He loved the company Christmas celebrations. Mostly he loved how the ladies on his team dressed in such stunning gowns of soft, sensuous, black satin and darkly alluring and sweetly soothing violet and black velvet. He also loved the beautiful crystal necklaces, the clicking high heeled shoes, the haughty yet somehow calming demeanour of all the wonderful ladies that he worked with.

If only there was some way he could … But those were only his silly early pubescent fantasies.  He’d only mentioned them to a couple of women he’d been smitten with. One laughed at him before excusing herself, snatching up her things, and flying through the door like a bat fleeing the vilest torments of hell. The other all but catatonically stared at him like he was a freakish mutant from the most horrifically bizarre dimension. She would only promise to see him again after he’d been evaluated by a psychiatrist who turned out to be her abusive ex-husband she hadn’t talked to in years. After those two disasters, he swore to never make that kind of admission to anybody.

this year they were to stay at a motel far away from the last signs of any civilisation. When they arrived, he checked himself into a dismal room. As he unpacked his suit for the evening, he felt a little lonely and desolate until he heard a knock at the door.

It was Kirsteen, the lovely dark-haired Scottish lady on his section. She was casually dressed and despite being 10 years his senior, as most of the ladies on his section were, she still looked young and virile.

“Just came to ask for your key” she said.

“Why?” he replied.

“Well in case you get too far drunk to know where your room is. Isn’t it nice that some of us want to look after you? It’ll be our pleasure to show you to your bed, if you get too far gone that you forget where it is.”

“I-I don’t think so ” he stammered

“Oh well never mind. You’ll probably be in a wonderfully pretty sleep won’t you, darrrling?”

He felt a little unnerved {and perhaps something else} by her triumphant and confident expression as she softly swirled away through his rooms door …

That night he was his “normal” self. He wished that he could go home, but he was trapped in a hell of 1970’s disco music cut with an even worse edge of 1980’s electronic and club hell. Pathetic verses from “Boy George” Britain´s latest failed export to the states (Probably in exchange for the equally obnoxious queen of imagined ego “Madonna”) were piped into the room and the dreadful strobe-soaked and lightshow-showered dance floor. Worse yet, suddenly it seemed every colleague imagined themselves as a strange bio-generated and genetically spliced version of John Travolta, Patrick Swayze, and David Hasselhoff…

He was dying inside watching this pathetic freak show. It was a ghoulish festival of mediocrity enhanced by soulless electronic drum machines and factory produced male and female vocals–if they could be called vocals. They were more like the squeaks of a dying small mammal or the throaty painful howls of an animal close to oblivion. As if these aural tortures weren’t hideous enough, in the later death throes of this wretched night various male colleagues envisaged themselves as Liam Gallagher or worse Bruce Springsteen or awfully dreadfully-  belly button undergoing an injection worse-Ozzy Osbourne. All the anti-matter of any creativity crawled the room that night and he decided to go to bed.

As he went into his room he heard women’s laughter. He saw four older colleagues on his bed. They wore stunning dresses of crushed velvet and charmeuse satin. The satin  with such a gentle, gossamer, soothing, and soooo gentle touch that he had constantly dreamed about.

He was at heaven’s gate yet he might as well have been at the gates of another hell. All his fetishes about soft materials lulling him to dreamland could be realised. Yet all he  felt was a wicked, witching witch’s brew of a mixed up elixir of hopefully more heavenly than Hades of fear, anticipation and resistance. He deeply wanted these luscious ladies to gently lull him into the land of beautiful dreams. But something in his head resisted. Maybe it was his past unfulfilling forays into entrancement that kept him alert. It could be the possibility of being so close to embracing what he’d yearned for for sooooooo long that made him so worried. Perhaps it was his perchance exaggerated, natural masculine uneasiness with becoming in any way vulnerable to more worldly-wise women that made him even a little scared of their obvious experience with men young and older.

“Hello l.ittle angel” said Kirsteen. “Back so soooon? Drowsier head sooo sleeeepy!”

“Sooo sleeepy” said the other ladies in unison while looking at him possessively.

“I had better go” he said. But before he could hesitantly carry out this plan, he suddenly became aware of two ladies blocking his exit. They suddenly sprayed sweet perfume into his face. He cautiously inhaled, nervously giggled a little, and felt drowsy.

“That´s right, my darling, we have been developing the scent of satin and velvet slumber, the vapours of sweet, sweet restful sleeeeep.”

He fumblingly tried to open the door, but suddenly a perfumed, satin glove covered his nose and mouth.

“That´s right, my little angel, breathe even more deeply and peacefully of the soothingly restful vapours of Lady Morpheus. Inhale and relax into the soft, seducing, and oh so mesmerically sleep inducing vapours of gentle sleepy dreamland. Just breathe in and out, in and out, in and out. My sleepy angel, soon you will be assssssleeep. Soon you will be asssleeep. Soon you will be assleeep.”

He was suddenly transported to when he was a child at the dentist , breathing sleeping gas with the lovely, caring nurse holding and calmingly stroking his frightened hand…..

The glove came away.

“Of course we don’t want to PUT you to sleep–all the way. But you must admit that you are sooo drowsy. Just feeling soothing fingers caressing every part of you, lulling you, AROUSING you. Sooooooo soothing you gently, soo gently to dare-ream-land. We are surrounding you. Of course, we have softly subdued you and successfully lulled you. Now it is time for beddy byes. Our little sweetheart must drift away as we put him to beddy byes. Yessss baby beddy byes, sleepy byes, sexxxxy byes.”

Relieved, arrested, and aroused he fell into their laps. Whilst their previous and present laughter scared him, their maternal presences {with perhaps just a lingering hint of something more akin to how adult women and a hungry, reluctant, yet still hopeful, younger man express their desires for passionate pleasures} lulled him, soothed him. But he felt that before he could snuggle down into the velvet-satin dreamland of their laps, he had to let his manhood give them a little present first.  It was Christmas time and a season of giving after all’s well in very deed.

As they had fantasized and prepared, when worthwhile women work together, they can accomplish much.

END