THE CHRISTMAS PARTY IS OVER

 

The Christmas party is over

And so, I guess

It’s now the time to wish you

A Happy Christmess

Snippets of Downshire Life – Christmas Jumper Day

Brassington is a large sprawling village nestled in the wooded hills on the southern edge of the Dancingdean Forest in the south east corner of Downshire and in one a row of terraced Victorian Cottages lived Craig Hooper, a Detective Sgt in the Downshire Constabulary, and he lived next door to divorcee sisters Chrissy Holdack and Carol Hutchins.

They were all in their mid to late thirties and with no romantic attachments, so they got on very well.

 

It was mid-December and Craig had just come off a week of late nights as part of a major crime task force and was exhausted when he got back to the cottage at 6am.

His first step was a hot shower, followed by breakfast and bed, however when he finished, he was annoyingly wide awake.

So he pottered around for a couple of hours tidying up then he sat down in front of the TV with a coffee mid-morning and started watching Alistair Sim in “Scrooge”, one of his favourite Christmas movies, but he lasted no more than 10 minutes before the long blinks set in and he spent the rest of the day sleeping on the couch in a sound sleep until he was woken from that long afternoons snoozing when he heard the sound of the doorbell.

 

The bell continued to ring as he made his way up the hall and when he opened the front door, he found a slightly inebriated Chrissy Holdack leaning against the doorframe.

“Craig, thank God” she slurred, “I’m locked out, and in distress”

“Come in and tell me how I can help” he said

“Well, the trouble is I’m locked out” she said “and Carol won’t be back for at least two hours” 

“Could I be a nuisance and stay here until she gets home?” she pleaded “I’ll be no trouble, I promise”

“Yes of course, what are neighbours for”

“You are my saviour” she declared

“Come on then party girl, let’s get your coat off” he suggested but this proved to be more of an effort than he imagined, but they managed it in the end and when they had she adjusted her skirt and straightened her brightly coloured Christmas Jumper.

And Craig took a moment to admire the way she filled a sweater, and she had a very curvaceous figure, and the undulations were very pleasing on the eye, and it was not the first time he had pleased his eye on her curves. 

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said as she almost fell onto the hall table.

Craig caught her just in time and sat her on a chair in the hall while he pulled her boots off revealing her festive tights with Christmas parcel motifs.

“Come in the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on” he said

“Wine will do” she suggested and fell against the wall giggling.

“Coffee would be safer I think” he replied

 

After a couple of cups of coffee Chrissy had sobered considerably as she told him all about her office Christmas lunch and how much she had enjoyed it.

“Well, I could tell how much you enjoyed it by the way you fell through the front door” he said

“Cheeky” she said and giggled

“Do you want another cup?” he asked, and Chrissy checked her watch before replying

“Yes please, but I need a pee first”

“Ok, I’ll take it through to the lounge” Craig said, and he was sitting on the sofa when she tottered into the lounge, make up repaired, outfit perfect, and holding a sprig of mistletoe in one hand

“Look what I have found,” she said, and he hadn’t a clue where she found it because he didn’t have any in the house, so she must have had in her bag or coat pocket.

But it was immaterial because while he was musing, she had reached him, and she raised it above her head.  

So, he puckered up and gave her a Christmas kiss but as his lips touched hers it was clear that she had an entirely different type of kiss in mind, which took him completely by surprise, so in the spirit of the season and just to be neighbourly he responded in kind and the upshot of her mistletoe ambush was that her festive sweater spent the night of Christmas Jumper Day on his bedroom floor.

 

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (010) A Christmas Affair

 

My cab arrived back at the Carlton Hotel just as the snow began to fall again, I paid the driver and Danny and I walked into the lobby of the airport Hotel.

It had been a nice evening out, a lovely meal and good company, there were forty of us at the restaurant, colleagues from all over Europe, some of them close friends and some of them more so.

“Night cap?” I asked

“No thanks’ mate I’m on the red eye in the morning” Danny replied.

I looked at my watch and saw it was already morning.

“I’ll say goodnight then” I said and we shook hands and Danny headed for the desk.

I was definitely up for one more drink, so I headed for the bar, there were only a handful of people in there at that hour and as I caught the night porter’s eye.

“Jameson’s” I said “a large one”

“Make that two” She said from behind me

I recognised the voice and said to the barman “Two”

I turned around and looked at the woman who had been the object of my lust for nine months and an unrequited love for three of those.

Gail Nichols was my older woman, my cougar if you like, she was four years the wrong side of fifty but still beautiful in my eyes even though I was nineteen years younger.

Gail and I had shared an office for over a year, and at first I loathed her, I thought she was vain, overbearing and manipulative, and her opinion of me was much the same.

However, as the weeks changed into months my feelings for her changed with them.

Gail had an English father and a Burmese mother, which left her with brown skin and western features, an exotic looking beauty with jet black hair and large brown eyes.

She was tall, slender and very well endowed, and with legs to die for.

I would surreptitiously watch her move around the office on her shapely legs admiring the tightness of her skirt around her hips and buttocks as she bent, and when she was sat at her desk my eyes would stray to her gaping blouse and the treasures contained within.

However it wasn’t until a grey overcast day in June, on an office beano to Epsom Derby that we showed each other in no uncertain terms how we felt.

It happened as the Derby favourites thundered towards the finish line when Gail and I, away from prying eyes, kissed for the first time, and as we kissed I unzipped her leather jacket and slipped by hands inside her shirt to caress her naked skin.

Over the weeks that followed, so did more sensually intimate moments, but they were only tasters of what the two of us really desired.

 

We had tried on several occasions to engineer an opportunity to take our burgeoning relationship to the next level.

One such chance was a three day trip to visit suppliers, which we got rubber stamped by management and booked appointments and Hotels and we were feeling very pleased with ourselves for our lustful scheming, however an unseen hand dealt us a blow when Gail went down with laryngitis.

Afterwards we tried to just arrange a simple dirty weekend away, Brighton, Bognor, Blackpool and other places that didn’t even begin with the letter B.

We even devised an intricate scenario for the benefit of Gail’s husband, which he swallowed hook line and sinker but then that failed at the eleventh hour when I broke my wrist.

 

 

We decided we should have one last role of the dice, which was at the Christmas Party weekend in Dublin, where we planned to finally consummate our lust.

We had been out to a restaurant in Swords called The Old School House and had spent the evening sitting at the same table for the dinner, discreetly holding hands under the table, but as we left at the end of the evening we got separated and ended up in different cabs so I thought fate had interceded once again and our chance had gone.

I blamed fate because although I was single at the time, Gail was a married woman, which meant there was some guilt involved, even if her husband Peter was a complete waste of space.

However despite any perceived guilt I was delighted to find Gail was waiting for me in the bar when I got back to the Hotel, I hadn’t taken into account that she would want it as bad as I did.

 

We sat in the corner of the bar and finished our drink.

“Another?” I asked

“I don’t think so” Gail said and stood up, took my hand and dragged me to my feet.

We walked arm in arm to the desk and collected our keys and with keys in hand Gail hurried me along the corridor until we reached her room where we stood in the corridor and kissed.

At first it was the usual semi controlled kissing we had done so many times before but it quickly became hot and passionate as my hand sought out her breast.

She broke away and opened the door.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked

“God yes” she replied and pulled me into the room.

Once inside the room I was eager to get started again and immediately tried to get inside her clothes.

Gail however put a stop to things and said

“Not so fast, I want everything to be just so”

“Sorry” I responded not quite sure what “just so” was, but I needn’t have worried it seemed that she wanted to, amongst other things get the lighting right.

She was conscious of the age difference and didn’t want me to be disappointed with what she had to offer, because as a much younger man I would have been more used to firmer flesh.

She needn’t have worried.

While she set the scene I was sent into the bathroom and as I was in there I thought it prudent to relieve myself while I had the opportunity.

However such a natural function, normally simply rendered is greatly complicated when you are seriously aroused, and it necessitates adopting the posture of a ski jumper and even then it’s not always successful.

When I left the bathroom I found the room lighting very subdued and Gail wearing only a smile and a pair of White lace knickers showing in stark contrast to the gorgeous brown flesh.

“Are you disappointed?” She asked

“You’re even more gorgeous than I had hoped” I replied

“Good answer” she said,

From the first moment I emerged from the bathroom she had one arm draped across her breasts but as she walked towards me she slowly lowered her arm and at the last second I got my first long lingering look at her large round breast that I had only previously dreamed of, topped with glorious chocolate coloured nipples, and then she was in my arms and began undressing me.

 

As we lay entwined in the afterglow, still breathing hard from our exertions, Gail rested her head on my chest and sighed as I reflected that making love with her was everything I had hoped it would be and more and then we drifted into a sweet post coital sleep.

After a short sleep I was awoken by Gail tenderly kissing my neck as her hand strove to awaken the rest of me, and when all of me was fully awake we made love again.

The next day when the rest of our colleagues returned to their home countries Gail and I put into effect our plan to stay on for another night and repeated the joyful pleasure of each other again and again.

I would have gladly continued our unions well into the New Year but alas after the protracted Christmas break Gail took me to one side and to my great surprise ended the affair.

“But I love you” I said

“And I love you” Gail concurred

“Then why?” I asked

“It has to end, not because I don’t love you” she said “But because despite everything I love my husband”

 

     

  

         

         

 

 

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (007) The Christmas Surprise

 

It was Christmas 1975 and we had just returned to work after having had our Christmas lunch at the pub, although in truth calling it Christmas Lunch was perhaps a bit of a stretch and makes it sound much grander that it actually was.

In the 1970s pub grub wasn’t very unsophisticated fare and invariably consisted of Chicken in a Basket or a Ploughman’s.

The more up market establishments might well offer Scampi in a Basket and a selection of Ploughman’s including a variety of cheeses as alternatives to the normal cheddar.

The Pig and Whistle however was not an up-market establishment in any way shape or form and offered Chicken in a Basket or cheddar cheese Ploughman’s, however in addition to that, as it was Christmas you got a Mince Pie as well.

So, after our “Christmas Lunch” we all arrived back at work with some of our number much the worse for drink.

I myself had perhaps overindulged to a small degree with an unspecified number of Light and Bitters, so as a consequence I was wearing beer goggles and even scabby Carole was looking passable.

So was Wonky Wendy, so called because she had a wonky eye, she had one eye that looked at you while the other one was looking for you. 

Ok I admit “Wonky” wasn't a very imaginative nickname but there you have it, it was the 70s and we were simple folk, well anyway through beer goggles even she looked quite appetising.

Another of the girls I wouldn’t normally have looked at twice was Pat Warner.

Although she had nice eyes and a pretty smile, other than that she was a plain looking girl about a year younger than me, and over the previous year Pat had made no secret of the fact that she fancied me.

I on the other hand did not fancy her and not because she was plain or because she was stick thin and featureless or even because she was ginger the truth was, she just didn’t do it for me.

However, that was without the benefit of alcohol fuelled lust.

 

On returning to the factory, we continued the party in the canteen, my tipple of choice from what was available was Light Ale while for Pat it was Port and Lemon and that day, we both necked a few, and with every bottle of beer I drank Pat was getting prettier and prettier.

It reached a point that when she went off to the loo, I followed a few minutes later and intercepted her as she returned and took her in the rubber room, no not that kind of rubber, it was the room where the rubber bands were sorted and counted.

It was a small room about 20’ square with glass on two sides but with the lights off it was dark enough in the shadows for what I had in mind.

As soon as the door closed behind us though she was all over me like a rash and her tongue was in my mouth like an Excocet, and her hand went straight to my fly.

“Blimey you're keen” I thought to myself

I thought I had better join in quick and yanked her blouse from the waist band of her skirt and partly unbuttoned it before going in search of her tits.

It was when I found them, such as they were, I made a startling discovery.

When I got my hand on her breast, I found something I wasn’t expecting, and no, it wasn’t anything to do with Scaramanga.

What I found was something altogether different.

Now I was just a callow youth and I wasn’t hugely experienced in the ways of the world, but I had had sufficient experience of breasts to know that nipples shouldn’t be hairy.

“This needs further investigation” I thought and proceeded to complete the unbuttoning of the blouse.

, and then I steered her gently around, so the meagre light fell across her equally meagre and exposed breast.

I broke away from her mouth and let her tongue my ear instead while I looked down at her tiny breast surmounted with a perfectly formed swollen nipple surrounded by two-inch-long curly ginger hairs.

“That can’t be right” I thought

But a moment later Pat wrestled my old chap from my jeans and began tugging on it, this distracted me from the hairy nipple as with my penis in her hand she got my full attention, so my hand abandoned her hairy tit and headed south.

I got my hand up her skirt easy enough and was attempting to get it into her knickers when she said

“No” and pushed my hand away

I kissed her again and after a few moments I tried once more to invade her pants, I even managed to get my fingertips beneath the elastic of her knicker leg that time before she stopped me again.

“I said no” she reaffirmed

“Why not?” I asked

“Because you have a girlfriend” she replied

Well, I don’t mind telling you I thought it was a bit indelicate of her to mention that I had a girlfriend as she was in a semi darkened room with me and she had my old chap in her hand.

I was about to point out the hypocrisy of her position when the door flew open.

“Aye, aye” Shaft said

Shaft was the foreman, his real name was Ted, but his nickname was Shaft not because he was black but because he was shafting Beryl from picking. 

I did the gentlemanly thing and positioned myself between Ted and Pat so she could redress herself.

It also enabled me to force my stubborn erection back into my jeans which it seemed reluctant to do, he had come out to party and didn’t want to go home early before he had popped his cork.

“I’ve just come for my coat” Ted said with a chuckle as he took his coat off the peg

“Carry on” he said and closed the door.

I would have liked to carry on, but Pat wasn’t going to let me carry on as far as I wanted to, so we went back to the party and that was that.

 

I never had another close encounter with Pat and in the light of the hairy nipples I had no desire to as in the sober light of day I didn’t fancy her.

I should also state that I never ever encountered any other hairy breasted women over the following years.

 

It was many years after the Christmas grope in the Rubber Room that doubts entered my mind that it was anything other than what it appeared, and these doubts first surfaced after I watched a documentary about Ladyboy’s, which I found quite shocking.

You have to remember we were very naïve back in 1970s Stevenage, and we had never heard of Ladyboy’s, we weren’t complete yokels though, we had heard of homosexuals, though no one I knew admitted to ever meeting one.

I always assumed that Pat was short for Patricia but after the documentary I wasn’t so sure, maybe she was really a Patrick.

We tended to take things at face value back then but if I had managed to gain entry into Pat’s knickers I would have known for sure if she was either fish or fowl.

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (005) My First Working Christmas

 

I was living in a Stevenage with my parents in the early seventies, in a block of Warden run flats, which were sheltered accommodation for the elderly, and my mother was the Warden.

I attended the School nearby, but I was never what you might call academic, so I left school when I was fifteen, and I left at the end of May and I started my first job three days later, as a trainee groundsman.

However in the November of that same year the family house from one side of town to the other, and the significance of this will become clear later in the story.

The house move didn’t affect my getting to and from work though as the town had a good bus service, operating a flat fare service on circular routes, so I still got the same bus as I did from the old address but from a different stop, and the price was the same, this will also prove significant later on.

As I said this was my first year at work and as a result I also had my first works Christmas party to look forward to, which was on the last day before we broke for the Christmas holiday and we had a little works party in the yard, where a little Christmas cheer was imbibed and a drink or two were consumed.

Now I was only sixteen when Christmas came around and I had only had very limited experience of alcohol and I got well and truly bladdered on Whisky Mac, cider and something unpronounceable from Yugoslavia.

At the end of the boozy afternoon one of my workmates gave me a lift into the town centre and in my drunken state I staggered to the bus station and caught my usual bus, and I managed to climb the stairs to the top deck and in due course the bus set off, filled with Christmas shoppers and a one drunken trainee groundsman.

Probably with the combination of alcohol and the motion of the bus I drifted off on the journey and I suddenly came to and on looking out the window I recognized a familiar sight and I promptly got off the bus.

As the bus drove off, I headed off up the road in the direction of home wishing all and sundries a merry Christmas as I went, not unlike George Bailey in “It’s a wonderful life”.

When I reached the flats I entered through the main doors, passing the Christmas tree in the foyer and headed straight for flat number one.

At the door I fumbled for my key and presented it to the lock, but it wouldn’t fit, so I peered closely at it and it was definitely my door key so I tried to put it in the lock again, but still it wouldn’t fit.

Suddenly the door opened and a stranger looked out at me

“Can I help?” she asked.

“Ah, my name is Paul, and I don’t live here, anymore do I?”

The lady, who was the new Warden, laughed and agreed with me that I no longer lived there.

So I wished her a happy Christmas and made my way back to the foyer were there was a public telephone with a large Perspex dome over it.

My intention was to phone for a taxi but rummaging in my pockets I discovered I had no money for the taxi or indeed a coin to make a phone call, and then as I tried to duck under the Perspex hood I tripped over my own feet and fell into the Christmas tree which ended up on top of me.

The lady, who now lived at no 1, heard the commotion and came to investigate and to my surprise thought it very amusing to find a drunken teenager wearing the Christmas tree.

“Oh dear” she said laughing.

Deeply apologetic, I explained the circumstances of my predicament and the new Warden phoned a taxi for me and even gave me the money for the fare.

That was real Christmas spirit, in the spirit of the Capra classic, and I have never forgotten her kindness and tolerance and try to keep that same spirit in my own heart at Christmas.