I hate Christmas parties. I don’t hate my Christmas parties because I am free to be nice, to be polite, or to be firm depending on other people’s behavior. I am in the comfortable bubble of work rules and general social courtesies, a power and social structure I understand. Tonight I am at my husband’s Christmas party and remembering why I hate these parties so much.
I work for a living. I normally dress very conservatively as I am more than a little on the voluptuous side, and teaching in a high school environment looking like Jessica Rabbit is a recipe for dealing with hormonal students and grabby staff members making an already difficult job unnecessarily troublesome.
At my Christmas party I dress very conservatively because my husband already knows what I look like without clothes and the last thing I want to do is combine my co workers, alcohol and the sudden realization I have 48G breasts on a trim figure.
At my husband’s Christmas party I am no longer a working professional woman, but a red haired blue eyed trophy wife, with painstakingly prepared makeup, plunging neck and back lines, rather detested heels, and the fake smile and polite social laughter that makes me feel like I stepped of the set of the Stepford Wives.
I will be the first to admit I do not understand the pecking order, either corporate or social (very different). The need to be arm candy and polite company at times to score points for my husband in whatever social games the men play is balanced with the “run along and play” times where we spouses are expected to amuse ourselves while the grownups network, or kiss ass, depending on your honestly level.
The bulk of the normal wives take one look at me and assume I am one of the trophy wives and avoid me like I had the plague. The trophy wives and I don’t get along because I think they are vapid shallow parasites, and they think I am a complete unlettered barbarian because I neither know nor care about fashion, trends, or who is hot in social media.
Normally, I am stuck drinking wine (which I dislike) because drinking anything heavier can lead to whispers that you have a drinking problem which will cost my husband points at work, and not drinking anything will mean my hands are both free when the desire to strangle these women when they ask a spa, nail, or hair related question like it was worthy of the same level of discussion as a doctoral thesis defense. Strangling them is also bad; I asked.
My husband’s assistant Eva saw me making pained small talk with the trophy wives and cut over like a shark through a school of tuna. She was in an elegant black dress with a smirk on her face that matched the wine glass in her hand but not the look in her eyes. The eyes were the sort of hard predatory look you expected from a shark that caught you too far from the reef to escape and had marked you from amongst the rest of the school as her prey.
Eva was a bit mad at my husband because she found out that he had not put her in for the promotion he had promised to, as he didn’t want to train a new assistant, and was more than pleased with how much her work freed up his time. Seeing her headed straight for me smiling made me nervous. I deal with direct confrontation well, but honestly suck at the passive aggressive sniping of catty girl talk.
She walked right up to me and gave me a hug, pressing her body against mine, cutting one of her thighs between mine and letting her hand slip down my back to push me against her thigh. She held the hug, while moving her body, and babbling happily about how NICE it was to see me, how she could never get enough of me.
The conversation was so bright and cheerful I couldn’t object, without starting the scene I so wanted to avoid, but her hand was cupping my ass, and grinding my crotch against her thigh. I was feeling more than a little awkward, plus her rubbing her breasts against mine was making both our nipples perk up and in either of our outfits that would be instantly noticeable.
I tried to push her away by grabbing her hips and pushing, but she leaned down to brush her lips against my neck and whisper, “Be a good girl, and don’t make a scene. I am very unhappy with your husband right now, and you really want to be on my good side.”
The threat should have drawn a reaction from me, but the gasp and hot blush that swept over my face and upper chest had everything to do with the feel of her lips and breath on my neck under my so very carefully styled red hair.
She laughed low in her throat, and turned to the trophy wives to begin her attack. Everyone was smiling, everyone was polite, but everyone except me was smiling because cats always smile when the claws came out.
“Don’t you love Jan in a dress? I mean she usually dresses less like a teacher and more like a nun. I don’t see why, with her body she could earn her salary and her husbands combined without ever getting out of bed. I know two thirds of the staff here would drop their bonus cheque to find out if the carpet matches the drapes.”
Eva laughed as she ran a hand down my hair then pointedly stared at my skirt.
I blushed and pushed her hands away, but the women noticed I didn’t object, and moved to circle around. I realized that in the side room with the wine bar was just us women, the trophy wives, myself, and Eva.
Chrissy, the Marketing VP’s new wife was quick to score some points, being the newcomer.
“Oh I think they would be willing to bet at least half that cheque to see if those were real, I mean come on honey, where in this god benighted wilderness did you find someone to do that quality work?” Chrissy said pointing at my breasts.
I wanted to cross my arms defensively in front of them, and half moved to cover them in my instinctive desire to keep attention away from them. I have had a love/hate relationship with my breasts since they began to develop in grade 5. Girls my age hated me for having them, and boys brought every bit of negative attention they had to them, but later I figured out when I couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say to a boy I liked, all I had to do was sigh deeply and squeeze my elbows together and the girls would reach out and claim his attention for me.
The fact that I was here to play nice for my husband, and the desire not to have a confrontation with Eva when my husband was very much in the wrong with her sort of paralyzed me long enough for Eva to seize the initiative, and more.
“Oh no, these are all natural. You have to feel these girls, I mean they are not just big, they are super responsive~!” Eva said, now behind me, one arm threading through my free hand to pin it to my hip, and the other cupping, squeezing, and half lifting my heavy breast out to display.
Chrissy moved in and began to knead my left one, tweaking the nipple when I opened my mouth to object. One by one all the women moved to feel me up, emboldened by Eva’s keeping me from raising any resistance.
I was getting very worked up, I have never really experimented with women, even in college, but my body was reacting to being fondled by so many of the hateful trophy wives with greater eagerness than when my husband touched me with love and adoration. Eva’s lips and teeth nipping at my neck and earlobe were making it hard to think, even as her grinding her hips against my ass was making it hard to think about anything but the new flood of sensations.
I dropped my wine glass, and it spilled without breaking on the tile as it rolled under the wine bar.
Seizing the excuse, I pulled myself free of the trophy wives and made my excuse to leave.
“Sorry, I spilled my drink. I had best go back to the bar and order myself something!” What I wanted was an escape.
Chrissy and Cheryl laughed and waved their wineglasses at the wine bar and its selections of champagne, white, red, and rose wines.
“We have everything you need right here honey, why go bother the menfolk at the bar?” Chrissy asked cattily.
I turned to make good my escape when Eva sat back on the back of the couch. She spread her legs and pulled her skirt aside with two quick tugs. My eyes fell to her pussy, as she opened herself before all of us, blocking my exit.
“Oh Jan doesn’t drink wine from the bottle. She is very much a BOX wine drinker.” Eva said, stroking her pussy. When I didn’t move past her, she took her fingers from her pussy and rubbed them on my lips.
“Doesn’t she look like a natural box wine drinker? Not a proper lady to sip at a glass and make polite conversation. No, she would rather be on her knees guzzling box wine, and letting her tongue do other things than talking.”
Eva’s fingers were moving into my mouth, and I was sucking them. Her eyes held mine, and she reached out and put her hands on my head.
I felt hands on my shoulders as I was pushed to the ground in front of Eva, my husband’s assistant. She pulled my head towards her beautiful vagina, a landing strip above a neat and well kept sex.
“Go on, your husband is kissing ass right now in the other room, show us what you can do with that tongue of yours since you are so very bad at polite conversation.” She was openly laughing as she ground my face into her pussy, but the taste of her was in my mouth, and the feel of her casual control of me was in my mind.
I kissed her lips. Then tasting on my lips what I had tasted on her fingers, I began to lick. I heard Chrissy, Cheryl and Eva all laughing as they moved around me.
Other skirts were coming up, and underwear was coming off. I felt my head moved from side to side as the entire circle of trophy wives I had casually hated for so long spread their legs and let Eva drag me by the hair from pussy to pussy.
“Oh ladies, I think we have a box wine alcoholic here. I think after her performance at this party I may have to consider renting her out for house parties as well!” Eva laughed, stripping my dress down my shoulders and letting my heavy breasts free.
One by one, I pleased every one of those women while they laughed, Eva took pictures that showed my face and their bush, but not their identities. I knew that there was no way this was a one time thing. My husband denied Eva the promotion she earned, so she was taking something of his in revenge.
I felt Cheryl cum as I gripped her ass, pulling her pussy into my face, sucking her clit as she came so hard she spilled some of her wine on my hair and breasts.
“FUCK, oh I think we are definitely going to have you at Ladies night, under the table if not at it!” Crissy giggled, as Eva pulled me over to her.
Eva leaned down and slid her shoe under my pussy, beginning to work it against my clit.
“Looks like one of us just got a promotion Jan! Maybe you can get me that raise too, right girls?”
I whimpered and humped her shoe, sucking and fingering whatever pussy was in front of me. When I came on Eva’s shoe, she pulled me back by the hair and looked down into my eyes and said one word.
“Mine!”
She was right. I was hers. I guess I did get a promotion that night.