Chapter 25: The Christmas Ball

The Christmas Ball should have been magical and, in fairness, the organising committee had done a fantastic job decorating the school sports hall to give it that magical feel. Sparkly white and pale blue curtains draped on the walls gave it a wintery atmosphere and the numerous Christmas trees, elves and even a couple of reindeer added to the festive look. But the problem was the tradition at The Christmas Ball of women never refusing a dance, no matter who asked and no matter who they’d come to the ball with.

It started off okay, Clarissa and I managed a whole song dancing together before the first numpty cut in. I went back to the table we’d commandeered with our friends to wait for her to finish, but then she was intercepted on the way back and numpty number two took his dance. By the time numpty number four had escorted her back to the dance floor, I gave up waiting and asked Lauren, who was sitting at the table alone while Kevin danced with Lisa.

And that was the story of the night. Yes, I got to dance with a lot of partners, including both Grace and Emily, but I really wanted to be dancing with Clarissa and only Clarissa. And from the pained looks she kept giving me whenever we got within a few feet of each other, I guessed that she felt the same way.

The Balls normally went on until the early hours, typically finishing at two or three o’clock, but at eleven, after almost three and a half hours of dancing apart, Clarissa managed to side-step a suitor, threw me a glance and indicated with her eyes that I should follow her out of the hall.

“How did you get away?” I asked.

“I told him I needed to visit the little girl’s room.”

“Fair enough. I’m glad you let me know. I feel like I haven’t spent any time with you at all tonight.”

“You haven’t. Not really.” She huffed. “This is all Mom’s doing. She set this up. All of those guys are sons of her Country Club friends or trainees from the factory. She’s trying to prove a point.”

“And what point is that?”

“I’ll tell you later but for now, let’s just get out of here.”

“You want to leave?”

“Damn right I do. I want to spend as much of the rest of the evening as I can with you. Are you okay to drive? You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“A couple. Not many.”

“Bugger. Can we just go back to your place then? We can walk there. Snuggle up on the sofa for a couple of hours. Mom doesn’t expect me back until late and as long as you have a coffee and don’t drink anything else you should be safe to drive me by then.”

“Okay, if you’re sure you want to go.”

“I’m sure. I don’t want to dance with any more of those slimy, disgusting ... You know they kept... touching me.” She shivered. “Not like you touch me. That’s nice, but they were... grabbing. I hate them. I hate them all. And I hate Mom for doing this.”

“Are you sure it was your mmom. I mean, you know what The Christmas Ball is like. We both should have known and maybe even expected this.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m certain this is Mom. It’s who was asking that makes me sure. I expected to dance with maybe Kevin and the others, but these guys...” She shuddered again. “Come on.” She grabbed my hand. “Let’s get our coats and go before anyone tries to stop us.”

“Who’d try—?”

“Mom. That’s who.”

Back at my place, I made us both a cup of hot chocolate and we settled in our usual position on the sofa. They were showing the original Miracle on 34^th Street on one of the movie channels so we decided to watch it. Clarissa leaned into me as she sipped her drink, her legs tucked up to the side. She seemed much more relaxed now than she had been earlier. Because it was a formal ball, everyone expected the men to wear tuxedos and the women to wear ball gowns or cocktail dresses. I had intended to hire a tux, but I figured that since I had the money and I was likely to get some regular use out of it at university, I’d buy a cheap one instead. Almost as soon as we walked through the door, and certainly before I made our drinks, I’d made myself comfortable by throwing my jacket, bow tie, waistcoat and cummerbund on the stairs, leaving me in just my trousers and shirt, of which I undid the top couple of buttons.

Clarissa didn’t have the same luxury since she had worn a tight, short, black cocktail dress. All she could do was kick off her high heels. I had a hard job keeping my eyes off her legs, which looked fantastic covered in black nylon, poking out from her dress. And when I wasn’t looking at her legs I was staring at her cleavage—the dress was quite low cut and I’m sure she must have been wearing a push-up bra because I don’t remember her cleavage being that big. And believe me, I’d studied it quite hard in the past.

When she finished her drink, she handed me the mug to put on the table at the side of the sofa. I put my mug down too as she adjusted her position until she was almost lying flat. I lifted my arm and she ducked under it, resting her head on my chest and her hand on my stomach. I put my hand on her hip. We stayed in that position for a while. I’m sure I heard her purr as I rubbed my hand up and down her side. I mean, actually purr, like a cat when you stroke it.

“Paul?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

I smiled. “Love you too.”

“Good.” She said this so quietly I only just heard it. A few minutes later she said, “Paul?”

“Yes?”

“You know what we did last night?”

“What you did, you mean.” I could tell she smirked at that. Don’t ask me how, I just could. I knew her.

“Okay, what I did. Did you like it?”

“Well, let me see ... I think the answer to that is ... Yes. Absolutely. No question.”

“Do you want me to do it again?”

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Well, let me see...” She giggled. “Yes. Absolutely. No question.” She giggled again. “So ... Can I?” She shifted her head to look up at me, her big, beautiful eyes bright, her pupils dilated with desire.

What do you think I said?

She gifted me one of those knockout smiles then turned to face the bulge in my trousers and ran her hand down my stomach to fumble with my trouser fastenings. She got the outer button undone and unhooked the inner clasp, but when she tried to pull them open, it didn’t work.

“What’s wrong with these stupid trousers?”

“There’s another button on the inside,” I said.

She huffed, felt around for the button and opened it. “I prefer your jeans.” She looked up at me and smiled. “Easier to get into.”

The blowjob was every bit as good as the two the night before. Only this time, I got more involved—at her invitation.

She was slow and tender. She wasn’t just giving me head—she was making love to me. She was showing me how she felt in the way she felt most comfortable with.

At one point, when she had just about as much of me in her mouth as she could get, she reached for my hand resting on her hip and pulled it onto her breast. She squeezed my hand to show me what she wanted, then returned to my cock. Soon after that, she pulled her dress down and her bra up to free her tits, allowing me to pull her nipples and roll them between my fingertips as well as squeeze and caress her whole breast. Each time I pulled or rolled her nipple, she took my cock from her mouth and gasped or moaned.

“Oh, Paul. I like when you touch me. I do. I really do.”

I squeezed her nipple again to make her gasp and said, “Good, ‘cause I like touching you.”

“Oh, that’s ... Paul, would you...? Can you touch me ... down there? Can you ... Can you play with my ... with my pussy?”

I’d played with her boobs before when we’d made out, but this was a new request. One I wasn’t about to refuse. I slid my hand south and pulled up the hem of her dress. I’d expected to have to slip my hand into her tights, but it turned out she was wearing stockings and I briefly wondered if she’d planned this. Maybe not the way things had happened at the dance but had she planned to leave early and then ask me to touch her like this? But I only wondered about it for a sec. I had other, more important things on my mind.