Page 1 of Christmas Craving
Celia
Ilooked out over the Seattle skyline with a sigh. I hated Christmas. The holidays were the worst. My law office was shut down for two weeks – two whole weeks where I couldn’t get any billable hours. I couldn’t even work on my break. The senior partners kept banging on about ‘work life balance’ and how we needed the holidays to ‘recharge’, so they shut down everyone’s access to the network.
Recharging was for lazy people. I was not a lazy person. I guess I could catch up on some of my law journal reading. Doing nothing wasn’t an option.
My phone dinged with an email. It was a reminder message from Club Surrender, the women-only BDSM club that I frequented on occasion, reminding members that just like my law firm, the club was closed through New Year’s Day.
Damn it! I felt itchy. Trapped. Out of control. I hated feeling out of control.
I’d cut off contact with my family years ago, deciding it was better for my mental health, so there were no family holiday plans I had to attend to. As usual, one of my friends had heard I’d be alone and feeling sorry for me, had invited me to spend Christmas with them. But I had no interest in crashing someone else’s family party. I was allergic to anything Christmas related and had a hard time hiding it.
I was better off alone rather than ruining someone’s holiday.
I just needed to find a way to burn off this restless energy. I looked around my condo. Everything was neat and tidy. There wasn’t a single fingerprint marring my glass-topped furniture. Everything was in its place. I’d done some stress cleaning last night but given that the cleaning service had been here the day before, there wasn’t much to do anyway. I liked to keep things clean and did a good job of cleaning up after myself.
I paced around my condo like a caged animal, wondering how I was going to get through to New Year’s without losing my mind.
I needed to do something to release the pressure I was feeling. A run. A long, hard run would help settle me down. At least for a little while. I pulled on a pair of running tights, a tank, and a thin jacket, tying my hair back into a short ponytail. I’d run along the waterfront trail to Centennial Park and back, that would give me ten miles, enough to wear me out a bit.
Setting out on my run, I was grateful for a rare sunny day. The miles flew by, the exertion calming my mind, and before I knew it, I was back in my neighborhood, feeling much better than when I left.
I detoured to Morning Jolt, my favorite coffee shop. It was owned by billionaire tech CEO Madison Phoenix who’d bought it as a gift for her girlfriend Camille, who used to be a barista there. Madison and I had met a few times although we didn’t know each other well. One thing was for sure, they made a great coffee here, using only the best beans.
I headed inside the coffee shop, glad to find it relatively empty for a Saturday morning. I ordered a black Americano, resisting the urge to get something sweet and foamy. I’d learned long ago to maintain a strict discipline with my diet, just like the rest of my life.
After tipping the barista I exited the shop, sipping my caffeinated goodness.
“Arthur! No!”
My head swung around to see what the shouting was all about just as a gigantic wall of fur came barreling down the sidewalk, dragging someone behind him. Why couldn’t people train their dogs? I froze, not wanting to get in the way.
I caught a glimpse of wild brown hair and what looked like a flashing reindeer sweater before the dog flew around a lamp post. Unfortunately, the girl attached to his leash flew the otherdirection, both of them tangling around the base right before the dog’s giant head crashed into my shins.
I kept myself upright – barely – but my coffee cup went flying. It sailed over the dog’s head, somehow not spilling a drop on him or me, and landed on the hood of someone’s car, the impact prying the lid off and sending my coffee over the pristine white paint.
The dog stepped its front paws on my feet before I could move away, pinning me in place and staring up at me with a big doggie grin. He’d be cute if I liked dogs – and if he hadn’t just ruined my coffee.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
The dog walker tugged the dog backwards around the light post. “Arthur, bad boy! Sit.”
The dog dropped to the sidewalk, staring up at the woman with big, sad eyes. I followed his gaze, and felt a jolt of… I didn’t know what. Shock? Surprise? Excitement.
Now that I got a good look at her, I realized that the girl was actually a full-grown woman in her mid to late twenties. Her wild brown hair was a halo of wavy curls, and her beautiful brown eyes were wide with mortification. She was curvy but not overweight, just… soft. My gaze dropped to her generous breasts which were covered with a gaudy-looking flashing reindeer sweater. Her faded jeans had seen better days, but they huggedher curvy hips and strong thighs like a lover. Suddenly my mouth felt dry.
What was wrong with me? I’d never responded to someone like this before. It was all I could do not to push her against the wall and have my way with her.
“I am so sorry about that,” the woman repeated. “We’re still working on leash training. Please, let me buy you another coffee. It’s a damned shame to waste coffee from Morning Jolt.”
Even the way she spoke was chaotic. When I didn’t respond, she asked, “What were you drinking? Let me guess, black coffee?”
I looked at her in surprise. “Americano.”
“Since I’m buying the next one, are you sure you don’t want something that’s actually tasty, like a peppermint mocha or a caramel macchiato?”
“Americanos are tasty,” I snapped with a hint of temper.
One dark eyebrow rose, but the woman didn’t take the bait. I took a deep breath. It wasn’t like me to lose my cool like that. They called me The Ice Queen at work for a reason – I was usually impossible to rattle. But something about the dog slobbering on the sidewalk between us and the way this woman was looking at me like she could see beyond my icy mask was making me feel off kilter.
