This is my entry for the
Winter Holidays Story Contest 2023
. If you enjoy this, please remember to vote. Likes, comments, and feedback are always appreciated, especially since I'm still figuring all of this out. Enjoy!
"Shannon? Shannon? No, Shannon, it's going to be fine, okay?" Brittany said, running a hand through her tousled brown hair. Speaking into the rental's Bluetooth speakers, she tried to talk her assistant off the ledge back at the home office.
"Okay, but, Brittany, Michaelson said--"
Brittany laughed. Not a sharp, caustic laugh, but an empathetic one. Barely into her freshman year of college, Shannon already had the worry lines of someone twice her age.
"Do you know what else Michaelson says?" Brittany asked.
Hesitance from Shannon. "What?"
"A lot. Michaelson says a lot. But he won't do anything. Especially not at Christmastime. It will be fine."
"It doesn't sound fine," Shannon said.
"Of course it doesn't. He doesn't want it to. That's how he gets what he wants all the time," Brittany said. She flicked on the left blinker and prepared to turn into the driveway. "Hey, I'm pulling up to my brother's house. I'll be in touch. Merry Christmas, Shannon."
With that, Brittany ended the call and sighed. Every day, with the fires to be put out and the feelings to assuage.
Nonstop drama is the price of living in the big city, girl
, she told herself. Even her freckles were tired.
Gravel crunched under the wheels of the rented Yukon XL as she maneuvered up the long road. Just ahead, the quaint little cedar-sided farmhouse, with its black metal roofing and wraparound porch, came into view. From inside, the merry twinkling of Christmas lights sparkled against the windows.
Brittany had told her assistant it was her brother's house, but in truth, she still thought of it as
their
house. Technically also hers, inherited after their parents died, her brother Mark was the one who'd never left town. She had implored him to just sell the damn thing, but he refused.
Pulling to a stop in the empty driveway, Brittany turned off the ignition and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could do this.
As the years went on, she visited less and less, spoke to Mark less and less. But now, at 29 years of age, 30 was on the horizon. Still single and with no prospects, a small yearning, one that she pushed away and denied, ached for familial connection. Whether it was loneliness or her ticking biological clock, she didn't know.
But Mark seemed genuinely excited when she had called and asked about visiting for Christmas. Her loveable, goofball little brother, like her, single, no prospects.
They made quite the pair.
But while the city slicker sister had adapted to the big wide world and focused on eating right, exercise, and fashion, her farmboy brother had slipped into a more rural lifestyle. Loose hygiene, looser overalls, and a poor diet reaped a doughy exterior.
Grabbing her suitcase from the oversized SUV, Brittany walked up to the farmhouse, her hot breath misting in the cold winter air with every step. Reaching the wraparound porch, she remembered years of sunrises, sunsets, and stargazing.
During her last visit several years ago, it had needed some repairs, new boards, and paint. But now to her surprise, as she clopped up the steps, it looked brand new. Smooth and sturdy, she admired what she presumed was her brother's handiwork. He'd always been great at that, whereas she had broken so many tools over the years, her dad had lovingly asked her to leave it to him and Mark.
She knocked on the big farmhouse door, recently stained, and the frosted glass shone in the early afternoon sun. Thankfully, her sunglasses kept the worst of it at bay.
Silence.
Not even the sound of footsteps inside.
Brittany knocked again, harder this time.
More silence.
Oh, for God's sake,
she thought.
She tried the handle and the door opened right up. With a slight irritation, Brittany rubbed at her eyebrow. "Mark?" she called out.
Stepping inside, she removed her sunglasses and looked around, her brown eyes adjusting to the light. The house was... clean. Immaculate.
What the hell? Did he get a housekeeper?
Pine filled her senses with Christmas nostalgia. Decorations and garland scattered the walls and available surfaces. Lights sprayed reds, greens, blues, yellows, and purples across the open space, despite the daylight streaming in.
"Mark!" she shouted, this time not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice. "You better not be sleeping or in the shower!"
But as soon as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. The house felt empty.
Her steps echoed on the hardwood flooring as she rolled her bag forward to the kitchen table. On it was a handwritten note from her brother; she'd recognize his chicken scratch penmanship anywhere.
Brit, sorry I couldn't be here to greet you. Work came up and I have to take care of it. Pizza's in the fridge. You know where the shower is. -Mark
Annoyed, she slapped the paper back down on the table. "Well, shit, bro. You could've texted me, at least—
oh wait, you don't even have a cell phone.
"
But goddamn if pizza and a shower didn't sound like heaven after her flight and drive. "Fine, Mark, I'll give you this one," she said through gritted teeth. "No, don't worry, I'll show myself to my room."
Suitcase in tow, Brittany traipsed through the old house. Up the creaky stairs, through the hallway, last door on the right. Impossible to miss, really, with the hundred or so stickers she'd applied to it as a kid. Amidst the remaining stickers and black, sticky residue of stickers long passed, another handwritten note from her brother.
Welcome Home!
"Uh-huh," she muttered. Her door always stuck, and with an extra push, she got it open with the familiar scrape of door against door frame.
Unchanged by time, Brittany was instantly transported years back in time. Mauve walls were covered by posters of NSYNC, The OC, and Sailor Moon. Postcards of beaches, mountains, and Washington, D.C. were travel keepsakes, while the multitude of photos with friends were proof of even more adventures.
Perfectly made, her bed was covered in Spongebob sheets, blankets, and pillowcases.
Her wooden desk still had an old CRT TV/VHS combo she'd gotten for her tenth birthday.
All at once, the stresses and drama from work halfway across the country melted away.
She was home.
Now it was food time.
Per Mark's note, she grabbed and reheated some pizza from the fridge, scarfing it down.
Hunger abated, it was time to wash away gross airport germs she'd surely spent the day bathing in.
Grabbing towels from the hallway linen closet, Brittany made her way to the bathroom a couple doors down from her room. Shockingly, waiting for her on the counter already were towels, washcloths, a loofah, shampoo, conditioner, and several other essentials.
That clinched it. Her brother had definitely gotten a housekeeper. And from the looks of it, one who was worth every penny.
She turned on the shower and disrobed while the water warmed. First off was the tan overlay and white shirt. Then, reaching back, Brittany unclasped her beige 32D bra. Pulling it away from her, the girls bounced free with instant relief. "Oh, thank God," she said. "Stupid bra."
Gently rubbing her underboob, she massaged away the evils of underwire. Moving up, she kneaded at herself, eventually honing in on her nipples. Pressing between finger and thumb, Brittany lightly pinched herself, then tugged.
A lightning bolt of pleasure shot through her, resting in her nethers. Might as well take care of
that
, too, before her brother got home. Just to take the edge off.
Denim capris and nylon panties were next. Just as goosebumps broke out across her body, steam billowed from the walk-in shower. As she opened the glass door, heat washed over her naked form. Brittany embraced it, the humidity wrapping her like a blanket.
Inside, the shower head sprayed pressurized rivulets down her freckled body.
Oh, it felt wonderful. Thick heat only turned her on more, and her hand was instantly between her legs. Honing in on her swollen clit, she rested a leg on the shower seat ledge for better access.
As she rubbed and the pleasure built, the rest of the world faded into murky darkness. There was only the water, furious finger motions, and her free hand squeezing her tits, pulling her nipples.
Just as her hips bucked on her own, Brittany plunged two fingers into her slick depths. A whimper escaped her lips. Even with water cascading down her, the trimmed land strip of hair remaining from her French wax bristled against the palm of her hand.
It had been ages since she'd been with someone; ages more since she'd been with someone meaningful. Of all the distractions that work provided, she ached for that strong emotional connection to a man, for someone to wrap her up in big, secure arms at the end of the day.
The tell-tale tingle of her crescendo fired off like an exploding Christmas light. Finding stability against the wall, Brittany fucked her hand harder, clenching down on her fingers for added pressure. More lights burst inside her, overriding all other senses, as an ecstasy hotter than the shower washed over her.
Whimpering turned to a rhythmic, satisfied grunt timed with her hip thrusts. Gratification racked her body and her muscles tensed in unison. She leaned her head against the shower wall and bit her lip, riding the swell.
Hissing, flecks of spittle escaped the sides of her mouth, mixing with the torrent of water rushing at her already.
With a final groan, her body shook in euphoria, and Brittany released the breath she'd been holding, coming out as a giant sigh of relief.
Okay, maybe now I can think clearly,
she thought.
Needs of the body taken care of, she spent the rest of the shower focused on hygiene. Once her hair was shampooed and her body clean, she made the hard decision to turn off the shower, rather than just stay under its warmth for the rest of the day.
Toweled and dried off, only then did Brittany realize that she'd failed to bring a clean change of clothes with her into the bathroom. There was no way she was putting back on dirty airport clothes.
Stupid Brittany,
she thought.
Her room was only a few doors away. She could make the quick trip in just a towel. Even if Mark had gotten home, she'd be okay. Not ideal, but he'd seen her in pajamas and bikinis before; a towel wasn't anything worse than those. Just in case, she secured the towel with her hand, squeezing tight.
Opening the door, a wall of steam escaped into the hallway, escorting her forward. Brittany turned from the door—
There was a shirtless stranger in the hallway.
A shirtless, muscular stranger in gray sweatpants.
Brittany screamed.
Involuntarily, her arms flailed forward. Unfortunately, attached to one of those arms was the towel she'd been holding against herself.
In that split second, as time stopped, her towel was seemingly suspended in the air, and Brittany became aware of several things.
First and foremost, obviously, she was now naked in the hallway with a stranger.
So very, very naked.
That stranger's eyes were very wide in shock.
"Jesus, Brittany!" the man yelled, whirling around.
She knew that voice. "
Mark?
