Jessica's Christmas

The story began on Christmas Eve, at nearly midnight. I sat upon the couch with a cup of warm milk; a tradition kept since childhood, when I wouldn't sleep without warm milk. It's calming effects are quite bizarre, really, when one thinks about it; cold milk hasn't the same effect. Mother sat in her armchair with a drop of brandy swilling in her glass. Her eyes were not focused on the television as mine were, however; she was deep in contemplation.
"Jessica," She said "I have something of a favour to ask of you tomorrow."
I tore my attention away from the TV to look at her.
"Oh?"
She hesitated. "I... one of my special gifts for you tomorrow, well, it was tickets to go see "The Rogue Batons" live in concert."
I let out a squeal of delight. They were my absolutely favourite band, but I never had enough money to go see them (I'm a Uni student, staying home for the holidays; although it's usually a stereotype, I was pretty much penniless).
"Don't get too excited," She warned, and then seemed to hesitate. "It's just that, there's a condition," She continued, as though willing herself to say the words "And I'm not sure if you'll like it."
"I'll do anything for those tickets." I said earnestly.
"Well, you know that the Shmidts are coming over tomorrow?"
"Oh God, them again?"
A few years ago, back when I was still in High School, our neighbours had been the Shmidts. They were the DULLEST people you could ever meet. Living next to them was one of the main reasons we moved house. Yet they STILL invited themselves over for special occassions; tomorrow, it seemed, was one of those.
"Is their creepy daughter coming too?"
"They didn't say, I'm afraid. But we're getting off the point a bit here. As I said, your tickets; there's a condition to you receiving them." She swilled back the last of her brandy. "I... I want to offend them as gravely as possible. I want them to be so insulted and so disgusted by us that they'll never want to see us again."
"So the condition is that I'll behave like a total bitch and scare them away or something?"
"Not quite..."

---------------------------

The doorbell rang. Replaying the plan over my mind again, I tried to relax. I consciously smoothed down the front of my dress - it was a tacky red Mrs Claus dress, with white fluffy edges that reached to about mid-thigh. It looked good on me, however, as it showed off my long, slender legs, and the colour was a good contrast with my long, black hair. I also wore some black stockings. I heard mother opening the door and saying hello; then I heard the nasal, whining voice of Arthur Shmidt give similar greetings; his wife's response was barely audible, as always. The footsteps in the hallway became louder, until four people entered the living room; Arthur, with thick black glasses and his eternally manic grin. Betty, his wife, every inch of her screaming "demure". Their gothy daughter, Ella, was with them after all; she never said anything, she just stared at you. Mother ushered them in.
"Ah, this must be Jessica!" Arthur whined "I always said that you would go onto big things - it seems your height has satisfactorally matched my prediction."
"Yes, you're very tall." Betty seemed to whisper. This was her normal volume. Ella threw herself down on the couch and glared at Jessica as she gave insincere thanks.

The group sat down, and soon Arthur had demonstrated his inane ability to take the most interesting of conversations and transform it into a dull monologue.
"...but you see the patch of frost on the crossroads between Marple Street and Delling Street was rather ill-placed, meaning that we must have skidded for nearly half a second before I was able to get the car under my complete control. Any longer and I may very well have driven upon the curb."
He paused. The only time he paused was when he had told a joke, or at least believed he had, so Jessica and her mother faked laughter. They did so intentionally badly, as if to drop a hint, but he took a deep breath as he prepared to plow on.
"Did you get anything nice for Christmas?" Asked mother, cutting him off firmly. I began to steel myself. This was the cue I'd been told to wait for.
"Oh, yes, why Betty here bought me - you'll never believe this - a pack of 10 HB pencils signed by Geoffrey Huntington, the current CEO of Pencils R Us, the largest national chain of pencil and stationary distributors. However, the actual signature wasn't in pencil itself-"
"That's absolutely astonishing," Interupted mother, her voice dripping with icy tones. "I got an absolutely wonderful gift for Jessica. Dear, why don't you show them your present?"
I took a deep breath.
"But... mother, the only gift you got me was...?"
"Yes, yes, come now Jessica, show it to the Shmidts. We're all adults here, after all."
"But I-"
"Now, Jessica!"
Slowly, trying to make it seem reluctant, Jessica lowered her hands down her sides until they reached the fluffy edge of her dress. She grabbed the sides and slowly began to lift the garment up and over her head. Beneath she wore a matching white bra and panties, frilly and sexy if she did say so herself. The Shmidts seemed slightly taken aback.
"Yes, I bought her this underwear set from Victoria's Secret," Said her mother, as if there was nothing unusual about a 22 year old woman showing off her underwear to guests "They look absolutely lovely, do they not?"
"Erm, well, yes," Replied Arthur "Although you, er, didn't need to force the girl on our behalf."
"Not at all, not at all. Jessica! Give me that dress right now. I can imagine the Shmidts would like to admire it for the rest of the day."
"Oh mother..." I replied meekly, handing over the garment. Was it working? They did seem a little shaken up. She felt slightly embarrassed, but if it scared them away then it would certainly be worth it; besides, she'd worn less on public beaches. It helped if she kept telling herself that.

"Yes, Betty here had a similar pair, if I do recall; a Valentine's gift from yours truly, although some might argue it was more a gift for myself. Isn't that right, Betty dearest?"
"Yes, dear," She whispered.
"Tell me, is it the B34 model, with the traditional wire support? I hear that some of the latest underwear models are using elasticated support but with additional padding to prevent strain."
Oh ye gods, he wasn't purturbed in the least! But for a moment there he'd been off guard. How could they make this any worse for him?
"Jessica dear, why don't you show them what type it is?"
This was new.
"What do you mean?"
"Take them off, let Arthur have a proper look at them."
My jaw dropped. Being seen by these creeps in their underwear was bad enough, but strip naked for them? Hell no. I glared at mother defiantly; she silently mouthed 'The Rogue Batons'. Damn, I'd lose the tickets. But... but my dignity was more important, right? My answer would be a resounding-
"Really, Margaret," Said Arthur "There's really no need. We don't want to embarrass the poor girl. It just wouldn't be right."
-yes! This would shake them, that's for damned sure. If they didn't storm out after this, there'd be no ridding themselves of them.

Shakily, not really believing that she was about to do this, she reached behind her back and fumbled with the clasp of the bra. The straps fell loose about her shoulders. Slowly she slid them down, holding the cups with her left arm so as not to reveal anything. Free of the bra, it's loose material clutched against her chest, embarrassment washed over her like a wave. Both of them were staring at her in disbelief; Ella merely stared at her, but with greater intensity than usual. Well, that was probably just her imagination working up. Covering with her left arm, she flung the bra on the couch between the bemused couple. Now she had a tough decision - when she removed her panties, she needed one hand to remove them, leaving only her other arm to cover either her breasts or her hairless crotch.
"Go on, dear." Urged her mother.
Her decision made, she grabbed one side of her panties and pulled them down sharply. When she felt the tension slacken, she moved the hand over her bare crotch and shook her hips. Gravity took care of the rest. Once on the ground, she grabbed the flimsy material of the panties with her toes and kicked them towards the bra. They landed, unintentionally, on Arthur's face.

"Oh dear." He said, taking them off. Yes, that's it, Jessica urged! Say that you won't stay here and take this, that you're outraged, that you'll never see us wierdos ever again!
"I was a fool, I see. It's a traditional underwired bra, with Wonderbra-esque padding, while the panties - or knickers, as they're called in England - have elasticated waistbands."
Jessica stood in the living room, wearing just two palms and a pair of knee-high stockings, and Arthur was actually STUDYING the underwear? CALMLY?
"I, uh, hope you don't mind Jessica's state of dress?" Asked mother almost pleadingly.
"Hmm? Well, it is a little uncomfortable, yes."
Jessica felt a great deal of discomfort. She could feel her face burning with shame, while the rest of her body felt cold with fear. She felt like trembling.
"Ah, mother, can I have my dress back?"
"Please excuse me, Arthur, Betty. Jessica, in the parlour, please."
The living room was attached to the parlour by a small archway, making one big room into two tiny rooms. Holding the dress, mother turned to Jessica when they were alone.
"Please Jess," She whispered "You heard him. 'Slightly uncomfortable'. It's working. Please, just a little longer, he's got to raise an objection soon. Then I'll start an arguement or something."
"I can't stay naked in front of our neighbours!" I argued. Although I agreed with her, really. Mild discomfort might seem like little to you or I, but Arthur Shmidt was the sort of man who, if an airplane flight had been overbooked, would glady force his way into an over-head luggage box and tell everybody it was 'cosy'. If he said he was slightly uncomfortable then, believe me, it was a big deal.
"Can I... is there nothing I can wear?"
"I have an idea, although it's not much. And... yes, I have another idea how to make this worse for them..."

And so it was that, after a few minutes of removing sticky back plastic, Jess and mother returned to the living room. The daughter, Ella, seemed to be admiring the bra now, although... where were the panties? Ah, they'd be somewhere, I told myself.
Arthur said "I see you're ready for Christmas Jessica, ha ha."
She walked with her hands clasped behind her back; a position which, without clothes, should have revealed all. Instead, each nipple was covered by a small, pink ribbon, the shiny sort that you stick to parcels. On her crotch - it had almost made her laugh when she'd used it - was a similar black ribbon, the same colour as the hair which should have been down there, all held in place with light glue. Each step caused her breasts to jiggle, threatening to dislodge the ribbons; yet she found herself getting excited, almost wishing that they did fall off. As instructed, she spread herself out on the arm of the couch besides Betty, one leg straight, the other bent in the air - a typical artist pose. This had to make them uncomfortable.
"I must say, Ella is dressed wonderfully today." Commented mother, setting up phase two of the plan. "Are they new clothes?"
"Why yes, they are." Replied Arthur, trying to dominate the conversation yet again. "We had lengthy discussions with the manager of the clothing store regarding the latest teen fashions - granted, she's 19 herself and probably too old for such fashions, but we felt that-"
"Yes, yes." Snapped mother impatiently "Might I have a look at them?"
"Oh yes, of course. Stand up, Ella dear, and do a twirl for Mrs-"
"No no, Arthur. I mean in the same way my Jessica showed her clothes. Naked."
This was said in a husky, almost perverse, tone of voice. The room was silent for a few moments.
"Well, okay, it only seems fair." Said Arthur. Jessica could have screamed DAMN YOU MAN! HAVE YOU NO SPINE? "Go on, Ella."
Without even a word of arguement the girl began unbuttoning her black blouse. She slipped this off her shoulders, revealing that she wore no bra, and she passed this to her father. Unperturbed, she reached down and unfastened the button on her black jeans; these she slid down her legs. A pair of men's boxer shorts soon joined these, and were passed on too.

"You'll have to forgive the boxer shorts," Arthur apologized, passing the garments over to an astonished mother "She's going through a feminist phase at the moment; refuses to wear proper clothes."
"Bras and panties are the oppressive creations of men." Muttered Ella. It was the first time in the four years she'd known her that Jessica had heard her speak. Quite casually Ella leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs; the calm, easy way in which she managed her nudity made Jess want to tear off the damned ribbons. She fought down the urge.
"You, uh, don't mind your daughter being like that?" Asked Mother, a little flabberghasted.
"Oh no, Ella walks around the house like that all the time. It's the reason we entertain very few guests."
Oh ye gods. They were USED to this. THAT'S why it wasn't working. And even worse, Jessica thought; I've just stripped for these nutbags for nothing. It made her want to stand up and throw the damned ribbons at them.
"May I have a drink, please?" Asked Ella.
"Of course," Replied mother "What can I get you?"
"Umm, can I go look what drinks you have?"
"Oh, yes, of course..."
Standing up, Ella walked to the room's doorway with a confident, sexual sway of her hips. She looked like she did this every day, and judging by Arthur's admission probably did. Jess was entranced by her.
"Umm, can Jess come with me please? I don't know where your drinks are."
"Of course."

And so Jess found herself in the kitchen, wearing a few Christmas trinkets. The tiled floor of the kitchen felt cold through her stockings; Ella's thicker, black socks probably shielded her better from the cold.
"Let's see, we have Anonymous brand Eggnog, some-"
Without warning Jess was pushed, roughly, against the kitchen wall. Before she could react, warm, wet lips were pressed against her own. Probing hands ran across her body - with three short, sharp tugs the ribbons were removed and she felt the warm body of Ella pressing up against her. After a few short moments her mind seemed to say "You're not a lesbian! You don't like women! Push her away!" But what her mind FELT, however, was an entirely different matter. Eventually Ella pulled away.
"All these years," She whispered "All these years I've wanted you. I nagged dad to come here each Christmas, just hoping for a sign you feel the same way. And then you strip for me. Oh god I love you."
She leaned in for another kiss - some small part of Jess's brain told her to resist - but then a shout came from the living room.
"Ella dear?" It was the whiny, nasal voice of Arthur "I think we need to go. The Johnson's just rang my mobile phone, and our Christmas lights have fallen down!"
"Damn." Whispered Ella. She stared into Jess's eyes. "Listen - if you feel the same way, and I think you do, come visit our house for New Years, okay?"
She pulled away, leaving Jess alone in the kitchen. With a cry of "I'll get dressed in the car!", the Shmidts were gone.

-----------------------------------

The two sat alone in the living room, watching television and drinking the wine the Shmidts had brought.
"Sorry about that dear. I thought it'd work."
"No problems, mom. It wasn't that bad."
Mother sighed. "Listen, they've invited us around for New Years eve. I have to go, but you can stay here if you want and I can make excuses."
"No, that's okay," Jess replied with nonchalence "I think I might go..."

THE END