This is an entry to the 2014 Winter Holidays Contest. Contains MFM group sex, BDSM, a touch of exhibitionism, mentions of bisexuality and fried chicken, and far too much drinking. Self-edited so apologies for any errors. Please vote and comment.
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There's a standard joke when the UK is hit with cold weather - that we're utterly unable to cope. Even a sprinkling of the white stuff brings the road and rail networks virtually crashing to a halt. Schools close, people can't get to work, supermarkets are swamped by panic buyers and tabloids declare 'SNOWMAGEDDON!'
Despite this, young people still go out clubbing wearing virtually nothing. I can remember Christmas and New Year's Eves in my late teens, standing at the top of my hometown by the clock tower dressed solely in a skimpy dress and light jacket, with 4- inch heels, while howling gales blew around us and we tried to flag down a taxis brave enough to battle the icy conditions. Several around me wouldn't even have coats. To this day, I still have no idea how we never managed to end up in hospital with either hypothermia or broken bones. Either beer overcoats are marvellous things, or there were a few guardian angels looking after us...
***
"We'll never get in. Look at how many people are still in front of us!"
Anna barely heard Jo whining, she was shivering too much, and crossing her bare legs as too many Bacardi Breezers made themselves known to her bladder.
When they jumped out of the taxi, the queue outside Flames had snaked around the corner. Jo had asserted straightaway that that getting into the nightclub was their priority, instead of going to another bar first for Anna to make a desperate loo stop. After all, it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. Any normal Saturday night and they would have been drinking and dancing within minutes, but two weeks before Christmas and it appeared the Christmas spirit of partying was out en masse.
They had barely moved in the last half hour, and the bitter snowflake-ridden wind was whistling through her jacket and skimpy elf costume underneath. Jo hadn't been so foolish; her friend's full-length cashmere coat was much thicker, longer and warmer, and the reindeer outfit included knee-length boots and gloves so her digits weren't exposed to the elements.
"J-Jo, I r-r-r-really n-n-need the l-loo! I'm going to w-wet myself." At least that may temporarily warm her goose pimpled legs up.
Her friend stopped moaning for a bit and turned to her. For the first time she registered how cold the leggy, skin-baring Anna was, "Bloody hell, you look on the verge of hypothermia." She glanced around, "There's a nice chicken place a couple of doors past the entrance to Flames, try there."
Anna didn't move for a moment.
Jo gave her a gentle shove in the right direction, "Go! And have some food, it'll help keep you warm. I'll text you if a miracle occurs and this queue starts moving. Bring us some chips back, I'll need something too if we're stuck out here for much longer."
"O-O-OK." Anna tottered off towards the brightly-lit restaurant with its cheerful cockerel logo. On the way, she passed the front of the queue, guarded by black-clad bouncers in their thick coats, gloves and hats, and the scantily dressed smokers in a huddle held together by posts and rope. She could hear the thud of music coming from inside, spiking every time a door opened, and felt a dash of envy for anyone who was already in there.
Just walking into the restaurant was a relief, the warmth orgasm-like on her body. She groaned. Huddles of people on their way out glanced at her, and if she'd been able to get colour in her icy cheeks, she would have blushed at the attention. The staff were taking last orders, so she found the number of a vacant bar-height table, ordered some chicken and chips and scurried to the loo.
Her hands shook as she locked the cubicle door and pulled down her string knickers. She groaned again as her bladder unloaded. It was almost a pleasure. The hot water on her cold hands helped to warm her up, defrosted her enough that she felt nearly normal by the time she re-entered the restaurant.
She rejoined her perch by a large group of tinselled-up, smartly dressed men and women while she waited for the food. From the sound of it, they'd also had a fair few drinks that night. The men were mostly wearing matching black blazers with some kind of red badge on the left breast, although they must have been warm as a few had stripped them off to display festive-themed jumpers or shirts, resembling Christmas versions of garish Hawaiian shirts.
One of them...she squinted at the pattern, and giggled as she realised how rude it was. Santa being fucked by a chain of elves, with a dominatrix Mrs Claus looking on. The wearer was almost asleep in his chips, he had to be elbowed awake by his neighbour.
A throat was cleared, "Oi boys, laydeez and pissheads, these are your passes. They'll get you plus one guest into Flames, VIP entrance." The chap speaking passed out some printed cards. "You can go straight in, or drink somewhere else first. We don't have to be there for another hour or so, take your time and find a companion if you dare."
A fair bit of ribald commentary followed. Anna unashamedly eavesdropped, stifling further giggles. It was obvious they all knew each other well and were comfortable teasing. Within the group, there appeared to be different factions, either coupley, single women or single men. A couple of the taller men caught her eyes and smiled, she blushed as she looked away. She glanced back, and they were still smiling at her. She crooked her mouth in a nervous facsimile. This time, the attention did make her blush. Her body warmed further.
They were really hot, strong-featured mirror images with dark and light colouring. She liked tall and well-built men too, those who didn't make her feel like an Amazon next to them. She should be braver, she and Jo were both single after all. Their searing eyes ran up and down her body, and she pondered whether to flirtily approach them.
"Half a chicken and chips?"
Her attention was brought to the plate being laid on her table. In her earlier state, she had forgotten to ask for a takeaway. She took one glance at the cold outside, and decided to gobble it down where she was.
As she ate, the large group upped and left, chairs squeaking and voices laughing. Apart from a couple more wishful glances at the tall guys, Anna's concentration was on the tasty chicken, and feeling normal circulation gradually returning to her body.
Minutes later, the plate was clear apart from a few cooling chips she wrapped in napkins and stuck in her bag for Jo. Standing up, a spindly red heel caught on something, a pile of fabric on the floor. It was one of their blazers. Picking it up and shaking off bits of golden glitter, she glanced around, expecting the owner to return and tick her off for carelessly standing on the smart wool. She was the only person left in the restaurant, apart from a couple of members of staff mopping the floor.
Perhaps she could catch up with them? Stepping to the door, she grasped the handle, felt the cold breeze and glanced down at the garment in her hands. She gave it a cautious sniff, then a deeper, more appreciative one. Mmmm, nice aftershave. The owner wouldn't mind if she wore it for a few minutes, would they?
That was far too cheeky, she should leave it at the restaurant to be collected. She turned to go back in.
"Lady, we're closing soon." Overhead lights flickering off underlined the cleaner's statement.
The decision had been made for her, she could find their group again in Flames and drop off the coat. Until then, she could benefit from the extra warmth. She shrugged it on, the capacious fabric swamped but warmed her up.
Jo would be wondering where she was. She hurried out of the door and stepped carefully down the street, through the increasing blizzard, back towards Flames. Sticking her hands in the pockets, she felt a bit of card. Of course - one of their special passes.
Slowing near the entrance, it didn't seem the queue had moved at all. However, people were being let in with passes similar to the one her fingers were curled around.
Could she?
