It was the first time that Monica had been totally alone since Robert had left her. Family and friends had rallied round and she had always been fully engaged with her work. But now it was Christmas when the whole country shuts down and endeavours, usually quite unsuccessfully, to recreate some imagined fantasy of what Christmas should really be. So while assorted extended families were reacquainting themselves with the reasons why they never bothered to see their relations for the rest of the year Monica found herself quite alone.
There had been invitations, of course, but she had absolutely no desire to be the object of well meaning and kindly attempts to jolly her along. So here she was sipping a glass of red wine on Christmas Eve and musing not for the first time what an utter bastard her husband had been. It was the usual story; he had left her for another much younger woman; young enough to be his daughter in fact. Monica had long ago realised that when it came to women all that men were really interested in were cunts and tits and some reassurance that they weren't getting older; hence the need to transfer to a younger sleeker receptacle for their cocks. It was not as if she had denied him his conjugal rights and, despite being in her late forties, she was still a shapely well preserved woman.
She walked into the kitchen to pour herself another glass of wine. As she returned to the sitting room all the lights went out. Immediately disorientated, she bumped into the furniture and spilt the contents of her glass all over her dress. Cursing she fumbled her way back to the kitchen, removed her wine-stained garment and doused it in cold water in the sink. Grimly, she reflected that this was one situation were a husband would be useful. Robert had been entirely reliable when it came to fixing things in the house and Monica had absolutely no idea what she should do now and was rather alarmed by the faint burning smell emanating from one of her electrical appliances.
She opened the front door and immediately noticed that the surrounding houses were still blazing with lights. As she stood there a car drew up at a house across the road and two young men got out. They were clearly in high spirits and had obviously just returned from a local hostelry.
'I say,' she called out.
The two lads peered in her general direction but were unable to see her in the darkness.
'Hello; over here.'
This time the young men managed to locate her and began to walk towards her.
'Sorry to bother you, but all the lights have gone out and I've got no idea what's wrong.'
'Nothing at all judging by what I can see,' said one of the lads, staring appreciatively at her in the gloom.
For the first time Monica remembered that she wasn't wearing a dress.
'I'm sorry; I had an accident with a glass of wine and I had to soak my dress in water.'
'Don't apologise we just love looking at ladies in their underwear. My name's Maurice by the way and this is my good friend James.' They all shook hands. 'Have you got a torch?' Maurice continued.
'Probably, but I've no idea where it is,' Monica replied.
'Never mind I'll get mine from the car.'
Maurice returned with the torch, closed the front door and switched it on. Monica was immediately revealed in the intense spotlight.
'Wow!' James said 'what a way to start Christmas.'
'Perhaps I'd better go and find another dress,' Monica said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
'Oh please don't, your gorgeous,' Maurice replied. 'Just show us where the circuit breakers are.'
Fifteen minutes later the boys had isolated the faulty appliance and switched the power back on. They all stood looking at one another in the blazing lights of the kitchen. For the first time Monica was able to see that both boys were about nineteen years old and that they were staring at her with undisguised lust.
