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A FWB couple share an intimate massage with an open masseuse.
Holding her breath to stay calm, she slid out of bed and pulled the blanket tightly around her body. Creeping with delicate care, Mallory eased out of her room and down the stairs. As she crossed the living room, the fake candles in the window went out. With a gasp, she froze in fear, convinced she was caught. After an endless moment of stock stillness, she allowed herself to glance around the room. From the living room, she could see into the kitchen. Where she should've seen the microwave clock glowing green there was nothing but black.
Feeling a bit safer, she walked to the back of the house and tried the light in the back bathroom. Nothing. The power was out. The teen allowed herself a relieved smirk. Then she remembered why she was skulking around in the dark and her stomach flipped once again. Time to get going.
"Are you kidding me?" an annoyed and, yes, buzzed, Greg shouted at his house as it plunged into darkness.
"You couldn't even let me see the end of A Muppet Christmas Carole?" he muttered to the swirling snow outside as he grabbed the flashlight and headed to the garage.
Grabbing an armful of wood, he stomped back inside, talking to myself and feeling the familiar heat of alcohol in his blood. He wobblingly lowered himself on to the hearth, pulled open the fireplace doors and began to feed the empty maw the jagged pieces of timber. Getting the fire started seemed to take an interminable amount of time but finally, with an aggressive amount of crumpled newspaper and the application of several long fireplace matches, the flames roared to life.
Satisfied that it would not be snuffed out the moment he stopped prodding it, he went to the closet down the hall and produced the heavy sleeping bag that he and Gina had bought years earlier when they were entertaining a winter camping trip. News that Gina was pregnant with their daughter derailed that plan and with the exception of occasionally using it as a blanket at concerts in the fall, it had lived an existence that left its purpose largely unfulfilled. He found himself somewhat giddy to finally use it for warding off cold weather while he slept.
Spreading it out on the floor, he arranged it for the perfect distance from the fire to get the heat without being overwhelmed and from the tree so as to not accidentally roll into it while he slept or stumble into it if he needed to leave the sleeping bag for the bathroom. When he was finally confident of its placement, he pulled the oversized pillows from the couch and arranged them at the head of the bag. Then, he half zipped into so he'd be able to enter with ease and zip it up around him with little effort.
His sleeping arrangements near perfection he returned to the fire to evaluate its progress. We shifted from foot to foot, evaluating if the pile of wood already inside would be enough. With a shrug he decided more wood would probably be a good idea and left the room once again to gather the remaining pieces.
His earlier annoyance forgotten, the doctor was now full of pride and a long-lasting childhood love of fires in the fireplace, he bounded back into the room only to stop short. Like a bad movie clich__, he dropped the pile of wood at his feet, lucky to not crush his toes in the bargain.
"What are you doing here?" he forced out of his lips haltingly.
Backlight by the fire, Mallory turned slowly around to face the married man. She was bundled tightly in a thick layer of blanket, crystals of snow twinkling in her blonde hair as they melted.
She felt awkward and vulnerable. As exposed as she could remember with him even though she was still wrapped in a blanket. Sneaking into his shower those few months ago was no big deal in comparison to how this felt now. Still, she screwed up her courage and willed her inner sex kitten back to the surface.
"Nobody should be alone on Christmas Eve, Doc," she offered with a tiny smirk.
"I'm quite-I'm quite fine thank you," Greg asserted, suddenly feeling far more boozed up then he had a moment before.