100 Days To Christmas
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
100 Days to Christmas
Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright
©
2012 by Delilah Storm
Cover illustration by BSClay
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-404-4
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: December 2012
100 Days to Christmas
By Delilah Storm
"I'm looking forward to finally meeting you in person." Jackson's voice came somewhat tinny through the microphone built into the laptop. It wasn't the best of laptops, and that's why the voice sounded off sometimes, but it served its purpose.
"I'm looking forward to it too." Steve knew he was smiling like a loon, but he couldn't stop. Christmas couldn't come soon enough for Steve.
"I'm just sorry I can't get off work any earlier."
"No worries. Christmas is freaky busy in the bakery, so it's not like we could do much visiting anyways. It'll just be nice to finally meet in person. Not that I don't like Skypeing." Steve added hastily, his finger traversing nervously over his desk as he looked down.
"Hey." Jackson's voice made Steve glance up. That voice, even though Steve had only heard it through the speaker on his laptop, had a power over him that no one else had ever had before. It scared Steve and thrilled him at the same time.
"I like talking to you like this too, but it's just not the same as being able to touch the other person and look them directly in the eye when we're talking."
"Yeah." Steve gave a relieved sigh. He should have known Jackson would understand. For being such different people, they had a lot in common.
The two chatted for a while longer before Steve's yawning made Jackson laugh his deep, husky laugh.
"Go to bed, Steve." Jackson chuckled. "I'll talk to you next week." Steve's stomach clenched at the look in Jackson's eye as the man said this. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Steve was certain he saw Jackson's eyes narrow slightly as he spoke. The big, beautiful brown eyes he'd been looking at for nearly a year took on an almost predatory air as they looked at Steve. Before Steve could be certain, the look vanished and Steve's musings were ruined by yet another jaw-cracking yawn.
"Yeah, you're right." Steve couldn't help but smile. "I'm beat. Waking up at four o’clock every morning is hard. I'm not as young as I used to be."
"Ha!" Jackson harrumphed. "You're not even thirty-three yet. You've got a long way to go before you're old and decrepit."
"Some mornings I feel old and I certainly look decrepit." Steve laughed.
Jackson chuckled again. "I'm looking forward to finding that out for myself. I'll see you next week. Sleep well."
"You too." Steve ignored the blush that permeated his fair skin and he signed off the laptop quickly. The curse of pale skin was that everyone could tell when he was embarrassed.
Steve rose and gave a languid, cat-like stretch that went from the arches of his feet all the way to the tips of the fingers stretching out over his head. Steve yawned again, heading for the shower before bed.
He turned the water on in his small shower and stripped quickly, throwing his clothes into the laundry hamper. At least this time he'd been able to change his shirt before his scheduled rendezvous with Jackson. Last time he'd barely managed to make it in the door before the chime had sounded, telling him Jackson was online. Poor Jackson had been forced to stare at a flour- and dough-encrusted Steve through their whole conversation. Not that Jackson had seemed to mind. For a hotshot lawyer, Jackson was surprising laid-back.
Steve stepped into the semi-hot water and grabbed the body soap. As always after their Skypes, Steve was half-hard from the sound of Jackson's voice alone. For a man he'd never met in person and certainly never touched, Jackson had an effect on Steve's body like no man he’d ever met. Steve looked forward to their chats every week and he'd never been disappointed. More often than not, they didn't discuss anything important, but those conversations with Jackson were the highlight of Steve's lonely existence.
Steve had met Jackson through an online game almost two years ago. They'd chatted a bit while in the system and seemed to hit it off pretty well. It was Jackson who had first suggested Skypeing to a shy Steve. On his own, Steve would never have had the guts to suggest such a thing, and was very nervous during their first call. Steve kept dropping things and hitting buttons he shouldn't have. It was a wonder he hadn't electrocuted himself the way he kept dropping his drink on the keyboard.
In fact, Steve was little more than a stammering disaster on legs, but Jackson was patient and kind and more handsome than Steve could have wished. Even though Steve couldn't seem to stitch together an intelligent phrase during the whole conversation, Jackson had suggested Skypeing again the following week, and it had soon become a regular Sunday evening fixture in Steve's life. It had quickly become the thing Steve looked forward to most in his week, and any time they had to cancel, Steve was inconsolable for days -- according to his employees at least.
Steve owned his own bakery, which had been handed down from father to son for three generations. His parents were currently basking in the glorious Florida sun and Steve had been running the store for nearly seven years now. He'd made some improvements and changes, but the family atmosphere was still there. Usually Steve went down for a few days after the holiday season rush to visit them, but not this year. This year he’d begged out, claiming work, but he was sure his mother guessed the truth. Steve was finally going to meet Jackson, the man he'd been fantasizing about for over a year now.
Jackson was a lawyer, working at a large law firm in busy New York City. The cases he mentioned and the stories he told about some of the antics in court had Steve wondering how two such different people could actually get along so well, but get along they did. Steve couldn't imagine what prompted Jackson to continue to call him every week, but Steve was thankful for it. Looking at those fine features and talking about nothing and everything made Steve even more thankful for Jackson's continued persistence.
As always, when visions of Jackson's warm eyes filled Steve's head, his cock went from half hard to fully interested almost too quickly for Steve to maintain his balance. With all that blood rushing to his cock every Sunday, it was a wonder Steve hadn't had any accidents in the shower yet. He leaned on the cold shower tiles, stroking his soap-covered hand over his rock-hard shaft.
Steve cupped and pulled his balls slightly, wringing a moan from his lips. A little pain always made the pleasure all the sweeter to enjoy. It took mere moments before Steve could feel the familiar tingling in his balls and coursing through his cock. His thumb pressed into the slit on the tip of his penis, his hand stroked quicker from root to tip and back again. Steve stood upright, his other hand moving to pinch his nipple, tweaking it hard as he imagined how good Jackson's hands would feel on his body.
He imagined Jackson standing behind him, thrusting deeper into Steve's backside as the man's hands pulled the pleasure from his cock. He imagined Jackson's voice whispering sweet, sexy words into his ear and that tantalizing mouth nibbling at his neck, sucking up a mark for everyone to see. His hands stroked faster as he imagined all the fucking, sucking, and playing they would do when they came together. His cock grew impossibly hard and his fingers pinched his nipple one last time.
"Jackson," Steve moaned as he shot out in short, hard bursts. He gasped, leaning again on the tiles as he watched his seed dripping down the shower wall until it was washed away in the swirl of water.
It took Steve a few minutes to gather himself. It was always so fast and fantastic right after their chat, with the sight of Jackson and the sound of that deep, drawling voice still so fresh in Steve's mind. He finished washing off quickly and stepped out of the cold shower.
For the amount of his rent, you'd think the landlord could at least replace the hot water tank so Steve could get a decent shower that lasted more than seven minutes. But Steve wasn't big on making waves and let the thought slide away. He toweled off quickly, tossing the wet towel into the hamper, and padded, naked, across the hallway to his bedroom.
Catching sight of himself out of the corner of his eye, Steve stopped dead in his tracks and looked at himself critically in the full-length mirror attached to the bedroom's closet door.
"Shit." He grimaced, poking his belly in disbelief.
Steve stepped closer to the mirror, squinting at the figure he saw before him. He was fat. Maybe not obese or anything, but there was a definite pouch on his stomach. Steve turned sideways, continuing to stare. He reached behind him and slapped his ass hard, watching it jiggle. His butt was huge. He bent forward slightly, glaring critically. His butt really was huge. Why had no one ever told him he had such a huge ass? A man had no business having such a huge bubble butt.
Turning this way and that, Steve gave a dramatic sigh. There was no way around it. He'd have to go on a diet. He knelt down, digging out the scale from where he'd shoved it under his dresser in disgust the last time he'd used it. Steve dusted it off before placing it in front of the mirror and held his breath as he stepped on.
"Jesus Christ!" Steve muttered emphatically. One hundred and ninety-five pounds. One-freaking-hundred-and-freaking-ninety-freaking-five. This was horrible. He'd need to lose at least forty pounds before he could let Jackson see him. Thank God Jackson could only see his head and shoulders when they Skyped. He'd be able to make that good first impression and not scare the man of his epic fantasies away.
Steve pulled on his sleep shorts and threw himself facedown on to his bed, moaning. He hated diets. It was hard to diet when he baked pastries and cakes and sweets for a living.
He rolled over, grabbed a small book from the bedside table, and flipped it open, angry yet determined. He quickly counted the days on the calendar and wrote furiously in his journal.
Sunday, September 16
99 Days to the Visit, 100 Days to Christmas
I
will
lose 40 pounds by December 24. I
will
make Jackson drool with desire!
With a satisfied nod, Steve closed the journal with a snap and closed the light. He rolled over, thinking of all the things he could do to lose weight. There was more than three months, plenty of time. It was like three pounds a week. How hard could it be?
Steve fell asleep thinking about exercising, and Jackson, and woke up thinking about a new whipped cream and coffee cake recipe. This might be harder than he thought.
Friday, September 21
94 days to Visit, 95 days to Christmas
Finally perfected the coffee and cream cake recipe. Took a few days and more trials than it should have, but the guys in the bakery seemed to enjoy doing the tastetesting. But I could never get a proper answer from them, all they ever said was that it was good, so I had to sample the testers myself. So much for my diet this week. Started exercising on Tuesday and man am I sore. I took a few days off exercising to recover, I could hardly lift the 50 pound bag of flour on Wednesday and Geoff laughed at me and had to help. Jessica just looked at me like I was crazy. But I need to get back into exercising again. It's important. I've got to lose this bubble butt!
Thursday, October 4
81 days to Visit, 82 days to Christmas
Got another two Halloween parties to bake for. I love Halloween. I love making really gross cakes and watching people's faces light up in horrified fascination as they look at them. No other time of the year can I make a cake with a zombie leg dripping blood and chained to the wall and have people delighted with it. But making the orange cannoli cream isn't going well. For some reason the acid in the orange juice is making the cream separate after a while. I'm going to have to switch to orange zest and orange oil instead of pureeing actual oranges. But of course I couldn't toss the test runs. Geoff invited me to a poker game, and we took the cannoli and ate them with a few beers. Man, this diet thing is just not working. I've lost maybe six pounds all together! Focus! I've got to make Jackson drool so hard he slips and falls into my bed!!!
Tuesday, October 9
76 days to Visit, 77 days to Christmas
Got myself a personal trainer at the gym around the corner. His name is Jim. Jim at the gym, how funny is that? I'm supposed to see him once a week, but I don't know. What a hard-ass he is, and I don't mean in the good way. Stupid jerk wanted me to do sit-ups and pull-ups and push-ups and god only knows what other kind of ups. Told him if I could do those, I wouldn't need him. He didn't like that and told me to jump rope. Let's just say that he'll never ask me to do that again. And I'm sure the treadmill machine I hit when I tripped on the rope isn't irreparably damaged, no matter what Jim says.
When I booked the appointment, they told me to keep a food diary of everything I ate for a week. So I brought that in with me. I did exactly what they told me, but Jim took one look at all the pages and his eyes bugged out of his head. He looked like one of those goldfish with the big eyes and puffy cheeks. His mouth kept opening and closing but nothing came out. He kept turning page after page and looking up at me like I was crazy or something and then back down at the pages. He asked me if it was a joke and I told him, most emphatically, that was most certainly not a joke. They wanted me to write down everything, so I did. What more do they want? Then the stupid man had the nerve to ask me how any one man could possible eat so much. When I told him I was a pastry chef at Sweet Cheeks he just shook his head and sighed the deepest sigh I've ever heard. I really don't know what his problem is.
Tuesday, October 16
69 days to Visit, 70 days to Christmas
Brought Jim some brownies today. I made them with lots of peanut butter and caramel. He was too busy stuffing his face and looking for his water bottle to yell at me too much today. Poor guy. Told him I'd bring him something that wasn't so sticky next time. He just smiled and nodded. He couldn't talk much as his teeth were kind of stuck together. Pity that, I'm sure. But he managed to eat the whole plate. He even shared a couple with me. Maybe he's not so bad.
Monday, October 22
63 days to Visit, 64 days to Christmas
Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed. Talked to Jackson for over two hours last night. He thought I was mean when I told him about Jim's brownie dilemma. I don't know what he's talking about. I feel like a teenage girl when I say he's so awesome, but he really is. Love to look at him. Love to talk to him. Love to listen to him. But he turned me on so bad, I was playing with myself all night and couldn't focus at all this morning. Dropped two cakes. Not badly and not on the floor or anything, but they were too messed up to sell. Geoff suggested taking them to the homeless shelter's kitchen. I know they're always looking for donations. It was such a great idea, I felt bad for not thinking of them before. But then I thought, that was a terrible thing to do, give them something that was below par like that. So I baked them an extra 5 cakes and took those to the shelter instead. Trish, the lady who runs the kitchen at the shelter, was really happy to get the cakes. Apparently, they hardly ever get any treats or pastries. I promised I'd bring her items more often and she was so happy she nearly cried. Almost made me want to cry too. Geoff wouldn't take the damaged cakes home, said he wife threatened him with no sex if he brought home any more goodies. Silly woman thinks she's getting fat. Jessica would only take one. So I had to bring the other one home. Guess I'll have it for breakfast, and lunch, and dinner for a few days. Stupid diet.
Thursday, November 1
53 days to Visit, 54 days to Christmas
Barely survived Halloween. We had so many extra cakes and cookies and squares and sweet tables to make up, I thought I was going to burst. Had to pull two all-nighters in a row, but it was worth it. Everything turned out fabulous and tasted great. This was probably the best Halloween we ever had. I had lots of people complement us and a lot of the companies promised to book us for their future events.
Jim called. He was mad that I missed Tuesday. Told him I had to work. But I brought him a plate of cookies to the gym and he seemed to forgive me. The way he grabbed them, I'm not sure the obviously starving guy is going to share them or not. Hope so, there were about three dozen cookies there. Don't want the poor guy to get sick or anything.
Sunday, November 4
50 days to Visit, 51 days to Christmas
Jackson seems to be under the impression that I'm out to get Jim. I told him I wasn't. I was just trying to make the guy feel better. Anyone who runs around like that all day and doesn't have time for the sweeter things in life can't be all that happy. I just want to make the guy happy. Jackson just laughed at me and said I'm incorrigible. I really don't know where he gets these ideas from.
Wednesday, November 7
47 days to Visit, 48 days to Christmas
Jim is a jerk! Stupid man said that I wasn't trying hard enough to get fit. Stupid man, I'm not trying to get fit, I'm trying to lose weight so I look sexy. Told him as much, but he didn't seem to understand the distinction. He wanted me to try jogging. Told him I'd never been in my life and wouldn't know how to do it properly. Stupid man made me go out with him so he could show me how to do it. He said I should do it every morning before I go to work or every evening when I get home. Yeah, right!
Stupid man was yelling at me the whole time "lift your knees higher", "keep your elbows at your side, you're going to kill someone with the way you swing those things", "don't stop yet, we've only been running for three minutes". Whatever! The man was yelling at me so much that when I finally turned to tell him to shut up, I ran into a stop sign and was nearly decapitated. Jim laughed so hard I thought he was going to puke. I'm taking this as a sign from God, no more jogging for me! Next week I'm going to bring Jim brownies made of toffee and ex-lax. Let's see him order me around when he's too busy running for the toilet!
Sunday, November 18
36 days to Visit, 37 days to Christmas
I know Jackson is going to laugh at me tonight. I almost don't want to tell him, but I know he'll be amused. Saw Jim on Tuesday and brought him a plate of homemade mini chocolate éclairs. I decided not to put a laxative in them, this time. But lo and behold, Jim is almost human when he's eating. We spent most of the time in the employee's lounge dipping the éclairs in the warm caramel sauce I brought with them. A few other people came by and we all started talking about the plans for Thanksgiving. I just know Jackson is going to make it sound like I've got it in for the guy or something. But the good news is that I didn't have to go on the weight lifting machine. I swear that thing has it in for me. No matter what I do, I always get tangled up in the cords. I think Jim's going to give up with me and that machine. Kind of like the jumping rope incident. Or the jogging.
Monday, November 19
35 days to Visit, 36 days to Christmas
I knew Jackson would blame me. Now he says I'm corrupting Jim. It's a good thing I love the guy, 'cause he's got some way weird ideas about me. It's hardly my fault that Jim called and asked if I could bring down some more éclairs and caramel sauce.
Tuesday, November 20
34 days to Visit, 35 days to Christmas
Okay, Jim is officially a jerk again. He ate all my éclairs and then told me he wanted me to start jogging every other day. Said it would be good for me and that it would help me get fit. Jerk.
Thursday, November 22
32 days to Visit, 33 days to Christmas
Went jogging. Got chased by the neighbor's chihuahua. Stupid dog chased me all the way down the block before I could hide in a coffee shop. Had a donut and coffee while I waited for the yappy little critter to go away. Not anywhere near as good as my donuts. Will never go jogging again.
Monday, December 10
14 days to Visit, 15 days to Christmas
Had a wonderful talk with Jackson last night. The man is awesome. I can't wait for him to come down. But I can't believe I've only lost ten pounds. It's nowhere near where I wanted to be. Think maybe I should stop the gym membership. It's not doing me any good at all. If I wanted to sit around all day eating cookies, I could just stay at the shop. Told this to Jackson, but he just laughed at me again. Honestly!
Sunday, December 23
1 day to Visit, 2 days to Christmas
Spoke to Jackson for a couple of hours tonight. I'm so excited. In less than 24 hours, he's going to be right here in my apartment. I gave up on going to the gym. With Christmas rush and all, it was too much. We had so many orders and parties, it just wasn't possible to keep going. Jim seemed sad when I told him, but when I said I'd keep bringing him treats as often as I could, he seemed to cheer up quite a bit.
I've picked out all my clothes for Jackson's visit. I have several long shirts and sweaters and Geoff has lent me some of his. This should hide my bulge and my huge bubble butt. At least I hope so. I'm still dying to get him into bed, but as long as the light is off, he shouldn't be able to tell how huge it is. Right?
