PROLOGUE
It seemed like such a good idea on paper, or more accurately, during our conversation one Friday evening over happy hour.
After a couple drinks, my best friend Staci and I had eased into our usual girl-talk, mostly gossiping stories about work and home. Although our personalities couldn't be more different, we are like sisters. We share everything. What I secretly enjoy most about our happy-hour girl dates are the opportunities to live vicariously through Staci's stories of sexual exploits with her husband Bill. Staci is a 28 year-old, 5' 10" blonde bombshell. Beyond being a poster-child for sexy, she is intelligent, creative and focused. Men fall in love with her (or should I say lust) when she just walks in a room. But the men don't have a chance. Staci is hotly in love with Bill, and Bill with her. They are also fun to hang out with as couples. My husband Mark and I love doing things together with Staci and Bill. Their passion for life and each other is contagious. I live vicariously through Staci because I am way too shy and reserved to experience what she has or to do what they do. Even our jobs highlight the contrast between us. I am a librarian; she works in sports media. Like great literature, her stories take me places my bashfulness would never allow myself to go in real life.
Staci finished the luscious details of their latest romp as we emptied our second drinks, which the waiter quickly replaced with a third. She could tell I was again mesmerized in admiration by the way my large transparent blue eyes were fixed on her thick red lips as she told her tantalizing story. My body tingled with warmth from the alcohol and erotic narrative. I felt the tightening of my large nipples giving my arousal away as they pushed through the soft silk of my blouse; my panties secretly soaked up the moisture from my damp love box under the small table.
"Mark would die to have what you and Bill have in the bedroom," I confessed, as Staci paused at the end of her story to moan, and catch her breath. Her face was flushed with arousal having just re-lived the sultry experience through retelling the graphic details. "Although your stories are rarely limited to the bedroom, or even your house," I added with a sultry smile.
"What's stopping you?" Staci asked in a suggestive voice. "Look at you. You are gorgeous." Staci looked up and down my tall slender fit body. I match Staci's 5'10" height, but with petite features of small perky tits mostly made up of swollen round nipples and a tiny ass that offer little compared to her luscious curvaceous figure. I have shoulder-length brunette hair, large transparent blue eyes, olive skin and a broad smile, "I can tell he loves how beautiful you are, and loves your body by the way he looks at you. Who wouldn't," she added. "If I were a man,..." her voice trailed. Staci smiled before finishing her thought. "Let's just say, if I were a man, Mark would have competition."
I blushed again. "Mark definitely tells me he thinks I'm beautiful, and shows it by his actions" I conceded. "I suppose that's part of the problem. I get shy. I've just always been so reserved," I said resigned. "It's not like I want to be, I just am. Our sex life is pretty routine and boring compared to yours. I think he wishes I was more adventurous, like you guys."
"Like how?"
"You know, more creative and playful with sex -- where we have it, what we do when we have it. He'd love me to take more initiative as a seductress, more exhibitionist when we are out, showing off my body. He'd love me to let loose and get crazy with oral sex, playful sex, even sex in public. You name it, if it was more adventurous, I think he would eat it up."
"Then turn on the adventure!" Staci encouraged with a smile. "Start surprising him. Get your inner-freak on."
We both laughed. I blushed again.
"I just get shy," I confessed. "I'll come up with a romantic idea to seduce him, then get nervous and back out; or he'll make a playful suggestion and I get embarrassed and balk. I'm such a prude. He's patient and all, I just think he wishes..."
"That's it!" Staci interrupted with a shout.
"What's it?" I asked, confused, feeling a little embarrassed by how her enthusiastic shout called attention to our table.
"I have an idea," Staci interrupted, lowering her voice to a whisper, as if she were sharing a secret plan.
"That look on your face makes me nervous."
"Do you trust me?"
"Now I'm more nervous," I answered truthfully, but with heightened curiosity.
"Keep an open mind Cate," she encouraged. "You know how you and Mark have decided to have fun with Christmas gifts this year by giving each other something creative without spending any money?"
"Yes," I said, in a coaxing tone. [Mark and I came up with the plan to be more fun and thoughtful than just going out and buying something for each other to be unwrapped. We give each other gifts all year long.] "And...?"
"And you know how you are struggling to come up with what you want to give Mark, but you want it to be really good?"
"Yes, and?"
"And you know how you think Mark would like you and your sex life to become more adventurous?"
"Yes," I answered, growing impatient. I nervously emptied the third drink and asked for another.
"Am I your best friend and will do anything for you?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, yes," I answered impatiently. "What's your idea?"
"Then you're going to let me be your Christmas fairy to make all your wishes come true!"
"How?"
"You are going to let me come up with the gift you are going to give Mark." Her large smile lit up her face.
"That defeats the purpose," I answered. "And the idea makes me very nervous. It's supposed to be my gift to Mark, not yours."
"It will be your gift to Mark," she answered. "He'll never know I came up with it for you to give him. But I guarantee, your gift will make it the best Christmas of his life."
"What's the gift?" I asked.
"That's the beauty of it," Staci answered deviously. "You will both discover what it is when he opens it Christmas Eve. Once you give it, it is his to enjoy. There is no taking it back."
"That really sounds dangerous," I answered. I felt my bashful insecurities rising to discomfort. I manage my world by controlling my boundaries, boundaries much smaller than Staci's imagination.
"I prefer the word adventurous," she said with a smile. "Come on. YOLO! Let me do this for you." Staci's face was filled with eager enthusiasm.
My next drink arrived and I instantly poured half of it down my parched throat. "Your idea makes me really nervous," I repeated.
"Trust me," Staci repeated, with a reassuring tone of a big sister. "Do you trust me?"
I looked up at her fretfully, trying to read her scheming but sincere face. My uneasy smile communicated my apprehension, feeling a thrilling fear like when boarding a large roller coaster.
"You and Mark will be in complete control of how you enjoy the gift," she reassured. "But, to make this the best Christmas ever, you have to promise to tell him you give it to be enjoyed without any limitations or conditions. Promise?"
"I promise," I said hesitantly. The commitment instantly caused a volcano of trepidation and thrill to rise from deep inside. I knew the alcohol compromised my normal cautious judgment, but I also knew whatever Staci had in mind for me to give Mark would make this Christmas unforgettable.
A week later, Staci handed me a small box elegantly wrapped in a deep red printed metallic paper with a large frilly gold bow on top. A small card was tucked under the bow in an envelope with Mark's name embossed on top.
"Merry Christmas," Staci said in a mischievous tone, ready to burst in her devilish excitement.
"I'm so petrified about this," I confessed.
"You should be," Staci answered playfully. "You can read the card, but the gift is Mark's to open and enjoy."
I gingerly removed the card from the delicate envelope affixed to the top of the beautifully wrapped gift. I recognized the words from one of our new favorite love songs printed on the left panel inside the card:
~~~~~~~~~~
Unconditional, unconditionally
I will love you unconditionally
There is no fear now
Let go and just be free
I will love you unconditionally.
~~~~~~~~~~
In italics, the right side of the card simply read:
~~~~~~~~~~
Mark,
Just like my love,
this gift is unconditional.
Merry Christmas Darling
Cate
~~~~~~~~~~
I returned the card to the envelope and placed the gift under the tree. My heart raced. Christmas Eve was just two days away.
CHAPTER ONE - CATE'S GIFT
Romantic light holiday jazz played softly throughout our home. The house was lit only by the glow of candles, a fire in the fireplace and the colored lights on the Christmas tree. The aroma of spiced cheeses warming in the fondue pot in front of the fireplace decorated the air. A second fondue pot warmed rich dark chocolate. Two glasses of our favorite merlot sat next to the large plate adorned with bread, veggies, fruit, pound cake and other choices waiting to be bathed in the warm fondue cheeses and decadent chocolate. It was Christmas Eve. Tonight, was reserved for just the two of us, alone in the intimacy of our own home. The craziness of family Christmas gatherings would begin tomorrow, spending Christmas day with Mark's extended family.
I wore a usual conservative red cashmere sweater buttoned to the top with black knee length skirt and matching high heels. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous to death about what was in the package I would soon hand to Mark to open as my Christmas gift to him. It was too late now to back out. Mark would be home from work any minute. Whatever Staci had created and wrapped in that package would be his. I was more nervous about discovering what was in the box with his name on it than I was opening the other small wrapped gift he placed under the tree for me. Butterflies filled my stomach.
"Merry Christmas," I said with a smile as he walked through the door.
Mark's face lit up with a smile as he turned toward the sound of my voice to see me standing next to the Christmas tree, in the flickering light of the fireplace and candles. He set his briefcase down, closed the door and took his overcoat off.
I walked over and handed him his glass of merlot, and lifted my glass to his.
"Merry Christmas," he answered. Our glasses clinked as a toast; our lips came together for a brief kiss before each taking a sip of the smooth wine.
"Ah, I needed this," Mark said, coming off a hard day at work, before navigating his way through the hectic holiday traffic. The light snow falling across the city was beautiful to look at, but frustratingly slowed the commute home. Mark took a deep breath and another sip of his wine. His smile grew as he allowed the relaxing light jazz, the warmth of the fire and aroma of the fondue wash over him. The picturesque light snow continued to fall outside the large living room window, illumined by the full moon and streetlight. "This is nice."
The evening unfolded with a relaxing leisurely pace, with nowhere to be, nothing to do but to enjoy the time together. Bite by bite the cheese fondue gradually disappeared, as did a second bottle of wine. We relished the unhurried conversation that started with recounting our day, and moved to reminiscing and laughter. It felt magical, fueled all the more by my secret suspense of what laid waiting to be opened under the tree. The buzz of the wine relaxed us into the beauty of the intimate evening together.
"Want to open our gifts?" Mark asked.
"Let's," I answered, giving him a small kiss. "Who first?"
"Ladies first," he answered, picking up the small box under the tree and handing it to me. "I love you."
"Thank you darling." I slowly unwrapped the package to savor the moment. In it was a gorgeous antique diamond ring. I gasped. "Oh, Mark, this is beautiful. But we weren't supposed to spend any money."
"I didn't," he answered. This belonged to my great grandmother. It's been in the family for years. My grandmother had it, and she loved the idea of me giving it now to you. She couldn't have been more happy."
Tears rolled down my cheeks at the priceless sentiment and gift. "Oh darling, it's perfect," I said as he slipped the ring onto my right index finger. "It fits perfectly and is beautiful," I added as the light of the flickering fire danced in the solitaire." I gave him a passionate kiss of gratitude. My heart was full.
"Yours isn't anything like a priceless heirloom," I said, handing him the beautifully wrapped box that was as much a mystery to me as it was for him.
"I'm sure it will be perfect," Mark said with a smile as he pulled the card from the small envelope on top. Mark's smile grew as he read the lyrical words of the card out loud. "Unconditional," he repeated.
