Christmas Courtesan

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I had resigned myself to a solitary Christmas – something I’d become accustomed to since Lauren and I split up three years ago. A well-stocked wine cellar and a fridge- freezer packed with Ready Meals would see me through to the New Year.But her email changed all my plans.Expect an express courier delivery circa 12 noon today. Make sure you’re in to receive it as its perishable goods – for your exclusive enjoyment over Yuletide. Have fun! L xxxSince our amicable separation, my wife had enthusiastically embraced the Sapphic Sisterhood. This Christmas she’d booked to go on an All-Girls cruise of the Caribbean, which the holiday company unashamedly labelled: ’Dykes’ Delight’. Participants were bonus veren siteler recommended to include a strap-on in their luggage.My estranged wife knew I hated turkey, so I figured she’d sent me a goose. A rare delicacy up here in Butte County. Pouring myself a large brandy to go with my mid-morning coffee, I made a mental note to trawl internet kitchen sites for cooking tips.At 12.05hrs my Christmas present arrived. A good-natured Latino lad carried a large brown cardboard carton from the back of his van and carefully placed it on the front stoop. A huge red and white FRAGILE label was plastered across its top, surrounded by a series of ventilation holes. Had bedava bahis Lauren sent me a live goose?The youth held out a black plastic tablet. “Just scratch your initials on the screen, boss.” Moments later he was off down the drive.I carried the box into the kitchen, setting it down on the table. If indeed, it was a goose, it was certainly a very large goose: box and contents weighing all of five stones, I guessed. In my head I heard Jamie Oliver sagely advising: “A bird of up to seventy pounds will need to cook for at least five hours, basted every twenty minutes.”My empty brandy glass, sitting on top of the box shook slightly. Had Lauren sent me a sedated bird? As deneme bonus well as spending most of my Christmas Day basting the corpse in the oven, would I first have to take the poor creature out into the yard and wring its neck? As I poured another refill the box juddered violently.I took a kitchen knife and carefully sliced through the carton’s securing tape. I gingerly lifted the lid. Beneath layers of pink and blue tissue, curled up and fast asleep in a foetal position was a real-life Christmas fairy! On her tiny feet were white silk slippers, with white fishnet stockings cladding her fragile little legs. Her white muslin tutu had risen up, revealing that she was wearing no panties. Above her waistline, a white silk bustier enclosed her tiny waist, with its scooped-out bodice giving a tantalising glimpse of her small breasts. Slowly moving her head sideways, she opened her eyes to gaze endearingly up at me with a lovely smile of recognition.

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