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Message-ID: <34303asstr$1009440607@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Wiseguy" <wiseguy35@dontspam.hotmail.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2001 19:52:58 PST
Subject: {ASSM} Twelve Nights (MF rom) by Wiseguy
Date: Thu, 27 Dec 2001 03:10:07 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

"Twelve Nights"
a Christmas story by Wiseguy


NOTICE:  This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual
activity between consenting persons.  If you are not of legal
age to read such material, or if you find it offensive, then
stop reading now.

-------------------------------------------------------------



NOTICE:  This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity 
between consenting persons.  If you are not of legal age to read such 
material, or if you find it offensive, then stop reading now.

This story is (c) Copyright 2001 by Wiseguy and may not be reposted on 
any for-profit system.  Posting on a noncommercial site is normally 
okay, but check with me first and do not alter the story in any way.

The full text of this and all Wiseguy stories is available for download 
(text or PDF) or for on-line viewing (HTTP) at my web site,  
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Wiseguy/www.

I welcome all comments from readers (wiseguy35@hotmail.com).




Twelve Nights

(c) Copyright 2001 by Wiseguy




Ted and I had our Christmas celebration on Christmas Eve.  
It was perfect:  dinner by candlelight, with champagne and 
soft music and a little piece of mistletoe hanging over the 
table, obliging us to kiss often.  

After dinner Ted refilled my champagne glass and cleared 
the dishes himself.  I stood up too quickly; the effects of 
the extra champagne had snuck up on me and I had to work a 
little to find my balance.  Ted solved that problem by 
sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me to the 
bedroom.  I hung on lazily with one arm, using the other 
hand to unbutton my dress.

He laid me down on the bed ever so gently.  I put both arms 
around his neck, pulling him down with me into a long, 
passionate kiss.  His hand finished opening the front of my 
dress and slipped inside.  I hadn't worn a bra, so his hand 
found and cupped the roundness of my breast immediately.  

I felt the warmth and love in his touch and my body 
responded with heat of its own.  I grabbed handfuls of his 
shirt and peeled it off, breaking off the deep kissing only 
long enough to get the shirt over his head.  I let myself 
enjoy running my hands up and down his strong, smooth back, 
feeling the muscles moving as he explored me.  As much as I 
love doing that, the physical need was taking over -- I had 
to get his pants off, and quickly.

Ted let me get his belt and fly undone, then he broke free 
and slid down, out of my reach.  His mouth latched on to 
first one nipple, then the other, sucking and teasing them 
into aching readiness.  His fingers pulled at my panties, 
so I lifted my bottom and let him slide them off.  That 
gave me an idea:  grabbing the loose fabric of his pants 
between my toes, I pushed them down to his knees.  I 
couldn't see the stiff bulge in the front of his briefs, 
but after two years of dating and eight months living 
together, I knew it was there.
 
I tried to shift down, to get a hand inside his briefs, but 
he held me firmly.  "What's the rush?" he teased lovingly.  
"We have all night."  He used a gentle hand to spread my 
thighs apart, and then his fingers began probing my center.  
My muscles relaxed out of habit, getting ready for the 
pleasure that was to come.  

Ted knows my body pretty well, too, as you might expect.  
One thing he knows especially well is how to melt me with 
just the right touch inside.  When he hits that spot in 
just the right way, my brain just shuts off and I forget 
about everything except how good it feels.  He also knows 
that doing that trick kicks my system into passing gear, 
and usually makes me come so hard and so quickly that I've 
got no energy left to return the favor.  Unless, that is, 
I've been drinking a little; in that case he can diddle me 
for as long as he likes, keeping me just on the edge, and 
I'm helpless to do anything but moan and enjoy it.

So I lay there, moaning and enjoying it, while Ted played 
my body.  His fingers inside me, with his mouth kissing me 
in all my favorite places, made music in my head.  A 
flutter in my stomach told me that a doozy of a climax was 
on its way soon.  "Inside me, Ted," I pleaded between 
moans.  "Now, please."

The pleasure in Ted's face was obvious.  "I thought you'd 
never ask," he said, grinning the way he always does when 
he knows he's about to ring my bell in a big way.  "Just 
like this?"

"Just like this," I confirmed.  "I'm too blissed out to 
move much anyway."  Ted positioned himself between my legs, 
and I found enough energy to tease his cock with my fingers 
for a moment before guiding him inside.  He filled me 
completely, as he always does, and the sensation of him 
rocking inside me pushed the final set of buttons.  My 
muscles came back to life and locked around him; my hips 
moved with him all on their own, matching his rhythm, 
bringing him into contact with all the right spots.  I 
grabbed onto his back and pulled him closer, hugging him to 
me as the tempo of our breathing increased.  

I came first, gasping and squealing with the release of 
energy.  Ted held me steady, letting me relax into it, 
staying with me the whole time.  Somewhere in the middle I 
heard him grunt and felt the hot gush of his seed filling 
me.

We held each other, turning to our sides, while our 
breathing and heartbeats slowly returned to normal.  There 
was a thin layer of sweat covering us both, its scent 
mingling with the heady aroma of sex.  "We should shower," 
I suggested half-heartedly.

Ted tucked his face into my neck and took a long, slow 
breath.  "Probably," he agreed, "but I don't want to."

"Me neither."  I sighed and snuggled closer to him.  

A little bit later, the clock chimed the hour.  "Paula?" he 
said softly.

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to miss you."

"Same here."

We sighed, held each other a little more closely and went 
to sleep, trying for a little while longer to ignore my 
packed suitcase at the foot of the bed.



The morning came too soon, cool and dim and rainy.  The 
smell of fresh coffee wafted into my nose and drew me to 
the kitchen, where I found Ted chopping leftover ham into 
little tiny bits.  "Morning, sweetie," he said cheerfully.  
"Merry Christmas."

For answer, I tucked myself under his non-slicing arm and 
snuggled in tightly.  "Merry Christmas."

He hugged me.  "Ham and cheddar okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

We had omelets and coffee.  There wasn't a whole lot to 
say.  Scratch that -- there were all of the normal, happy 
things couples can talk about in the mornings, but on that 
morning it all just seemed too trivial.  I was feeling 
guilty for leaving, and Ted was trying very hard not to 
make it worse.

But we were running out of time.  Our eyes met and I 
sighed.  "I'm really sorry," I said.

Ted had a sad sort of half-smile on his face.  "I know.  
It's not your fault; you really don't have a choice."

I nodded.  "It's only for two weeks."

"Yes.  But it still sucks."

I spent most of the drive to the airport staring out the 
window, brooding.  This was supposed to be our first 
Christmas together as a couple.  We'd both been saving up 
vacation time so we could spend those days together with no 
interruptions.  Then Sean broke 14 bones in a skiing 
accident, and my vacation got summarily cancelled.

I work for a small high-tech company.  Our one product is a 
document imaging and management system.  It's a world-class 
product, but not exactly something you can ship to the 
client in a box and expect them to take it from there -- 
not if you want them to be happy with it and recommend it 
to their colleagues, anyway.  To get the system into 
production and properly tuned takes a project manager, a 
trainer, and a network troubleshooter.  Economics being 
what they are, one person has to be able to do it all.  

In our company, there are three of us who know the product 
well enough to do a distant installation.  There's Joel, a 
genial 40-something guy with a nice family; Sean, a single 
guy who prides himself on playing hard; and me.  When the 
Fowler, Briggs deal was signed with a first-of-the-year 
delivery commitment, Sean volunteered to take the job.  He 
had nobody waiting for him at home, no plans for the 
holidays, no reason to mind spending them on the other side 
of the country.  A long ski weekend in mid-December and 
he'd be ready to go, no regrets.

When Sean didn't show up for work the first day after his 
ski trip, we joked that he must have met a luscious snow 
bunny in Tahoe and lost track of the days.  He called in 
about two that afternoon and got Joel.  I saw Joel start 
out grinning, then suddenly turn ashen and quiet.  He put 
Sean on hold, tracked down our boss Rose, and transferred 
him into her office.  She called us in later and gave us 
the story:   Sean had lost control on a nasty stretch of 
the trail, hit a clump of trees, and now had 14 broken 
bones to show for it.  Nothing life-threatening, she 
assured us, but he'd be out on disability for a couple of 
months at least.  We'd have to rebalance the workload to 
cover while he was out, starting with Fowler, Briggs.

I had an immediate sense of the inevitable.  Fowler, 
Briggs, Llewelyn and Cole was a big-time DC law firm, the 
kind that offered its clients political influence as much 
as, or more than, legal expertise.  They were our first A-
list client, and their only firm requirement was that the 
new system had to be operational January 2nd.  I was 
single, on paper at least, with no family in the area; Joel 
had a wife and 5 kids and a houseful of out-of-town 
relatives flying in for Christmas.  It was obvious which of 
us would have to go.

Not that Rose was totally oblivious.  "I know you and Ted 
had plans," she told me.  "I feel really badly about asking 
you to change them.  I just can't see any other solution."

"Neither can I," I said.  "And believe me, I'm trying."

"It's a little irregular," she offered, "but I'll approve 
the hotel bill if you want to take Ted with you."

"Thanks.  I've thought about that, but I'm not sure it's a 
good idea."

"Either way, the offer's open."

Ted took the news about as well as could be expected:  
quietly, with a sad look and a few long sighs.  "I can't 
say that I'm not bummed, but there doesn't seem to be any 
other choice."

"You could come with me," I proposed, very tentatively.

He let me off the hook, though.  "No.  I've seen what your 
schedule is like during those jobs.  We'd both just get 
frustrated and angry, and end up worse off than if I stay 
here."

Ted was right, and we both knew it.  Those two weeks in DC 
would be composed mostly of 12-hour days, including the 
weekend.  When I wasn't at the client's offices I'd be too 
tired to be much fun.  And knowing Ted was waiting for me 
would take away the one thing that made the long days 
bearable -- the knowledge that, in a strange city, I had 
little else to do with my spare time anyway. 


Want to know the secret to getting good service on an 
airline flight?  It's simple:  travel on, instead of before 
or after, a major holiday.  The terminal was like a museum 
in the off-season, with a few clumps of people here and 
there but nobody in any great rush.  There was no line at 
the check-in counter, no wait for security, no problem 
finding a seat at the gate.  With the plane less than half 
full, there was plenty of room for everyone and the flight 
attendants let us have the whole can of soda.  Maybe they 
just felt sorry for us, having no better place to be on 
Christmas than in the air.

Soon we were landing at Dulles International Airport.  The 
first of many surprises came right there in the terminal.  
I came out of the shuttle to see a young man in a 
chauffer's uniform holding a sign with my name on it.  He 
saw me do a double-take and chuckled.  "Paula?"

"That's right.  What's going on?"

He smiled.  "The dispatcher said you weren't expecting me; 
I guess he was right.  I'm Tony, and I'm here to take you 
to your hotel.  I'm also supposed to give you this."  He 
handed me a small white card.  I recognized Ted's 
handwriting immediately:

On the first night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ... 
A limo ride to finish your trip in style.  The driver 
is under strict orders to be friendly, but not chatty, 
and to cater to your every whim.  Relax and enjoy the 
ride.

-T

Ted's gift was exactly what I needed.  Twenty minutes later 
I was sitting comfortably in the back of a limousine, 
sipping a strong Jack and Coke, with soft Christmas music 
playing in the background.  Tony took the scenic route into 
town, passing several of the monuments along the way.

As we passed the Jefferson Memorial, the intercom clicked 
and Tony spoke.  "Do you want to stop anywhere, or go 
straight to the hotel?"

I checked my watch:  8:20pm.  I'd need a real dinner, but 
nothing heavy or I'd never sleep properly.  "Just to the 
hotel is fine.  I'll do the tourist thing some other time."

We pulled up in front of the Hilton a few minutes later.  
Tony saw me opening my purse and shook his head.  "It's 
taken care of," he said.  "Have a great time in 
Washington."  The bellhop already had my bag, so I said 
goodbye to Tony and followed my things to the front desk.

Once I was settled into my room, I got out my cell and 
called home.  Ted answered on the second ring.  "Hello?"

"Hello," I said, in my best husky voice.

He laughed.  "How was your trip?"

"The flying part, better than usual.  The limo ride was 
wonderful -- I was really calling mostly to thank you for 
that."

"More than welcome, honey.  Did they send the 50-year-old 
matron to drive you, like I asked them to?"  

I could hear the teasing tone in his voice, so I went with 
it.  "No, she couldn't make it," I taunted him.  "Instead, 
I got this incredibly sweet guy named Tony.  He's a 
Chippendale model in his spare time.  He wanted to know 
whether I was naughty or nice."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him that's between me and Santa, of course!"  We 
both giggled.  "I'm beat.  I'm going to get something to 
eat and then call it a night."

"You do that.  I love you, Paula."

I smooched the phone enough to let him hear it.  "Love you 
too, dear."



One of the things Sean, Joel and I have noticed is that the 
degree of difficulty we'll have on any job can be predicted 
within the first half hour on site.  By that yardstick, I 
figured I'd be lucky to make it through with my sanity 
intact.

Most of that first half hour was spent standing in the 
lobby while a confused security guard tried to locate 
someone to come down and sign me in.  We went through my 
meager contact list, getting voice mail greetings or 
nothing at all.    We got out the Fowler, Briggs phone 
directory and worked our way through that:  office manager, 
facilities manager, various administrative assistants.  On 
maybe the eighth call a human being finally answered but, 
judging by the part of the call I could hear, they had no 
clue as to who I was or what I was there for.  I was told 
to have a seat and someone would be down.

My eventual rescuer was a frazzled-looking twenty-something 
guy named Jeffrey.  He signed me in and took me up to the 
top floor.  "I'm supposed to take you straight up to Mr. 
Cole," he explained.  "Most of the other folks that know 
anything about the new system aren't here, being the day 
after Christmas and all."

"But you do know about it?" I asked hopefully.

He shook his head.  "Not really.  I know we're supposed to 
be getting one, and that it's supposed to go in this week, 
but that's all.  I'm just a PC tech; they don't tell me 
much."

"I'll bet you've seen the hardware, though," I said, seeing 
an opportunity.

"Nope."

"It should be here," I insisted, feeling a nasty chill 
starting to work its way up my spine.  "Three rackmount 
servers, a fiber channel switch, a storage unit with a 
dozen drives in it, eighteen high-end network scanners, and 
a 42U cabinet."

Jeffrey squinted and looked up at the ceiling.  "Haven't 
seen any new equipment show up lately," he told me.  "But 
we did have the electricians in here last week to put in a 
new PDU, so if we find the stuff I'm pretty sure I know 
where it goes."

I took a quiet, deep breath and willed myself not to panic 
yet.  Jeffrey led me down a lushly-carpeted hallway, past a 
pair of very expensive work centers to an ornate mahogany 
door.  He knocked once, and a thin voice said, "Come in."

Mortimer Cole, according to Sean's notes, was the managing 
partner of the firm, the one who had chosen our system and 
gotten the other partners to sign off on the funding for 
it.  He reminded me immediately of an American Hercule 
Poirot:  a short, round, aging man with a thick mustache 
and an incredibly obvious hairpiece drawing attention away 
from his impeccable suit.  The items on his desk were 
perfectly aligned and evenly spaced apart, and there wasn't 
a stray sticky note or a speck of dust anywhere.  He looked 
me over carefully, his face providing no hint of the 
opinion he may be forming, and nodded.  "Miss Weatherby, 
yes?"

I nodded.  He frowned slightly and continued.  "I'm afraid 
we are less prepared for you than we should be.  Mr. 
Kendall gave me the impression that you wouldn't be here 
until after the equipment had arrived."

"The equipment should have arrived Friday," I said.  "I'm 
gathering that it didn't, so at this point I need a place 
to make some phone calls and find out where it is."

"You can use Mr. Kendall's office for that," Cole offered.  
"I've been trying to reach him by phone to let him know 
you're here; until he comes in, Jeffrey should be able to 
help you locate whatever you need.  We can have a more in-
depth opening meeting when things are ready to move 
forward."  Turning to my drafted companion, he added, 
"Jeffrey, show Miss Weatherby how to use the phone, please, 
and teach her the charge codes for the imaging project."

Jeffrey got me settled in the office belonging to Joe 
Kendall, the IT manager for the firm and my primary 
contact.  The part about showing me how to use the phone 
turned out to be no joke:  in order to make any outside 
call, you have to enter a 3-digit employee code and a 5-
digit charge code.  Jeffrey assigned me a temporary code, 
along with a login to the network, and gave me his pager 
number in case I needed him again.

It took the rest of the day, but I solved the equipment 
mystery:  the trucking company had looked at the delivery 
address and, knowing how things can be in DC, had called 
Joe Kendall to find out if there was a raised loading dock 
to accommodate their truck.  Since Joe had left early that 
day, getting a head start on the long Christmas weekend, he 
never got the message; the trucking company was holding my 
equipment while they waited for instructions.  With some 
more help from Jeffrey I found out that there was a loading 
dock, got instructions on how to get to it, and arranged 
with the trucking company to have the equipment delivered 
the next morning.  Joe Kendall turned up during that 
process, looking stressed out, and seemed relieved when I 
told him we had things under control and that I wouldn't 
really need him until Thursday.  Finally, I reported in to 
Mr. Cole and we scheduled a project kickoff meeting for 
Thursday morning, the day after the equipment delivery.

The one bright side to all the chaos was that I had a 
relatively short day that first day:  only nine hours.  I 
had a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant, then went up to 
my room to turn in.  It was only 7:30 Eastern time when I 
got to my room, but I was already dragging -- I'd gotten up 
at 7am, which felt like 4am to my body thanks to the time 
difference.  I was already partially undressed when I 
noticed the flashing message light on the phone.  I picked 
up the handset and dialed the code for voice mail.

"This is Darlene at the front desk," a female voice said.  
"We have a delivery for you.  When you hear this, please 
call the front desk and we'll have someone bring it up."

I called the desk, and they promised to bring my delivery 
right up.  They were as good as their word -- I barely had 
time to hang up my business suit and slip on a robe before 
there was a knock on the door.  It was Darlene herself, 
bearing a crystal vase brimming with my favorite flower, 
American Beauty roses.  Tucked into a plastic holder was a 
small white card:

On the second night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ... 
Two dozen roses, of your favorite kind, to remind you 
every day that I love you.

-T

I looked up from the card and saw Darlene studying my face.  
"You've got yourself a prize one," she remarked.

"Yes, I do," I agreed.  There was something odd in the 
smile she returned to me -- some hint of a secret, maybe?  
Before I could ask, she had wished me good night and was on 
her way into the elevator.

The roses were wonderful, fresh and fragrant.  I pulled the 
petals off one and slipped them inside my pillow case so I 
could fall asleep to the scent of fresh roses.



The scent of fresh roses was all over the room when I got 
up in the morning.  It was a wonderful way to start the 
day; I got to Fowler, Briggs with a fresh, positive 
attitude.  I was going to need it.

I spent the morning meeting department heads and 
identifying the people I would be training on how to use 
the scanning stations and the catalog application.  A 
couple of them were none too happy to be there -- 
apparently they'd planned to be off for the holidays until 
Mortimer Cole told them otherwise.  I could relate, of 
course.

The equipment showed up right at lunch time, with another 
surprise:  the bill of lading only listed delivery to the 
dock, not inside the building.  That left it up to me and 
Jeffrey to move the boxes inside.  Neither of us would need 
to go to the gym for a day or two.

We spent the rest of the day unpacking the boxes, making 
sure all the pieces were there, and starting to assemble 
everything.  Joe Kendall made an appearance long enough to 
apologize profusely for the mix-up on the delivery 
instructions.  He took a good look at the array of parts 
and tools we had out, said, "I'll get out of your way," and 
vanished for the rest of the day.

Jeffrey and I worked well into the evening.  We had Chinese 
delivered and ate together in the server room, discussing 
strategy.  Mr. Cole had assigned Jeffrey exclusively to me 
for the remainder of my trip, so we planned out the next 
few days' work with that in mind.

I trudged through the lobby of my hotel at 10:20pm with no 
thought other than getting my aching muscles into bed 
immediately.  Darlene waved from the front desk with a 
knowing smile on her face, but I was too tired to do more 
than wave back.

There was a small gift bag sitting on the middle of my bed.  
It was tied up with pink ribbons, and had a little white 
card taped to the top.  I pulled off the card and turned it 
over.

On the third night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ...
A few creature comforts to soothe your aches.  I wish 
I could be there to pamper you personally, but I'll 
make it up to you when you get home.

-T

Inside the bag was a tube of foaming bath salts and a 
bottle of moisturizing after-bath lotion.  The tube had a 
pleasant aroma to it that mixed nicely with the lingering 
flower scent in the air.  Why not, I decided; a good, hot 
bath before bed would do wonders for my sore muscles.

The warm water welcomed me like a lover as I eased myself 
into the tub.  The relaxing floral scent of the bath salts 
filled the room.  I slid way down, letting the water come 
all the way up my neck, and enjoyed the sensation of 
floating in the tub.  With my eyes closed, I took deep 
breaths and imagined I had Ted with me, lovingly scrubbing 
my back with a soft sponge.  My body tingled, imagining his 
hands on my shoulders, smoothing and caressing my muscles.  
It had only been three days, but already my body was 
missing Ted's.  I drifted off into a daydream in which Ted 
was there with me, bathing me, running his hands over me 
while he planted little kisses on my neck and shoulders.  
My breasts began to tingle at the thought of his fingers on 
them, and there was an extra warmth coming from down below 
where his cock would be so welcome.   I lay there 
daydreaming, getting more and more aroused by the thoughts 
and imagined sensations, helped along by the warm water 
flowing around me.  I pictured Ted standing over me, an 
amused smile on his face as he saw how worked up I was 
getting.  I pictured him kneeling down next to the tub.  
"Just close your eyes and relax," he'd say, "and let me 
take care of you."  I closed my eyes and imagined him 
leaning over, slowly letting his hand wander down my 
stomach, over my mound, and up my leg to the water line.  
Then he changed direction, sliding easily along the inside 
of my thigh and coming to rest in my center.  My finger 
became his finger as I imagined him carefully parting my 
lips, sliding in between them, finding my button ...

I came, suddenly and intensely.  With the water cradling my 
body, I felt it from head to toe and back again.  I gave in 
to the feeling completely, letting it take me for a ride.  
When it was over I felt so loose I wasn't sure I'd ever get 
out of the tub.  I tripped the drain lever with a toe and 
let the water recede around me while I caught my breath.

Finally, the relative chill of the bathroom air motivated 
me enough to get up from the tub.  I toweled off, applied 
the lotion to my drying skin, and slipped between the 
sheets to dream of my lover some more.



The kickoff meeting was enlightening, as they often are.  
Mortimer Cole chaired the meeting himself, and from the way 
he stressed that full cooperation was expected of all 
departments I got the feeling that there had been some 
opposition to the project.  That's not unusual; law firms 
are notoriously resistant to change, and our system was a 
radical departure from the processes they had been using 
since time immemorial.  Some reluctance is normal.  By 
watching the various department heads, I was able to pick 
up clues as to which ones would need some extra reassurance 
that the sky was not going to fall.

After the meeting, Jeffrey and I returned to the server 
room to finish putting the system together.  We had most of 
the hardware mounted in the cabinet; it was just a question 
of dressing the cabling.  I'm a bit particular about 
cables, I confess:  I like to have them neatly laid in, 
tied down so they only move when they need to, and with any 
slack tucked out of sight and secured.  Sean and Joel like 
to kid me about it, but my clients are always impressed at 
how neat my installations look.  It seems to reassure them 
that, despite being a woman, I really do know what I'm 
doing.

By four in the afternoon we had the SAN powered up and 
ready, and it was time to start configuring the servers.  
Fowler, Briggs had purchased a 3-node cluster.  All three 
servers had shared access to the SAN, so if any one failed 
the others would be able to cover for it and the users 
wouldn't notice the difference.  Clusters are very 
reliable, but the configuration is tricky; I diagrammed it 
out on paper first, partly for my own benefit and partly so 
Jeffrey would understand it, since he would be supporting 
it after I was back home.  Installing the base operating 
system on each node, I ran into the usual difficulties with 
drivers and firmware levels; it was almost nine o'clock 
before I had all three nodes alive and seeing each other 
and the SAN.  I called it a night.

There was another gift bag on my hotel bed, this one 
secured with a white ribbon.  I read the card first:

On the fourth night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ...
Music, to feed your soul and give you something to 
counteract the all-day hum of machinery.  Let me sing 
you to sleep by proxy with these.

-T

The CD's were new, but included some of my favorite 
artists.  There was some classical, some jazz, some 
romantic ballads, even a CD of novelty Christmas songs.  I 
got out my laptop, put the ballads CD in it, and turned the 
volume up enough to hear comfortably, then picked up the 
phone and dialed home.  

"How are things going?" Ted asked me after we exchanged 
greeting.

"Pretty chaotic," I told him.  "If it wasn't for your 
little care packages, I'd be a basket case by now."

"It's a pleasure to service you, m'lady."

"You'll be doing plenty of that when I get home," I 
replied, my mind already picturing my homecoming.  

"Is that a promise?"  I could hear the lust in his voice 
and decided to have some fun with him.

"Oh, yes, lover."  I let the words out slowly, in my 
sexiest voice.  "You know, last night I was fantasizing 
about you during my bath."

"Umm ... really?"  The hitch in his voice told me I had 
him.

"Oh, yes.  As I lay there in the tub, all naked, letting 
the hot water just roll all over me, I imagined you were 
there with me.  You were washing me off, caressing my 
breast, kissing my neck, and I was just melting for you.  I 
was so wet, and so hot for you, I touched myself just once 
and had an amazing climax."

"I see."  

Time to move in for the kill.  "Your voice sounds a little 
tense, honey.  Am I arousing you?  Are you sitting there 
imagining what I looked like, touching myself in the 
bathtub, thinking of you, and getting so hard you can't 
stand it?  Do you wish I was there with you now, stroking 
that splendid, hard dick of yours, whispering into your ear 
how much I want to have it inside me?"

"Yes," he groaned softly.  "And yes, and yes."

"Do it for me," I told him.  "Stroke yourself, and imagine 
that it's me doing it.  I'm right here, and I want to hear 
to you come."  I whispered the most arousing things I could 
think of into the phone, teasing him, talking about how 
good he felt, how much I wanted him inside me, until I 
heard the telltale grunting sound I knew so well.  "That's 
it, darling, come for me.  I love you."  

I hung up the phone and realized I was most of the way 
there myself.  I pictured Ted sitting there with the phone 
in one hand and his erection in the other, thinking of me, 
coming, and very soon I was doing the same.




Friday morning was cold and wet and dull.  The offices of 
Fowler, Briggs were even more deserted than the previous 
days, thanks to the fact that Monday would be New Year's 
Day.  

I started the day in Joe Kendall's office with him and 
Jeffrey, plotting out the rest of the installation work.  
Jeffrey would install the scanning stations -- 
freestanding, network-attached scanners with sheet feeders 
and the ability to store the scanned documents on my 
cluster's SAN -- in strategic places where they'd be 
convenient to everyone.  Joe and I would go over the 
standard forms, contracts, and other documents that would 
need to be scanned into the system and turned into 
templates.  While we were going through the folder, 
Mortimer Cole walked in on us.

Joe almost jumped out his seat.  "M-morning, Mr. Cole."

Cole frowned slightly.  "Mr. Kendall, Miss Weatherby.  How 
is the project going?  Are we on schedule?"

"Just about," I said.  "We lost a day at the outset because 
the equipment wasn't here, but with Jeffrey's help I've 
been able to make up for that.  We're just about where we 
need to be."

"Good.  Will you be working through the weekend, then?  
There will not be anyone on duty Monday, but I can arrange 
someone to let you in and stay with you if need be."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Joe Kendall turning 
gray, probably at the thought of spending New Year's Day at 
work.  "I don't think that's necessary, Mr. Cole.  By 
Sunday afternoon we should have the system fully operating 
with the most common templates available for the training 
sessions on Tuesday.  I think we can take Monday off."

For a moment I thought he was going to smile.  "Very well," 
he replied.  "Let me know if anything changes."

I spent the rest of the day getting our software installed 
and tuned on the cluster.  It's a tricky process; there are 
several service processes and associated databases to size 
and load balance across the cluster's nodes.  Using my 
laptop, I checked the network for congestion that might 
cause performance problems and found that things were 
pretty clean.  The firm had a good architecture in place, 
with best-of-breed switches and routers and a solid cable 
plant.  I was impressed.

Mostly for Jeffrey's benefit, we called it a day somewhat 
early -- six o'clock.  I didn't see Darlene in the lobby, 
but I didn't have to; once again, there was a gift on the 
bed.

This time it was an envelope with a golden ribbon for 
decoration.  I opened it and read the card inside.

On the fifth night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ...
The gift of laughter.  Since I couldn't predict your 
schedule, this ticket is good for any show this 
weekend.  The same limo company will take you there 
and back if you call them an hour before show time.

-T

In addition to Ted's card was a ticket to Washington Improv 
Theatre, a local improvisation troupe, and the phone number 
for the limousine service that had picked me up from the 
airport.  According to the schedule on the ticket, I had my 
choice of Friday night or Saturday night shows, either one 
starting at 9:00.  Since I was done for the night at a 
reasonable time, I opted for the first choice.

The limo came for me at 8:15.  Tony greeted me with a 
friendly wave and a Jack and Coke.  "I could get spoiled 
very easily," I told him.

"I think that's the idea," he replied with a wink.

The show was brilliant -- fast-paced, creative, and funny 
as anything I've ever seen.  And then, toward the end of 
the show, came the final surprise:  the group's leader came 
to stage center.  "Is Paula here tonight?  Paula 
Weatherby?"

More surprised than I should have been, I raised my hand.  
The man on stage saw me and smiled.  "Paula, we have a 
special surprise for you tonight.  I understand you've been 
having an interesting week.  Would you mind telling us a 
few things about it?"

I shrugged.  "Okay."

The player, whose name was Tyler, asked me a series of 
questions about the week:  people I'd met, incidents I'd 
taken part in or witnessed, things I'd seen, what I thought 
of Washington.  Then, to my amazement and delight, the 
group put on a scene incorporating what I'd told them.  I 
laughed out loud at their reenactment of my week.  The 
audience roared over their highly embellished version of my 
first morning at Fowler, Briggs and the confusion with the 
security guard.  Their impressions of Mortimer Cole and Joe 
Kendall had me doubled over in my seat.  Finally, after a 
good twenty minutes, they ended the scene with me going 
back to California and meeting up with Ted at the airport.  
The applause at the end seemed to last forever.

On the way back to the hotel, I took out my cell phone and 
called home.  Ted answered on the third ring.  "Hello?"

"Is every Christmas with you going to be like this?" I 
asked.  

"Hopefully not," he answered quickly.  "Next year I hope to 
spend the whole twelve days with you at a clothing-optional 
tropical resort."

We chuckled together.  "This is wonderful," I told him.  "I 
don't know what to say except thank you."

"You're wonderful.  And you're welcome."



Saturday was a busy day.  Jeffrey and I worked a full day 
getting the scanning stations hooked up and tested.  We did 
the first few together then, once he was comfortable with 
the process, we split up to finish the job faster.  Still, 
the job took us well into the evening.  We had a quick meal 
at a nearby diner and parted company.

A tingle of anticipation went through me as I entered my 
hotel room.  My eyes went straight to the bed and located 
the package on it.  This time it was a box, and a heavy 
one.  I picked the card off the top:

On the sixth night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ...
Something to keep you company over the weekend.  How 
long has it been since you read something that wasn't 
a tech manual?  Hopefully this will provide you with a 
short break from the job.

-T

Inside the box was a heavy hardcover book:  Sexplorations -
- a Collection of Erotic Poetry.  A very impressive 
collection, I noticed:  over 1,000 pages without the index.  
I flipped to a random page and started reading.


The excitement rises, 
yet you have not touched me; 
with eyes closed, i softly smile, 
feeling your presence. 
 
Your breath stirs my hair, 
and my body reacts. 
I reach for you, but you tease me 
further. 
 
Your fingertips feel like 
a gentle breeze, and i shiver. 
you come into my arms, 
and i have never felt more alive. 
 
Suddenly, you are kissing me. 
The violent swirl of hunger 
erupts in my body, 
the need for you becomes desperate. 
 
Our bodies snake together. 
I want to be closer, 
but there is no such thing. 
And suddenly, I'm home.    *


I closed the book and sighed, feeling a tingle in my groin 
as I related the words to my own experiences.  There was 
power in those words, and passion, and romance.  I knew I'd 
be reading a lot more, and soon.



Sunday, New Year's Eve day, was rainy and cold.  Jeffrey 
had the day off, his work done until the office reopened 
after the holiday; my agenda for Sunday was with Joe 
Kendall.  We'd agreed to meet in his office at ten, but his 
name wasn't on the entry log when I signed in at 9:55.  I 
went up to his office and waited there.

Forty minutes later Joe finally showed up, mumbling 
something about traffic.  I ended up waiting another ten 
minutes while he got himself coffee.  The, finally, he 
plopped down behind his desk and declared himself ready to 
begin.

"Good," I said, biting back the urge to comment further.  
"If you'll get out the standard forms you want made into 
templates, the first step is to scan them."

He looked at me as if I'd sprouted a second head.  "You 
need those now?"

"Yes, Joe.  We can't do anything with them until we scan 
them in."  That's why I asked you to collect them five days 
ago, I added silently.

"Oh.  You're gonna have to excuse me for a few minutes, 
then.  I still need to collect some of them."

"We can start with one you have handy," I offered, but he 
was already halfway out the door and didn't respond.

I sighed and let out a quiet growl of frustration.  A 
central feature of our system is a library of standard 
forms that users can call up and complete quickly.  We 
build the library by scanning in the client's own most-used 
documents and turning them into templates.  I'd asked 
Kendall to assemble a collection of the documents they 
wanted treated this way, and he'd assured me that when we 
got to that stage, he'd be ready.  

So much for his assurances.  I waited half an hour before 
he returned with a manilla folder under his arm.  I fired 
up the scanner and fed the first one in, then pulled up the 
system on my laptop and got ready to take the scanned image 
and create a functional template from it.  Kendall watched 
from his chair, one eye often straying to the clock, 
answering my questions with as few words as possible.  

My productivity soared at 12:30, mostly because Joe left me 
alone while he went out for lunch.  Fortunately, most of 
the firm's standard documents were boilerplate legal 
papers, and it was pretty easy for me to deduce from the 
context what the data entry requirements should be.  I was 
almost disappointed when Kendall returned at 1:45.  As luck 
would have it, though, he left for good at 3:00 citing a 
family gathering.  I wished him a happy new year and 
breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone.

I spent the rest of the afternoon plowing through the 
remaining documents.  There would be a few questions to be 
answered on Tuesday, probably by someone other than Joe, 
but on the whole they were not hard to figure out.  So deep 
was my concentration that I hardly noticed the passage of 
time. 

"Miss Weatherby."

The unexpected voice from the doorway behind me startled 
me.  I almost didn't recognize Mortimer Cole; for the first 
time that week, he wasn't in a dark business suit.  In 
khakis and a sweatshirt he seemed like an entirely 
different man.  "Mr. Cole," I blurted, covering myself.  
"Surprising to see you here."

"Not if you know my reputation," he replied, with just a 
hint of a smile on his lips.  "Some of the associates think 
I sleep in the office, in double-breasted pinstripe 
pajamas."

"Do you?"  

"No."  The smile was full this time.  "But some days I 
might as well.  Weren't you supposed to be working with Mr. 
Kendall today?"

"I have been," I assured him.  "The templates are just 
about ready for Tuesday."

"That's good to hear," he replied, with a stony look at the 
clock.  "Especially since Mr. Kendall signed out some four 
hours ago."

I was in no mood to defend Joe Kendall, so I said nothing.

"This process that you're doing," he continued, gesturing 
at the laptop and the documents on the table.  "Is that 
something you can teach Jeffrey to do?"

"Certainly," I responded.  "It's a little out of his normal 
sphere, but Jeffrey has a good understanding of the system.  
He should have no problem picking it up."

"Good."  Our eyes met, and an understanding passed between 
them.  

"I can show Jeffrey all of the normal system management 
functions, too, if you like.  We always find it handy to 
have a backup administrator."

Cole nodded.  "Will you be much longer?  You and I are the 
last two in the building, according to the logs.  Security 
will need us out of here by eight so they can lock up and 
set the alarms."

Where had the time gone?  "I can close up and do the rest 
with Jeffrey," I offered.  "It would make a good training 
exercise."  
Cole agreed, so I packed up the laptop and we left the 
building together.  The rain had let up, so I declined his 
offer of a ride and walked back to the hotel, stopping in a 
deli on the way to pick up a sandwich and chips for a light 
dinner.

It was with a tingle of anticipation that I opened the 
hotel room door and stepped inside.  My eyes had gotten to 
the habit of checking the bed as soon as I got inside, and 
once again they spotted the gift.  This time it was a 
silver room service tray.  On the tray was a silvery ice 
bucket with the neck of a bottle sticking out and a crystal 
bowl of foil-wrapped droplets -- Hershey's Kisses.  I read 
the card first:

On the seventh night of Christmas, your true love 
sends to you ...
Champagne and kisses for your New Year's wishes.  I'll 
be thinking of you at midnight, my love.

-T

I had my dinner, but drank Moet with my sandwich instead of 
the Diet Coke I'd bought at the deli.  It not only hit the 
spot, but massaged it sensuously afterwards.  After dinner, 
I ran some more water in the tub and had another nice, 
luxurious bath.    

At midnight Eastern time, I picked up the phone and called 
Ted.

"Hello?"

"Hi there, lover," I purred into the phone.  "Do you want 
to know what I'm doing right now?"

"Okay."

"I'm sitting in an easy chair in my hotel room, naked, 
drinking champagne and eating chocolate and thinking about 
how I'm going to repay you for all this pampering when I 
get home."

"Sounds as though you're enjoying yourself."  

"Not as much as I would be if you were here."  

He chuckled.  "It's just a few more days, love."

"And I'll be spending those days planning your payback," I 
promised.  "You'd better start taking extra vitamins now."


New Year's Day was cold and clear.  I took advantage of my 
one day off to walk around downtown DC.  Most of the 
monuments and museums were closed because of the holiday, 
but it was enough for me to walk past them and get a feel 
of the flavor of the capital.  It was fun.

When I got back to my room there was a card on the bed and 
nothing else.

On the eighth night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ...
A dinner to remember.  The limousine will pick you up 
at seven and take you to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse.

-T


My stomach growled in anticipation.  I'd been to a Ruth's 
Chris once before, with Ted; we'd both agreed that it would 
be very easy to get addicted to that level of food and 
service.  You pay dearly for the food there, but it's worth 
every penny.

It was no surprise at all to find Tony waiting for me at 
the appointed time, a Jack and Coke in hand.  "How's my 
favorite passenger?" 

I smiled.  "Having a wonderful time.  I actually had a 
chance to be a tourist today."

He grinned and closed the door for me.  On the way to the 
restaurant, he asked me where I'd gone on my day off.  We 
chatted about DC, the tourist traps, the news of the day.  
It was a short ride to Connecticut Avenue, where the 
restaurant stood.  "Take your time," he told me as I got 
out.  "I'm yours exclusively tonight."

Dinner was to die for.  The steak was so tender I didn't 
need a knife to cut it, the salad was fresh and full of 
flavor, and the dessert was absolutely decadent.  I checked 
my self-discipline at the door, except for the wine -- with 
all the alcohol I'd been having lately, I decided that iced 
tea would be a better choice.  

After dinner I poured my full, sleepy body into Tony's 
limousine.  He started to get out the liquor, but I waved 
him off.  "I won't need to eat or drink anything else for a 
month," I told him.

Tony took the long way back to the hotel, driving past the 
monuments so I could see them lit up in the night.  I 
thanked him at the doorway and turned in early.



The alarm went off at 5:30 Tuesday morning.  My body 
protested a bit as I rolled out of bed, but I wasn't 
hearing any excuses:  I'd been a very lazy, self-indulgent 
girl the past few days, and some penance was in order.

I threw on some sweats, then found the health club and 
spent some quality time on the treadmill and stair climbing 
machines.  I'm not a fitness nut, but I do like the energy 
lift I get from doing a session or two a week.  I hadn't 
worked out since the day before Christmas, and I could 
tell; it took my body longer than usual to find its rhythm 
and settle into it, and when I was done I felt it more than 
I normally do. 

A shower and some fresh coffee got me ready to face Fowler, 
Briggs.  This would be the first day of live users on the 
new system, which meant I'd be kept busy training users, 
watching the system for unexpected glitches, and answering 
every question imaginable.

I got there early to give me a chance to check on the 
system and make sure the training room was set up according 
to specs.  Jeffrey had done that, so I was pretty confident 
it would be.  I wasn't disappointed.  

The morning training session went as well as could be 
expected.  Several of the more senior staffers were in that 
first class, and I could tell from their body language that 
I was going to have a tough time.  They looked at the 
computer screen as if it had something foul written on it; 
any chance they saw to suggest that the new system was too 
complicated or too slow, they took.  Fortunately we have a 
great product, so there weren't very many of those 
opportunities.  I've had plenty of practice at dealing with 
people like that, but it's never fun.

After the morning class I caught up with Jeffrey and, over 
sandwiches from a vending machine in the building, showed 
him how to turn a paper document into a usable electronic 
template.  He took to it quickly, and was even able to 
suggest answers to some of the questions I'd had on the 
forms from Sunday.  

The afternoon class had a different tone from the morning 
group.  No hostility this time, but the people were sleepy 
and dull and clearly didn't want to be there.  Afternoon 
classes are like that sometimes.  

Following the second class I did a walk through the 
building, checking on people from the classes and answering 
questions.  By the time I finished one tour of the building 
my legs were complaining, my voice was getting husky and it 
was after six in the evening.  I walked back to the hotel 
to call it a night.

My nightly surprise was waiting for me, as usual.

On the ninth night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ...
Relief for your overworked throat.  If I know your 
schedule as well as I should, then you probably need 
this.  Take care of yourself, darling.

-T

Inside the gift bag was a large ceramic mug and a package 
of herbal tea: a blend of Echinacea and chamomile, my 
favorite treatment for an overworked throat.  Blessing 
Ted's foresight, I brewed a big, steaming mug of tea using 
the in-room coffee maker and settled into the easy chair.  
I propped my sore feet up on the ottoman, sipped tea, and 
read erotic poetry until it felt like bedtime.



Wednesday was pretty much a repeat of Tuesday:  an early 
start to check on the system; a morning training class; a 
working lunch with Jeffrey to teach him some aspects of 
system management that, in theory, should have been Joe 
Kendall's job; an afternoon training class; and a post-
training walk around the building to answer questions and 
provide spot tech support.  

The pattern changed at the end of the day, as I walked 
through Mortimer Cole's department.  His senior assistant, 
an older lady named Patience,  spotted me, got up from her 
desk, and came over -- a bad sign all by itself.  "Mr. Cole 
asked me to bring you in to see him when you stopped by," 
she explained in a tense undertone.  "Will you come this 
way please?"

I shrugged and followed her past Cole's office to a 
conference room.  She opened the door, ushered me in, and 
closed it behind me.  Mortimer Cole was inside, seated at 
the head of the conference table.  He stood up briefly and 
motioned toward the empty chair at the opposite end.  "Miss 
Weatherby, thank you for coming.  I apologize for pulling 
you in here without notice, but your input in this meeting 
would be invaluable."  

A table full of older men in 3-piece suits watched me as I 
sat down, giving me a strong feeling of foreboding.  
Something was up.  Cole provided brief introductions.  
"Miss Weatherby, I'd like to present my partners:  Mr. 
Fowler, Mr. Briggs, Mr. Lleweleyn; Mr. Sanderson and Mr. 
Thomas are also partners in the firm."

A nasty knot formed in my stomach as I exchanged pleasant 
greetings with the partners.  Something was up, and my 
intuition told me it wouldn't be pretty.  Sure enough, 
Cole's next words bore my suspicions true.

"Miss Weatherby," Cole said, clearing his throat, "the 
partners and I need to discuss with you the issue of Mr. 
Kendall's performance.  In your role as consultant on the 
imaging project, have you formed an impression of Mr. 
Kendall's competence as an IT manager?"

Alarm bells were going off in every corner of my head.  I 
forced myself to take a deep breath and steady myself.  
"Mr. Cole," I answered carefully, "I really don't feel 
comfortable with that question.  Joe Kendall is someone I 
only met a week ago, and it wouldn't be fair or appropriate 
for me to offer any kind of judgment on his competence.  I 
know you have some concerns, but I'd really rather not 
insert myself into the firm's personnel decisions.  I hope 
you can understand that."

Mortimer Cole's face lit up a little, like someone who's 
stumbled on a pleasant surprise.  "You're right, of 
course," he said, with the partners nodding in agreement.  
"I apologize for the approach.  If it helps any, let me 
assure you that the decision on Mr. Kendall has already 
been made; at issue in this meeting is the status of the 
imaging project, and the consequences of Mr. Kendall's 
missteps in that context.  It is my impression that the 
apparent success of the implementation has been more a 
result of your and Jeffrey's efforts than Mr. Kendall's; 
would you be amenable to discussing some of the details of 
the project in that context?"

The knot loosened a little bit.  I had no particular reason 
to defend Joe Kendall, but it's never a good idea to get 
pulled into the client's internal machinations.  "That I 
can do." 

For the next hour, I answered questions about the project.  
We discussed the problems with the equipment delivery, the 
work I'd done with Jeffrey, and the situation with the 
templates.  I confined myself strictly to the facts, 
keeping all judgment about Joe to myself.  When it was 
over, they thanked me politely and let me go.

When I got back to the hotel it was after eight and I felt 
as if I'd been grilled by a Senate committee -- which, 
considering the political clout of the lawyers I'd been 
cloistered with, wasn't too far from the truth.

There was a box on the bed this time instead of a bag.  It 
was tied in a deep red ribbon, with the card on the 
outside.

On the tenth night of Christmas, your true love sends 
to you ...
A little something to wear under your business suit 
tomorrow.  Feel this against your skin, and remember 
that while you may be brilliant with technology, 
you're also amazingly sexy.  And you're all mine.

-T

Inside the box was a teddy.  The main body of it was a 
deep, blood-red silk, with soft lace accents and thin 
straps.  I held it up against my body,  looked at it in the 
full-length mirror, and had to approve.  It felt sinfully 
smooth in my hands, and I felt my nipples tighten in 
anticipation of that luxurious cloth brushing against them.  
Tempted as I was, I hung my gift up to wear the next day.



Thursday was a big day on the schedule -- acceptance test 
day.  Each implementation ends with an acceptance test, 
where every function of the system gets demonstrated to the 
client so they can see that it works as promised.  There is 
a formal checklist that we follow, and each side keeps a 
copy as proof that the system passed.  Not only does a 
completed acceptance test make the client feel more 
confident in the system, but it also helps us in getting 
the bill paid promptly.  

It was another early morning for me.  I hit the gym as they 
were unlocking the door and put the machinery to good use, 
working off some more of my weekend indulgences.  After my 
shower, I put on my present from the night before and gave 
myself the once-over in the mirror.  

Not bad, I decided.  The teddy was smooth and comfortable, 
not too snug and not too revealing; it was sexy all right, 
but in a classy way.  I decided to go braless and enjoy the 
sensation of the silk against me all day.  My dark gray 
suit covered it nicely, giving no hint of what was beneath.  
Walking down the street to Fowler, Briggs, I felt strong 
and alive and irresistibly sexy all at once -- a feeling 
that would stay with me all day.  

Jeffrey was waiting for me in the server room when I popped 
in there, as I generally did first thing.  He looked at me, 
blinked, seemed about to say something, then shook whatever 
it was off and started over.  "Did you hear about Joe?"

I shook my head.

"He got hauled in before the partners this morning, early, 
and put on probation.  Officially, he's got 90 days to 
prove his competence and keep his job; unofficially, the 
rumor is he'll be gone by the end of the month at best."

"That's too bad," I replied.

Jeffrey grinned.  "No, it isn't.  Joe doesn't belong in 
that job, and everybody knows it.  He needs to go back to 
the Hill, where he came from.  One of the partners hired 
him here as a favor to a client who'd lost his reelection 
bid, but nobody was happy with it."

"That explains a few things," I noted.

"Yeah.  There's just one thing."  Jeffrey looked around, 
making sure we were alone.  "Joe knows that you talked to 
the partners last night.  I wouldn't expect a lot of 
cooperation from him for the rest of this project if I were 
you."

"I wasn't," I said grimly, "but I didn't --"

"I know.  Cole told me you refused to trash Joe in front of 
the partners; said he was impressed enough to offer you the 
job, but he didn't think you'd take it."

"The commute would be hell," I joked, and turned the 
subject to the upcoming acceptance test.  Jeffrey and I 
spent the rest of the morning doing a dry run through the 
test procedures, making sure that everything would work as 
planned.  I also took the opportunity to show him some more 
administration, especially how to audit activity on the 
system and how to lock out an administrative user if, or 
when, Joe Kendall got his walking papers.

I didn't see Joe until after lunch, when it was time for 
the acceptance test.  He showed up in company with Mortimer 
Cole and Cole's assistant, Patience.  Jeffrey was there 
already to complete the committee.  

There was an awkward moment at the beginning, when Joe 
volunteered himself to be the one to execute the tests.  
Normally I like to have someone from the client company 
doing the driving -- it proves that the system will work 
for someone other than me, for one thing -- but I really 
didn't think Joe was the best choice for this place.  I 
looked quizzically at Cole; he nodded and fixed the 
problem.  "Mr. Kendall," he said in a voice that would 
brook no argument.  "As an IT professional, I think we can 
assume that you would be able to successfully complete the 
test exercises.  Since Patience is more typical of users in 
the firm, I think the test would be more valid if she were 
doing the actual work.  Miss Weatherby?"

I nodded, grateful for the help.  "That's the way I usually 
like to do things," I agreed.  "With a typical user, rather 
than an IT type."

Kendall shot me a malevolent look, but yielded the seat to 
Patience.  From there on out the test went smoothly, as I 
expected it would.  Patience had no problem creating 
documents by any of the ways the system supports, filing 
them, retrieving them, faxing them, emailing them, printing 
them, etc.   Using storage reports, I was able to 
demonstrate that the test documents, which were based on 
the firm's own originals, took up less than 20 percent of 
the space those same documents used under the old system.  
While Patience worked with a long, complex document, I 
simulated a system failure by pulling the power plug on one 
of the three servers; the other two kept things running and 
the "failure" had no effect on Patience's work.  

At the end of the day I had a signed copy of the test 
results indicating the firm's acceptance of the system and 
Cole's personal assurance that the balance due would be 
paid within 15 days.  For me, it was time to celebrate.

I headed back to the hotel, wondering what Ted would have 
waiting for me this time.  He'd already done flowers, 
candy, champagne, lingerie ... all the normal clich  gifts 
that men give their women.  Plus he'd thrown in a hefty 
dose of the unexpected, with the music and the bath salts 
and the erotic poetry.  What next?

The answer was on the bed when I entered my room, as usual:  
a white satin robe and a pair of slippers, neatly folded, 
with a card in top.  



On the eleventh night of Christmas, your true love 
sends to you ...
a reward for what was surely a job well done.  Put on 
the robe and slippers -- and just those -- and go down 
to the hotel spa, next to the gym, for your massage.  
They're expecting you.

-T

The robe felt almost as good against my skin as the silk 
teddy had.  I belted it, put on the slippers, and headed 
for the spa.  I brought nothing with me but my room key, 
which I'd slipped into the robe pocket.  

I entered the spa and was greeted immediately by a friendly 
guy behind the counter.  When I told him my name, he nodded 
right away.  "Yes, we've been holding a table and shower 
for you.  If you'll come with me, please?"  I followed him 
into the back, into a large room divided by curtains.  It 
was like a hospital ward, only with a more intimate feel.  
He motioned me into a corner area with a massage table and 
a small coat tree.  "If you'll wait here," he said, 
"Veronica will be right with you."  He pulled the curtain 
closed on his way out.

That left me sitting on the massage table, holding the robe 
closed, wondering what the protocol was.  Should I shed the 
robe and lie down?  Sit up and wait?  

I didn't have to wonder long.  The curtain moved, and a 
young lady my own age poked a head in.  "Paula?"

"That's me."

She gave me a beaming smile and came in, pulling the 
curtain shut behind her.  "Great!  I'm Veronica, and I'm 
your best friend for the next ninety minutes.  Anything I 
should know about before we start -- aches, pains, recent 
injuries?"

I shook my head.  "Nothing.  Just tons and tons of job-
related stress."

Veronica nodded knowingly.  "I'll bet.  The guy who made 
the reservation for you said you've been working 12-hour 
days since Christmas, and that we should be very, very nice 
to you.  Was that your husband?"

"Boyfriend," I corrected.

"All the better -- boyfriends try harder," she said with a 
wink.  "Ready to start?"

"Sure."

"Okay, then let's have you on your tummy.  Did you want to 
keep the robe on?"

I hesitated.  "What's easier for you?"

Veronica shrugged.  "I can go either way.  It feels better 
without the robe, and it tends to get in the way when you 
move around, but I want you to be comfortable."

I took another look at the curtain, shrugged, and let the 
robe slip off.  Veronica took it from me and hung it on the 
coat tree while I climbed onto the massage table face down.  
"I'll keep you covered where I don't need to work," she 
assured me, "so just relax and enjoy."

For the next hour and a half I lay on the table and let 
Veronica work her magic on me.  She worked the muscles in 
my back, releasing tensions I didn't even realize were 
there, occasionally making a remark about a knot here or 
there and telling me to relax.  She spread warm oil on my 
skin as she worked her way up and down my entire body.  
After a while, she helped me roll onto my back.  She draped 
a towel across my pelvis and another over my eyes to block 
out the light, then went back to work.  I think I cat-
napped a little, because the time just flew by.  At one 
point she asked me something about my feet; I was too 
blissed out to pay attention, so I just grunted a "Yes" and 
let go a little more.  

The grand finale was pure sensual heaven:  I lay on my 
back, propped up slightly, while Veronica worked my neck 
and shoulders and someone else caressed my feet.  It wasn't 
until the end, when she took the towel off my face, that I 
looked down and saw that the person doing my feet was a 
man!  

He looked up at me with a broad smile.  "I'm Bill," he 
said, offering a hand.  

I shook it, then realized that I was lying there topless in 
front of this strange guy.  He didn't seem as thought it 
was a big deal to him, so I decided it wasn't a problem for 
me either.  "Bill," I told him, "You're an artist."

"My pleasure."  He winked, and made a discreet exit.  He 
hadn't even looked at my chest that I'd noticed.  Of 
course, most of the time I'd had my eyes closed and a towel 
over my face.   I vowed that if Ted asked, I'd tell him I'd 
had a female masseuse.

Veronica handed me a bath-sized towel.  "You're all done," 
she said.  "Wrap up in this, and you'll find there's a 
shower stall with your name on it behind that door and to 
the right.  There'll be a hook on the outside for your 
robe.  If there's anything else you need, just push the 
attendant button outside the shower.  Okay?"

I sighed, moving my very relaxed muscles around a bit, 
trying to wake up.  "More than okay," I told her.  "What 
comes after 'unbelievably wonderful'?"

She grinned.  "I believe 'orgasmic'.  Take care now."

The glow was still with me after I'd showered off the 
massage oil and gone back up to my room.  Still in just the 
robe, I flopped into the armchair and picked up the phone.  
Ted answered right away.  "Hello?"

"I love you," I said, breathlessly.

"I love you too," he replied, and I could imagine the grin 
on his face from his voice.  "How do you feel?"

"Like a pampered kitten.  I just want to sit here and 
purr."

"Then my job is almost done," he declared.  "Tomorrow 
night, when you get home, I'll personally lick your fur."

"Promise?"  I asked with a  leer he could hear.

"Cross my heart."




There wasn't a lot left to do Friday.  Joe Kendall called 
in sick, so I handed all of the administrator manuals to 
Jeffrey, with the approval of Mortimer Cole.  We had a 
final meeting, mostly to go over the tech support program 
and to set up the points of contact.  Mr. Cole ended that 
meeting by inviting me to lunch with him and Jeffrey.

We had a very nice lunch at a four-star restaurant.  Away 
from the office, Mortimer Cole was less formal -- he told 
stories about his grandchildren that kept us entertained 
while we waited for the food.

Over coffee, he came out with the offer Jeffrey had 
mentioned.  "Paula," he began, getting my attention right 
away.  "I'm sure Jeffrey's told you that Joe Kendall is on 
probation.  I don't think anyone expects him to stay long 
enough to improve; he's out of his depth, and all of the 
partners know it.  We could start searching for his 
eventual replacement today, but before we do, I'd like to 
offer you the position.  Your talents are obvious, and the 
partners concur with my judgment that you would be a 
valuable addition to our firm as IT manager."

I did think about it, for a second or two, but the answer 
was obvious.  "I'm sorry, Mr. Cole," I replied.  "As much 
as I would probably enjoy the work, I have family on the 
West Coast that I'd like stay near.  And with Sean's 
condition, I can't leave the company in the lurch even if I 
wanted to.  I appreciate the compliment, but I can't accept 
your offer."

Cole nodded, a resigned look on his face.  "Much the answer 
I expected," he remarked.  "Which demonstrates why you're 
exactly the kind of person we need.  If you change your 
mind ..."

"Not likely," I said, "But thank you."

My work day ended with lunch.  When I got back to the 
hotel, I was only mildly surprised to find Tony and his 
limousine waiting outside.  "We really need to stop meeting 
like this," I kidded.

"I won't tell if you don't."  His wink reminded me a little 
of Ted.

I'd already checked out; all I had to do was get my bag 
from the front desk, where the manager had stored it for 
me.  Tony got me to Dulles in plenty of time for my flight 
home.

There was only one surprise involved in the flight, and it 
was a pleasant one:  the ticket clerk at Dulles told me I 
had been upgraded to first class for the trip home.  He 
didn't have a white card for me, so I decided I probably 
had Rose to thank for that one.  No matter, I thought as I 
settled into seat 3A for the ride to San Jose.  Just 
getting home would be present enough for the twelfth night.

We landed on schedule, which was a nice bonus.  I followed 
the crowd to the baggage claim area, scouring every face 
looking for Ted.  Then, as I was straining to see through 
the crowd at the carousel, there was a tap on my shoulder.  
I turned around and there was Ted, grinning from ear to 
ear.  "Welcome home, honey."

I squealed with delight and jumped on him, smothering him 
with passionate kisses.  He held me tightly until I became 
aware of the people staring at us and broke off, 
reluctantly.  "You are going to get so much more when we 
get home," I vowed.

"I'll be ready."

We carried my things out of the terminal and toward the 
parking garage.  "What," I teased, "no limo?"

He shrugged.  "I called every service in town, and none of 
them would let us make love in the back seat during the 
ride.  So I figured if I had to keep my hands off you the 
whole way home I'd better just do the driving myself."

"There's always the back seat," I tendered.  We both 
laughed at that one.   Ted drives an Altima; it's not a bad 
size for a passenger car, but to do any serious lovemaking 
in it you'd have to be either very small or quadruple-
jointed.  So I contented myself with stroking his thigh 
suggestively while he drove and cackling in wicked glee 
every time he shifted in his seat to accommodate the 
erection I was causing.

We managed to make it home without incident.  We carried my 
things inside and dumped them in the living room, then 
started necking in earnest.  Ted carried me into the 
bedroom, my legs locked around his waist, and lowered me 
gently to the bed.  We undressed quickly, almost 
frantically, our need for each other driving out all other 
thoughts.  

The first time was fast and furious.  Ted spread my legs 
apart and just dove in, locking us together at the hips.  
We came together almost immediately, panting and grunting 
and staring deeply into each other's eyes.  

With the immediate hunger abated, we stretched out together 
on the bed and luxuriated in the joy of skin-to-skin 
contact.  Our hands explored each other's bodies as if for 
the fist time, caressing and squeezing everywhere we could.  
Ted's fingers found my steaming center and worked their way 
inside, pushing my buttons, causing that sense of urgency 
to start all over again.  I lay back, panting, while Ted 
suckled at a breast and pleasured me from within.  He 
brought me to the edge, then backed off for a few seconds, 
then started over again.  After he'd done that a few times, 
I lost myself in the sensations and the growing need for 
release.  "Do it," I moaned as his fingers brushed my 
button again.  "Please, just do it."  

For answer, he reached a little deeper into my tunnel and 
pressed on the upper wall, sending fire through my entire 
nervous system.  My bottom clenched, my back arched, and my 
brain went completely blank as I climaxed.  Ted held the 
spot, keeping me quivering and shaking, until I collapsed 
onto the bed, spent.  Then he gathered me into his arms, 
kissed me, and whispered, "I missed you.  Welcome home, 
lover."

We lay together in a lazy embrace while I recovered.  My 
hand idly played up and down Ted's torso, stroking 
aimlessly.  After a while, I felt his cock pressing against 
my leg, and the stroking became much more purposeful.  I 
deliberately let my hand stray a little lower with each 
repetition, slowing down, letting him anticipate where I'd 
stop next.  When I finally touched his cock, it was at full 
attention for me.  "Looks like somebody's ready for another 
round," I said, and grabbed his shaft in my hand.  Instead 
of pumping him, though, I just squeezed him once and then 
opened my hand, rubbing around the whole area in circles.  
I teased him, touching his thighs, his balls, his groin, 
and his cock, all in succession.  Ted got harder and 
harder, and his hips began to move with me.  "Not so fast," 
I teased, tickling his balls lightly on the way past.  
"We've got all night."  

I was recovered enough to get up, so I knelt up on the bed 
and applied both hands to the job.  One concentrated 
totally on his cock, the other on the surrounding area.  
Both I kept in constant motion.  Ted's moans let me know 
how much he was enjoying it.  Watching him writhe beneath 
me, so close to coming, was more than enough to get my 
juices flowing again as well.  Soon I'd teased him enough; 
I climbed up and took him inside me, settling down over him 
until he bottomed out.  I squeezed my muscles against him 
as we rocked up and down together.  Soon I could feel that 
little quiver that told me he was about to come; I reached 
behind and gave his balls a little fondle for good measure, 
and Ted exploded.  His whole body tensed and bucked beneath 
me, applying even more delicious pressure to the pleasure 
points inside me.  I rode him, squeezing and rocking, until 
I came again.  Then, satisfied at last, I climbed off and 
tucked myself back into his arms.

I was just about asleep when Ted stirred and rolled out of 
the bed.  "What are you doing?" I asked him, looking around 
for the clock, only to be temporarily blinded by the 
bedroom light.
"Don't go to sleep yet," he told me, as he reached into a 
drawer in his dresser.  "You'll miss your last present."

"I got my last present," I countered, purring with slaked 
sexual desire.  "Three times."

Ted laughed.  "That wasn't it," he insisted.  "I have 
something else for you.  I was going to give it you before, 
but we sorta got sidetracked right away."

Sitting on the edge of the bed at my side, he handed me a 
tiny velvet box and a white card.

On the twelfth night of Christmas, your true love 
gives to you ...
One golden ring.  And, I hope, a lifetime of 
Christmases to come.

-T

It was hard to tell for sure with the tears forming in my 
eyes, but I thought I could see Ted smiling.

"Yes," I said, before I'd even opened the box.  
"Absolutely, yes."



-wg
12/25/01

 * Thanks to Donna for providing this original poem for the story.


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