So. Christmas Eve. A time of joyful celebration with family and "loved ones". I made a face at my reflection in the window and glared at the dark, quiet street below. Bah, humbug. Maybe it was different if you had a loving family instead of a distracted, aloof father, a nagging, lecturing mother and a smug, superior sister with two insufferable spoiled brats running around like little banshees.
I turned away from the window and surveyed my cozy apartment. Well, "cozy" only if you really liked the dirty-chic style of home decoration, and had ideological reservations about storage spaces and their restrictive attitudes towards the free movement of objects.
I did have a Christmas tree, though, bought in a sudden fit of inspiration - or maybe desperation. I had hoped, for a brief moment, it would actually cheer me up. As it turned out, it mocked me instead, with the meager, lonely decorations I'd hung up. I scowled at it as I walked past and threw myself back in the sofa.
I should probably order a pizza, or something. They might close early on Christmas eve, with everyone going home to their families. I could order a large one, keep it in the fridge for a few days. Not a "family" one, absolutely not. Just a... big pizza.
I should also push myself out of the sofa, go take a shower and clean up a bit. Both myself and the place, to be honest. Later, I thought. In a while. Next year, perhaps. It wasn't that far away, anyway.
Crap. How had I ended up here? I felt like shit. And all because that stinking pile of... certified organic manure, whose name was Dick - yes, really - all because he dumped me for some braindead blonde bimbo with oversized tits. We're just not physically compatible, he'd told me gently, but hadn't been able to resist glancing at my chest, and frowning. Very subtle, as always.
I knew I wasn't well-endowed, in the chest department or anywhere else. It would have been a real feat not to notice, but I'd worked to accept that beauty wasn't all in your looks. Worked hard to accept it, and almost succeeded. Mostly. I did have a reasonably cute face, which helped, and I'd gotten compliments for my eyes.
But what man cared about my freaking
eyes
when we fucked? Big, juicy tits that he could grab and squeeze as they bounced beneath him - that was different.
I also knew it had been almost six months, and that I should "get over it". I'd tried. Several times. But somehow, it had all just gotten worse. By now I only went outside for work, and then straight back home. I hated my life. I hated everyone else, too, so Christmas was actually a good time. Nobody here to bother me.
Somebody banged on my door. I groaned and pulled a pillow over my face. Who the *fuck* was that? All my friends, such as I had, and had left, were out of town, celebrating joyfully.
More banging. I knew only one person who banged on people's doors like that, but - she was in Kansas. Maybe it was the police, or the fire brigade. Maybe they'd soon blow up the door and storm inside, or cut it open. Maybe they'd drag me off and put me in prison. That might be good, actually. Less tiresome people trying to cheer me up. Somebody rattled the door handle, over and over, interspersed with heavy banging. It really did sound like Trish.
Would she go away if I just ignored her? Or would some of my misbegotten neighbors call the police? I swore to myself, and got out of the sofa.
It was Trish, indeed, wearing a silly blinking Christmas hat with reindeer horns. "Merry Christmas!" she shouted as she barged into my hall.
"What are you doing here?" I grated at her. "Why aren't you in Kansas?"
"I said, merry Christmas, girl! I'm here because - I'm fed up with you!" She stabbed a finger into my chest. "And because you don't answer your phone, your emails, your texts, your anything, and I'm worried about you. So, I'm here to fix you up!"
She hung her coat on a peg and kicked off her shoes. She strode past me into the living room, and I stared at her Christmas elf suit. Christmas elf, yes, but not the kid-friendly variety. Half-perverted sexy elf, rather, in a blazing red with white trim, and form-fitting in a way that Trish's voluptuous body carried off very, very well. Her black hair hung down her back, halfway to her wide, round ass.
"Oh, Ash," she groaned as she stopped right inside the room. "What are you doing to yourself?"
I walked after her and glared at her. "I'm living my own life, thank you very much. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Springfield."
She spun to face me, her black curls whipping. Her deep brown eyes bored into mine. "I cancelled my tickets. I had to check on you. That's why I'm here." She spun away and walked into the room, bending to pick up my stuff.
"Eugh," she said as she picked a pizza box off the floor. "What is all this?" She dropped it again and straightened up.
"Ashley," she said, walking over to the sofa. "Come here." She sat down, and patted the cushion next to her. I walked over and sat down, gingerly and warily. She took my hand and entwined it in her own.
"Ashley," she said again. "It's so painful, seeing you like this. You're so sad and lonely, and you're living in a.... trash heap."
"Come on," I grumbled and tried to extricate my hand, but she gripped it harder. "I'm just moping a bit while I get over - you know."
"It's not moping if it goes on for months and months. And when you never go out, never talk to your friends, never do anything. I mean, look at you!"
I knew what she meant, but glanced down at myself anyway. She wrinkled her nose at my dirty old t-shirt, and put her finger through a hole in it. "You used to be happy," she said, sounding sad. "We used to have fun. Remember that? Remember that time in New York? We were flirting with those two guys and you jumped up on the railing on the ferry, singing "My Heart Will Go On". And then you fell into the water."
I smiled. "Yeah. And the dork didn't jump in after me."
"No," she said. "But I did."
I nodded.
"Do you remember two years ago?" she said. "That New Year's party? We got so drunk, remember, and we danced so hard, and then you did your Travolta thing on the table and everyone laughed so hard they fell off their chairs."
I chuckled, but it faded. "Dick didn't laugh."
"Dick was a
dick
," she said, with venom. "He hated it when you were the star." She stroked my hand and looked into my eyes. "He wasn't good for you, Ash. He made you so small." Suddenly she gripped my hand so hard I yelped. "I hated that. And I'm here to make you bigger again."
She put her hands on my shoulders and stared at me. "Listen to me. I have a plan. I won't tell you what it is, because then you're gonna argue. We can't have that. You have to trust me. Trust me, and do what I tell you to do. That's all you need to do. And then you'll be happier again. Okay?"
"What?" I said, breaking eye contact. She reached out and pulled my chin back, forcing me to meet her stern gaze again. "What do you mean, you have a plan?"
"Trust me," she said. "Trust me, and do exactly what I tell you to do, and nothing else. Look, how long have we known each other? Twenty years?"
"Something like that," I muttered.
"Have I ever tricked you, or hurt you, or betrayed you?"
"There was that time back in third grade," I began, but she just snorted.
"Duh," she said. "We were stupid kids. I mean when we're adults. Have I?"
"No," I admitted. Trish was noisy - and nosy - and completely unconcerned with what people thought about her, but she was the best friend I'd ever had, and the best friend I could ever hope to have. She'd been there for me, always.
I exhaled. She seemed to be determined, and when she was, it was usually better to let her have her way. "Okay," I said. "I trust you. Trish, please don't..."
She put her finger on my lip, silencing me. "I promise I will not hurt you, trick you or betray you. I want to see you happy again. I want my old girlfriend back. I want old Ash back. Happy, funny, goofy Ash. Trust me, and do what I tell you do to."
"Yes," I said. "I will. I trust you. I will do what you tell me."
"Oh, Ash!" she said and threw her arms around me in a hug. I fell backwards on the sofa.
"Oof!" I said. "You're like a big dog, do you know that?"
"No, I'm much better!" she grinned. "I don't bark and I don't shed hair everywhere." She sat up and pointed towards my bedroom. "Remember - trust me, and do what I tell you to do. Your bedroom. On your bed. On your back. Scoot!"
"Now what," I muttered, but I couldn't keep my grin off my face. I felt so much better now. Trish always had that effect on me. I went to my bed and laid down on my back. Trish wasn't far behind, and climbed up on the bed beside me. She waved a thick woolen scarf in the air.
"I'm going to blindfold you," she said. I began to protest, but she held up a finger. "Trust me, and do what I say. You agreed." She proceeded to wrap the scarf around my head and tying it on one side. It blocked out all light.