Wednesday New Years Buzz

This is the third story in the

Jane and John

series. While each story can be read as a standalone, they are meant to flow together, with the characters developing along the way—Jane is bold, brash and unfiltered, John is mellow, with a quiet edge to him.

If you haven't read the earlier stories, check out the series in my profile—things might make a bit more sense. Or don't, and just dive into this one!

To those who've shared how these stories touched them, thank you. And knowing they've offered a measure of comfort to someone going through a tough time means more to me than I can say—this one is for you.

Enjoy!

It's New Year's Eve, and they'd both had to work late—because apparently, the corporate world's idea of holiday spirit means grinding through half a dozen soul-crushing ASAP flagged emails and sitting through one last pointless meeting to wrap up the year.

The door clicks shut behind John, and the warmth of their apartment greets him, the familiar comfort of home already pushing the day's bullshit away. He hears Jane moving in the bedroom—

good, she's home already.

They have time.

Snow melts on his overcoat as he starts to take it off, his thoughts already drifting to practicalities. Dinner. Something quick but satisfying—his mind reflexively running through the planning and prepping—a little savory dish to share with Jane, just enough to tide them over for the evening. And if the stars align, he might even manage an hour of peace on the couch before the night kicks off.

"Keep your coat on," Jane calls from the bedroom. "We're going for a walk!"

"We're what, Jane? I'm starving, and we have to get ready for the party."

"Please, John," her voice calls out. "I'll be at the door in a second—just changing my coat!"

He sighs, already half resigned to whatever she has planned, and keeps his coat on. He's halfway to the kitchen when she appears, stepping out of the bedroom and into his path.

She's wearing her red coat, with the hood framing her face. The color is so vibrant, so unexpected, that it makes her look breathtaking. Whatever weak argument he'd been about to make against going for that walk dissolves in a smile—they are going for a walk in the snowfall and that's that.

But she doesn't know she's already won. She steps closer, working on him anyway, her tone sweet and coaxing.

"Please, John. I want to soak in the last of the holidays," she says, closing the gap between them. Her voice dips into that coy lilt she knows he can't resist. "Before the music and the lights disappear. Before everything turns gray again."

Then, with a flirty look: "I'll make it worth your while. I'll even get you something to eat."

"Fine," he pretends to concede, unable to stop smiling. "You're lucky you're cute." And, truth be told, he loves it when she plays the cute card.

"I am," she says, stepping back to twirl. She's tied her coat at the waist with a neat bow, and the spin sends the bottom flaring out with a dramatic swish.

"Let's go, Little Red Riding Hood, you promised me food."

She reaches for his hand. "As long as you're not such a grump, you'll get to eat."

They step into the magic of the holiday season: the night is brightly lit, trees wrapped in twinkling lights, shop windows decked with glittering displays. A café door swings open, holiday music drifts out, overlapped with the sound of people laughing and talking inside.

The cold air has just the right bite, the kind that flushes your cheeks and makes you crave hot chocolate. Snowflakes fall softly, perfectly spaced, completing the postcard-worthy scene. Winter at its sweet spot: crisp enough to feel it, mild enough to enjoy.

There's an energy all around, like the city knows the holiday season is about to fade and it's throwing everything it has into the last few hours of the year. Jane feeds on that energy, savoring it, storing it away like a reserve of warmth to help her survive the rest of the gray winter.

Hand in hand they take a few steps on the sidewalk, moving through the crowd. Jane takes a deep breath and lets it out with a laugh.

"This is ridiculous."

Letting go of John's hand, she throws her arms out, gesturing at the scene around them. "It's like we're in a fucking Hallmark movie. Where's the handsome guy about to get a hot chocolate and have the meet-cute of his life... Oh, he's right here," she pokes him.

It's John's turn to look around—families with kids carrying gift bags, couples strolling holding hands, people walking in and out of shops. Everyone seems dressed up for the occasion, happy, their joy contagious. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is. It's nauseating," Jane says, beaming with delight—the contagion is real. She takes his hand back and gives it a squeeze.

"You love it," John counters, and when she leans her head against his shoulder, she whispers "You know I do."

They walk idly, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but take in the sights. John thinks about how much this walk actually makes him happy, and without a word, he holds her hand a little tighter. She whispers, "I know, John. You're welcome."

They pass a large dark window shop, already closed for the night, their reflections clear in the glass—Jane's vibrant red coat, his a neatly tailored dark one. Jane stops tilts her head to inspect the image.

"You are stunning," John goes first.

"And you look like the big bad wolf," she replies, rising on her toes to brush his lips with a passing kiss.

"You know I love a dark and broody look on you. But not today. You need some holiday vibe."

A few windows later, Jane stops abruptly. "Stay here," she commands, disappearing into a shop before John can respond.

John sighs, watching her go. With nothing else to do, he slips his hands into his pockets and turns his attention to the gently falling snowflakes.

I am watching snow fall.

There's something meditative about it, and he tunes out the people passing by, focusing on the snow and his thoughts drift away from Jane for a moment.

When Jane reappears, she's holding a bright red scarf, almost matching her coat. "You're impossible," she says, stepping up to him. "We're in a Hallmark movie, and you're walking around looking like an extra from a film noir."

Before he can protest, she drapes the scarf around his neck and wraps it around. She then steps back to looks at him and admire her work—and can't help but notice how effortlessly put together he looks in his greys and charcoals. The long red scarf adds a little color to him, just enough to soften his sharp look.

He looks stunning too

. She's not going to say it out loud but the way she looks at him says enough.

"There, total main character vibe now."

He has a slightly amused look, calm and quiet, the minutes he spent watching the snow fall lingering in his mood.

"Thank you, Jane," he says, his fingers brushing over the soft wool, "It's nice."

They walk past a small boutique hiding between a shiny jewelry shop and the immense windows of a department store. Jane stops, almost abruptly, like this was the destination of their walk. Its sign is reading

The Love Walk

in playful cursive. The window display is understated—lace, silk, and a few suggestive items arranged artfully on soft velvet.

"Let's go in," she says, and he can hear her voice taking on a pretend casual tone. Now that he thinks about it, John suspects she might have led them here on purpose.

John looks at the shop, then at her. "Seriously?"

"Come on, John," she says, pulling him toward the door. "It'll be fun."

She's already stepping inside, the jingling of the bells above the door leaving him no choice but to follow.

The boutique is quiet and cozy, soft lighting, faint music—and in complete contrast with the world outside, not a single holiday decoration. The walls are lined with neatly arranged shelves of lingerie, massage oils, and more adventurous items discreetly displayed behind frosted glass cases.

"Welcome!" a voice calls out.

John, already uncomfortable, is completely confused by the store's clerk disarming energy—

boy, girl, what?!

This person's look is almost defying description, slim and angular, with a pixie cut that highlights sharp cheekbones and a lace choker.

Jane doesn't hesitate, flashing her smile. "Hi! I was hoping you could help me find something... fun."

"You've come to the right place. Any particular kind of fun you're looking for?"

The voice does not identify the clerk any better, adding to John's confusion. He hides his hands firmly in his pockets, looking away, and Jane sees him a the corner of her eye.

Is he blushing?

She loves him like this—disarmed and slightly out of his depth.

Jane and the clerk start chatting and giggling as if they've known each other for years. Jane leans closer to one of the glass cases. "What would you recommend for a couple looking to... you know, spice things up a little?"

The clerk doesn't miss a beat. "Depends on how spicy you want to go. But I think this will be perfect for you two."

The clerk lifts out a small box and sets it on the counter. John risks a glance and immediately regrets it. There's nothing overtly shocking, but it's still enough to make him pull the phone out of his pocket so he can pretend he's focused on something else.

The clerk keeps going, playful "This one's been really popular—cock ring with a vibrator attachment. Great for both partners. Adjustable, easy to use, and"—John hears amusement in the pause—"highly effective."

Jane and the clerk continue talking, their voices lowered to a whisper. John is focused even harder on ignoring what is going on, scrolling aimlessly on his phone and wondering how long this is going to take.

Not too long, because a second later Jane is next to him, dropping a small gift bag into her purse.

"All done," she says brightly, slipping her arm through his as they step back out into the cold.

"That was something," John quips.

"What, Riley?" And she smiles remembering how flustered he was. "They are non-binary, sweet and very knowledgeable about all things sex toys. Do you know that they..." But suddenly she stop talking and moving, eyes on the department store display window. "Look at this dress, John! Can I try it on, please can I, can I?" she coos, her tone dripping with exaggerated sweetness. "Pretty please? I think it'd be perfect for tonight's party."

John figures there's no longer a point to any of his protests and follows her inside.

Minutes later, she steps out of the dressing room wearing a long, slinky dress with a high side slit—high enough that John catches a glimpse of her panties. The dress is tight— maybe a size too small—and the thigh-high boots she's wearing give the whole look a sexy edge.

He raises an eyebrow, hands involuntarily reaching to her. "Behave, John."

"I mean is this thing even street legal? I can see everything, Jane," he chuckles.

She ducks back into the dressing room, emerging a moment later in her work blouse and knee length skirt, already in the process putting her red coat back on.

"Let's go, John. I changed my mind—I don't need that dress."

They are back on the sidewalk and into the crowd, Jane giggling on his arm, her steps somehow lighter than before. Her cheeks are flushed and she keep glancing sideways at him.

"Do you want me to tell you more about Riley?" she asks.

"Not really, I know enough already."

"Oh, John," she says, "you're such a prude. You need to have more fun."

"Oh, but Jane! I can be so much fun, just not, you know, in the streets."

The sidewalk opens up into a park, city's high rises in the background, lining the trees. The ice rink in the middle is bright and noisy, filled with skaters.

"What a picture-perfect scene," she says with a mock groan. "Lovely. And I've had enough for now."

"I'm starving, Jane. Let's head back."

"Not yet," she says, "I promised you food." She leads him past the rink and the crowds and the food stalls, into a quiet pocket of the park. The laughter of the skaters and the hum of the city fades into the background.

They stop at an empty bench and she pushes him down "Wait here." She turns and walks back toward the ice rink, disappearing into the groups of people gathered by the food kiosks.

John leans back.

Great, more snow watching.

But Jane returns before he can get lost in thought. She is balancing a hot chocolate and a steaming tray in one hand, and in the other hand she carries her own snack—a puff of bright pink cotton candy.

"Is that really your dinner, Jane?"

She rips off a piece of the cotton candy. "I just needed something sweet."

John is about to admonish her some more but the food distracts him and he digs into it, hunger getting to him. She watches him, eating with his hands, the plastic utensils ignored on the side of the tray. And when he licks his fingers, he is having one of his mundane moments of inadvertent sexiness, completely unaware that she's watching him and biting her lip.

"John?"

"Mhmm?" - he's licking his fingers again. "This was good, thank you."

"Give me your hand, John. I have something for you." He finds a paper napkin on the side of the tray and wipes his hands, looking at her, curious and wary. He holds out a hand to see Jane pressing a small purple puck into his palm.

"What's this, Jane?"

Her lips part, trying to be seductive but he sees that she's a bit apprehensive.

"It's a remote. For me. I mean for a panty vibrator..."

The realization washes over him as her words sink in. "Wait. You're telling me—"

"I have it in me right now," she says.

John blinks, connecting the dots.

"So this is what you were whispering so secretively with the sex shop clerk?"

"Mhm, yes, Riley suggested it as something to spice things up, and I wanted to surprise you. And by the way, Riley thinks you're really cute and if we ever want to try something new, they think we could really hit it off..."

When she's a bit tense like this she starts running her mouth really fast, as if she afraid of how he's gonna respond and trying to postpone it.

"Jane," she cuts her off, voice gentle but unusually firm for him.

"You could not wait, and when you went to try on that dress you actually..." and the question trails.

"Mhm," she nods. There's a moment of awkward silence. She drops the cotton candy on the bench.

"Surprise?!"

There's a frozen grin on John's face—the kind she knows he wears when he's undecided and confused, the gears in his head turning as he tries to solve this puzzle. In the awkward silence John looks back at her, he likes this game, even if he doesn't quite understand his role in it yet.

And then it clicks.

Huh, maybe I can be fun in the streets.

She sees it happen—the moment he figures it out. His demeanor changes, and she recognizes it immediately. The always mellow, quiet John is taking control.

Jane shifts on the bench, and as she does, she feels the vibrator pressing inside her,

"Turn it on", she whispers.

"Oh, I will Little Red, you've been so naughty,"—and he does not even need to turn the vibrator on, his growling voice makes her wet.

He studies the little puck in his palm, deciphering the controls, when she reaches out. "Let me see." But he snatches his hand back quickly "No, Little Red, you don't get to touch this."

He taps something on the remote, expecting to hear a buzz, or maybe at least some humming. Instead all he hears in Jane going, "Hnnggg," her whole body tensing until he taps it again to stop it. Jane giggles.

"Fuck, John, do it again!"

"Not yet. What does it look like?" he asks.

"It's this little U shaped thing, half went into my pussy and the other half is curved to the front, covering my... unghh." He's tapped the remote again, the vibration cutting her off mid-sentence before stopping just as quickly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, that felt so good," Jane gasps.

"What did it feel like?" John asks, his tone curious.

"It was like a buzzing on my clit and inside my pussy at the same—"

Tap.

But this time she's ready and all she lets out is a muffled "Mmm."

"How about this one, Little Red?"

"It's like... like a vibration that goes hard, then soft, then hard again..." she trails off.

"I get it. Figuring out all the patterns will take too long. I've got an idea. Come here, Little Red."

She shifts closer to him.

"Hold my hand," he instructs, extending his palm to her. He's really getting confident and commanding now. "You squeeze and show me what it feels like."

Normally, Jane would have snickered at something like this, but the tone of his voice makes her obey without hesitation. Besides, she's kind of excited about the experiment too.

There is much tapping and hand squeezing that follows, on that bench, in the quiet corner of the park, as John figures out the settings. Her giggles turn into breathless moans as she reacts to each pattern.

"Fuck, John," she catches her breath in between vibrations. "That one... oh, fuck, that's good."

He studies her reactions, his focus on the rise and fall of her chest, the flush spreading across her cheeks, the way her body moves closer to him. It's not just the remote he's figuring out—it's her.

Jane presses herself into his side, nuzzling the red scarf away to touch her lips on his neck so she can taste the sweet warmth of his skin. She runs her tongue on his neck from the edge of the red scarf up to his ear.

Tap. "Ohhh, mmmm."

She tenses, squeezing his hand as hard as she can. "I'm gonna fucking come, John. I haven't come on a park bench in forever," her voice breaking into a delirious giggle.

John can barely contain himself; her breath on his neck is driving him insane.

Tap. "Unghh, like that, fuck, fuck, just like that, John!"

And then it stops. No taps follow.

She freezes, her eyes snapping open. The vibrations are gone.

"You cruel, cruel motherfucker," she moans, her voice dripping with frustration. Her teeth find his neck, biting him in revenge.

John smirks, and pulls away from the biting teeth, showing her the little purple puck. "Watch it, Little Red," he says. "Remember who holds your fate."

She's ready to play along. "Easy, Mr. Big Bad Wolf. You'll huff and puff me to pieces,"

This is gonna be fun.

He stands, extending a hand to pull her to her feet. "Let's walk you home, Little Red. This is gonna be fun," he echoes her thoughts.

"Oh, I'm buzzing with anticipation, Mr. Wolf!" she shoots back.

They retrace their steps, the once-leisurely walk now charged with a different energy. Jane feels the vibrator with every step, her body hypersensitive to the relentless teasing. She clings to John's arm, her head lowered, hood pulled up close to cover her flushed face as she bites her lips in failed attempts to stifle her moans.

John, on the other hand, looks perfectly composed, his free hand casually into his pocket where the remote sits. He's gotten the hang of it now, switching the vibrations on and off with calculated precision. Jane stumbles slightly as he flicks it on again, her breath hitching audibly.

They pass the big store window where she'd joked about him needing color. This time, she doesn't look at their reflections. Her gaze stays fixed on the ground, her steps uneven as she tries to keep her balance.

John, however, catches his reflection and notices the grin on his face.

This is more fun than I thought it would be.

"John," she hisses under her breath, her voice filled with frustration and desperation. "You're so fucking cruel. I need to come. I'm going to collapse in the street if you don't stop."

He doesn't stop. Instead, he slows his pace, forcing her to match him, and the vibrations ramp up again.