All the men looked over in the corner at the chest-high Christmas tree off near the apartment kitchen, and then back at Camille, just in time to see her dramatically remove the fur coat from her body to reveal her party dressing. Guys expected something like a sexy Santa, elf, or Missus Clause, but not a Christmas tree. She was creatively decked out in several classic adornings, gold and red tinsel wrapped around her body like a designer wrap, miniature, bright, L.E.D. Christmas lights glowed against her torso and spread over every limb. She was dressed down to a green and red glittery bra that shimmered like ornaments, and pants that looked made of tinsel. A cute, decorate, small bow hid her belly button. No one would've believed that hearing everything she wore via second-hand account would be anything but cheesy-looking. But despite the abundance of everything she wore, it came together marvelously somehow. For a few brief moments, all the men in the room forgot to breathe; one of them exhaling bred a collective release of breath from her audience.
Standing arms akimbo, she waited for the custom CD to gain volume.
"Are you having a Merry Christmas yet, Ryan?" she regarded the seated man.
Ryan shook his head, wanting to spend his energy looking at the sexiest Christmas tree he ever laid eyes on, instead of talking. The music started playing, and with it she started rocking her hips to the beat. Her custom music was a collection of classic Christmas songs expertly blending together, mixed against a nearly sensual tone of belly dancing music.
She moved nearly in-between Ryan's legs, shifting her body slowly to the music, bending over to bring her beautiful face nearly down to his, but rising before they could come face-to-face. She not only gave Ryan attention, but moved to the couch where she passed all the men around the couch, brushing faces and body with her tinsel. Everyone got an eyeful of her glitter-covered skin and athletic, feminine figure; multiple male minds getting lost in deciding what parts of her or motions she made were their favorites. Camille walked in a slow, figure eight motion around the couch and then back around to Ryan's front. Trent felt that tinsel and nearly fell over, but was shaken back awake as one of the guys next to him pushed to get his own exposure.
She twirled in-front of Ryan, and then between the loveseat and the group, so everyone could get an equal view of the dancing tree. Undulating before everyone, she was used to guys going eventually silent for one of her dances, but this group was already overwhelmed. It didn't totally surprise Camille, knowing her Christmas holiday get-up was among the best outfits she had. Spotting a ref hanging against the wall, she took a moment to engage in some spontaneity, walking over to retrieve it from the wall, fortunate that it wasn't dressed in lights to there was nothing to unplug or drag behind. Holding it up, she looked at Ryan through the circular hole with a naughty expression. Knowing a certain piece of music was coming up, she raised the ref above her and held it around her body like a hula-hoop. But only her hips moved in circles inside the ref's spacious circumference.
Camille head her head up to give the impression that she was losing herself in the dance, but she knew exactly what she was doing. Her hands occasionally tilted the ref as she turned, giving generous views of her ass when she turned. Bumps in the music, in time with the lyrics led her hips to gently thrust forward at Ryan, letting the ribbon tails at her abdomen flow like a breeze passed through the room. She loved how their heads followed the beat just a step behind hers. Eyes followed her all the way to stepping away from the group to put the ref back. That was the assumption, until Camille tossed it at Ryan like she was playing a game of ring toss. She hit her target and let it hang from his neck after it settled. This brought the crowd back to life a bit as someone started clapping, and the rest did as well. Someone whistled as she walked away again, heading to the light switch.
Happily seeing the living room working on a dimmer switch, she lowered it carefully, while changing the lighting setting her person. It had been low-lit on her before, but she moved it to the brightest setting as the room went dark, making Camille nearly the only thing visible in the room. All the men uttered a collective "oooooh" as she approached Ryan. She grew more brazen and daring with her movements, pushing Ryan's legs apart with hers, holding his face gently in her hands, whispering things to him. She moved to his side to recline the loveseat, giving the rest a good view of her partially lit backside. There were small gasps as she moved on top of him, none louder than from Ryan himself as she straddled him, guiding his hands across parts of her body, letting him caress her ornaments. She enjoyed the stupid smile on his face as his POV amounted to nothing more than lights and all the beauty those lights revealed. There were more whispers spoken that didn't mean much to him, but still seemed to soothe him pretty well. The only words he was aware of asked him how heavy his eyelids were getting; he didn't think they were, until they became so, and ultimately too heavy to keep open. He wanted to complain at first, but was happy to still see her dancing behind his eyelids as he rested.
With Ryan out of commission, Camille moved to the rest of the men, giving them various tastes of everything Ryan got. She laid across the laps of three men seated on the couch, touching them with her boots, with her hands, with her tinsel wrapping. They all were much more comfortable just watching her and listening to the sounds she was making. Sensuously moving off them, she moved to the men behind the couch, who'd looked down at her, but suddenly stood face-to-face with her. She twirled and regarded each man, dancing between them, speaking of how weak their knees felt, and how they might buckle. Together they slowly found their way to the floor. Trent had his face pulled close to Camille's as she pulled him close after wrapping tinsel around his neck. From sitting on the floor behind the couch, the last of the aware men all watched the Christmas tree rise, larger than life, dancing, whispering, undulating in their minds past the point of their eyes closing.
The men all slept and heard Camille in their dreams, of dancing sugar plums and Christmas trees, of their childhood when they most enjoyed Christmas, of the pleasure of listening to that special, whispering voice in their heads.
Trent was the last to wake, finding the room back to being normally bright. No one else seemed to bother with helping him getting up, or acknowledging that he'd been on the floor. Trent didn't acknowledge it himself; not finding it strange that he'd been on the floor, sleeping. He looked around to see everyone else drinking, having a good time, talking about how awesome their dancer was. He couldn't blame them; Camille was absolutely right when she said they'd have fun. The only thing that seemed strange to him was that Ryan and Camille were missing.
He walked to the spare room where Camille had changed, checking to see if anyone was around. He found Camille atop Ryan on the bed, boots off but not too dissimilar from how they looked in the reclined loveseat, but more intimate than before. They looked into each others eyes as Camille spoke to him. Seeing his sister's fiancée still in the thrall of this other woman, looking as if they were about to kiss, Trent was about to loudly voice his displeasure, until Camille turned to him and held a finger to her lips. His voice was gone before he could make a sound. She beckoned him into the room with the same finger, and pointed toward a chair in the corner, where he sat and was helpless to do anything but watch.
Internally, he was screaming from the inside, trying to make his body match the anger inside him. His listening was not impeded, and he was surprised to hear what she was telling him.
"You love this pleasure, Ryan. It's unbearable, incredible, you can't live without it. And there's only one place you can get it - Izzy, your fiancée, your wife. Such a lovely name, and a lovely girl from what you've told me about her. She's the one you want and need more than anything, more than anyone. You need no one but her, Ryan."
Despite his docile condition, Trent's eyes shot up at hearing his sister's name spoken, and for everything that Camille was saying to him.
"All those thoughts you had of other girls, all of those opportunities you kept in the back of your mind for stepping out on Izzy, you can't find them, can't remember them anymore. It's like they were never there; you can't think of a reason to cheat on Izzy, not even if I offered you. Of course you'll obey me whenever I want you to, if we meet again, but really, Izzy is the one you'll promise to honor and obey, and you will fulfill your duty there. She deserves it, so you'll do it to deserve her, that woman you need in your life. You understand this, don't you?"
He gently shook his head, but she helped him with moving his head up and down deliberately.
She laid Ryan against the pillow on the bed.
"Sleep and dream about how much you love and will obey Izzy until I wake you."
He closed his eyes as she got up and looked at Trent.
"What can I say? I like to see a marriage work out. Your sister sounds like a nice girl. Nice girls deserve a well-programmed man. Don't I look nice, Trent?"
Trent's nod was just as gentle as Ryan, but the struggle inside him was hard, conflicted between the control Camille wielded over everyone at the party, and what she'd done for his sister. And how she looked at him.
"Wouldn't a well-programmed man like to kneel before a nice girl?"
He didn't know if he was a well-programmed man like Camille suggested, but he still slipped off the chair, easily to his knees while she approached him. Camille wondered if she had any inclination to mess with the rest of the men. They all were more than malleable for her, but Ryan and Trent were the only ones that appealed to her, and she didn't feel like having an audience cheering for deriving some pleasure of her own. Not this time, at least.
Camille pulled at the ribbon tail until it unraveled and fell from her body, revealing her belly button off to show off her green belly piercing, shaped like mistletoe.
"Do you like kissing under the mistletoe, Trent?"
There was a little more enthusiasm in his nod.
"So do I," Camille told him while lowering her short, tinsel skirt.
She smiled brightly down at his confused face.
"My lips are waiting Trent."
His hesitation was momentary, wavering until he fell onto her waiting lips, frenching her, loving the deep sigh he heard from above.
Everyone had a Merry Christmas that year.
