Andrew wondered if anyone had a clue about what was to happen next.
