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That Olde Christmas Magic - A Collection of Short Erotic Stories.
By Morgan Q. O’Reilly
Start with five gold rings, wrap with ribbons and bows, add a paddle, and let the party begin!
Angels might get wings with every bell that rings, but four couples find that bells and magic this Christmas send them flying on wings of love.
~ Victor and Terri find their spell with five words and Five Gold Rings.
~ Greg and Lisa’s hearts are Tied Up in a Bow and lessons in trust.
~ Sheldon has A Paddle for Patti and she learns every now and again it’s good for the soul.
~ Edward learns All Amelia Wants for Christmas and fulfills her wildest dream.
Five days until Christmas.
The V Club was officially closed for the day but, unofficially, Edward Milbank still had plenty of work to do. On the four floors above him, extra help in the form of professional cleaners and decorators worked to transform the former residence into a gleaming, glittering winter holiday spectacle.
There were others to supervise the work. His crew had been through the routine many years in a row. He just had to review the plans, look for holes, and pay the bills.
One blessing of the exclusive club he managed was the low turnover of staff. From cooks to attendants to the serving maids, there hadn’t been a staff change since Susan had left to have a baby two years prior. His people were well paid to work in a fantasy world.
Like him, they had seen it all, and cleaned up when it was over. Every kink someone could imagine had taken place within the walls of this East Side former residence. Plain and oh so respectable on the outside, the neighborhood knew it was some sort of social club, although they mistook the V beside the door as the house number. What took place behind the heavy velvet drapes was something else again.
Yes, everyone who worked in this den of erotic decadence was paid very well to serve champagne, hors d’oeuvres, hang coats, wipe down surfaces, hand out condoms, or towels as needed, and above all keep silent. Occasionally they got lucky and enjoyed a more intimate exchange with the members, most of whom were the kind of people he’d grown up with. The bluebloods of old New York. Deviant members of the society families still dancing at debuts and cotillions, holding charity events meant to showcase their largesse. Nothing had changed since the first gala of long ago. The only difference within these walls was the women didn’t wear a stitch of clothing to hide, or protect, their bodies.
The club was founded over a hundred years earlier by top tier tycoons of the Victorian era to admire and worship the flesh of Venus as represented by the women brought by their men. The flesh couldn’t be properly worshipped if covered.
A knock sounded at his door and he welcomed the interruption.
“Come,” he called out.
The woman who entered the room was every bit as elegant and refined as the original founders had desired. Had they been in England, he had no doubt the woman would have been a Duchess or Countess at the very least. Lady Astor seemed a far more appropriate title for her than Mrs. Walker.
She gently closed the door and locked it.
Edward rose and adjusted his tie.
“Don’t fuss, Edward,” she said.
“I love using the staff entrance. You don’t have time to go entirely formal on me.” A wry smile graced her face that had been photographed hundreds of times. Anyone who followed Society news knew exactly who she was.
Finger by finger she pulled off supple black leather gloves then tucked them into her purse and tossed it on a chair. He reached her side and she turned to allow him to help remove her coat.
“Thank you, darling.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your surprise visit?” Indeed, she never gave him advance warning. In truth, her visits were exceedingly rare. Possibly once a year. He was surprised to see her now. She’d been in just before Halloween. He carefully laid her coat over an arm of the settee under a seventeenth century oil painting.
“I have a request.”
“Please, have a seat.”
Instead of taking a guest chair at his desk, she moved to the settee. Left with little choice, he turned a chair around and sat facing her with the low coffee table between them. A table she’d once tied him to. Another time he’d tied her to it.
“May I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea?”
The look she directed at him was decidedly jaded and amused at the same time. “You?”
Edward laughed gently. “If that is truly your desire, I’m sure we can arrange something.”
“No, for the moment I’m fine.” She leaned back and spread her arms over the back of the settee, much like a willing submissive waiting to be tied to the cross. Not a position she adopted often. “I have a special request to make. For the Christmas Eve party, I’d like to be the… centerpiece.”
Not much surprised Edward anymore when it came to the requests made by the members, but usually it was the men making the requests on behalf of their women.
Granted, Mrs. Walker had been the exception from the first time she’d come to the club, a very confident eighteen, from the stories he’d heard. He hadn’t met her until the board of directors hired him fifteen years earlier, but Mrs. Walker was the stuff of legends. A female dominant right from the beginning, she led her husband around by a collar and chain.
Thus, when she made the request to be the party centerpiece, it set Edward back in his chair.
“Are you so astounded?” Head cocked to the side, she gazed at him. “Amazing. I don’t think I’ve surprised you since the first time I propositioned you for a private one-on-one.”
Edward cleared his throat. That was an afternoon he remembered with exceptional clarity. Considered a Dominant himself in the usual course of business, he’d never submitted sexually to anyone except her. In return, she’d submitted to him a time or two. Depending on the circumstances, they could switch from one to the other with little trouble. She’d pretty much ruined him for anything more than a casual one nighter here and there with a few trusted friends, women with no interest in deep or lasting affairs.
“Yes, I am surprised. You’ve never put yourself up for public exhibition before, much less relinquished your position as top in front of the membership. Mind telling me why?”
Light colored eyes that reminded him of cut crystal laughed at him, but the set of her mouth was hard. Brittle. “Must I plead my case? Very well.” One leg crossed over the other beneath the knee length skirt of a subdued but elegant sweater dress in a soft camel color. Boots outlined a very shapely calf.
“I suppose you’ve more than earned my trust these past years. The truth is, I’m fed up. Charles has stomped on my last nerve, and I don’t intend to put up with him one moment longer. The idiot is heading off to the Bahamas with the slut du jour. Over Christmas, no less. He’s grown more careless about hiding his indiscretions and my tolerance is at an end. So, before he completely flushes his division of my family company down the tubes, I’m selling the whole thing off, lock, stock and barrel to a bigger fish that has made a generous offer in lieu of a hostile takeover. A year ago I might have had the energy to fight it, but,” a delicate shoulder lifted in a half shrug, “I’m ready for a new chapter in my life. I’m cutting my losses. As of December twenty sixth, the transfer of ownership will be finalized, and I’ll be on a tropical island checking out the local talent.”
Stunned, Edward could only stare at her. “You’re leaving.”
“Everything. Well, except my jewelry and china. I’ve packed the few things with sentimental value. What I can’t live without is in storage waiting for final shipping instructions. I haven’t chosen my little cabana in paradise yet. However, once I do choose my next roost, I’ll be out of New York for good.”
“You’re leaving me.”
One shaped brow rose. “I didn’t realize you felt attached.”
An exceedingly rare blush heated his cheeks briefly. “Of course I’m attached. You’ve trusted me as you’ve trusted no one else. Or so you’ve said.” Jesus, could he sound anymore petulant? Like an adolescent not getting his way.
“I didn’t lie. I have trusted you more than anyone else, besides my father and grandfather. It’s entirely possible I’ve trusted you more.” Her pale, shrewd eyes considered him for a long moment. “What’s keeping you here?”
“Here as in New York or here in this job specifically?”
“Either, or both.”
Edward lifted one leg and rested his left ankle on his right knee. “Not much really.”
Life as an overpaid butler wasn’t so very bad. He continued to wear top designer clothes, drink only the best wines and liquors, and regularly feasted on the wide variety of food and succulent female flesh constantly surrounding him. Not to mention the front row seat from which he watched some truly fine people, and a few fools, indulge in exercising their base natures. Most of the time it was beautiful. Truly a voyeur’s paradise.
But even life in paradise could grow dull after a long enough period of time.
“If forced to answer just this moment,” he steepled his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of his chair, “I’d have to say you’ve become the brightest spot in my servitude. It’s quite possible I’ve stayed because not only is it comfortable, the pay is better than average, but the real bonus I crave is the rare time you come to me, Amelia.”
The queen of cool barely blinked. “Well then, I have a proposition for you.”
Moving slowly, smoothly and precisely, she stood, tucked her heavy gold necklace under the turtleneck of her dress and began lifting it from the sides.
Edward’s gut clenched. Their encounters never included coaxing or slow seduction. They both knew what they wanted. The only question was who would top. He left that decision up to her.
The dress rose in folds until she grasped the hem and lifted it over her head. Beneath the oh-so-proper garment she wore a black satin bustier with garters that held up her beige stockings.
Disrobed, she tossed her dress on the settee and stepped around the coffee table until she stood in front of him.
Still he didn’t move more than his eyes as he memorized her every curve.
Using her knee, she shoved his raised foot away and he dropped it to the floor, now sitting with his legs spread. Would she kneel or straddle his lap? Either way, he was prepared to play her game. Whatever she asked of him, he’d do.
No matter what happened next, it looked as if he’d be late to dinner at the Maitland’s.
Smashwords / Indie / Create Space
Erotic (BDSM: Spanking, pierced parts, bondage, gang bang, True Love)
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Random drawing for a signed copy with whatever Morgan swag I can fit in the USPS Priority box. Tell me a funny Christmas story and I will pick a second signed book winner.