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Sabrina’s shy about opening gifts. She gets worried about tearing the wrapping, as if she'd be ruining some masterpiece you'd spent hours putting together. “Hey,” you say, “have at it. It’s Christmas.”
With your encouragement, her dimpled hands go to work. She pulls like a champ, tugging away the bow and the glittery paper and laying bare the real star of the show. It’s an ivory chemise, smooth and shimmery. It matches the angel you have atop your tree.
For a moment you’re worried. Was it too bold a move? You’ve only been seeing each other six weeks. Maybe it was too soon for such intimacy. Maybe a CD or a nice string of freshwater pearls or. . . .Then she pulls you to her. You know that look on her face. “Nobody’s ever gotten something like this for me,” she says. She’s at that strange place between laughing and crying. That’s how happy you’ve made her.
The moment is sweet and electric. You can’t come any closer to her, and you can’t back away. You just watch each other for a moment - you sitting on the carpet of your living room and her half-kneeling, the box and its beautiful contents in her hands. You’re not sure if you’re ready to say those three important words yet, so you say the next best thing. “Put it on,” you say.
She laughs. Her amusement brings her to the floor next to you. You watch the graceful curve of her hips, rounding out as she kneels beside you. Her waist narrows slightly and then her softness continues up into her sweater, which she fills out beautifully. She’s classy and voluptuous, and, yes, it’s safe to say, you've wanted her from the moment you met. You reach out and run your thumb along the seams of her jeans, tracing the trajectory of those curves. “Would it help,” you ask, still touching and teasing, “if I told you I bought slippers to match?”
You really had bought a pair of fluffy, white, high-heeled mules, but they’re for later. The offer makes her laugh harder. “Now go try it on,” you say. When she looks down at you and smiles, you want to pull her to you, to kiss her, to say those three words that have been pressing at your throat all afternoon, and now into the fireplace-warmed evening.
But tonight feels too oddly perfect, and you don’t want to press it, don’t want to push or ruin anything. So you just smile back and raise your eyebrows slightly. You hear her laughter as she leaves to go change in your bedroom. She’s being modest. You like that about her, her mix of shyness and boldness. Your house feels warmer when she’s in it.
And when she returns - wow. The chemise clings in all the right spots, stopping short about four inches north of her knees. She’s a mixture of pride, embarrassment, and mischief. You’re sitting on the floor, warmed by the fire and now something else. She circles you slowly, pirouetting so you can take in her every luscious, shimmery inch.
“How did you choose this?” she asks. She’s playing with the delicate spaghetti straps, then running her hands over her curves and smoothing the chemise like a delectable second skin.
In the room’s corner a timer clicks, bringing Christmas lights to life. You have them timed to turn on each evening at six. Tiny multicolored arcs flash. You let the red and green, blue and yellow, play for a moment before answering. Then you come to your feet and take her hand. “Because..." you say, and those three little words are again pressing against your throat but unable to rise to your lips. So you say what leaps to mind next. “Because you already had a juicer.”
“Anthony!” She’s mock-outraged and laughing, dusting you with sweet little fists. Then your hands are around her wrists, and you’re kissing her and she’s kissing back and...yes. You feel all she has to offer underneath this silky gift. Earlier she gave you an Edgar Allen Poe book and a tie. “Makes me want to learn how to knot one of these,” you had said, and both of you had laughed.
Now she tangles her hands around the back of your neck and looks at you dead-on. Strangely, you find yourself thinking about the sexy high-heeled slippers, and how they’ll feel against you as she slowly runs one up against your bare calf.
“It’s our first Christmas,” she says. Her breath is warm and has a spiced-apple scent. You can’t believe it’s only been six weeks since you’ve known this cinnamon-and-cider girl in your arms, in your home, in your heart, in your life. It’s been six weeks that have felt like a whole wonderful lifetime.
The words come then, with her arms around your neck and yours around her silky, promising waist. “I love you,” you say, and her eyes tell you she feels the same.
(((FIN)))
Allison Landa
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Stay toasty during the holidays by simmering up some extra romance with your sweetheart. Here are a few Hips and Curves tips for keeping that fire stoked:
- Serve holiday breakfast in bed while wearing a red Stretch Lace Chemise and matching Santa Hat. You’ll be a little bit naughty, a little bit nice and 100% delicious.
- While opening presents with your special someone, make your own picture-perfect photo opportunity in a French Maid Costume paired with Marabou Slipper Pumps.
- Celebrate together with matching colors: a red Shelf Bra and Panties for her, red Polka-dot Boxers for him!
Warmest holiday wishes from the staff at Hips and Curves.com!
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Seduction Tip: Now you can treat yourself to a set of three pair crotchless panties in assorted colors. These scanty panties are a fun surprise under just about anything - from a skirt in the park to a bustier in the bedroom. Have some hot fun in the summer time - or any season for that matter.
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Would you like to have your name used in one of our fictional stories? stories@hipsandcurves.com
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We hope you enjoyed this issue and would love to hear your comments. Please forward this to your best friends, associates, or that special someone in your life if you think they would enjoy it but please don't spam them.
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December 21, 2004
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