Christmas Eve with Stella
A short story by David Arthur Thorpe
From the series: Love has more than one colour
On the eve before Christmas Jim made a decision. He was not going to spend this year this evening with his mother. A perfect excuse had been his work schedule, which obliged him to be "on duty" till late afternoon. He would visit his mother for the New Year celebration. His sister and family would also be at the celebration and he looked forward to seeing her again. Good friends since childhood, he and his sister had always been close to each other and also he enjoyed being "Uncle Jim" for his two young nephews.
His affair with Rachel had ended almost two years previously and at first he had enjoyed his freedom but now he felt alone and had no close friends. He needed the warmth of a woman who he really loved, he convinced himself.
Moreover, it was his mother who had instigated the "match" with Rachel and after he had terminated their romance, his distraught mother had ignored him and did not speak to him for weeks. During the following months she had continually reminded him how ungrateful he was not to have realised how lucky he had been to have had such a "lovely girl"; his mother´s sole description of Rachel. It was only after his transfer at work from the suburban town to the capital, that his mother had normalised her relationship to her son. Here in the capital he was out of reach of her meddling in his private life, although she called him twice a month but mainly out of curiosity to find out if he had found a replacement for Rachel. Much to her frustration, he purposely always gave a negative answer to this question.
No, this Christmas Eve he was going to do something quite different; something he had never done before but, in spite of his shyness, had always been tempted to have the experience. He intended to visit a brothel, or as it was called in the advertisement, "A relaxation and massage lounge".
Just the thought of him not accompanying his mother to church this evening, but rather enjoying the expertise of one of the relaxation massage young ladies, seemed to him to be almost an act of parricide. He smiled to himself over this contemplation.
Jim stood in front of the establishment and fought with his indecisiveness. He had an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach but took the plunge and rang the door bell. After a short pause the door automatically opened and he went inside. The first hurdle was mastered.
To his relief he was not alone. Other clients were either standing around or sitting drinking and chatting with possible evening escorts in the, although intimately lit, tastefully furnished bar lounge. Jim headed for the bar. He needed a drink, he told himself. He ordered his favourite Irish whiskey from the plump lady bar tender. She seemed to understand his plight and on handing him his whiskey, she gave him a friendly smile and reassured him:
“Here you are my dear, the girls here don´t bite you know!”
Jim smiled in return and took his drink to a corner table and sat in one of the small leather upholstered armchairs.
From his corner seat he could observe the coming and going in the lounge. How the guests were first invited by one of the young "masseuses" to buy drinks in exchange for some small talk and flattering attention; preliminary diversions before disappearing together up the dimly lit staircase. In the background the sensual music was a stimulus to the aroused feelings.
Jim became suddenly aware of a slim dark haired lady sitting at the bar, whose glance was fixed on his corner, directly on him. As their eyes met, her mouth parted into an enticing smile. In his embarrassment Jim smiled back but then took a quick drink of whiskey before his eyes returned again like magnets to her gaze. In an almost cat-like movement her long legs stretched away from the bar stool and he watched her slender but voluptuous body slinking slowly and seductively in his direction. He took another mouthful of his confidence and awaited her arrival at his corner table.
Without taking her eyes away from his, she sat down at his table and introduced herself with a proposition:
"Hello, all alone on Christmas Eve. I´m Stella. Why not invite me to a drink and we could have a Christmas party for two."
Jim felt his throat suddenly becoming dry and remaining silent for a while, as if either ignoring or not understanding her suggestion, he then replied to his own bewilderment at his new found bravado:
"Hello, I´m Jim and I´m no longer alone. What would you like to drink to get the party started?"
Stella laughed and took his hand in hers and Jim held on tightly to this caress.
The ice was broken. No need for the irrelevant small-talk.
They talked rather about themselves, their hopes, their dreams and both drank their Irish whiskey.
Although he lacked experience with women, he saw not only tenderness in Stella`s large brown eyes but almost an appeal to receive the same feeling and the need for understanding and respect. Jim had already decided to make Stella a proposal.
As if in mutual agreement, they left the corner table and hand in hand walked up the dimly lit staircase.
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