The parcel in my apartment mailbox on Christmas Eve was a surprise. I hadn’t been expecting anything. There was no return address, but it was very clearly addressed to me, so it obviously wasn’t a mistake. With this Christmas looking like it would be my worst ever, a mystery gift at least promised some kind of delight, or at least distraction, to brighten things up a bit.
The most obvious source of my bleak holiday mood was my recent break-up. Frank, my boyfriend of the past four years, had walked out on me just two weeks before Christmas. Apparently, my bringing up the question of when we might consider marriage and a family had hit a sore spot or something. It was the second time that a long-term boyfriend had flaked out on me when I started talking about commitment and babies. I was thirty and starting to think my dreams of having a family were just that---dreams.
To top it off, a massive storm front had rolled into Southern Ontario that morning, shutting a lot of activities down. My sister had called to postpone our family Christmas dinner since the storm was expected to continue through to Boxing Day. A party I had planned to go to that night had similarly been cancelled, though that was less of a problem since I had originally been going to that with Frank. Even stores were starting to close early as the usual last minute shopping parade tailed off in the face of heavy blowing snow.
So, I found myself facing Christmas with no Frank or family to spend it with. It would literally be my first ever Christmas alone. I wasn’t sure whether to spend it drunk in front of the TV or sobbing in bed. Into that messed-up holiday had come my mysterious package.
When I got to my apartment and opened the parcel, the contents of the package were an even bigger surprise than receiving it. Inside was a vibrator, with a nice shaft about five or so inches long and topped by a clitoral stimulator. The little card inside simply read, “For you to enjoy. Merry Christmas.”
I could not think of anyone who would send me such a gift. I wasn’t involved in any kind of “Secret Santa” and even if I was, it would be odd for someone to give a sex toy for something like that. It certainly wasn’t something that I could see either my family or friends buying me. Frank was clearly out. Even when we were together, my ex hadn’t liked me enjoying anything sexually other than his dick and tongue, even my own fingers.
Putting the parcel down, I stared at it for a bit longer. I had never actually owned a such a device before. Self-satisfaction had always come from fingers or improvised playthings like humping my body pillow. I started wondering how the vibe might feel inside me; what effect the vibrations would have on me. The first stirrings of arousal moistened the soft space between my thighs.
“No,” I said, tearing my attention away, “Not now, at least.”
I had laundry to be washed, presents to wrap, and even some work to finish before I could relax and try to enjoy the holiday; assuming I even could enjoy it under the circumstances. Tempting as a session with the mysterious gift might be, it wasn’t going to happen now.
Picking up my laundry hamper and soap, I headed for the eighteenth floor laundry room. It was fairly quiet there, with only one dryer rumbling away. After loading and starting a washer, I crashed on the couch in the neighbouring tenants’ lounge and found the book I was reading.
There was a bookshelf in the lounge where people could drop off their old books for others to enjoy while waiting for their laundry. I was working my way through a steamy, if rather conventional, historical romance about an English noblewoman seduced by a hunky Scottish laird. It wasn’t great literature and seriously fucked with history but the writer did have a way with words where sex was concerned.
The chapter I was starting to read quickly launched into some erotic action involving the lady’s maid and two of the highlander’s companions. It was something that had been building for a couple chapters and the build-up proved well worth it. As I read, I half-consciously slipped my free hand down my sweatpants and, glad I had gone commando, began playing gently with my pussy. Slowly, I ran a finger along my moistening lips and teased the swelling bud of my clitoris.
I was close to climax when the sound of the elevator startled me back to reality. I pulled my hand out of my pants and tried to look relaxed and nonchalant instead of horny and aroused. Denise, my neighbour and friend, walked by and flashed me a smile. She lived down the hall from me and, after a couple years as neighbours, we had become friendly over the last few months. Denise had sat up with me the night Frank left to provide comfort while I cried out my anger and grief.
Getting up from the sofa, I walked into the laundry room. Denise was unloading the dryer with her back to me. She wore tight yoga-style pants and a cropped long sleeve t-shirt. The former showed off a toned, shapely bum and a bit of camel toe when she bent over.
Still aroused from masturbating to the story, I found myself enjoying the view and wrestling with an urge to touch my neighbour. I had felt a bit of an attraction to Denise before but it had never been strong like this. My bisexuality was a part of my life that I really didn’t talk about much. While I had been aware of it myself since I was eighteen, I had really only ever come out to the handful of women I had slept with. Even Frank hadn’t known.
“Hi, Denise,” I said, turning to open the washer since it had fallen silent.
My friend looked up at me with a smile. Her face was dark and pretty, with full red lips that I was dying to kiss.
“Hi, Heather. How’s it going?”
“Could be worse, could be better. I’m not feeling very Christmas-y, that’s for sure.”
“Any plans for Christmas Day?”
“No. Just me and my little tree trying not to be too glum. The storm has put off my family’s Christmas gathering. With Frank gone, all my other plans have kind of blown away. Don’t even feel like doing much.”
“I totally get that,” Denise responded, “I once had a Christmas bust-up. Thought I would never enjoy the holidays again.”
“But it got better?” I asked.
“I’m not much of a Christmas person anymore, I guess,” Denise answered, “But I get some enjoyment out of it.”
“At least I’ve got something to keep myself entertained,” I said, wondering if Denise might be able to shed any light on my gift.
“Really? What?” she asked, perking up.
“Someone sent me a mystery gift,” I said, feeling my cheeks warming, “It’s a… vibrator.