My attempt at the Christmas Short...initial phases...what yall think?

The red velveteen thong inched its way up the crack of Eve’s frozen ass, chafing a bit more with each stride she took.  She wondered if all the effort was really worth it.  A thought abruptly occurred to her, wow, maybe if she moved just so…as she twisted her torso mid-stride, the string just might reach where it needed to.  Was it possible, she could only hope?  She quickly stopped hoping as she remembered it had been so long since she had an orgasm, she forgot just where “X” marked the spot for her release. 

Eve had to purchase these new sexy red panties for the occasion because she had tossed most of her former collection of knickers into the garbage one night in a fit of frustration.  She kept the ones that did not show lines under her business suits or were suitable for jogging.  The kind of underwear that covered most of her deliciousness and were anything but eye candy. 

Nikolas still failed to notice. 

She was wearing a short red skirt with white tulle from the pettiskirt peeking from just below the hem.  Her sinewy legs were soft, tanned and smooth from the recent visit to the salon.  She had a matching bolero jacket with green accent around the neckline.  She wore a white lace camisole and red demi bra, her breasts bulging suggestively over the top of the skimpy fabric. 

“I look like Santa’s hooker”, she muttered to her reflection in the floor length mirror of their bedroom.  Nevertheless, she was determined to carry through with her mission to melt the iceberg stubbornly lodged between them.  Eve knew Nikolas was either too stubborn or complacent to resolve the mountain of frigidity now firmly resting inside their marriage. 

Eve smiled as she remembered how she met Nikolas.  She saw his tall frame walk through a doorway. Ironically, the threshold was adorned obnoxiously with a large bunch of mistletoe tied together with silver ribbon.  She did not see his face until after she coyly chased him down.  She just knew there was something appealing about the way he carried his broad shoulders.  “If he has blue eyes, I will talk to him”, she had already dared herself to stay the course and follow through with her personal challenge. 

His eyes were indeed a chilling yet delicious blue and goose bumps attacked her skin with a vengeance.  She drew in a sharp breath with a telltale, “oh”, and had no clue what to say next.  Nikolas saved her integrity by extending his hand to gently shake her own with a proper introduction.  The sweat pooling in her palm and the quaking from her thighs breached her integrity.  She had never felt this much carnal desire for a man, especially one she had just met!

Lust at first sight, hello, Eve, it did exist.  “Correction -DOES exist!” she yelled back at her reflective self. 

Eve used this trip down memory lane to fuel her determination to see this through.  She knew that love eventually replaced her lust for Nikolas and she deeply loved her tall, blue-eyed partner.  It was the lust she wanted back in their lives; lust was the missing integral piece for quite some time now.  Especially for two so physically minded human beings. 

Eve put the finishing touches on her sultry tousled up-do and applied long wearing lipstick in “fuck-me” red.  The metallic green shadow was smoky against her own brown eyes.  She felt like she belonged in an issue of Naughty Elf magazine.  She could not help her imagination from running away with her as she pictured herself in a pair of pointed ears.  Her laugh was loud and raucous as she allowed herself the imagery.  Eve enjoyed making fun of herself; she was very good at it.  She wondered, “How many shots of that peppermint schnapps have I taken”?  Eve concluded she had taken enough to make her silly and brave and she needed an abundance of both of those things right now. 

Eve decided it was a good thing not to go full-on elf and left the concept of ears on the drawing board table.  The ears would totally remove the sexuality of the moment.  “Sexuall? Well, yes, I am.”  She turned slowly to evaluate her choice of clothing, hair and make-up.  She lifted her skirt to see how the thong looked in place.  She bent over forward, and with the angled mirror in place, could see pink skin, freshly waxed and smooth.  She slid her fingers along her feminine lips and enjoyed the silkiness.  She needed to stop or she might not make it to the hotel, it had been so long since she climaxed.  She just had not been interested.  But, the combination of the schnapps and the sexy clothes made her ripe and juicy.   Ok, now she was ready.  The pre-date jitters settled themselves with her raunchy, quick, solo interlude. 

It was cold outside and snow was lightly falling.  The sky was dark and still.  She looked out the window, went through a swift checklist in her mind and decided it was time to go.  Eve purchased a black cloak with silver threaded accents to wear over her impish frock.  She gently shrouded herself in the warm black wool and walked out to her car. 

She did not warm the car up before she left, she needed the chill to knock off the dwindling effect of the schnapps and sharpen her senses.  It was only then she allowed negative thoughts to enter into the evening.  She was afraid he would not be there.  It scared her to death and made her blood run cold.  Eve did not handle rejection well.  She never had.   As she drove the fifteen miles to the hotel, she debated calling Nikolas, just to check in.  She felt more like the “other woman”, than his wife, hoping he would make time to see her.  The feeling made her feel small and sad.  She is the one he committed to once upon a time.  Why does she no longer feel like a priority to him? 

She tried talking with Nikolas about it a couple of times.  Neither conversation resulted in positive changes.  They became heated and frustrated with each other and hastily retreated to their fight corners, allowing the glacier of hate to overshadow their love. 

If you were an observer, you would imagine these two had been married the correct amount of time for the proverbial “seven year itch”-- the time when couples tend to re-evaluate their commitment to one another and begin to lust after the greener pastures of another’s red and pulsing private parts.  The treacherous time where hugs and kisses are replaced by chilly nods of acknowledgement when passing the TV remote. 

Nikolas and Eve had been married four years, five months, and 23 days.  She knew because she started counting somewhere around two years, ten months.  She checked off each day, sadly wondering how they drifted so far apart.  It began when they stopped purposely touching and let life icily take over their intimacies.  It had been five weeks since last they made love.  She really did not feel the “love” part of that union and it was more like primal intercourse to advance the species.  He handled her nipples like he was replacing new Christmas twinkle bulbs in a string.  He mounted her and within minutes, he sighed his release.  She feigned her own climax, and just wanted him off of her.  It occurred to her that neither one of them even broke a sweat.  It used to be their sexual interludes were more like a marathon requiring water and they would both be drenched by the end.  

Eve believed the Christmas season was the perfect time to rekindle the fires of their loins and remember why they melded so perfectly together.  Eve was allowing the magic of the holidays to consume her emotions and take her back to a time when life was loving, simple, and happy.  The start would be Eve’s gift to Nikolas in the form of red velveteen ribbon-tied pussy.  She was delighted to feel the icicle melting beneath the velveteen string.  “Mind over matter, Eve, and apparently, it does matter”, she giggled to herself.  Her plan was working at least as far as her vested interests were concerned.

She pulled into the slippery parking lot, as the fat snowflakes began to fall faster.  Eve did not see Nikolas’ car, but, it was a big lot and the falling snow hindered her vision.  She tried not to let it worry her, as she applied a touch of gloss to her full, red lips.  She said a silent prayer for success and opened the car door.  She quickly scooped up her overnight bag and purse.  She began to make her way to the warm hotel. 

“Damn”, she breathed in disbelief, “how the hell can I keep walking in these things”?  She was out of practice walking in heels.  The snow crunched under her green stilettos as she carefully maneuvered her way across the hotel parking lot.  She was not even sure he would be there.  Earlier that day, she left him a post-it stuck to his side of the bathroom vanity to meet her at the swanky hotel bar at 6:45 sharp.  She also sent him a text message reminder around noon.  He only answered with a hasty “k”.  That was about the extent of the amount of attention he gave to her these days.  Of course, she had no room to complain about the frostiness.  She had started this cold war about six months before he decided to actively participate in the hostilities.