Under the Mistletoe

'I don't know what happened, I just left,' Liz slammed the tea kettle onto the stove and flipped on the heat element. Outside her small kitchen window she could see the dim orange streetlight hanging over the crumbling parking lot asphalt.

'Did you talk to him?' Jessica's voice was soft over speaker phone.

'Yeah. No, I mean, I don't know. It all happened so fast and I was in a stupid Christmas sweater.'

'A sweater?'

'Yeah, we all wore bad sweaters to the office today. It doesn't matter, anyway,' Liz opened an idle bottle of water and sniffed it. That's not water. She threw it into the trash. Her apartment was cramped. From the kitchen she could see her small living room with a couch, television, and small coffee table with books scattered across it. In the corner was her sad, fake Christmas tree decorate with colored lights and blue glass bulbs. Her hands were still shaking and she flicked a small, hot tear from her eye.

'Are you sure it was his family? I mean, wouldn't that have come up in a conversation?'

'Yes, I'm sure it was his family,' Liz crunched into her open candy cane that lay on the counter. The water was bubbling in the kettle. 'He never said anything about it because I'm guessing he didn't want me to know about it.'

'What a piece of shit. You don't need that. Where did you meet him? Tinder?'

'No, he came into the bank,' she crunched on the candy cane again and slumped her tense shoulders, suddenly realizing how quiet the small space was. The tea kettle whistled and she poured the hot water into a cup filled with powdered cocoa and stirred it with her stick of candy.

'Well, if it's that bad get on the app, again, and get some guy who is D.T.F.'

Liz rolled her eyes before pouring some whiskey into her concoction, 'Jesus, Jess; is that all you think about?'

'As a single mother still in her prime: yes. I haven't been laid in months,' Liz shook her head and carried her phone and mug into the living room. She plopped down onto the couch and switched on the television. The bright glow made her wince; I need more to drink. She took a long swig of her cocoa and whiskey.

'Are you going home for Christmas?"

'Home,' Liz coughed softly under the burn of the whiskey. She had left her television on the music station that currently played Frank Sinatra Christmas. Her hand was on the controller to change it, but thought twice. 'No. I'm not going home. I haven't talked to my mother in months. She still thinks Andrew and I are together.'

'Christ. What's wrong with her?'

'What isn't wrong with her? She babies my brother and grandma to the point of ignoring me,' Liz took another drink.

'Are you listening to Christmas music?'

'No,' Liz turned 'Baby it's Cold Outside' to mute. She was starting to get hot in her red, heavy Christmas sweater depicting furry cats frolicking in the snow. Liz pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it onto the floor. A siren was blaring outside the window, racing down an unknown, empty city street. It still hadn't begun to snow. 'It's supposed to snow later.'

'It never snows here.'

'It's Georgia.' She began flipping through the channels. News. Sports. Car commercial with a family discovering their new Lexus on Christmas morning. Coca-Cola polar bears. Hershey chocolate dressed up like ringing bells. Spy drama. Home shopping. Liz stopped. The female hosts were young, thin, dressed in fashionable sweaters beside three elegant Christmas trees. They were selling the sweaters at an extremely low price.

'Well, I need to get the kiddo in bed and then maybe break out my old friend,' Jessica said over the phone. Liz had stopped paying attention. She suddenly felt lonely, sitting in her dim apartment with the white light of the television bathing her body. To the side of her the soft purple and blue of the Christmas tree painted the corner of the room. The sirens outside disappeared but voices could be heard on the pavement below. Drunks leaving a bar or restaurant. Why did I move here? Another tear formed in the corner of her eye.

'You still there?'

'Yeah. I'm just watching this show. Tell the kids I said hello.'

'I will. They miss you. Get your ass back down here, soon.'

'I'll try.'

They both hung up. Merry Christmas, Liz thought and leaned her head on the back of the couch. What a fucking night.

Liz's phone buzzed. Her eyes opened to the dancing blue and white light of the television; her phone was beside her on the couch and her head swayed with alcohol and sleep. She picked it up and saw that the time was past midnight. Jessica had sent her a picture of a purple vibrator with the caption: "Hallelujah!"

The humor didn't help.

She tossed the phone down and sat up to turn off the shopping network but noticed the channel had changed. It was a Christmas movie; one of those standard, 'greeting card corporation' made for television fares. On the screen was a young blonde woman in a bright green sweater. She was hanging a large natural wreath upon a front door. Liz hit the info button on the controller: Under the Mistletoe (2019).

Jesus, she thought, another one of these.

The film was half over. On the screen the young woman was speaking to a tall, slender man with black hair and deep blue eyes. Obviously, the love interest. She fumbled around her words and spoke about her boyfriend in San Francisco. The man asked if she was coming to the party. She smiled, coyly, declined. The man insisted. Her sister would be so disappointed.

Who writes this shit? Liz thought. Her cocoa was cold, and the whiskey was strong. She dropped the controller. Maybe I'll sleep on the couch. This movie should do the job, she leaned back and turned the volume up:

Grace ended up attending the party her sister had thrown; mostly because Grace had spent the latter half of her holiday vacation decorating the large, Colorado country house. The night of the party, however, the snow storm had picked up and all air travel from Denver was cancelled. There was a long establishing shot of the home's rustic interior as well as some quick montage cuts of guests chatting and smiling. Her sister was also blonde, blue eyed and beaming now that her baby sister was home for Christmas. Unfortunately, Grace was worried about Jared, her fiancé, who was attempting to fly into Colorado for Christmas Eve. She had been unable to reach him on the phone all night and instead opted—due to Doug's insistence—to attend her sister and brother-in-law's Christmas party.

She arrived, the house was immaculately decorated in Americana Christmas décor with sparkling white lights, fake, puffy snow surrounding the wooden window frames and a large popping fire in the fireplace. Classic Christmas carols played on the stereo and Grace spoke with a few party guests that she knew from her childhood.

'It's so good you're back,' an older woman, holding a cup of cocoa said. 'You know your parents would've loved to see their daughters together.'

'I know,' Grace flashed her sweet, dimpled smile. 'Daddy always liked big Christmases.'

'How long has it been? Two years?'

'Five. I came home when Joey was born. But that wasn't long.'

Grace was interrupted: the tall, dark haired, blue eyed, Doug swept in and tapped her on the shoulder. He handed her a glass of white wine, 'Found this for you.'

'Oh, thanks,' Grace smiled. 'It was good talking to you, Mrs. O'Reilly.'

'Who was that?'

'Believe it or not,' Grace rolled her eyes, 'my third-grade teacher.'

'Wow! You know everyone here, don't you?'

'Well, Mr. bigshot-local author, I, unlike you, am not a transplant. I left this place.'

'For bigger and better things, right?' Doug smiled and the camera focused on Grace's fading smile. Her phone began to ring.

'Oh, sorry. It's Jared, I need to...' They were both awkward and Grace walked to the side of the room, Doug was still in the frame behind her. 'Jared, hey! Did you get a flight?'

Jesus, these movies are so predictable, Liz thought. Grace was outside and it was snowing softly. White Christmas lights were glowing behind her. Jared wasn't coming home. She looked sad. Doug was inside speaking with that third grade teacher and he kept locking eyes with her. They're going to be together, obviously. Fantasy films made for women with sad marriages and multiple kids. Liz took another drink. A new character, that Liz hadn't seen yet, entered the frame. He was dressed like Santa with a fake white beard. Grace rolled her eyes when she saw him. The man jingled his sleigh bells and he and Grace's sister kissed. Grace's brother-in law. Grace doesn't like him. Santa pulled his beard down and exposed his chiseled jaw and white teeth. God, is everyone attractive in these films?

Liz felt the alcohol warm her stomach. It stretched its fingers throughout her body, through her legs warmed beneath sweatpants to her bare shoulders. Her face felt blushed.

Grace was upset and explained she had to leave. Doug looked disappointed. She tried to talk to her sister but it seemed awkward with Santa. Maybe they use to date. I'm making this storyline better than it is, Liz thought. Her eyes were heavy. The phone buzzed again. She was afraid to look at what Jessica had sent her this time; instead, it was his number. Her heart raced and she threw it face down onto the table.

Fuck off.

He had been on her couch, after the date. They had kissed—a lot. His lips were soft and his hand traced her body. Why? Caught in the moment. Alcohol. Loneliness. Vulnerability after her failed engagement? Ovulating? No, God. She took another drink; the cup was empty. She had undid his belt while they kissed. His hands found her soft breasts; her hand had found his semi-hard erection. They barely knew each other; she remembered he had brought a bottle of whiskey for after dinner. I never asked if he was married. I just figured. She rubbed her temples. The booze continued to warm her. His hand spread her thighs. He undid her pants and his cock grew in her grip. She stroked it and he sighed in her open mouth...

Grace told her sister she had to leave. Her sister said, 'Oh, no. Please don't. We're going to play games,' and she hung a large candy cane on the tip of Grace's button nose. She rolled her eyes and removed the thick peppermint stick. 'Sorry,' she shrugged, the camera still on her, 'I'm not feeling, well.' She went upstairs to retrieve her coat.

God, this movie is boring. Christmas movies! She rubbed the couch cushion beside her. They hadn't slept together, thank God. He came too fast, just as Liz had pulled his jeans down and began to lick the tip of his cock and slowly stroke her hand up and down. He didn't give her a warning, just slowly oozed white cum like a sad fountain that slid slowly down his shaft and pooled at the base. In a way, it turned her on: a semi-stranger on a first date; her first hookup and getting him off that quickly. But the night ended. And the next Liz saw him he was eating dinner with his family.

She rubbed her eyes and focused on the movie; between her thighs the warmth was becoming noticeable. The thought of his hard cock in her mouth and the slow, warm cum flowing down her knuckles and around his tight balls, dripping onto the floor between them gave her butterflies. Stop it! Just, stop!

On screen, Grace was slowly walking down the long hallway.

There's a quick shot of a pile of coats on the bed. The blue, filtered light falls on them from the window. Camera pans up to Grace trudging into the room. She pauses and glances to her right where she notices that the bathroom light is on from under the door. Quickly, she attempts to cycle through the coats, looking for hers. The door opens and she stands up.

'Oh, sorry.' Doug walks out of the bathroom, waving his hands in the air at pungent smoke.

'No, I'm...just leaving,' Grace's coat is in her hand. 'What were you doing in there?'

Close shot of Doug's reaction. 'In there? Nothing. Nothing. Why? Are you leaving?'

'Yeah, I'm not feeling well. So, I'm going to go.'

'Oh, no. Well, will I see you again before you go home? You know my boys will want to see you.'

Grace smiles politely and glances away. 'Maybe, yeah. I don't know when I'm leaving.'

'Well, not tonight with this snowstorm.'

Laughter erupts downstairs and the song 'Let it Snow' is blaring on the stereo. 'I guess you met Chris?'

'Believe me, I've known Chris.'

'Oh, yeah?' Doug looks confused. The camera reverses shots back to Grace. She smiles and waves it off. 'We dated in college. That's how he met my sister.'

I knew it! Liz leaned forward on the couch.

'It's fine. We were...over it,' Grace said slyly. They both laughed awkwardly.

'Oh look, it's snowing again,' Doug seems concerned. The camera is now outside of the window where fake snowflakes flutter past. The two people are looking out through the blue glow of the night.

'Well, I'm sure I'll see you again.' The camera shows Doug's striking smile and blue eyes.

Wait, was Doug smoking pot in the bathroom? Liz still felt the growing warmth in her stomach and between her legs. She let her hand fall between the elastic of her sweatpants, into her panties, past her soft patch of hair and spread her puffy lips with her fingers. It was becoming slick and she could feel the bud of her clit tingling.

'I'll talk to you later,' Grace turns toward the door.

'Wait,' Doug moves behind her and she slowly turns around. Their eyes meet and she glances toward his lips. He moves closer, the laughter is still erupting from downstairs as their lips meet. Soft, delicate kisses. His hands clasp around her cheeks and hold her for a long, drawn out nibble of her lower lip.

Nibble?

'Why did we wait until Christmas eve to do that?' Grace smiled. Doug shook his head and laughed.

'I don't know.'

'Do it again.'

'What?'

'Kiss me again,' Grace said. They now were positioned between the door and window. It was still snowing in the background while they kissed. The passion increased, their mouths open, the lips tangled and intertwined with smacking slurping sounds. Doug kissed her cheek and then down to her smooth, white neck.

'I shouldn't,' Grace said softly. Her breathing was heavy.

'What?'

'Jared is in...San Francisco, and I'm leaving. I was looking for my coat.'

Doug straightened up and smiled.

What are you saying, bitch? Liz's eyes were glued to the television. You know you'll get together! It's Christmas. Kiss him. Kiss him.

'Oh, what the fuck,' they grasped each other in their arms and began roughly kissing, licking, nibbling.

Whoa, wait! Liz grabbed for the remote and pressed info: The Holiday Channel presents: Under the Mistletoe (2019). She was shocked. Grace and Doug were now pulling at each other's clothes. Grace's Christmas sweater was being unbuttoned to reveal her soft, tone flesh and red lace bras. Doug's sweater from L.L. Bean's winter catalogue was pulled open and shrugged to the floor. His body was tan, muscular. Liz sat back, her eyes fixed on the scene. Her breathing accelerated under the heat of the Holiday Original Movie. She propped her thickly socked feet onto the coffee table before her and let her fingers fall back beneath her underwear, feeling the slick warmth beginning to coat her soft pussy. Her index and ring finger spread her lips while her middle finger found the budding clit, begging to be touched. She swirled her finger a few times around it and ignited the fiery pleasure down her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat.

On screen grace and Doug were still kissing but the camera fell to her hands, frantically tugging at his belt that was flung open. He kissed her neck and nibbled her earlobe while she panted and violently ripped apart his Dockers', button, zipper and all. His pants fell open. Liz watched as the camera quickly cut to their kissing once more. Doug's hands swept inside her gaping Christmas sweater and unlatched her bras. Grace jiggled her arms awkwardly out of the sweater and let the bras fall to the floor.

'Put your sweater back on,' Doug huskily whispered.

She kissed him and slung her arms back into the sweater. Her bare breasts were exposed between the cheery green holiday garment and Doug leaned down and pulled her swollen nipple into his mouth. Grace's head rocked back in pleasure.

Liz caught her breath; this can't be happening. Her heart was racing as she pushed her sweats and panties down past her knees and ankles onto the floor. The cool air of her apartment swept over her bare, smooth lower body. She put her feet back onto the coffee table and spread her legs so that she had full access to her wet, open pussy. Slowly she reached down and pushed two fingers into her vagina, feeling them brush past her lips and caress her smooth inner wall. She moved them in and out several times before reaching back up to her clit and soaking it with her juices. Swirling her fingers over and around. Her chest heaved and writhed while the two characters on screen continued.

Grace had pulled Doug's erection from his Santa underwear. She smiled at it at first: 'festive,' she breathed. Doug laughed as well. The party downstairs was still in full swing as the partiers sang 'Deck the halls' in unison. His cock was hard and swollen beneath his loose hanging button up shirt. He pulled the shirt off and Grace pushed his pants to the ground. She got down on her knees and slid him into her mouth. Doug's head tilted back and he moaned while her head bobbed up and down his shaft. Grace's full tits bounced with the motion of her body as she slowed her speed, bringing her lips up over his red tip, followed by her gripping hand and then back down. The camera focused on her eyes as she glanced up at the man above her.

'How's that?'

Doug nodded.

Liz slid her fingers back inside her pussy, quickly this time while her left hand began rubbing her hot, throbbing clit. Between her knees the screen pulsed and her chest heaved with pleasure. Grace pushed Doug back onto the coats, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. She knelt down and took his cock into her mouth, pumping her lips up and down his shaft.

Hot, electric pleasure surged through Liz's body and she paused to lift up her shirt, allowing her breasts out into the cool air. She tugged roughly on her erect nipples while her two fingers pumped in and out of her gushing pussy. Grace paused on screen, and stroked Doug's cock with her own saliva soaked hands until a shadow fell over the two. Both characters stopped and looked toward the door.

Chris was silhouetted in the hallway light, his Santa beard held under his chin: his face in shock: 'What the fuck is going on, here?'

Liz's fingers slipped from her while she waited for the plot twist.

Close up shot of Grace's shocked face turning to desire. She bit at her lower lip. Without saying a word she stood up and slid her pants to the floor. Her body moved and swayed with only the Christmas sweater covering her. She sat back onto the bed and plucked a small twig of mistletoe from a nearby coat lapel. She spread her tone thighs and revealed her pink, shaved pussy to the new arrival. Doug stood up next to her and Chris slowly stepped inside the door. Grace let the sprig of mistletoe dangle from her finger and thumb, just above her smooth pussy lips.

'Give her a kiss,' she smiled. 'Come on, where's your holiday spirit?'

Chris's sleigh bells on his Santa hat jingled as he walked into the room and fell to his knees before her; he gripped her thighs and plunged his face between her legs, licking, sucking, and caressing every part of her pussy slowly. Grace moaned and bucked her pussy onto his lips and face. She wriggled and moved her hips while he flicked his tongue over her exposed clit.