Holly and the Cocktail Party

Holly was quite a party animal: she loved all the festivities of Christmas; the decorations, the tinsel, and of course the parties. So she was particularly pleased to learn that her new workplace held a big Christmas party.
She dressed for it with more than the usual attention, having noticed a rather attractive man who ran the mailroom, and hoping he might be at the party. He had caught her attention very soon after her arrival at the Tow Truck Company,(A Good Pull) when he had appeared at her desk with a massive package. His smile had also impressed her.

To her delight her greeted her only moments after she arrived. She was just removing her coat when a voice behind her said “Can I help you get it off?” and he gallantly slid the coat off her bare shoulders and hung it up,- after a long moment in which his eyes fell on her nibblicious cleavage. That was embarrassing, and caused a slight scuffle as he retrieved them. By way of compensating for that awkward incident, he made a point of hanging her coat up carefully. Very carefully. Holly could see how well hung it was.

The man leaned close and whispered in her ear “would you like a cocktail?”
Holly blushed. “Go on then…tell me one”
“No I meant to drink” he answered “This is a cocktail party”
“Oh gosh!” Holly was not sure how to respond, being inexperienced with such matters. “What is there?”
“You can have a Black Russian, or a B52, or… a Sloe Comfortable Screw….”
After a pause to collect her thoughts, which she had left in her coat pocket, Holly decided on a Black Russian. The mail room man, who introduced himself as Hugh, put an arm gently behind her to guide her to the cocktail table.
It was not quite the fancy mixology bar she might have hoped for, and the slight disappointment must have shown on her face, for Hugh smiled and said “We haven’t all the facilities as you can see, but we find we can do it on the table as well as anywhere else”
And who, thought Holly to herself, could say no to a Sloe Comfortable Screw even if it was only on a table?

Hugh, with a few deft moves, mixed her a Black Russian, and as he held it out to her, added, “I can show you a little trick with it…”
Holly’s eyes widened in anticipation. Hugh reached for a small bottle of Guinness at the back of the table. He tapped his nose conspiratorially and said, as he flicked off the top with a handy opener “I put this bottle here. It’s my secret” and then poured a little into the Black Russian, which instantly rose up in the glass with a layer of creamy bubbles.
“That’s the way to give a Black Russian a good head” he whispered. “Don’t ask me how I know…”
Holly took the glass and sipped a little primly and cautiously. Hugh watched her face for a reaction. He watched her soft, full red lips enfolding the edge of the glass, and the head slipping into her mouth. He began to sense a package which he needed to deliver.

After a few more sips Holly lowered the glass and licked her lips, which only made the delivery more urgent.
“Ooh look!” she exclaimed, “nibbles”
Hugh, mishearing her, glanced down at the front of her dress, but seeing nothing more revealing than before, realised his mistake.

He followed her gaze and saw another, smaller table, laden with goodies.
“I’m famished!” Holly exclaimed, making for the table. She picked up a breadstick which she gestured with as she spoke
“Do you know everyone here? I haven’t been here long so I hardly know anyone”
Hugh smiled, the sort of smile which causes crinklage at the edges of the eyes and a widening of the mouth. It was traditional, but it suited him.
“I know pretty much everyone. Goes with the job, you know. I get into every office…” his smile widened further (as far as it could without being weird) as he added quietly “and a LOT of orifices too”

Holly did not hear the latter comment. She was watching a group of people getting rather loud and silly near the cocktail table
“Will the managing director be here. I’ve never met him?”
“Of course” answered Hugh
“I was just wondering whether it’s a good idea to get drunk if the MD is around”
“Relax. He’s in the middle of that group”
“Oh!” exclaimed Holly, and in the moment of surprise reached for a cheesey football with her free hand whilst still holding a breadstick. The excess of nibbliness available to her at that moment caused some difficulties and the cheesey football fell down into the front of her dress.
“Goal!” whispered Hugh, spotting the incident. “Shall I help you with that?”
Holly looked up in surprise, and her eyes met his. They introduced themselves and in a few moments it was as if they were old friends. Whilst they were finding out just what they had in common, Holly was blushing, but at the same time (she was a woman, and therefore could multitask) thinking that there would never be a better time to familiarise herself with this man who was SO mail.

Hugh, guiding her gently away from the crowd, gently reached down into the warm, soft nook of her volumpty cleavage, which was pulsing with her heartbeat and heaving with her breaths, and deftly removed the cheesey football which had so quickly made itself at home there. Well, who could blame it? He slipped the cheesey football into his mouth, savouring it far more than usual.

Holly giggled; “There’s still crumbs!” she exclaimed. Hugh glanced around the room, and then drew her to the door (he had a pencil handy)
“I’ll need to be more thorough, so we’d better go somewhere quieter”
Holly, her breath heaving even more now, and taking her breasts with it, nodded eagerly and they slipped away from the party.
They found somewhere quieter: At least it was quieter to start with, but after a few minutes of crumb-retrieval Holly became a bit gaspy. Hugh was as thorough as he had claimed: he did indeed have Access All Areas as he had hinted, and it showed. Holly liked surprise parcels and unwrapped his with enthusiasm, and found it stood up to all her expectations.
Hugh, the mail/male man with the massive package was making the delivery of his life, and Holly enjoyed a slow comfortable screw without spilling a drop.
It was Christmas, after all, and Holly loves a big yule log to stoke her fire.

Philomena’s pumpkins

Philomena had been living in her little terraced house for several months: it was time she had a housewarming party. As the nights were drawing in (in what? Philomena had no sketchbooks) she decided a hallowe’en party would be good.
She was a very creative young woman, and inspired both creativity and procreativity in those she met. (Especially the men) So as the day approached, she had cut and glued, baked and decorated until all was ready.
Her buns were beauties, and generously topped with cherries. To welcome her guests, she had opened her curtains and put her magnificent pumpkins on display. They glowed invitingly in the windows and the porch

The guests had all promised to take up the fancy dress theme with great gusto: the first, however, arrived dressed almost completely normally, with just a model of a mousetrap dangling out of the front of his jeans. Philomena was baffled. “What have you come as?” she asked,
He leaned forward, perilously close to her hot pumpkins
“Hampton Court”
Philomena showed him the way in, her laughter tinkling like the Manneken Pis.
“We’re doing cocktails in here” she said, showing him into her kitchen
He smiled. “I’ll have a think.” he said “But perhaps later you can tell me some?” he winked, and the mousetrap wiggled…
She was busy then, answering the door to groups of guests, wearing fangs, capes, bandages, fake blood and many other creative disguises.
In no time at all it seemed that the place was full, the music was pounding and people began to feel hot in their rubber masks and elaborate costumes.

Time for some games, she thought. Having always tried to introduce some variety to her themes, she had replaced the usual apple bobbing with the somewhat gentler plum bobbing. Latin scholars were amused by this and many intellectual jokes were cracked on the theme of Plumb Bob, but Philomena explained that she had always found it terribly difficult with apple bobbing: getting a grip on the hard, moving fruit was tricky, whereas getting her lips round soft plums was far more appealing. So they dunked their heads down in turn, being oh-so-gentle with the plums to avoid damaging them, and all agreed it was a much better way to play the game.

They played Hunt the Spider too: though this was less successful as Philomena’s girlfriends were all meticulously groomed. Still, it turned out to be a very popular game, nonetheless.

The cocktails were popular: every seemed to have one, and the giggling coming from the kitchen suggested that many were very entertaining.

It was time for Philomena to get her buns out. They were received with gasps of admiration. A handsome man dressed as a wizard came up to compliment her on them. He leaned close and whispered in her eerie: “They are magnificent!”
Philomena smiled, and as she did so, felt a nudge from his broomstick
“Trick or treat?” he asked
Philomena turned and looked at him: he was tall – or was it just his hat? It was certainly very big, and she had always felt that was a good sign. On impulse she flicked his brim – gently, so as not to alarm him. He laughed, and complimented her on her costume. She was dressed as a witch, in a most becoming black gown which clung to her buns, baps and other baked goods in a way which made him very hungry.

“A witch and a wizard!What a pair!” he exclaimed, his eyes fixed on her bewitching chesticles “Maybe I should take you away from all this…” Philomena opened her stunningly beautiful eyes wide (she rarely did this, feeling as she did, quite guilty about the people she stunned) and teased him; “On your broomstick?”
There was a slightly awkward pause…then the man conceded “Ah. You noticed. Sorry, it was just when you got your buns out then…” his voice trailed off in embarrassment.
“Oh no!” exclaimed Philomena, with one of her delicious melon-eating smiles “Don’t apologise! I am very flattered that you liked then so much”
He relaxed, and then, feeling more confident, whispered in her ear “Would you like me to dust your cobwebs?”
Philomena nodded. Her mouth was dry. No matter; soon she would have a cocktail of her own
They left the other guests to their plums and cocktails, and crept upstairs.
It was her first experience of straddling a broomstick, and she found she had no fear of flying. Together they made magic: there were sparks, and spells, and eventually all her cobwebs were blown away….