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Message-ID: <39792asstr$1039641004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Nick Scipio <imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} NEW: Let It Snow (MF pett)
Date: Wed, 11 Dec 2002 16:10:04 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Let It Snow
Universe: Jazz Club
Summary: I walked her to her car, a Christmas tune competing with 
thoughts of how her breast pressed against my arm. Then 
she kissed me, long and deep and hard, and I felt her 
hands at my zipper...
Keywords: MF, pett
Revision: 1.0
Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/
Mailing List: Scipio_Stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
FAQ: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/www/faq.htm

*****************************************************************
                       STANDARD DISCLAIMER

The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT 
entertainment. It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL 
nature. If you are offended by sexually explicit content or 
language, please DO NOT read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to 
any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely 
coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse 
any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio 
(imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com). This story may be freely 
distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2002 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Author's Note: This story didn't start out as a Christmas story, but
that's the direction it decided to go... I originally intended to use
only the first stanza of "Let It Snow", but when I looked at the
entire lyrics, they just seemed to fit what I'd already written, so I
wove them into the story. I've been having fun with the Jazz Club
Stories. So much fun, in fact, that I've added a fifth story. This is
the third of five stories set at the Jazz Club. The next two stories
are forthcoming.


Let It Snow
by Nick Scipio

Gabriel's Christmas party, the previous Saturday, had gone very 
well. As expected, the food was excellent. I certainly knew the 
menu by heart. Gabriel also had an extensive selection of single 
malts, and I got to sample a few that I hadn't tried before. 
Despite the fact that Gabriel's wife of 20 years had left him, 
six months before, the house and decorations were up to his usual 
standards. In their relationship, he was the one with the love of 
all things Christmas.

In addition to Gabriel, the food, and the extensive holiday 
decorations, I was sort of a fixture at the party. I've been 
there every year, I've got an outgoing personality, I'm 
reasonably attractive, and I can tell a good story. So people 
remember me from year to year, whether they see me during the 
intervening months or not.

For the first time in the 13 years that Gabriel had hosted the 
party, I went stag. I've never been married, but for every other 
party, I've had at least a female friend I could take, if not a 
serious girlfriend. But not this year. I don't know whether I was 
fed up with dating, or simply enjoyed having my life to myself. 
Regardless of the reason, I was alone at the party, and so was 
Gabriel. He made a big deal of it, but I actually enjoyed it. 
Despite being 10 years older than me, Gabriel is looking for a 
20-something sugar baby. I'm not really looking. At least, I'm 
not as serious about it as Gabriel.

In spite of my lackadaisical attitude towards finding female 
companionship, I went home with two cocktail napkins, three 
business cards, and what looked like a piece of wrapping paper 
from one of Gabriel's Christmas gifts. Each one had a phone 
number written on it. The party was mostly all couples, but it 
seemed like half the women I talked to had a single friend they 
wanted me to meet. I took the phone numbers politely, said "thank 
you," and hoped that Gabriel wouldn't mind that a decent portion 
of the wrapping paper was missing from one of his gifts.

I didn't really plan on calling any of the women, and I didn't 
want to meet any of their single friends. Everyone else seemed to 
make a bigger deal out of it than I did. I'd had one steady 
girlfriend or another for the better part of 17 years, and I was 
enjoying just being a bachelor. I'm 32 years old, aren't I 
entitled to a little freedom?

I quietly admitted to myself, however, that my freedom might not 
be the only reason that I wouldn't call any of the women, 
wouldn't meet any of their single friends. I couldn't get my mind 
off the leggy brunette, the one from the Jazz Club. Perhaps it 
was her mystery. Perhaps it was her attitude. Perhaps it was 
simply her body. I don't know. What I do know is that she was 
stuck in my thoughts, and I didn't really want to get her out of 
them. So I was at the party without a date, and I thoroughly 
enjoyed myself.

After the big party, Gabriel always took a two-week vacation. 
Usually, he and his wife would go to Disney World. He didn't fly-
it was a two-day drive to Orlando-but they went every year. 
Gabriel is a creature of habit, more so than most people, and 
he'd made his travel plans even after his wife left him. He was 
determined to relax and find a sugar baby. I hoped he'd at least 
get to relax.

The Monday after the party, he was on the road, by himself, and I 
kept an eye on the business. It was a slow time of year for us, 
and most of our employees took their vacations in December. 
Practically alone in the office, I had little to do other than 
surf the Net. By the time Tuesday rolled around, I was looking 
forward to the Jazz Club, and hopefully, the leggy brunette who'd 
captured my interest.

The weather that afternoon was biting cold. The wind had picked 
up and the forecast once again called for light snow overnight. 
It was a slow at the bar, and Julie, the cocktail waitress, 
quickly realized that I was in a talkative mood. She brought my 
first drink and we chatted while I packed my pipe. While I 
smoked, we talked amiably. She left several times, to take care 
of the few other patrons she had, but she always returned with a 
smile and we picked up where we'd left off.

I was most of the way through my third Scotch when I resigned 
myself to the fact that the brunette wasn't coming. I decided to 
finish my pipe and then leave. I puffed quietly, closed my eyes, 
and leaned my head against the padded chair back. Without opening 
my eyes, I finished my Macallan and rested the glass on my knee. 
Then I sat in silence, listening to the soft Christmas music they 
were piping into the bar.

A little while later, I heard movement at the other end of the 
low table in front of me. Probably a couple sitting down at the 
other end of the couch, I thought.

"One drink, and then I have to go," said a woman's voice. She was 
sitting at the end of the couch, opposite where Gabriel usually 
sat.

I kept my eyes closed and decided to see what I could learn about 
them just by listening. Were they a couple? I doubted it. Were 
they just friends from work? Tough to tell. I couldn't tell 
whether the other person was a man or a woman.

"What can I get you ladies to drink?" Julie asked.

Second mystery solved, I thought to myself. Friends from work, or 
girls' night out?

"I'd like a Cosmopolitan," the first woman said.

"And for you?" Julie asked.

In my mind, I could picture her turning towards the other woman.

"I think I'd like the Macallan _Gran Reserva_. Neat."

I knew her voice, a rich, musical soprano. It was _her_.

My eyes snapped open and I stared at the paneled wood ceiling for 
a moment. I lowered my head, hoping that I didn't appear too 
anxious, and looked into the sparkling blue eyes of the brunette. 
She was sitting in the easy chair opposite me, and when our eyes 
met, she grinned wryly and winked. I smiled tightly, trying not 
to let my eagerness show. Her eyes twinkled with laughter for a 
moment, and then she smiled at me and turned to her friend.

Julie returned a few minutes later with the women's drinks, and 
then she moved to my end of the low table. She collect the empty 
glass from my suddenly slack fingers, and set a new drink-my 
fourth for the evening-on the table.

"I thought you might like another," she said with an impish 
smile.

I rarely had more than three glasses of Scotch. It was such a 
habit that Julie knew not to even ask if I wanted a fourth drink. 
I grinned ruefully at her. She laughed quietly and gave me a 
friendly nod.

The brunette and her friend, the same leggy blonde from the week 
before, chatted quietly. I was trying not to eavesdrop, but it 
was difficult not to, my attention was so focused on the 
brunette. The blonde did most of the talking, however. The 
conversation was mostly about her day at work (she was a 
marketing manager) and the date she had later that night (a 
younger guy who worked in her company's MIS department). She 
finished her drink quickly, apologized to the brunette for having 
so little time, and stood to leave.

After the brunette resumed her seat, she leaned back in her 
chair, crossed her elegant legs, and looked at me over the rim of 
her Scotch tumbler. She was wearing a pair of pleated black 
slacks, slender at the waist, with an attractive flare that 
accented her hips. Her sweater was fuzzy white angora, long-
sleeved with a high, rolled turtleneck collar. Although I'd hoped 
she would have been wearing a skirt, the sweater hugged her 
curves and assuaged my disappointment. When she moved, the play 
of shadows under her breasts threatened to mesmerize me, and I 
reluctantly tore my eyes away.

"Hi," she said, eyes glittering.

I smiled. "Hi yourself."

"Where's your friend?" she asked, darting a glance at the empty 
couch next to me.

"Disney World," I said with a chuckle.

She arched an eyebrow.

"It's a long story."

"So I guess our friends have deserted us."

I nodded. "It looks that way. Do you think they can trust us by 
ourselves?"

She laughed musically and I grinned. "I think so," she said. 
"Although it's a school night, and I like to be in bed by nine 
o'clock."

I looked at her in surprise, and then laughed at her brazen 
statement.

She took a sip of Scotch to cover her grin.

"That's a very nice Scotch you're drinking," I said, changing the 
subject.

"I know what I like," she said, looking directly at me.

I arched an eyebrow at her.

She took another sip and smiled coyly. "Actually, it _is_ good. I 
think it's better than the 12 year old. But I don't know if the 
difference in taste justifies the difference in price."

I looked at her and tried to keep the shock from my expression. 
I'd thought she wouldn't have known much about the Scotch she'd 
ordered. I suspected she'd simply ordered the most expensive 
single malt they had, in order to get my attention. She'd 
certainly done that, on both counts.

"I normally like the Lagavulin 16, because it's a little... 
saltier," she said with a lascivious grin. She giggled at my 
expression and took another sip of the Macallan. "You look 
surprised."

I tried to compose myself. "I guess it's not every day that I 
meet a woman who knows single malts."

"It's not every day that you meet a woman like me," she said 
without batting an eye.

"Touche." I raised my glass to her in silent salute.

She returned the gesture and drained the last of her Scotch. She 
savored the taste and then looked at me over the rim of the 
glass, eyes ablaze. "I need to use the ladies' room," she said. 
"Will you excuse me for a moment?"

I nodded mutely.

"I'll only be a minute."

I nodded again and she picked up her purse. She stopped Julie at 
the bar and withdrew a small wallet. They talked for a moment, 
and then the brunette-I realized that I still didn't know her 
name-pointed my direction and then handed Julie a credit card. 
Julie nodded and the brunette headed for the stairs. I almost 
choked when Julie looked at me and smirked.

I put my pipe back in its pouch and sipped my Scotch, listening 
to the soft music in the background. "Let It Snow" was playing, 
and I chuckled at how appropriate the song was at that moment.

_Oh, the weather outside is frightful_, I hummed to myself.

It was too dark outside to see much, especially with the 
reflected light from the bar, but I could hear the wind moaning 
around the eaves of the big Antebellum house. I knew it would be 
bitingly cold outside, but the Scotch and the fire warmed me, 
inside and out.

_And the fire is so delightful..._

Just then, the brunette returned. Julie laid the credit card 
folio on the table and the brunette signed the receipt.

"I need to go," she said to me. "Will you walk me to my car?"

"Sure," I said, standing. "Just let me take care of my tab."

_And since we've no place to go..._

"You're all taken care of," Julie said to me with a wink.

I looked at the brunette. She smiled-dazzling, even white teeth 
made her face light up.

_Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_

"Thank you very much," I said to her.

"My pleasure."

_It doesn't show signs of stopping..._

I gestured for her to precede me and we started down the stairs. 
Once on the main floor, I picked up my coat from the cloakroom 
and looked at her questioningly. She pointed to a three-quarter 
length leather coat and I helped her don it. She put on matching 
leather gloves while I shrugged into my own black leather coat, 
and then we opened the door and stepped into the night. The wind 
had picked up, and there were already flurries of snow whipping 
around us.

She thrust her arm through mine and we headed towards the parking 
lot.

_And I've bought some corn for popping..._

"You never did tell me your name," I said.

"You never asked."

_The lights are turned way down low..._

I grinned ruefully. Okay. "I'm Ethan," I said, as if we'd only 
just met. "And you are?"

"Kate."

"Pleased to meet you."

She just laughed and hugged herself to my arm. The wind was 
positively arctic, and I stuck my hands in my pockets to try to 
keep them warm.

_Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_

We reached her Lexus, and she unlocked the car with her key fob. 
As it turned out, she was parked next to my gold Rover. We stood 
between our two cars, and before she got into hers, I expected 
her to face me, which she did. When I went to speak, she pressed 
one gloved finger to my lips and silenced me. Then she kissed me, 
long and deep and full of heat.

_When we finally kiss goodnight..._

"Let me get the car started so it'll get warmed up," she said.

I nodded and she opened the door. Once she'd started the car, she 
took off her gloves, stepped out, and shut the door. She stepped 
close to me, and I'd just opened my mouth, to ask for her phone 
number, when I felt her hands at my pants. I looked at her in 
astonishment as she lowered my zipper. She grinned unabashedly 
and withdrew my soft manhood.

_How I'll hate going out in the storm!_

An icy gust threatened to shrivel me further, but her warm hand 
wrapped around my flaccid length and she began massaging me. 
Despite the cold, I rapidly hardened in her palm. With a playful 
grin, she began gently squeezing my length. I quickly scanned the 
parking lot and was relieved to see no sign of anyone else. The 
sensations of the cold wind on my hot erection threatened to 
overwhelm me, and my head swam. She smiled wickedly, while her 
long, strong fingers continued to expertly caress my shaft.

_But if you'll really hold me tight..._

Her fingers began tripping up and down my erection, caressing and 
teasing me. She gazed at me with lust-filled eyes, and I bent to 
kiss her. Her mouth opened, her head tilted back slightly, and 
she leaned against my chest. She never stopped stroking me as I 
took my hands out of my pockets and gripped her shoulders, 
pulling her to me. Her lips parted, and instead of kissing her 
soundly, I teased her. My lips brushed hers and she pressed 
forward; I pulled back and she moaned. The hand on my cock 
squeezed insistently, and I touched my lips to hers again, 
softly, teasingly.

_All the way home I'll be warm..._

She tried to press against me, and I pulled back. When she 
settled back on her heels, I tilted my head to the side and 
kissed along the line of her jaw, causing her to shudder. The 
fuzzy angora tickled my cheek as I nuzzled her earlobe. She 
responded against me, and I kissed the hollow of her neck. The 
hand on my manhood stopped moving. She moaned softly and I 
grinned to myself. I pulled back, planting kisses along the soft 
skin of her neck and jaw, and then pressed my lips against hers 
with rising ardor. Our tongues danced against each other, and 
then I pulled back. Her eyes opened slowly, and I grinned at her.

_The fire is slowly dying..._

Her nose and cheeks were red from the cold, and her lips were red 
and shiny as well, although for an entirely different reason. She 
slowly focused on me and then blinked, as if seeing me for the 
first time. When she saw me grinning, she grinned as well, 
although ruefully. I reached between us and reluctantly pulled 
her hands from my erection. With difficulty, I managed to stuff 
it back into my shorts and zip my pants. I pulled her towards me, 
and she came willingly. She laid her head on my chest and wrapped 
her arms around me as I held her.

_And, my dear, we're still goodbying..._

"We could go to my place," I said into her hair.

She tensed up at first, and then slowly relaxed. Finally, she 
shook her head.

The snow began coming down harder and the wind suddenly died. Fat 
snowflakes fell all around us, shrouding us with their silent 
white beauty. She stepped back, looked up at me, and then smiled, 
taking the sting out of her refusal. Then a mischievous 
expression crept over her face and she kissed me quickly.

_But as long as you love me so..._

"I want to see you again," I said.

She quickly nodded. "Next Tuesday." She grinned at me, a teasing 
twinkle in her eyes. "My car's probably warm enough by now. I 
don't want to get stuck in the storm," she said.

She kissed me again, pressing hard against my lips and darting 
her tongue into my mouth. When she pulled back, we were both 
breathless. She sighed, opened her eyes, and then opened the car 
door. In a moment, she was behind the steering wheel and buckling 
her seatbelt. With a wave, she backed out, and then drove off.

In the pinkish glow from the sodium streetlight, I stared after 
her, slightly bewildered, and merrily hummed to myself.

_Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_

-----

Copyright (c) 2002 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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