Page 11 of A Man for the Holidays

“Jerome and Clarence. You’re right Spencer; they do look a little lonely in there. I just wanted to reassure them that I’ll be back soon. Hey, did you know that there are two men looking for me?”

“Men? What kind of men?” he asks.

“I don’t know. One was rather tall, not the best-looking man I’ve ever seen, and then there was the other guy, a shorter one, who was with him. They were talking about a missing mannequin, clothes, shoes and my suitcase.”

“That sounds like security, or the police. Damn it, Olivia must have reported you stolen, and now they have cops out there looking for you.”

“Shall we go to lunch?” I ask.

He nods then leads the way inside the mall.

By the time we get home, I’m exhausted with barely enough energy to walk through the front door. I quickly go to my room, remove my boots, socks, jacket and scarf, then sit on the bed and stare out into the darkness in front of me. I see something out of the corner of my eye and turn around to see Spencer standing outside my door.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I think so. I’m just, I don’t know, I think… tired. Is that what you call it when your entire body is aching, and you feel like you could just sleep for hours and hours?”

“Yeah, I feel like that every night when I come home from work. Um, did you want to use the shower first?”

“Shower?” I ask.

“Yeah. That thing that you use to wash your hair and body, people usually have one after a long day of work.”

“Oh, I see,” I tell him. “Sure, I’ll just grab a change of clothes.”

He wanders away and leaves me ponder my own thoughts, terrifying and confusing thoughts, I might add. While standing as a statue at the store, I never heard people talk about showers, I guess it’s not something that you openly speak about in public. To tell you the truth, there’s a whole lot of things that terrify me right now. So many questions I want answered that I can’t bring myself to ask Spencer about. I get to my feet and open the top drawer of the nightstand and pull out the boxer briefs I packed in there yesterday. Then I grab the robe Olivia has had me model every weekend this winter to promote her latest sleepwear range.

I slide out of the clothes I’ve been wearing all day and put on the robe, then grab a towel from the linen closet Paige had told me about earlier at breakfast, before making my way into the bathroom. I step inside, then close the door behind me and lock it. I throw the towel over the shower screen then make my way over to the mirror and stare at my reflection, a strange habit I do regularly it would seem. I loosen the knot on the front of my robe and pull it open, then stare at myself as I allow the robe to slide off my shoulders and fall to the floor. I spend several long seconds looking at my reflection, my eyes moving up and down as I study myself in a completely different way. I’m used to standing partially naked in a window display, but this is different, my skin is much smoother, and I’m covered in all these bumps along my arms. I know the ones across my chest are called abs, I only know that because of the number of times I’ve heard Olivia compliment them. And I know there’s something called biceps which are also on my arms, but as for the rest of these bumps and other thick areas of skin, I have absolutely no idea what they’re called.

I turn around, slide open the shower door, then step inside, closing the door after me. I then turn the water on, and immediately feel it prickle against my face and I let out a loud gasp. I squint my eyes closed and move aside from the prickly water momentarily until I begin to shiver from the cold, and then I slowly position myself again. This time, the water hits my head, and I feel it pour down my forehead and face, and even into my mouth. I stand still for a few seconds, allowing the prickling sensation of the water to slide down my body, and then I lean my head back against the glass wall of the shower, and close my eyes. I slowly run my palms down my chest, to my stomach, and then down to my––oh my, hello.

I open my eyes and look down to see my real-life penis or as I’ve heard Olivia constantly refer to it as, my cock, pointing straight up.

“Wow. This is different,” I gasp.

Slowly and cautiously, as if afraid I’m going to break the thing, I slide my palm over it, and feel the soft, smooth skin get covered with water. I then take my other hand and place it on my cock also, but this time, I curl my palm around it. I remove my other hand, and with one hand wrapped firmly around it, I begin to slowly slide it up and down my cock, and as I continue to do so, I feel a sensation, something that I’ve never felt before.

“Well, this is certainly much more pleasurable than the plastic bulging mound that I’m used to seeing as a substitute for a penis.”

As the water continues to spray on me and run down my body, I continue exploring my new sensation, then tilt my head backward against the glass interior once more. Images of Spencer flash through my mind, and I feel another type of sensation, this one much more remarkable than the last. With my fist still firmly wrapped around my cock, I increase the speed, sliding it up and down the long length several times.

“Oh, fuck,” I pant several times.

My groans get louder, and as I continue to enjoy myself under the water, I begin using my other hand. I place it underneath my cock and slowly begin caressing the wrinkly, but soft sac-like bag that’s hanging freely.

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck… Oh fuck!” I grunt, louder and louder.

As I continue pleasuring myself, I feel the sensation in the sac make its way down the length of my cock, and when I slide my fist up and down my cock a few more times I let out a loud pleasurable sound as something white, wet and thick drips from the larger part of my cock. Panting, I stop sliding my fist up and down my dick and take a step forward so that I’m now standing underneath the water. It takes some getting used to, but I manage to deal with the prickly feeling of the water pelting against my body, and after some time it actually feels rather pleasant.

I’m not sure how long I spend under the water, but the water is now rather cold, and my fingertips are rather wrinkly and look as though they could use a good ironing. I turn off the water, then slide open the door and step out into the rather cold and steamy bathroom. After spending some more time in front of the mirror, I decide to finally get dressed in only my boxer briefs, then make my way back to the bedroom.

When I sit down on the bed, after a few minutes I hear the door to the room open and when I look up, I see Spencer standing in the doorway. He looks at me for several seconds then smiles but says nothing.

“Hi, Spencer,” I say.

“Hey. Did you leave any hot water for me?”

“What?” I ask, confused.

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