Margaret Sanderson, Vice President and director of marketing for PLEEZE ME Products had been reprimanded for her apparent deficiency in developing innovative new merchandize. The CEO, Stephen Miller, indicated he would give the young, ambitious and beautiful MBA one last chance.

"Either do it, Margaret, or I will have no choice but to ask for your resignation. If you refuse to resign I will have no alternative but to terminate your employment which will make it much more difficult for you to find another job."

"But Mr. Miller..."

"No buts. Your mission, Margaret, should you choose to accept it, is to make us number one in the sale of personal sexual stimulation accoutrements. I am sick and tired of hearing and reading about that Doc Johnson fellow who is always king of the dildo hill. He's not even a real Ph.D like I am or you want to be."

"But Mr. Miller..."

"When the frenzied holiday shopping kicks off on Thanksgiving weekend, I want you to have a product on the shelves and available on the internet that dominates. Last year shoppers spent more than $200 billion on X-Mas. The market share you garner for us, with the emphasis on X, better display at least nine zeroes with the dollar sign."

"But Mr. Miller..."

"What the fuck do you want, Margaret? And will you please stop whining."

"I guess I have no choice, Mr. Miller. But I must ask--does this have anything to do with the fact that I refuse to have sex with you?"

"Margaret! How dare you! I was intoxicated that night at the retirement party for Nelson when I requested that you perform fellatio."

"Mr. Miller, I think your exact words were, 'Blow me, bitch, if you want to get to the top.' And you exposed yourself when you said it."

"Goodbye, Margaret. And I suspect it will be goodbye for good soon unless you come up with something as popular as ZipZaps, but ones you can screw or stick in a pussy. On the other hand, Margaret, your future with the company would be very secure if you decided to... uh... cooperate with me with respect to my private needs. You are an incredibly attractive and desirable woman. One should make the most of their most outstanding attributes."

"Mr. Miller, I would rather be homeless, on unemployment, and riding the bus instead of driving my Mercedes than to humiliate myself by sucking or screwing you."

"It's your decision, Margaret, and a very stupid one. I expect weekly reports on your progress. Our risk manager will be watching your every move. Any hint that this might turn into a Hello Kitty, Buzz Lightyear or Clifford the Big Red Dog unsafe product on the U.S. Public Interest Research Group's list of hazardous toys and the project will be immediately terminated, as will you."

Margaret turned and walked slowly out of Mr. Miller's office. For the next week all she could think about was coming up with some new product that would be the X-Mas rage.

Ah yes, the holidays, and didn't that bring back memories of Margaret's youth. Those sweet days of puppy love and romance seemed so far away from the reality of the cruel cold corporate world she found herself in today. Now her only lovers consisted mostly of latex. But that seemed true of most young and attractive and ambitious professional women. They could find no time for real relationships for the sake of the career. It had to be quick with no strings attached.

Fondly remembering her first sexual experience, that familiar itch began between Margaret's legs. She lost her virginity under the mistletoe. The mistletoe had long been a sexual symbol and kissing under it had been going on since the Greek festival of Saturnalia. Mistletoe, the Phoradendron Flavescens, is thought to bestow life and fertility, be a protection against poisoning, and to have aphrodisiac effects. Primitive marriage rites often featured mistletoe and it became the sacred plant of Frigga, goddess of love.

The proper etiquette is that a man should pluck a berry when he kisses a girl under the mistletoe, and when the berry is gone, there should be no more kissing. But Margaret's father had not stopped with the kissing, and it was not a matter of a berry. No, indeed, it was her cherry that was plucked under the mistletoe that X-Mas eve.

Margaret had just obtained a driver's license a few weeks before and Daddy bought her a sports car for X-Mas. She loved it and loved him for giving it to her, in more ways than one. Decorations including mistletoe adorned their luxurious home everywhere. Some hung right above the upstairs bathroom door. She had just showered and came out of the bathroom with only a towel around her.

Daddy just happened to walk by at that moment and he startled her. "Daddy, what are you doing here? I thought you went shopping with Mom." Margaret didn't even seem to notice the towel had fallen from her ripe young body.

"Your Aunt Linda took your mother instead. I didn't particularly want to fight that mall traffic anyway. Linda had some shopping to do too." Margaret's mother had been severely disabled with Lou Gehrig's disease and couldn't drive. Her parents had not been sexually intimate for several years. Margaret knew her father had a mistress.

"Daddy, I just love the sports car!" She hugged him ferociously.

"Honey, you lost your towel. And you are standing under the mistletoe."

"Well then, kiss me, Daddy!" He did. "Daddy, carry me into my bedroom and make love to me. Please? There is also mistletoe hanging from the canopy of my Barbie bed. It's everywhere, it's everywhere! Let me give you something very, very special too for X-Mas. Dang, I love that car! I want you to be my first. Pretty please?" He did.

Margaret's father had since passed away but she reminisced often about the love they shared while he lived. Reaching into her dresser drawer, she found the jumbo eight inch multi-speed vibrating dong under her panties. It didn't take long to scratch her itch, but she felt so unemotionally satisfied, although her physical needs had been gratified for the moment. The foreplay with Daddy had been so much fun. Margaret's favorite activity had to be when they sucked each other's toes. That really got her hot. And she loved the feel of Daddy's cock in her mouth and squirting his semen down her throat and all over her face. Her latex dong certainly didn't fulfill those requirements adequately.

All this thinking made Margaret thirsty. She went to the kitchen and mixed up her favorite protein shake, blending two level scoops of the formula with twelve fluid ounces of mineral water. Yes, she needed her protein nutrition, but unfortunately these days she got it from a bottle. She missed sucking Daddy's cock but she wasn't about to go around giving guys blow jobs just to get her protein fix.

Margaret pondered for days what product she could come up with that might save her job. And then the light bulb went on brightly one night as she masturbated with her dildo and cried sadly about the loss of her father. Yes, she would design a product that would please her, and if it pleased her, it most likely would please others.

A few weeks later, Margaret had a prototype MissileToe in her hand, in her mouth, in her pussy, and a few other places. It was absolutely incredible! For the first time ever, she had an emotionally satifying relationship with an inanimate object.

The MissileToe design was incredibly unique. The larger dong resembled not a penis, but a big toe. The smaller one, to be utilized principally as a butt plug, looked like a little toe. She giggled merrily. And the missile part, of course, was that the product had been designed to strike the appropriate target, such as, for example, a clitoris. Not only that, but in the middle of the double dongs were a super-stretchy incredibly soft jelly pussy and a life-like tight jelly anus. Both were white, of course, just like the berries of the mistletoe, and to symbolize virgin pussy and ass. Several covers to keep the heads of the dongs warm were included with the product. Little Santa hats came with the X-Mas edition.

Margaret had fretted considerably about the appropriate color of the toe dongs, finally concluding it definitely had to be green. Yes, she laughed, the MissileToe looked like mistletoe. But what she liked most had to be the squirting. The big toe ejaculated a thick, sticky protein drink mix. The chemist, per Margaret's specifications, created the substance to be as similar in texture and appearance to semen as possible. She stuck the big green toe in her mouth and sucked it hungrily. "Cum in my mouth, Daddy, shoot a big load down my throat. Please, please, Daddy! Give it up to me." She squeezed the bulb and gloriously savored the taste of the sumptuous cum-like protein mixture.

The next step, Margaret knew, had to be market research. She decided to do the initial analysis herself and picked a local sports bar for the testing ground. On a Sunday afternoon no less, during NFL games, what she felt surely would be the optimum time for a critical evaluation of the product. If the MissileToe could distract rabid football fans from their favorite team then it certainly would be a huge success and demand would greatly exceed supply. She comprised charts displaying potential marginal productivity and incremental profitability.

The bar had five televisions and that cable package where you get all the games. Talk about eyes glued to one boob tube or another. It appeared half the patrons cheered and the other half pissed and moaned. Margaret heard shouts like, "If the Cowboys only had naked cheerleaders they could make the playoffs!" and "Kordell is a faggot, put in Maddox!"

Margaret sat on a bar stool next to a hulking hillbilly wearing a long Redskins jersey that came down almost to his knees, no pants, and high heels. "Excuse me, sir, obviously you work out--how often?"

"Lady, the Skins are losing by two touchdowns and they got a college quarterback and a college coach. I'm fucking depressed and I don't want to talk. Where the fuck is George Allen?"

"I think he died, sir."

"What about Joe Gibbs, lady?"

"He's into NASCAR now. Can I show you something, sir?"

"Whatever, lady, I can't stand to watch this shit anymore. The second game will be on soon. I hope it's snowing like a bitch in Philadelphia and Tampa Bay gets frostbite, especially that sapsucker Sapp.

"Sir, speaking of sap sucking--how often do you have sex?"