A Christmas Eve story

Jola turned up the collar of her coat, burying her face in it. She felt cold. Snow had been falling since morning, and the wind made white flakes swirl in the air, blowing wherever they could. She glanced at her watch and quickened her pace. It was almost three o'clock. I still have to make dinner, she thought, trudging into the wind. This was a special dinner, a once-in-a-year affair. Christmas Eve. She wanted to make it before her husband. People were rushing everywhere, huddled together, their faces downward. Everyone was trying to hide from the wind and snow. Everyone wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Even the cars whizzing past the sidewalk seemed to hum impatiently. For now, the city center was bustling with life. But it was only a matter of time before the city was almost completely deserted. Until Christmas, the woman thought, walking into the wind. Just one more turn, a jewelry store, and that was it. She stopped at the gate and hastily pulled out her keys. She didn't notice the car parked across the street. If she had turned around, she might have seen the face of the man watching her intently. She ran up the stairwell and brushed off the snow. She didn't want to wait for the elevator. She ran up the stairs to the third floor.

Back at home, she made herself a cup of hot tea. She sat in the kitchen by the window. Holding a hot mug in her clasped hands, she gazed out the window. The sight of the snowstorm and frost sent shivers down her spine. However, the warmth in her hands made her feel much better. She took a sip and smiled, welcoming the heat filling her from within and spreading down to her stomach. She let the steam rising from the mug caress her frozen face.

The apartment was almost completely silent. Only the muffled sounds from the street disturbed the silence. She pondered for a moment. Jola and Adam had been married for ten years. He was thirty-six, she was thirty-three. But still, no children. She recalled the beginning of their marriage. They were still trying then. That was the first two years. Eventually, they gave up. Doctors hadn't diagnosed any of them with infertility. Their enthusiasm waned with each passing year. Although she still longed for their apartment to be filled with the joyful chatter of a child. She even found herself never, even in her thoughts, determining the gender. It was always there, it. Undefined, elusive. Finally, she pushed those thoughts aside. She stood, stretching, and looked around the kitchen. Everything was ready; all she had to do was change and get to work. She went into the living room, and for a split second, it occurred to her that this vast space could be better used. She noticed a note on the table. She picked it up and read it. After a moment, she rolled her eyes and read it again.

"Honey, put on something nice and get out of the house. Get in the red Seat, a taxi will pull up to the staircase.

I love you, Adam."

She couldn't understand what was going on. There was so much to do at home, she thought. She sat for a moment, her thoughts wandering aimlessly. Finally, she got up and went to the closet. She pondered for a moment what to wear until she finally chose. She changed and left the apartment, taking up his game.

While Jola was inside, Adam moved the car a little further from the entrance. Seeing her coming out, he dialed a number and said,

"You can come over." Then he put the phone down, started the engine, and drove off. The wheels spun slightly until he finally drove away.

Jola found herself once again amidst falling snow and a biting wind. "I hope he doesn't make me freeze here for long," she thought, disgusted by the cold. However, she didn't have time to finish her thought when a car pulled up right in front of her. A taxi, she noticed, a red Seat, just as he'd written. She smiled and stepped inside with relief. It was warm and cozy inside. A stark contrast to the raging blizzard just outside the rear window.

"Good morning," she greeted the driver hesitantly.

"Good morning," the taxi driver said casually. The man, who looked to be in his fifties, with a wrinkled, tired face, showed no inclination to engage in conversation.

Good thing, she thought, I don't like it when drivers force conversations.

The car pulled away, carefully merging into traffic. They drove in silence. The driver didn't ask her where they were going. She found her curiosity growing with each turn. She had assumed they would be driving for a short time, but as they neared the exit from the city, she felt intrigued. However, the man behind the wheel drove confidently, without the slightest hesitation. "He knows where we're going," she thought enviously, smiling to herself. About fifteen minutes had passed since she'd boarded the cab. They had driven out of the city. The sky was turning gray with each passing moment. It had become heavy, leaden. Almost hypnotized, she stared at the snowflakes clinging to the windshield and the monotonous swish of the wipers. This, along with the warmth inside, made her feel sleepy. Her eyelids grew heavier as the taxi pulled over to the shoulder. Her eyes widened. Instinctively, she glanced quickly over both shoulders. They were standing in total desolation. Aside from the road, already covered in snow, there was nothing there. Fields and distant forests, white everywhere as far as the eye could see.

"What's going on?" she asked, and although she didn't mean to, her tone betrayed grave concern.

"You're not afraid," he said reassuringly, and leaning into the passenger seat, he reached into the glove compartment. Jola followed his movements with growing apprehension. She was ready to jump out of the car at any moment. If only, well, what, she thought, if he took out a knife? Or maybe a gun. A chill ran down her spine. The moment, though it lasted perhaps ten seconds in reality, felt like an eternity to her. Finally, he removed his hand from the glove compartment, and her eyes widened with fear. Finally, she noticed something in his hand. It wasn't a knife, nor was it a gun. A black silk scarf hung in his hand. She exhaled the breath she'd been holding. And again, louder than she'd intended.

"Don't be afraid." His lips seemed to curve into a slight smile, but perhaps it was just a feeling. "You'll put this on, blindfold me."

He handed her the scarf. She took it from him and examined it. She smelled a pleasant scent. The scent of musk. She ran her hand over the delicate, smooth material. The touch was pleasant. And the scent. The attention to detail surprised her. Ten years of marriage and it never occurred to me that Adam was so meticulous, she thought.

"Go ahead, ma'am," the man urged her, "but don't cheat."

She blindfolded herself. She felt the driver turn toward her. He must be checking my vision. He had to move his hand; she felt a slight breeze on her face. She felt uneasy, sitting in a car with a strange man, in the middle of nowhere, seeing absolutely nothing. But she felt the car start, and that calmed her.

She couldn't have said how long she'd been driving. Yet every turn, every slowing down, every acceleration, made her curiosity grow and grow. She found herself no longer thinking about Christmas Eve. With each kilometer of driving into the unknown, it ceased to matter. Suddenly, the journey became a little more intense. They slowed down quite a bit and went over some bumps. She was tempted to lift her scarf and take a peek. She didn't. The car was tossing around. They drove like that for maybe five, maybe ten minutes. Time ceased to matter to her. Finally, the Seat circled and stopped. Her journey was over. She felt it more than she knew it.

"You can take it off now," the man rubbed his tired eyes.

When she removed the blindfold, she expected pain to strike. But nothing happened. The brightness didn't strike her. Surprised, she glanced out the window. It was already dark outside. She glanced at her watch; it was nearly 6:00 PM.

"As far as I'm concerned, that's it. The fare's paid, goodbye." He placed his hands on the steering wheel, letting her know he was in a hurry.

Jola got out, holding her scarf. She looked around. Her mouth dropped open in amazement. She was in a forest. Forests surrounded her everywhere. The view was mesmerizing. The dark sky gave everything an eerie atmosphere. Snow fell freely, calmly, unswayed by the wind, falling almost vertically. The trees were blanketed in white fluff. But the most incredible sight was right before her eyes: a beautiful, picturesque manor house. She wasn't familiar with this place. She wouldn't have thought any building could be located in such a place. She guessed it was a hotel. She continued on. As she entered, she noticed the reception desk on the right. She approached it.

"Hello, ma'am," a young man smiled warmly at her.

"Good morning," she replied, confused. She just realized she had no idea what to say.

"I have an appointment here," she decided to go with the flow.

"Your honor?"

She introduced herself, and the young receptionist smiled at her.

"Please wait a moment."

He turned sideways, walked away a few steps, and made a quick phone call.

"Just a second, someone will be here to pick you up. You're welcome to our inn." He smiled broadly.

Less than half a minute later, a woman approached them. She was dressed like a classic maid. Her dark outfit, her skirt barely revealing her knees, which were covered in black stockings, was young. She was twenty-two years old. Her shiny black hair was neatly pinned back. Pretty, Jola noticed unconsciously.

"Hello, ma'am," she smiled at her, "please follow me."

Jola greeted her and followed the girl obediently. They went up the stairs. They reached the second and top floor. The girl stopped at a dark oak door, then turned to Jola.

"Please come inside, don't be frightened. Please come to the table."

She smiled mysteriously. Then Jola smelled the pleasant scent of musk for the second time that day. Surprised, she tightened her fingers on the scarf. The girl noticed the gesture.

"That won't be necessary anymore." She gently slipped it from the surprised woman's hand.

Jola only had time to feel the gentle touch of fabric, which seemed to come to life and slip from her hand, before she was alone. She watched the maid, swaying her hips, until she disappeared down the hall. Only when she was alone did she clear her throat. She could feel herself getting nervous. She didn't know why. She turned the knob, the door gave in, and the door swung open. She stepped inside. The room was dim. The only light came from the fireplace across the room. She felt a shiver of excitement and adrenaline run through her body. She closed the door, and it immediately grew darker. She cautiously moved toward the fireplace. It was very quiet. No sound from outside reached the room, only the joyful crackling of flames. She glanced up at the wooden ceiling. A soft rug lay beneath her feet. A low table stood right in front of the fireplace. The flames reflected off the polished countertop. The room was much larger than she had initially imagined. Although the fireplace provided light, it didn't illuminate everything. She didn't know how big the room she was in was. She could only guess. There was a note on the table. She bent down to pick it up.

"Honey, face the fireplace, don't turn around for anything.

Do you remember Lot's wife?

Trust me, I love you."

She smiled at the paper. She knew what had happened to Lot's wife. It amused her. She longed to see her husband as soon as possible, to kiss him, and thank him for the wonderful surprise. But she placed the paper on the table and obediently stood, staring into the flame. And once again she found herself in that magical land where time ceased to have any meaning. She could smell the pleasant aroma coming from the fire. Someone had thrown young fir branches into it. The scent of the forest, fresh and pleasant, wafted through the room. She felt that anything could happen. Perhaps she was in a vast ballroom, and any moment the lights would come on, revealing dozens of people staring at her. Her imagination began to work overtime. The fire, like the snow and the windshield wipers before it, hypnotized her. The leaping flames, the hissing and crackling logs, the smell and shadows. She heard no footsteps. She didn't see the figure of a man emerge from the other side of the room. He approached until he stood right behind her. She felt a warm breath on the back of her neck. She flinched, startled. She almost turned on her heel. But she held back. Trust me, she remembered Adam's words. She trusted him. They had been together for ten years. Those were good years, despite the lack of a child. She felt the hairs on her skin stand on end as the warm breath approached the back of her neck. Was it Adam? She wondered frantically, or maybe the receptionist downstairs, she thought. There's a man standing behind me, and I can't even turn around, she flinched. But it has to be him; he wouldn't let any man get near me. But this whole evening is so different... Her thoughts seemed to cloud her judgment. She felt dizzy. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched again. The man didn't say a word. He grabbed her hand; she tried not to look. Her gaze was fixed on the fireplace. She felt someone gently guide her hand to the side. Then something was placed inside her. She felt the smooth touch of glass. He gently placed her fingers on it. Finally, she moved her hand away. She held a glass of wine in her hand. She took a sip. It was dry, and it warmed her heart. The attention to detail was disarming. It warmed her heart. After all, they hadn't often had the opportunity to drink wine together lately. She hadn't expected him to remember such details. Always busy, always on the phone, always busy. And yet. She took a sip. The wine was exquisite. The figure behind her didn't leave. He was clearly waiting for her to drink, she thought. While she savored the drink, she felt someone brush their lips against the back of her neck. She knew it was Adam. She was convinced it was him. He wouldn't let anyone do that. I think, he probably hadn't thought of anything crazy. Her confidence, rising and falling, kept rising. When she had finished, a mysterious hand took the glass from her hand. She heard the clink of the glass being placed on the table. Finally, it grew dark again. She wore a scarf over her eyes. The same pleasant material, the same scent. She couldn't see it, but she felt she was alone. There was no more breathing,She felt no one beside her. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She flinched at the sound of the door opening. A moment later, it closed. Had someone entered? Or perhaps left? Questions, questions, doubts, and a vast unknown. The mixture of emotions that washed over her was indescribable. She felt the touch again. But this time it was different. Goosebumps appeared on her skin. The hands that touched her arm were much more gentle. When she felt the same on the other shoulder, her mouth dropped open in surprise. But she was already being led forward. After a few steps, she stopped. The only senses she could use at that moment were smell and hearing. The flames still roared cheerfully and cozily, and her nose caught the subtle scent of musk. And that impenetrable darkness. She had never thought about how much was hidden in the darkness, how her imagination sharpened in proportion to the darkness surrounding her.

She felt someone unbutton her dress. Her first instinct was to protest. But curiosity got the better of her. She felt her excitement at the whole situation growing. The emotions that had been building within her for at least an hour and a half were reaching their zenith. The dress fell almost silently onto the soft carpet. At the same time, another person removed her shoes, one by one, gently holding her calves. As soon as someone had removed her second shoe, another person was carefully and meticulously sliding off her stockings. A moment later, she stood naked. She felt heat on her face. She was slightly embarrassed, but she was also starting to relax. She was led again for about two steps. Someone grabbed her calf, signaling for her to lift her leg. She did so, leaning on the other person's arm. She could feel them. Those smooth hands, that slender arm. After a moment, her leg touched some sticky substance. Surprised, she withdrew it. Then she heard a sound. Something splashed. Oh my god, it was water. She smiled to herself. Someone had deliberately let her hear that sound so she wouldn't be afraid. She was surprised how her imagination could deceive her. She put one foot in, then the other. She stood knee-deep in the warm water. She felt pressure on her shoulder, understood, and sat up. Then the blindfold was removed.

Something changed in the room. It took her a moment to realize there was more light. But it was still a very intimate light. Besides the fireplace, candles were lit. In various places, scattered around the room so that they still didn't reveal the entire room. The flickering flames deepened the shadows, creeping across the ceiling, floor, and walls. She was sitting in a bathtub. An old one, the kind she'd seen in museums. The porcelain bathtub was set in the center of the room. Or at least, she thought it was. A girl stood next to her. The same young black woman who had led her. Jola watched in astonishment as the girl stripped off her clothes. Pink light fell on her young, shapely body. She stood naked next to her, smiling at her. Finally, she slowly stepped into the bathtub. They sat facing each other. In her surprise, she forgot about the other person. Only when she felt someone behind her begin to massage her shoulders did she remember that two women were leading her. Someone's delicate fingers massaged her gently. The girl sitting in the bathtub handed her another glass of wine. Jola accepted the gift with pleasure. They both sat sipping the tart, dry wine. When they finished and set down their glasses, the two maids began washing her. Delicate sponges spread the lather over Jola's body calmly and unhurriedly. They behaved like maids bathing their mistress. She felt the warm, soft sponge caress her breasts. Her arousal grew. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the caresses. Only after a moment did she notice that someone was watching them not far away. A man sat on a sofa in a shadowed spot. She couldn't see his face, only the outline of his figure. She could guess he was dressed in a dark suit, blending into the background. She noticed him extending the glass towards her as if to say, "Bless you," before his hand disappeared back into the darkness. She knew it was Adam. She smiled at him. She could see smoke rising from there. He was probably smoking a cigar, she thought. He always liked to smoke cigars with his wine. Meanwhile, her back was being caressed by a woman she hadn't seen before. Meanwhile, the girl sitting opposite her, also naked, was caressing her shoulders and breasts with a sponge. The foam covered her entire body. They signaled her to stand. She did so. Then the maid in the bathtub knelt before her and began washing her stomach. Despite her years, it was still a flat stomach. Jola felt wonderful. She knew she didn't have to be ashamed of her body. She could almost feel the lustful glances from across the room. She noticed that her neighbor's eyes were also casting strange glints. Was the sight of me arousing her? She wondered. She closed her eyes again. The sponges were circling her body from every angle. It was a wonderful feeling. She sighed when she felt the sponge between her thighs. She spread her legs slightly. The sponge immediately slid between them and lathered on her mound. She felt the steady movement, back and forth, back and forth, almost endlessly.She felt the blood flowing from her entire body, sending shivers down her spine as it pooled in one spot. She felt a pleasant pulsation between her thighs. The blood had already flowed, causing a delicious tingling sensation. The wine was also doing its thing. She felt increasingly blissful, delicious. Although she was already soaking wet standing in the tub, she felt herself growing damp. With each moment, with each contraction in that intimate area, glistening droplets seeped from her. She looked at the girl before her; she must have felt it; her tongue hungrily licked her chapped lips. Jola was so aroused that she couldn't even recall the moment she'd confided in a woman. The other girl was massaging her buttocks with a sponge. Shivers ran through her body every now and then; it felt pleasant, warm, and delicious. She felt the shadows lengthen, taking on phallic shapes, everything taking on a sensual appearance. Even the crackling of the fire seemed different. She felt someone behind her pour a jug of warm water over her. The foam drained from her in a second. Her wet body gleamed in the candlelight. She sat in the tub. She purred with pleasure. Then she felt the girl in the tub grab her buttocks, hinting something. But Jola couldn't figure out what was going on. The moment of consternation lasted until the girl behind her hand handed something to the other girl. Only when she noticed the razor in her hand did she understand. She pushed her hips forward, raising her little rose above the water level. The girl carefully spread the foam she had prepared earlier. She did it slowly, as if lazily. Yet Jola could see that touching her shell gave the girl immense pleasure. Her fingers brushed against her lips again and again. It seemed to be a coincidence, but each time it lasted a second too long to be a coincidence. Jola, however, couldn't hide her satisfaction as she felt a finger glide along her swollen lips. Finally, the maid got to work. She shaved her carefully and thoroughly. Jola glanced constantly at where she imagined her husband was sitting. Her eyes sparkled. She was more and more aroused with each passing moment. When the girl finished, she rinsed the foam off with water. They both looked curiously at their finished work. The smooth, slightly convex shell gleamed in the shimmering candlelight. Both seemed proud of the sight. She felt the person behind her signaling for her to stand. She did so. Her neighbor stood as well. For a moment, Jola longed to touch that beautiful, young body. She wanted to, but held back. They stepped out of the tub. When she stood on a soft towel, the girls immediately began drying her off. When they were finished, it was time for the oil. The woman stood naked as the young maids rubbed pleasantly scented oil into her body. They massaged her skin until it glistened. Hands rubbed the oil onto her back, moving to her breasts.After a moment, her nipples stiffened almost painfully. Jola lost all trace of shame. She felt hands on her breasts, gentle hands kneading them, massaging and rubbing them. She felt hands on her stomach, on her thighs, and on her buttocks. Finally, the girl who had been in the tub with her slipped her hand between her legs. She reached her destination, and Jola sighed. The girl rubbed her for a moment. She didn't even notice when the other maid pulled an armchair under her. She sat down in it. It was comfortable and soft. She felt herself sinking deep into it. The girl knelt before her, her black hair gleaming like Jola's skin in that magical light. She approached on her knees, her eyes twinkling. He grabbed her knees and spread her thighs. Jola felt her tongue on her thigh, sliding along the inside of her thigh. She looked at the girl kneeling down. She saw her dark hair, her head bowed. She felt the girl's tongue slide along them, all the way to the tip. When she felt the maid's hot breath on her now-sensitive, smooth nub, she closed her eyes. The girl began to caress him without embarrassment. Her lips enveloped the entire mound, enveloping it in the warmth of her mouth. Then came her eager tongue. At that moment, she felt a second, equally hot breath on her breast. It approached her stiff nipple, and as if to bring her relief, she took it into her mouth. She began sucking and caressing. Jola tilted her head back. She felt incredibly aroused. Caressed simultaneously by both maids. She doesn't remember how much time passed—five minutes, maybe an hour—when, racked by orgasm, she finally collapsed in the armchair, exhausted. The girls stood up and left the room without a word.She felt incredibly aroused. Caressed simultaneously by both maids. She doesn't remember how much time passed—five minutes, maybe an hour—when she finally collapsed into the armchair, overcome with orgasm. Without a word, the girls stood up and left the room.She felt incredibly aroused. Caressed simultaneously by both maids. She doesn't remember how much time passed—five minutes, maybe an hour—when she finally collapsed into the armchair, overcome with orgasm. Without a word, the girls stood up and left the room.

She half-lay, feeling her knees as soft as cotton. When she regained her composure, she realized the girls were gone. She was alone. Or rather, not alone. Adam, she thought, felt ashamed that in all this bliss she had forgotten about him. She stood up unsteadily, her legs still shaking. There was also movement on the other side. She smelled a cigar. A moment later, Adam emerged from the shadows. He was in a suit, just as she had expected. He approached her. She saw the flush of excitement on his face. He stopped beside her.

"It was a wonderful surprise," she whispered, unable to speak any louder.

"It's such a special night, when someone important was born," he rasped excitedly.

"So maybe we'll do something important tonight," she whispered excitedly.

"It has to work," he ended the conversation and put his arm around her.

She brought her face closer to his, licking his chapped lips. After a moment's thought, she reached between her legs and then spread the glistening juice on his lips with her finger. He licked them hungrily. She grabbed his member. She felt it grow in her hands. She was gaining strength. She craved him. She loved him like never before. She hurriedly undressed him. He, too, tried to help her. Jola no longer thought about anything but feeling him, feeling him deep inside her.