Happy New Years!

We will be taking this week off, but please tune in next week when we have a very special guest post from the titillating W. Charlton Gibson.

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Story of the Week: The War on Christmas

The War on Christmas: Rick and Annabelle Again, Again

“If I have to hear ‘Happy Holidays’ one more time, I swear to Christ someone’s gonna get a candy cane up their ass.”

Rick Belson threw his blackberry on the couch and shook his head. He had barely walked into his apartment when the phone rang – it was his bitch atheist sister wishing him holiday cheer. Where the fuck did she get off doing that at all? She didn’t believe in God and the baby Jesus, but still enjoyed her government sanctioned week off from teaching. The least she could do is thank their Savior. Rick shook his head and took off his coat.

Christmas was Rick’s favorite time of the year, but he couldn’t go home to see his family because of the blizzard that fell a few days earlier, resulting in his flight getting cancelled. Unfortunately he had also taken the week off of work from the news station where he hosted his popular evening program, so unsure of what to do with himself on this day of the Lord’s birth, he dropped by work that morning to see if anyone was also stuck in town on this Holy day. He knew exactly who he wanted to see, but she wasn’t there. Of course she wouldn’t be, Rick thought, she was likely home with her family. Feeling stupid, he went home, and that’s when his heathen sister called. Glad to finally get her off the phone, he headed towards the kitchen to pour himself a Christmas scotch.

“Happy holidays.”

A familiar voice came through the hallway – it was at that moment that Rick realized he was in such a huff over the conversation with his sister that he had forgotten to close the door to his apartment. But surely it couldn’t be…

“Annabelle?”

“I said Happy holidays. Does this mean I get a candy cane shoved in my ass now?”

She smiled coyly, leaning against the doorway, curling her flaxen hair with a finger. “I heard you talking to that person on the phone. I was in the hallway.”

“But Annabelle, how did you… shouldn’t you…”

“Shhhh…” Annabelle said as let herself in and shut the door. “Is it ok if I stay here a bit? I’m actually trying to avoid someone.”

“B…but what are you even doing in my building,” Rick stammered. “I have security!”

“I know. I came in with Bill or Bob or whatever his name is. I had a date last night and I spent the night at his place. I didn’t know you lived here too until just now.”

Rick winced when she said ‘date’. Since their first risqué encounter at his studio where she was an intern, she was all he could think about. After their second liaison in his office, well, he didn’t think it was possible to think about someone that many times in a day. But he had to admit it. Rick Belson was having… feelings for Annabelle.

Feelings. The bros in his weekend men’s group told him that feelings were natural, and should be nurtured. But feelings about a woman should be controlled and tempered. Feelings. Why, he felt like a 7th grader just thinking about her. And that brought him back to the time when no girl would ever talk to him. But here was Annabelle, again, and in his apartment no less. And Rick hadn’t the damnedest idea what to do with the fact that he was falling for her. That realization made him more nervous than John Boehner on any given day this week.

“You are welcome to stay Annabelle, um, I’m guessing date went well?”

“No, the jerk passed out while we were making out .” Annabelle plopped down on Rick’s couch and stretched her arms back. “So, you know, I slept there, but we didn’t fuck. Merry Christmas to me.”

Rick timidly sat down on the far end of the couch, unable to look her in the eye. Was he… nervous? He cleared his throat and tried his best to fill the thick silence that was intensified every time Annabelle shifted on the leather seat.

“Yes, well, I’m stuck here because of the blizzard,” Rick said. “So I guess it’s good luck for you that I was even home so… that’s my gift to you.” Rick glanced at her and smiled shakily, while Annabelle studied him up and down.

“Hm,” she muttered, screwing her face as she looked at him. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“Why are you dating that douchebag down the hall?”

Rick was shocked by his own retort. Annabelle, however, was amused. She scooted closer to him. He could feel the excitement rising in his trousers. Oh my God, this was happening.

“Rick, I only went out with him because he asked me.”

“Of course,” Rick sighed. Annabelle leaned closer into him, the sweet scent of her skin making its way towards his nose. He finally spoke again, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” offered Annabelle, grinning.

“Why aren’t you home for Christmas?”

Annabelle leaned back, slightly disappointed that Rick hadn’t picked up on what she thought were very obvious verbal and physical clues. And now he wanted her to talk about her personal life.

“Well, fine then.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “My mom hates me, and my father passed away many years ago so it’s just me and that’s why I hate this fucking holiday. It’s the only day of the year I feel more alone than any other day, which, might surprise you, is quite often. And that’s how I ended up in this building, with that guy…” She pointed in the direction of the apartment down the hallway. “So now you think I’m pathetic or something, but yes, I don’t have a family and I don’t have a Christmas and I don’t really like talking about it.

At that moment, something happened that shocked both of them. A tear slid down Rick’s cheek.

“Annabelle, that’s the saddest thing I ever heard.”

She looked away for a second. This was a side of Rick she had never seen. Warm, caring, emotional. Annabelle turned back to him and wiped the tear away from his cheek before saying, “I don’t usually like telling my sob story. It’s so indulgent.”

“No, not about your family,” Rick began as he grabbed her hands and pulled him closer to her. “I mean, yeah, that’s terrible but… Christmas? How can you hate Christmas?”

Annabelle was simultaneously confused and amused. “I mean, it’s kind of ridiculous if you think about it.”

“Ridiculous?!?” Rick jumped up off the couch and fervently paced back and forth in front of Annabelle as he continued, “Don’t you see, this is what those other people want! To kill Christmas! And you’re letting them do it!”

Annabelle cocked her head to the side and studied Rick’s face, which was now an aggravated shade of red. She listened intently as he spoke.

“Annabelle, Christmas isn’t just about family and shopping and Santa. It’s about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ! Did you know that across the country nativity scenes in public parks are being banned by atheist groups, who, by the way, are rapidly becoming a majority in this country?”

“No they’re not even close to being a majority.”

“But they CAN BE!” Rick pointed a finger towards Annabelle’s face. “And people like YOU are going to let that happen. If there’s no Christmas, there’s no joy! There’s no community! And to be quite honest, no reason to live! It’s the MOST WONDERFUL FUCKING TIME OF THE YEAR and I won’t let you not believe, Annabelle.”

Annabelle jumped up, and threw herself into Rick’s heaving chest. She wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but there was something about the passion in his speech that nearly brought her to tears, her loins drenched from adoration.

She lifted her head up and said, “I want to believe, Rick.”

Then something happened that surprised the both of them. Rick deftly swept her off the floor into his arms, carried her into his bedroom and threw her on the bed.

Annabelle fell back in delight and squealed, “Oh, Rick!”

He gently placed one hand on her flushed face, steadying himself on top of the bed with the other, and whispered, “I don’t want you to do or say a single thing. I want to make you believe.” He leaned in and brushed his lips gently over Annabelle’s parted cherry mouth before delicately pressing them down into hers. When she leaned up to match his intensity he pulled back, cupped Annabelle’s face with his hands, and whispered, his breath hot against her ear, “I said I don’t want you to do anything.” Rick placed a soft kiss on her yielding neck, and traced a trail with his mouth down to her shoulders. Annabelle surrendered to every kiss, every touch.

And oh, he took his time. After what seemed like an eternity, Rick made his way down to Annabelle’s pleasure garden, consuming her with ardent adoration. She was sure she would explode at any moment, but Rick would not let that happen just yet, stopping every so often to gently trace his hand over every inch of her body, luxuriating in every squirm and delighted moan that escaped Annabelle’s lips.

Finally Rick pulled himself on top of Annabelle, their breaths heaving in unison. He savored the feeling of flesh against flesh for another glorious second before guiding himself slowly inside her, joining his body to hers. And there the two of them made love, riding the torrential and extraordinary waves of sheer ecstasy.

 

The next morning, Annabelle awoke to find her head resting on Rick’s chest, their fingers entwined. When she looked up, Rick smiled at her.

“Good morning Annabelle.”

“Well, good morning Rick,” she replied before nuzzling her lips into his neck. “I think you made me like Christmas again.”

Rick sat up, giddy. “Really?”

Annabelle pulled herself up and furnished Rick with an affectionate gaze, “You see, when I said my father died, I wasn’t being quite forthcoming. He actually died on Christmas, fifteen years ago.”

“Oh my God Annabelle, I’m so sorry.”

She nodded soberly and continued, “Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple hours went by. Dad wasn’t home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went, and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. That’s when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He’d been climbing down the chimney… his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that’s how I found out there was no Santa Claus.”

There was a long pause as Rick tried to digest everything that Annabelle had just said. There was something oddly familiar about that story.

“Annabelle,” Rick began.

“Hmmm,” she murmured, pressing her face in his chest.

Rick caressed her back as he spoke, “I just think… I’m pretty sure that’s the story Phoebe Cates’s character tells in Gremlins.”

“Oh, is it?” Annabelle queried.

“No, like, word for word. That is the exact monologue from Gremlins. I’m positive. I’ve seen that movie about a hundred times. I have it on DVD.”

Annabelle smiled and looked back up at Rick’s concerned face. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. Yeah, I was just fucking with you.”

The two of them laughed heartily. Rick was in awe of how this woman managed to surprise him at every turn. Yes, she really was the best Christmas present he ever had received from the Lord Jesus Christ.

“I mean, Annabelle, that’d be pretty messed up.”

“Yeah. He is dead though. Brain cancer.”

“Oh…”

“Rick,” Annabelle lifted her head and looked into his soft brown eyes. “Thank you for the best Christmas I can remember.”

“You’re welcome.”

Story of the Week: Love As Deep As The OSHA

Many thanks to Director of Public Relations at Compliance and Safety  for the inspiration for this story by sending me this link! If you have a story suggestion, or would like to write your own, contact us here. See the nice email – click to enlarge!

Love As Deep As The OSHA

Love As Deep As The OSHA

James Fackler let out a deep sigh, shook his head, and looked back at the computer screen. He was reading a blog piece emailed to him about the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, or “OSHA”, as it was known in political circles.

“President Obama is often framed as a big spender, but does this narrative hold true for OSHA? It does indeed, with OSHA spending hitting record levels immediately after Obamas inauguration.  OSHA is bigger than ever before, both in terms of funding and in terms of revenue generated from fining businesses. This is great news for working class citizens but not quite as exciting for business owners.”

By God, this article was good, even though there was a grammatical error in it, which was a little disconcerting. Really, James pondered, if someone is going to write an entire page on an important issue, hit “post” and then email it around to thousands of people, it might do some good to run it through a spell and grammar check. And the error involved the misuse of the possessive form of a singular noun – the President’s name no less. No matter. James was completely on board with what this article was saying. OSHA was killing him and business owners like him with these fines. And the more frequent random inspections? Too much.

James shook his head and sipped on a paper cup of overheated coffee. He was about to ask Cassie to make him a lunch reservation with his old Harvard pal Philip when he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he huffed, barely glancing at the door as it opened.

“I hope it’s ok that I’m here without an appointment,” a soft voice murmured.

James spun around to find a young woman leaning up against the doorway, a huge, ratty trench coat wrapped around her body. She wasn’t exceptional looking – her messy brown hair was tied up in a loose bun; dark glasses adorned her face. Probably just one of those stragglers he’d seen outside his plant looking for work.

“Oh, hello,” James offered, standing up. “How may I help you?”

“May I sit?” The Woman queried, motioning towards the seat in front of James’ desk.

“Of course,” James replied as he strolled along to the front of the desk and leaned back. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, this is hard for me…”

“Please, go on.”

“My brother died a few months ago from a workplace injury at one of your plants.” The Woman bent her head down before speaking again. “Tommy Figgs, do you remember him?

James shook his head as he spoke, “Can’t say I do. I mean, there are so many employees at my plant I can’t really remember them all.”

“But… you’d remember a dead one.”

“No offense but I’m a busy man…” James was cut off by The Woman.

“Fuck..me..,” The Woman said as she jumped up.

“I… I’m sorry that came out wrong.” James jumped up and turned to grab a tissue from his desk when he felt a hand press hard on his lower back.

“I said, fuck me,” a hot voice whispered in his ear. The Woman was directly behind him. James stood, hands atop his desk, slightly bent over. Surely she was crazy! James had always considered himself to be an attractive man, but it wasn’t like women were throwing themselves at him…

Two hands grabbed his shoulders firmly and swung him around. He looked at her, this Woman, who now stood before him naked. She had released her hair from the restrictive bun, taken off the trench coat and removed her glasses. My God she was… beautiful! How could he not have noticed before?

“You can stare all you want but you have to fuck me.”

“But… what’s the…”

“I want you to know what it’s like to put a hard day’s work in under insecure working conditions. So tonight, when your factory closes, I want you to meet me in your plant. Be prepared to work overtime.”

“This is absurd! It’s the holiday season and I have a family!”

“I don’t care,” The Woman snapped. “Besides, if you don’t, I’ll take this photo straight to the media.” The Woman held her iPhone up to James’s flushed face. On the screen was a photo of him bent over his desk with The Woman naked, making a lewd gesture with a phallice she had somehow whipped out for the picture.

“You’ll never get away with this,” James hissed.

“Oh, I think I just did.” The Woman grinned mischievously and wrapped the trench coat back on, pulled her hair up and threw on the glasses. Why, she was homely again! James thought, as he curiously studied this little chameleon.

“I’ll meet you at your plant down the street at 8:00 tonight. No need for a hard hat. I hear you skimped on those this year for most of your staff. I’d hate it if we had to have something large fall on your head.”

She shut the door behind her.

James walked aimlessly through the now empty plant littered with forklifts and boxes. It was night, and he had made sure everyone went home on time. The employees were all so… grateful. One woman even gave him a hug. How odd, James thought. If that’s all it took to make his employees happy…

Suddenly, he heard a whoosh followed by a crack and before he knew it, James fell to the floor in excruciating pain. He saw blood seeping out of his pant leg. James looked up suddenly when he heard the footsteps of The Woman walking towards him. Her hair was down, her glasses off, and instead of a trench coat she wore a tight latex top and bottom. She looked hot again. But James was in pain…

“What the hell was that for,” he yelled.

“Get up,” The Woman demanded.

“But I’m bleeding!”

The Woman knelt down, whip in hand. She placed a finger under James’s chin and tilted his head up to meet hers.

“Two years ago you made Rick Hardworth work with a cut on his leg. If he had gotten medical attention, even a band-aid, they’d have to write it up in a report and it would bring down your impeccable safety record. He had to work all day with a cut leg and you will too.”

Before he knew it, The Woman wrapped the whip around his back and under his armpits, pulling him up.

“See that room over there in the corner where those steel drums are piled up in a hazardous manner that goes against several safety codes?”

“Yes,” James said. He knew exactly which room she was talking about.

“That’s where you’ll fuck me. Except I get to wear this.” The Woman whipped out a very large hard hat.

“But they’ll fall on top of me!”

“That’s how my brother got injured… the first time. You can leave once you get me off.”

James hated to admit it, but he was damn excited. He immediately shed his clothes and practically ran into the cold room, The Woman walking behind him. She sat herself up on a drum, pulled off her latex bottom and looked down at him.

“You’re hard.”

“I want to do a good job.”

“I like that work ethic.”

With that The Woman grabbed James’s waist and shoved his torso in between her legs. He gasped with exquisite pleasure as he felt the tip of his manhood touch her welcoming, warm moist lips. She thrust him towards her, harder and harder, until he felt her come on his cock. She screamed so hard with every shuddering climax that The Woman threw her head back, causing the already shaky pile of steel drums to rattle. James looked up and before he could say anything, The Woman leapt off of him as a lone drum crashed down on his torso.

“Ow!”

“Are you okay?” The Woman was standing over his naked body, sprawled on the ground, pinned by the heavy steel.

“I’m ok, I just can’t… quite get up…”

“Shhhh. Someone will be here to help you tomorrow.”

“What?” James struggled to push the drum off but it was too heavy. “I need your help!”

The Woman pulled her pants back on, and grabbed her trench coat from behind a box and slipped it on. She spoke to James as she pulled her hair back and placed glasses on her face. Dammit she wasn’t hot again. How did she do that?

“Listen, James, do you know how many workers at your plant end up in your same exact position just because your plants don’t meet OSHA guidelines?”

“I won’t complain about OSHA again, I swear!”

“Shhh…” The Woman placed a finger on James’s lips. “You’ll be fine. Someone will be here around 8am I think, and they’ll help you. That’s twelve hours from now – I told you you’d have to work overtime.”

“But… I didn’t even get to climax with you.”

The Woman turned towards the door.

“Work isn’t always fun, James.”

“Stop!”

The Woman turned back curiously.

“Can I see you again sometime?”

The Woman grinned, pivoted, and strode out of the plant.