The Perfect Gift 9

The room filled with the sound of fake acrylic fingernails hammering away at computer keyboards as the smell of stale coffee lay thick in the air. The chain gang of female data entry specialists ferociously shuffled through their last bit of Friday assignments with hopes of avoiding working not even one minute past 5:00PM. As for me, I was in no rush to start my uneventfully weekend. Let's see.... first I'll get home, clean up after the kids and dread another night of "I Wish I Could Disappear Sex" with my husband..." How exactly did I end up here? I'm fairly good looking, I have a golden personality and I'm smart. I'm in a dead end job that I hate, not much of a social life outside of meaningless random conversations with co-workers and a dead end marriage that is sexually unfulfilling. This couldn't be all life has to offer?

Lost in deep depressive thought, I hadn't even noticed 5 o'clock had swiftly come. Laura to my left and Amy to my right hastily gathered there purses and half eaten lunches and bolted to the elevator with hopes of being the first out of the building. As I watched the room of women get up from their cubicles on by one and collectively pour out of the room and convene at the elevator, I inhaled deeply with an attempt to exhale the now overwhelming sense of aggravation mounting in my chest. I glanced down at my desk at the remaining three assignments and reluctantly continued to work. I suddenly realized my clambering keyboard was not alone in its song of clatter. I raised my head and looked over my gray cubicle wall scanning the room for any fellow Friday stragglers. My eyes rested on cubicle 17, Jessica Madden. Jessica was a mother a three, married for 7 years and working at Us Data Firm for the past 3 years. Her life was just as dull as mine so I wasn't surprised we were the only two working past 5 o'clock this Friday, two weeks before Christmas.

Wrapping up my last assignment as the clock rolled over to 6:30PM, I looked up just to catch a glimpse of Jessica exiting the room. In no rush at all I turned off my computer and gather my purse and coat. I stood at the elevator wrecking my brain for a reason not to go immediately home. Maybe I'll do so Christmas shopping before heading in.

***

Once outside the building I strolled down the snow covered sidewalks clinching the neck of my wool overcoat as the frigid winds whipped through my torn pantyhose and wrapped its claws around my golden brown thighs. To escape the wrath of the cold winter night I ducked into the first retail store I saw that still boar an open sign. Once inside I took a minute to bask in the beauty of the stores heat. The racks were stocked with an array of women's intimate wear. Of all places to randomly fall into, I came into the one store that I have no use for. My husband doesn't even look at me getting out the shower anymore in a longing manner let alone wanting to see me in any of this stuff. The store was absent of costumers and it appeared that the cashier was the only other person in the store. Hoping to not bring attention to myself I began to shuffle through the racks pretending to be interested in their contents.

"Can I help you with something?" A smooth masculine voice projected over my right shoulder. I swirled around brushing my chin on the scratchy collar of my wool overcoat. Before me stood a male with smooth velvet mocha skin, deep coco brown eyes and well-manicured facial hair. Realizing several seconds had gone by without a response I abruptly cleared my throat in an effort to disguise my amazement at the beauty that stood before me. It was only then I was able to reactivate my ability to speak.

"Um, I'm just browsing, thanks."

"Maybe if I knew what look you were going for I could make your shopping experience a little less stressful." A smile crept across his perfected face as I focused my attention on the items on the rack to my right to divert his attention away from the blushing sensation sweeping over my face.

"I'm looking for something that will improve my relationship." Did I just say that? To a complete stranger that is.

"How long has your relationship been in the state of needing to be improved?"

"About two years." Has it really gotten this bad where I'm confiding in a complete stranger, obviously so.

"I have just the thing for you, but I need you to trust me."

I looked up from the assortment of silk and lace in wonderment. I was almost afraid of what he would say next.

"Do you trust me?"

"I don't know you."

"Do you trust me?" He repeated.

Before I could survey my thoughts to compose my answer my lips involuntarily blurted out, "Yes".

He made his way over to the store's front door and locked it simultaneously turning over the open sign to alert passing pedestrians that the store was now closed.

"Okay I don't feel comfortable with this." I said with a signature of fear in my voice. He advanced in my direction as my entire body stiffened in defense mode.

"Nothing will happen here that you don't want to happen. I just want to offer an experience instead of just selling you a piece of material. If it doesn't improve your situation, I will personal buy you something out of my own store." Confidence leaped from each word he uttered as my tensed core relaxed. His hand reached up and released the top bottom of my overcoat. My heart pounded as the collage of invisible "No" and "Yes", caption bubbles floated over my head.

"I'm married." I breathed out these words trying to validly argue against what I truly wanted him to do.

"I know that, and after you leave here I promise that you and your husband will be grateful this Christmas season."

There goes the second button, and the third and the last. Upon revealing my red blouse and pleated black skirt, Mr. Nameless wrapped his warm hands around my waist and motioned me to follow him into the storage room behind the cashier's desk.

"Um, I have to at least know your name." I said, still unsure of what I was about to allow happen here.

"You can just call me, Santa." His mischievously, sexy smile melted the remaining chill on my skin from the winter's night. Mr. Santa slowly brushed my overcoat from my shoulders as it fell to the stock room floor. The room was full of boxes labeled with lingerie style numbers, sizes and colors. To regain my attention Mr. Santa moved angelically towards me, demanding my consistent eye contact. His nose and lips were just a breath away from mine. I could smell a trace of peppermint. The undisturbed gaze was surprisingly comforting. In the middle of the sweet gaze Mr. Santa shifted his head slightly to the right and introduced his lips to mine sliding his moist tongue between my lips. Both of our mouths engaged in a sensuous dance of pleasure. He lifted me from feet and encouraged me to wrap me curvaceous legs around his rather small but toned waist. As he lowered me to the cold concrete floor I immediately remembered my torn pantyhose and my legs stiffened with embarrassment. Sensing my shame, Mr. Santa gripped my pantyhose at each thigh and aggressively tore them from my body. Surprisingly the slight sting of the nylon braking away from my golden legs excited me. My clit began to pulsate with desire and anticipation. This perfect sight of masculinity hovered over me and I was speechless. He started biting off each of the buttons of my blouse and it didn't dawn on me to mind. I couldn't help but thank the heavens that I had taking the time this morning to put on matching bra and panties.

"My purpose is to fulfill you. Once you know how it fills to be ultimately fulfilled, you will take it upon yourself to make sure that happens every time you have sex." His words poured from his perfect lips like a dream. How was I supposed to respond to that? I'd never sexually been in a position of control. Usually I would just let sex happen to me instead taking what I wanted from it. Mr. Santa stood in front of me and unhurriedly stripped himself of his clothing. His more than stellar form cast beautiful shadows on the gray walls. I marveled at his chiseled physique while my heart pounded anxiously in my chest. He reached over to retrieve a silver box cutter from the shelf to his right and kneeled in front of me. Before I could even think to be afraid of what he was going to do next, he majestically began kissing my inner thigh and swiftly cut each side of my black Victoria Secret bikini panties. Victoria was something I did for myself in an attempt to feel sexy. Needless to say my husband never noticed my efforts.

Mr. Santa wasted no time in cutting open my matching bra. My exposed flesh vibrated with yearning. He engulfed his face in my supple breast and lapped at my mounds of femininity. I unexpectedly let out a moaning whimper.

"That's what I wanna hear, be as loud as you want to be." With that being said I decided to take his advice and allowed the natural volume of sounds erupt from larynges. As his feast on my breast continued, Mr. Santa gently parted my vagina lips with his fingers and carefully inserted one. He probed my inside until he had located my G spot. He vigorously stroked my swelled button applying slight pressure provoking a mounting stream of liquid ecstasy to release from my body.

Oh shit! What the fuck is happening to me? Before I could think to control my vocal expression, my lips parted and my true emotions spilled out.

"Shit! Fuck!" This was followed by a collection of screams and moans. He removed his hand from my wet pussy, held open my legs and dove in face first to gather my juices in his mouth. He sucked, slurped and gulped making sure he did not waste a bit of my multiple climax droplets. My back arched with pleasure as the chorus of moans and obscenities bellowed from my mouth. He resurfaced with traces of me dripping from his tailored beard. Licking his lips with an expression of glee on his face ignited a girlish laugh in my being. Just when I thought Mr. Santa had taken me to the ultimate edge of erotica he grabbed my legs and pulled my still throbbing pussy to his engorged penis. I panted anticipating his entry. With no effort at all Mr. Santa slid his well-endowed member into my eager opening instigating a flutter of butterflies in my stomach as I gasped at the suddenly explosion of pleasure sensors throughout my entire body. I once again erupted with an assortment of yelps, sighs and moans as he meticulously glided himself in and out of me discovering parts of me I never knew existed. With every thrust I could feel my juices multiple and my orgasms build in number. Before I could recover from the previous orgasm he would twist and thrust his hips sending me on a wave to my next one. I racked my nails down his rippled chest unable to control the involuntarily physical attempt to cope with the intense sexual frenzy I was experiencing. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, Mr. Santa slightly lifted my hips and pounded his dick in and out of my grateful pussy in a rapidly rhythmic pace. Our slapping skin joined our duet of moans, grunts, screams and groans. He reached down and caressed my clit as his pounding continued. My body quivered uncontrollably as I felt every fiber of my being implode and explode.

"Shit!" I let out unapologetically. Mr. Santa pulled himself from my swollen womanhood and unloaded his sweet serum on my now vibrating stomach. He snatched a plastic wrapped silk nighty from a nearby box and wiped my stomach clean of his passionate shower. He then tied a knot in my button-less blouse and helped me to my feet. I ruffled my fingers through my hair hoping to rectify my knowingly unkempt appearance Mr. Santa gathered his clothes and dressed in silence as my legs continued to tremble. Once fully clothed, he retrieved my overcoat from the floor an assisted me in bundling up for the frigid outside air. His sincere hands cuffed my face as he stared deeply into my eyes.

"Now go home and fuck the shit out your husband."

***

The living room light was still on by the time I'd arrived home signifying my husband was waiting up for me. I hadn't even noticed it was already 8:35PM. The wooden door creaked open with the turn of my key. My husband lay motionless between this world and the next. The close of the door startled him bring him back to the earthly realm.

"Where you been?" My husband said in a groggy "I was almost sleep" tone of voice.

"I just went window shopping for Christmas gifts. How are the kids, did everyone one do their homework," I engaged him in an effort to maintain eye contact with hopes of making it to the bathroom before he would notice I wasn't wearing the pantyhose I left home wearing this morning.

"Let me freshen up a bit it's been a long day." Did I wait to hear the answer to my initial question? No I didn't, damn hope he didn't notice. I quickly showered and wrapped myself in my fluffy white Ralph Lauren towel. Immerging from the steam filled bathroom to the slightly cool air of our room, my husband sat noticeably disturbed at the edge of the bed.

"Well, did you see anything you liked?" He asked trying to control his mounting annoyance. I let my towel fall to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Astonished at my bold and vulgar statement he had no idea how to react.

"I want you to fuck the shit out of me." Was I really saying this? With confident force I pushed him back on the bed and aggressively tugged at his weathered boxers exposing his now rock hard penis and mounted him. That night we made love like we were new to each other. The giving and receiving of pleasure was the most exhilarating experience we had had in years. I couldn't be more thankful to "Mr. Santa", whoever he was. I'm pretty sure my husband would've loved to have thanked him as well, had he known he was the spark to this now reignited flame. That weekend was filled with one freaky episode after another at our residence.

***

My overcoat swayed with the pep in my stride that Monday morning. My face gleamed with joy and my aura exuding self-assurance. As I walked in the Us Data building every eye fell on me glittering green with envy unbeknownst to them the reason for the new flare in my stride. Grinning from ear to ear while waiting on the elevator to carry me and my fellow co-worker to yet another minimum eight hour shift, I stuck my hands in my pocket to discover a laminated business card. It read:

Forbidden Intimate Wear

918 Wayne Way

I flipped the card over and it read:

"When a piece of fabric isn't enough, ask for Santa."

I quickly tucked the card back into my pocket hoping no peering eyes were fixed over my shoulder to read the cards contents. Chuckling aloud the ding of the elevator door muffled my seemingly unprovoked girlish laughter. By that time approximately 7 of my fellow data entry specialists had pulled in close to each other to prepare the loading of the elevator. Seconds later we spilled into the cubicle filled room each making our way to our desk. Bouncing to my cubicle to my own sweet melody of happiness in my head, I realized Mrs. Jessica Madden had made it to work early and had already had that recognizable life dreading look on her face. I reached out my hand over her cubicle wall and handed her the business card out of my pocket.

"Merry Christmas Jessica. Take it from me, it's the perfect gift." The spirit a holiday cheer rang through my voice.

"Thank you, I don't know what it is but thank you." She fully examined the card wondering what the gift was.

"You can thank me now, but you'll really be thanking me later."