Better writers than me have succumbed to the temptation of trying to write a Holiday story. I hope readers derive some enjoyment from my attempt.
This story is a work of fiction. Some real places and institutions are mentioned or implied, but they are used fictitiously here. As far as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I do encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.
_______________________________________________________________
I was surprised to receive an invitation to the New Year's Eve party being given by Ramsey and Felicia Master. The Masters were reputedly the wealthiest couple in our area and among the wealthiest in the country. I was just a fourth-year associate at one of the large law firms in town. I had successfully resolved a difficult situation for their twenty-year old son Lamont a couple of months before, but the Masters had undoubtedly paid my firm a lot of money for that service. Moreover, I had only met Ramsey and Felicia once and had only talked to them on the phone a couple other times. None of that seemed sufficient connection to spawn an invitation.
I had gotten a partial swimming scholarship to a selective university in the Chicago area. I was an ok swimmer. I reached the national collegiate championships in the 100 meter fly my senior year but was eliminated in the first heat. I was a better student, graduating in four years with a degree in economics with honors. That, and a decent LSAT score, got me into a well-regarded law school in Michigan. I took the job with a big firm in Southwestern Ohio, in part, because I hit it off with the partner whom they sent to interview at my school. Ross Wellman had been a swimmer, although his resume included an Olympic bronze medal. Ross also had a wry sense of humor. I thought firm having a guy like him was an important partner would be a good place to work. The firm also paid well and the low cost of living in the region was attractive.
The firm had a lot of the city's prestige institutions and companies as clients. One was an expensive, non-sectarian private high school. In my second year, I helped represent the school when one of its girl tennis players sued after the school van carrying her and her teammates back from a match had an accident. During that representation, I met the school's girl's tennis coach.
Britta Ahlberg was my age, blonde, and gorgeous. The first time I met Britta, she was wearing conservative blouse and slacks. The business clothes could not disguise her long legs, tight ass, and flat stomach. The first things I noticed about Britta, however, were her penetrating blue eyes, pert nose, and dazzling smile. My second impression of Britta was that she was a lot smarter, more articulate, and nicer than I expected from a high school coach in any sport.
I learned that Britta had played tennis at a well-regarded university about 35 miles north of the city. She had reached the national tournament her senior year, finishing seventh. She also earned an honors degree with dual majors in history, and something called "sports leadership and management." Britta explained the latter was a program intended to prepare people to be coaches and sports administrators.
Britta was a "wow," and not just because of her beauty. She seemed to like me, although I worried that was my wishful thinking. I debated whether to ask her out. The school was our client, not Britta, so I wouldn't be violating the rule against relationships with clients. But she could report me to her superiors and hitting on a client's employee would get me in big trouble with my firm. That seemed a large risk when weighed against the low likelihood Britta would accept my invitation. Still, Britta Ahlberg was one of a kind and even a long-shot chance of being with her seemed worth the risk.
When I first asked Britta out, she asked me what had taken me so long. "I was convinced I was going to have to ask you out," she said. As we got to know each other better, we found we had many shared interests. I learned that Britta was more intelligent and kinder than I had first thought. When I received the Masters' invitation about a year later, Britta and I were lovers, and each other's best friends.
Ross was the relationship partner for the Masters' work. Before I said anything about Masters' invitation to Britta, I talked to Ross. My first question was whether he thought the invitation had been sent by mistake and how could I tactfully ask that question.
"It's not a mistake," Ross said with a chuckle. "Ramsey invited us, but Sandy and I are going skiing over the Holidays. When I told Ramsey we couldn't make it, I suggested he invite you."
"Thank you," I said. "So, that means I should go, right?"
"Ramsey and Felicia think their party is a big deal," Ross said. "They only have one every other year. We've gone in the past. Ramsey and Felicia's parties are...." Ross paused. He chuckled again. "Let's just say they are different. Still, Ramsey is an important client, and I expect you'll have fun."
"Am I supposed to go as the Firm's representative?" I asked.
"No," Ross replied. "But" he added, "remember that we want our clients to know we respect them and understand that we can learn from them."
The party started at 7:30 on December 31. I picked Britta up about 6:45. The Masters lived on an estate on the far northeast side of the metropolitan area. Britta looked stunning in a low-cut, backless black dress with a slit halfway up her thigh on one side. I was wearing the tux I had bought the prior February, the first time I had taken Britta to our firm's annual dinner-dance.
In the roughly eighteen months Britta and I had been a couple, I had met her parents several times. Halvar Ahlberg, a native Swede, had come to Boston for graduate school. He had met an outgoing redhead named Maureen Patrick. Shortly after Halvar got his doctorate, he had married Maureen. Halvar was now a tenured professor of computer science at the large state university in the city. Maureen was deputy director of HR for the regional bank based in town. Britta's older brother Sean, whom I'd not met, was an architect in Minneapolis. Britta would joke that she was the "family underachiever, just a high school tennis coach." Britta seemed tremendously accomplished to me.
It was, of course, dark when we arrived at the Masters' estate. The main house, on a small hill, was covered in Holiday lights. Young men and women with flashlights directed us to park in a field below the main house. Although we were on time, the field was already two-thirds full of cars. I didn't see a single pick-up truck, which was a bit unusual for this part of the world.
Ramsey and Felicia Master were the objects of some local fascination. Ramsey was a southern Ohio native. He had gone west for his education, receiving a doctorate in computer science from a prestigious Bay Area university. He had also met an MBA student named Felicia Carmichael. Felicia had been a successful sprinter and long jumper as an undergraduate. Felicia had also done some modelling.
Ramsey had gone to work for a well-known Bay Area tech firm. Reputedly, he had written much of the software which was key to their businesses, and he supposedly continued to receive what amounted to royalties for that work. Felicia had started her career at a San Francisco venture capital firm. After Ramsey and Felicia married, they moved to southwestern Ohio where they founded a company making software and hardware for the financial and health care industries. Ramsey was perceived as the tech genius while Felicia was seen as the businessperson. However they did it, it had succeeded massively.
Ramsey was known for showing up at business meetings barefoot and would, reputedly, interrupt the discussions periodically to sing a few bars from some old rock song. Felicia, still a striking woman in her forties, had continued to do some modelling including tasteful nudes. While their parent company, RamFel Tech, employed a lot of very bright, young people, there was an almost trump-like secrecy over how the businesses were run and even what it was like to work there. Wealth and business success were respected and admired in our community. However, southwestern Ohio was basically a conservative place, and most folks thought the Masters were a bit weird.
It was warm for a New Year's Eve night. A young woman in a light windbreaker jacket and slacks directed us to a large building below and behind the Masters' house. Part of the building was almost two stories tall with a transparent roof illuminated from within.
Britta and I went through the doors into the lower front of the building. The room we entered seemed like a convention hall, although the walls were elaborately decorated, and more Holiday decorations hung from the ceiling. A string quartet played in one corner of the large room. Bars were set up against the walls at several places around the room. A table with hors oeuvres ran most of the length of the wall opposite the entrance. The table was flanked on each side by double doors which, presumably, led to the portion of the building with the higher roof.
The room Britta and I had entered was large, but it was crowded with people. From a quick glance, I thought Britta and I were close to, if not the, youngest guests in the room. However, the crowd of women in evening dresses and men in tuxedos seemed to cover a wide age-range. I saw a few people whom I didn't know but knew about, including a successful local singer/songwriter, an actress who had studied at the local university and now starred in a TV series, and one of the county commissioners and her husband.
People mingled, as much as the crowd permitted, for about 45 minutes. Then, a female voice came over a PA system telling everyone to "please proceed through the doors on either side of the food table." We walked into a natatorium, with a pool bigger than any I had swum in during college. Several young men and women, the ones who had handled the parking I assumed, stood in white tops and black slacks around the wall. The air was warm and humid, not the most comfortable conditions in which to wear a tux.
The guests, around 200 I guessed, crowded onto the concrete deck around the pool. Britta and I were holding hands, partly out of affection and partly so we didn't get separated. I was curious why the Masters had moved their formal party into a swimming hall.
There was a concrete diving platform at one end of the pool. It was not the regulation ten meters high, closer to six meters I estimated. Felicia Master climbed the ladder to the platform and walked close to the edge. Felicia was a tall woman. She wore a dark brown dress, a shade or two lighter than her skin. The dress was cut high to her throat. Britta and I were standing relatively close to the platform on Felicia's right. I could see the nipples of her large breasts outlined under her dress. The dress was slit and, as Felicia walked forward on the platform, we could see bare skin all the way to her hip. "She's not wearing anything under that dress," Britta commented in an admiring tone.
Felicia stood silently for a moment just behind the platform's edge. Her striking appearance and dominating presence brought conversation to a halt. "Good evening and Happy New Year," Felicia said with a broad smile. "Thank you all for coming." Her expression became stern. "First," she said, "the one ground rule for tonight: whatever happens at this party stays at this party. If you won't accept that, I regretfully must ask you to leave now."
Felicia waited for a moment. No one moved. She broke into a smile again. "Thank you," she said, "I hope you will all have an evening to remember. We will be eating in a while. Ramsey and I thought it would be fun to take a quick dip before dinner. I know none of you brought swimsuits. Neither did we. So, obviously, we're all going to skinny dip."
