A Mistletoe Kiss

My name is Curtis and a few years ago I was a warehouse porter in a large department store on the high street of our local town. It was the usual sort of high street with the standard line of chain store shops interspersed with a few surviving small businesses, and one of those small businesses was a ladies clothing shop run by its owner and sole employee, a beautiful lady somewhere in (I thought) her mid forties. I found out later that she was actually fifty-three at the time of this story, and that made her exactly twenty-three years older than I was.

Her name was Patricia, although she preferred Trish, and it must be said that she was a very attractive woman, tall - in heels she matched my near six foot height - slim, and elegant, and with a figure that women half her age would have died for. Her face seemed somehow inviting, if you can understand, with friendly brown eyes, full mouth and wide chiselled nose. Her dark hair was shot through with a little grey among the black curls, but that didn't matter because it wasn't just her looks; it was more the way she carried herself, confident and graceful, that made her stand out. But for all that, she wasn't in the slightest bit aloof, in fact she was a very friendly and down to earth person with a smile and a wave for everyone she knew, and that included me.

Almost as soon as I began working nearby she would raise a hand and smile in recognition each time each time I walked past on the way to the sandwich shop, and I would smile and wave back. Then I began to put my head in the door and say hello, and this soon escalated into me calling in for a quick chat if there were no customers in the shop.

Our chat's were about everything and nothing, ranging from the state of trade, to the weather, to pretty much any subject that came up. They were always fairly innocuous, although there might be a little gentle teasing from either side or even, from my side, a little light flirting, although it was never heavy and never expected to be. Well, I mean, how could it be when I was a rather grubby porter and she was the sophisticated owner of her own business? I'd get a smile and then she'd gently put me back in my place with some appropriate, but never unkind, riposte, and we'd change the subject.

Then one day in February I called in to find her with an uncharacteristic frown on her face.

'Not a good day?' I asked.

'No, the day's fine.' She answered. 'It's my head that isn't. I'm just trying to work out an order for winter stock, and especially what I might need for Christmas itself, and I feel like I'm going around in circles. Order too much and I'm stuck with it, order too little and people moan that I haven't got what they want.'

'Christmas stock already?' I couldn't suppress my surprise. 'But it's only just gone.'

'Yes, I'm afraid we have to think way ahead in this business.'

'Right.' I grinned with impulsive bravado. 'I'll have to contact my supplier and put my Christmas order in then, won't I?'

'What have you got to order?' She asked, her face a mask of bewilderment. 'You don't order for the shop, do you?'

'No. I mean my personal order.' I was grinning more widely by now.

'Go on.' She told me, realising there was some kind of joke coming. 'I'll bite.'

'Well,' I told her, trying to look serious. 'I'm going to order some mistletoe, so that I can come in here on Christmas Eve and give you a scare.'

She stifled an embarrassed giggle.

'Be careful, how do you know it wouldn't be me giving you a scare if you did?' She asked, her head tipped coquettishly to one side.

'I don't.' I admitted, not quite sure what she meant.

The subject was smoothly changed then, and I found myself talking about how the various holidays got their names. But her remark stuck in my head and I was still thinking about it as Christmas itself came nearer again. I wondered if I dare take a sprig of mistletoe in to her, or would that be pushing my luck too far. Oh, well, nothing ventured and all that, so the day before I went out and bought some.

Christmas Eve came and the warehouse staff finished early, leaving the shop staff to deal with the last minute shoppers. A couple of beers with my workmates and I was on my way home - past the shop that Trish ran. Except, of course, that I didn't go past.

'Hello.' She smiled at me as I came through the door. 'Finished for the holiday?'

'Yes, haven't you?' She was wearing a light grey suit over a white blouse, and looking absolutely stunning.

'Another half an hour maybe, and then I'll call it a day.' She stopped and looked about her as if to see if there was a hidden customer or two, then changed the subject. 'Are you doing anything nice this Christmas?'

I'd been wondering how to get to where I wanted, and this was the ideal lead in. 'Yes, I've got something in mind. That's why I'm here.'

'Oh?' She cocked her head to one side as she so often did and looked at me curiously.

'I've come for my scare.'

'Scare?' Her brows knitted in bewilderment. She had clearly forgotten our conversation of so long ago.

I pulled the tiny sprig of mistletoe from my pocket and held it out towards her. 'Yes, don't you remember? You said that if I came in with mistletoe you'd give me a scare, unless that was another name for a kiss? So I've come for my scare, whichever it was.'

For a moment the bewilderment intensified, and then her brown eyes lit up and she burst into laughter as she remembered. 'My god, you've got a heck of a memory. That was last year, almost anyway.'

I just smiled and held the mistletoe over my head.

'I don't quite think that's exactly what I said.' She was trying to look stern and failing. 'It's a long time ago, but I think you said it would scare me, and then I think I told you to be careful it wasn't the other way around.'

'I'll take the risk.' I still had the mistletoe above my head.

She giggled girlishly again and then, with a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, she came over and kissed me quickly on the lips. The contact was very fleeting, but I was so conscious of the softness of her full lips and delicate scent of her perfume that it took me a moment or two to get my head back together.

'Is that it?' I teased. 'That didn't scare me.'

'It did me.'

I couldn't make sense of that remark, and so I pressed my luck a little further.

'I don't know why. I didn't even put my arms round you.'

'I know you didn't, and it's probably just as well.'

I got the distinct impression that she had wanted to, but daren't. For a brief moment I thought I could see just a hint of a longing in her expression, although I couldn't be sure. But it gave me the nerve to push it a little bit further. After all, she was such a beautiful woman and not the kind I'd ever kissed before.

'Come on. Give me a proper kiss, I won't tell anyone.'

She looked at me uncertainly. 'Are you sure you want one from me?'

'You can count it as a Christmas present to me if you like.'

'I don't think we should, not really.'

'It's only a kiss.' A kiss was genuinely all I was looking for. I just wanted to find out if the previous indication of her being a brilliant kisser was right or not. 'Nobody will know, so what will it matter?'

I lowered the mistletoe and pushed it back into my pocket. Somehow it had gone from a light-hearted Christmas kiss to the real thing, and strangely that seemed to suit her better, for I could see that she was wavering. She gave me a strange look, as if to say "I hope you know what you're doing".

'What if anyone sees us?'

I cheered silently in triumph. 'The stockroom?'

She looked around her, and then out onto nearly deserted street, and then grabbed my hand, leading me hastily towards the back of the shop. When I think back, that was the only physical contact we'd ever had apart from the momentary meeting of our lips a couple of minutes earlier, and I'd known her to talk to for nearly two years.

The stockroom served as an office, a storeroom and a place to go during lunch breaks, so it was obviously pretty cluttered. But then we weren't going to need that much room to share a kiss. She leaned her bottom back on the edge of the old wooden table that was used for lunches, and turned to face me.

'Wait.' I said, as I pulled off my coat, damp from winter drizzle, and hung it behind the door. 'Now I'm ready.'

'One kiss.' She warned me as I came closer.

'One kiss.' I confirmed as I reached out for her.

There was just a second's hesitation before she reached out too, and then we went towards each other until our faces were just inches apart. I looked into the dark pools of liquid chocolate that she had instead of eyes, then she closed them and our mouths came together in a longer kiss.

Her full lips were as soft and sweet as that first brief kiss had suggested and her body, pressed more firmly against mine than I had expected, felt wonderful. My arms went around her back as hers went around mine, and we kind of moulded into each other.

It wasn't a full on lovers kiss, because although our lips were parted our tongue stayed firmly in our own mouths. Nonetheless it was the best Christmas kiss I've ever had, and it seemed to last for ages before, breathlessly and reluctantly, we drew apart.

We didn't part completely, neither of us wanted to. I kept my hands resting on her waist and hers stayed on my shoulders, as if we were holding each other at a distance while we understood the effects of that first real kiss. Her eyes looked searchingly into mine and although I didn't then understand what she was searching for, I do now. She stared at me silently for a good sixty seconds, making me feel just a little uneasy, before she closed her eyes once more, gave a tiny little groan and pulled me back towards her.

This time it was a full on kiss. There was an excited urgency in her, as if the decision to kiss me properly had been made and had to be acted upon straight away, and this time her mouth was pressed firmly onto mine, her tongue finding its way between my rather startled lips.

Startled or not, I couldn't help reacting and our tongues were quickly dancing around each other, fencing and probing into each other's mouths, while our lips mashed harder together. I soon felt my cock begin to respond within the confines of my jeans, lengthening and straightening uncomfortably. I moved slightly, trying to avoid pressing it against her, but she must have felt it anyway, for she groaned for a second time and her body rubbed sinuously against me.

Her arms were around me in earnest now, hands stroking me, clawing at my sweatshirt, pulling it out of my jeans by accident or design until her fingertips found my bare skin and she burrowed under to massage my back with the flat of her palms. It was as if she had suddenly lost control, and I must admit that I was both turned on and, as she had predicted, a little bit scared. It was not the reaction to an innocent mistletoe kiss that I had expected, not that I was complaining.

Unexpectedly it seemed possible that a seasonal kiss was going to turn into something much more erotic, something much more thrilling than I'd ever thought possible. I didn't know how far she was willing for things to go, but I was sure as hell going to find out. I copied her, reaching under the jacket of her suit to find her blouse and pull it loose from her skirt, my hands quickly finding their way under it to feel soft warm skin. She groaned into my mouth as I slid my hand up her back, going between her bra strap and her skin, pulling her closer still and then fumbling at the fastening, wanting it out of the way, wanting to feel an uninterrupted stretch of smooth skin as much as anything.

Suddenly she wriggled out of my arms, pushing me away. That, I thought, is that, I've gone too far, but rather than appearing angry she seemed bewildered, confused. She held up a hand.

'Wait.'

For a split second I wondered what for, but then I heard her heels across the shop floor and the snick of the door catch dropping, and with some relief I understood. The sounds of light switches darkening the shop itself confirmed my thoughts. It wouldn't do to get caught by some last minute customer.

'I guess I'm closed for the holiday.' She smiled self-consciously as she came back, stopping a few feet away from me to gather herself.

She seemed much less anxious now, as if she understood what was happening and was ready for it. She was a woman used to being in command of herself and now she reassumed that control by deliberately watching me as she took off her jacket and hung it carefully on the back of a chair before slowly and seductively unbuttoning her white silk blouse. Unfastened, she let it fall to the floor of its own accord, but instead of picking it up she calmly ignored it, consciously standing facing me so that I could look at her, her white bra standing out against her skin.

'It's what you want, isn't it?' She asked, her voice taut and the message plain.

'Yes.' I answered directly. 'Do you?'

'Yes, oh yes.' She smiled again, this time a wry kind of smile. 'Ever since we first met. But I thought I might frighten you away if I did anything about it. I couldn't see you wanting a woman of my sort.'

Then I understood what she had meant by being scared to kiss me under the mistletoe, and I also knew what she meant by a woman of "my sort". She was worried that I wouldn't want her because she was black. But she couldn't have been more wrong. I'd long hankered to make love to "her sort" of woman, especially one as stunningly beautiful as she was.

'And I didn't think you'd fancy a scruffy young guy of any sort.'

'Then we were both wrong, weren't we.' She cocked her head in that old familiar way and then bent to pick up her blouse, letting the dark fullness of her breasts show over her half cup bra. I felt my mouth go dry and my heart begin to beat faster in sudden anticipation.

She draped the blouse over her jacket and turned back towards me, standing still as if wondering what to do next. This time it was my turn to hesitate momentarily, but then I reached out, grabbed her hand and hauled her the short distance back into my arms.

There was no reticence now. We kissed like there was no tomorrow, our arms holding each other close and little pleasure noises coming from both of our throats. Very soon, with our mouths still glued together and our tongues intertwined like mating snakes Trish was tugging at my sweatshirt, impatiently trying to get it over my head without breaking our clinch while I struggled manfully with her bra catch. Eventually we both admitted defeat and parted long enough for my shirt to be hauled off and her bra to join it on the floor.

Breathing harder from arousal and from such intense kissing we stood for a minute and looked at each other naked to the waist. I'm in reasonable shape, my job sees to that, so I didn't mind her eyes on me, and nor did I mind when her hand came out to run through my chest hair and down over the flat of my belly. It was a lovely erotic sensation.

For my part I couldn't help but stare, because her exposed breasts were magnificent, full sweet brown orbs tipped with long nipples so dark they appeared almost tinged purple. I just stood and looked, and licked dry lips, an action that made her giggle girlishly again. She wanted me to look, I could tell, for she stood with her arms pressed against her sides to accentuate the fullness of her bosom, her hands by her sides as she watched me staring at the rise and fall of her breasts. I must admit that I was entranced, both by the sight before me and by the fact that I'd got to see it in the first place. I don't think I would ever have torn my eyes free if she hadn't turned away to hang her bra over her other clothes and broken the spell.

This time when she turned back she reached for the zip at the side of her skirt before we became too entangled, popping the button and releasing it to fall and pool around her feet. If I'd thought she was beautiful before, then now there could never be any doubt. Her stomach was flat, her legs were long and firm, athlete's legs that joined where a lovely mound showed through her tiny white panties. The contrast between her brown skin and those little panties was so damn striking, especially as she wore hold-ups that seemed to enhance the firmness of her thighs. Then she kicked off her shoes, bent to collect them and her skirt and added them tidily to the pile of clothes before she stood passively to face me once more.

'Do you like what you see?' She asked.

I nodded as I tried to get my voice to work. 'Yes.'

'Really.'

'Yes, really.'

'Can I check that out?' Trish looked meaningfully and mischievously at the front of my jeans.

I stepped closer, reaching out and cupping her breasts for a few short seconds until she bent and took them out of my reach. But the memory of that brief contact stayed with me, even as I felt her fiddling with my belt buckle, the warm weight of flesh in my palms, the hardness of nipples on my skin, and the firm fullness of lovely dark breasts. Then for a moment my jeans tightened as she pulled my belt undone before I felt the vibration of my zip descending and my jeans being pulled down, driving the memory of her breasts into the back of my mind. She crouched in front of me, wriggling tight jeans down my legs.

'Damn, I can't do it.'

Just for a moment I thought that she was backing out, losing her bottle, but then I realised she that I still had my shoes on and she couldn't get my jeans off. I smiled to myself and put a toe behind each heel in turn, steadying myself with my hands on her shoulders as I pushed my trainers off, still fastened. Then, still with my ands on her shoulders, I lifted each foot in turn for her to finish the job.

Still crouching in front of me in the tiny stockroom Trish swiftly ran her hands up my bare thighs until she reached my shorts, then she ran her hands lightly over the cotton material, softly stroking the length of my cock with a faint growl of approval and need, and making me close my eyes with the sudden pleasure. Then, hooking her fingers into my waistband, she began to drag them down, eagerly pulling them away from my body at the front to allow my very erect cock to spring free. Her eyes pinned themselves to it as she removed my shorts and my socks, my hands still on her shoulders for balance, leaving me totally naked before her.

'I'm glad you locked that door.' I whispered jokingly, looking down as she stared at my erection, her hand reaching forward to close around my shaft.

'So am I.' She replied more seriously. 'My husband is not a forgiving man.'

Up to that point to had never even occurred to me that she might be married, but a quick glance at her finger revealed the wedding ring that I had probably deliberately not seen. I know it should have done, but for some reason it didn't seem to matter, I think I would have taken any risk right then to be right where I was.

'That's nice.' I told her as she ran her hand along my cock, sweeping the pad of one finger over the head each time. She flicked a quick smile up at me and then quickly leaned forward.

'Oh god, that's even nicer.' I told her as her mouth closed over the head of my cock.

She didn't suck me for long, her head dipped just three or four times to take me deep into her mouth before she pulled herself away and stood up, facing me with an oddly shy smile on her face. 'Sorry, but I just had to do that.'

'Hey.' I told her. 'You think I'm going to complain?'

'No, but I don't want to seem a tease, it's just that I'd never done to a white man before.'

'And I'd never had a black woman do it, so now we're quits.' I told her, pulling her close again and kissing her on the mouth, enjoying the pressure of her breasts on my chest and the feel of my cock against her belly.