I take a deep breath, preparing myself to be plunged into debt for Taylor. I persuade myself she’s worth it and walk in.

“Ah, good morning, Mr Randall, I’m glad to see you made it in time.”

“Yes, Michelle, thank you.”

“I’ll just pop into the back and get the bag for you, Sir. Hold on one moment.”

Michelle is tall and thin and her black hair is cut starkly. The fringe just skims the top of her eyeballs, which Taylor assures me is the latest thing. All I know is it costs me a fortune in weekly hair trims for her to keep it from blinding her.

Michelle turns side on to me and virtually disappears. She has no hips, no breasts and I feel no arousal for her.

Taylor would love her. She’s constantly banging on about being too curvy to be a real, top model. It’s catalogues and pet food products that want her subtle curves, and boy they are very subtle, you really have to look closely to find them. Apparently high fashion needs stick figures to hang it’s faddy clothes and expensive accessories from. I tell her all the time she’s gorgeous as she is, but she just sighs and shakes her head. She won’t be happy till she can see bones poking out through flesh.

I shudder and shake my head at that visual I look briefly around the beige interior. It smells of leather and expensive candles and my testosterone is banging around inside me, dying to get out.

“Here it is,” Michelle walks back up to the sales desk and presents me with something that looks like my Gran knitted it out of a mixture of twigs and her infamous beetroot soup.

“Wonderful,” I exclaim, carefully pasting a smile on my lips and proffering my new, platinum card her way.

“Thank you, Sir.” She plugs it into a little black device attached to the till and gets me to type in my pin number. It goes through and I’m amazed by how painless the process is. I’m now two grand in debt and I don’t feel even the smallest twinge of regret, yet. I can see how credit buying can become addictive.

Michelle fiddles and faffs with brightly coloured tissue paper then places the wrapped monstrosity into a large bag proudly displaying the shop’s logo on either side.

“Someone will be happy tomorrow,” she smiles, passing the bag to me. “Merry Christmas, Mr Randall.”

“Merry Christmas.” I reply, quite aware that my two grand will be giving her a very merry Christmas indeed.

My hormones rejoice as I open the door and leave that girly place behind. Now I feel the need to seek out a pub, a pint and preferably a big bloody steak. I’ll feel a lot more manly after that and I’ll be able to face the bus journey home again, too. ***

The bus home is really packed. I feel like a sardine in a tin. I put my bag in the crowded luggage rack so I can hold onto something but I don’t take my eyes off it, imagining thieves all around me. What a bloody lovely day for my car to decide to conk out on me, I hate using Public transport, but needs must.

The bus sits in traffic, moves forward a few inches then stops for five minutes before moving again. The rhythmic stopping and starting lull me into a dream-like state and I begin to wonder about things.

I’m not sure how I ended up with a model as a girlfriend. It started at a party and I swear she snogged me on a dare. I don’t think I’m butt ugly but I do rest towards the dorkier end of the handsome scale. I was somewhat overawed by all this gorgeous blonde attention and bought her drinks, ordered her a taxi and insisted on not sleeping with her because I respected her too much or something to that effect.

Apparently my over-used line worked. She rang me the very next day. After I bought her lunch at an intimate (for intimate read expensive) little restaurant, she came home with me where we left all respect at the bedroom door.

For a superbly hot looking woman, she wasn’t that good in bed. At the time I was too busy thinking about my model-banging bragging rights with the boys to notice. But she’s been with me now for four months and we’ve had sex only a handful of times. She says she doesn’t have a high sex drive, that modelling wears her out and I say that I respect that. She’s been living with me for the last month. I thought moving her in might get me a bit more action, but she sleeps in a separate room most nights.

She’s great at kissing and promising though, and my ego likes having a live-in model girlfriend. I really am that shallow, so it seems. I’ve always had a soft spot for expensive play things, I have my own testosterone driven sports car and an expensive house with rooms I never go in myself. Taylor is just another item on that list.

A harsh elbow in my side awakens me. I hiss and hold back a barrage of swear words then look out of the window. I’m just passing the tube station, I’ve missed my stop.

“Shit.” I yell, eliciting a tut from the white haired lady beside me. “Stop the bus.” I squeeze past the other passengers, trying not to step on anyone’s toes.

“Gotta wait till the next stop now, mate.” The driver sighs, “I’m not allowed to let you off anywhere else, you see.”

“But we’re at the lights, please?” It’s difficult for a heterosexual man to beg in a convincing way when the other person is several stone heavier and several degrees hairier. But whatever I did, it worked. The doors flapped open and I was free. I walked towards the tube station and past it, towards home and as I past the post office I wonder if I should wrap the disgusting handbag or leave it as it is.

“Shit,” I exclaim once more, “Shit, Shit, Shit.”

I’d left the damn bag on the bus. How in Heavens name did I mange that? I run the rest of the way home then scamper to the phone in my hallway and pull the yellow pages from inside the cupboard beneath it.

“Bus, bus, bus,” I chant.”Ah ha, bus.”

I prod my finger at the page and leave it pressed against the number as I dial.

“Hi, yes. I just got off the number thirty seven bus about ten minutes ago and I’ve left something on it.”

The sweet feminine voice at the other end patiently asks me what I’ve left.

“A beige paper carrier bag containing a tissue wrapped handbag. It’s a Christmas gift.”

“Is there anything written on the bag, Sir?” the voice is calm and pretty. It’s definitely a good voice for this kind of thing. I’m feeling less anxious already.

“It says ‘Bags of London’ on it.”

“The driver has it.” She replies,” He rang in just a moment ago. He’s heading in to the depot now if you want to come and pick it up.”

” Oh fantastic, thank you but, erm, it’ll take me fifteen minutes or so to get there.” I explain.

“The thirty seven isn’t due in ’til half past anyway, so you won’t arrive far behind it. And I’m here till five, I can keep it for you. I’m Kelly, by the way.”

“Thanks Kelly, I should be there soon, thank you so much for your help.”

“You’re welcome.” She chirps and I put down the phone, searching for a taxi number. I order a cab and am told it’ll arrive in five minutes. As I put the phone book back a note flutters off the hall table.

You’ve taken my phone with you, so I’ve got yours. Love Taylor.

I delve into my coat pocket and sure enough, I pull out a small pink phone. There’s a message notification and I click through to read it. I know I’m being a bit naughty, but what if it’s an important message? Taylor would want to know.

I miss you. Can you come over?

I may be somewhat paranoid, but this worries me, especially when I see that the call is from a guy name David. I really don’t remember her mentioning anyone of that name before. So I do something even naughtier, just to put my mind at rest, I look in her message history. There’s only one and it’s from David.

“I’m so hard for you right now, I need you, I want to fuck you. Has pencil dick gone to work today?”

Pencil Dick? Who’s he calling Pencil Dick I’ve got a very healthy sized penis, thank you. But that isn’t the real issue here, I can’t believe Taylor could do this, I’m completely flummoxed. I mean she barely has enough sex drive for one.

Oh. I’ve just realised why she doesn’t have any sex drive left for me, she’s using it all on Dickhead Dave. She’s using me.

I head upstairs and along the landing. I’m going to throw all her clothes out of the bedroom window along with her shoes and shitty lotions and potions. I’m going to get her out of my life.

I come up to my bedroom and the door is flung wide,

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Taylor hisses as I walk into the doorway. She is kneeling over her lover, her tiny tits being massaged in is big hands.

“Yeah, you love my cock, don’t you?” A deep voice growls, “You love being fucked in his bed, you’re so naughty.”

And suddenly all my Bravado is gone. He’s a massive giant of a man, with a deep voice that promises violence. I throw her mobile down and it crashes against the bare floorboards loudly.

“Who’s that?” Taylor looks up, “Oh.”

“Don’t get up.” I grunt, “I can see you’re busy entertaining a guest.” I smile in his direction, his face shows his complete disregard for me. He wants me to shut up so he can continue fucking my Model, my Ex-Model. “When you’re finished please pack your bags and fuck off out of my house.”

“But…” Taylor starts and I cut her off.

“But nothing, I want you out.” My anger is rising, “You’re to skinny, too self-obsessed and too bloody bad in bed.”

Taylor’s mouth gapes wide and I turn with a satisfied smile on my face and head down the corridor to the stairs.

“I can explain,” Taylor’s tiny voice squeaks from the bedroom.

“I don’t care.” I yell over my shoulder, “I don’t want you, fuck off.”

I don’t wait for a response, I’m too angry to listen. She’ll be gone by the time I return, she’s not daft. She knows her meal ticket has just run out. Good bloody riddance.

The black cab pulls in just as I leave the house. It beeps its horn and I run over, slamming the door as I get in.

“Bus Depot, Sir?”

“Yes, thank you.” I reply, falling back into the seat and shaking my head to try and make my mind work. Taylor is fucking another man, fucking another man in my bed even. I’m shocked, yes, but sadly not surprised. I’ve known all along something wasn’t right, I should have worked out that she was just using me.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do now. Get the handbag and burn it? That’d teach her a lesson. No, I’m not setting two grand alight for her. I’ll take the stupid bag back for a refund on Boxing Day. Then I can cut up the shitty credit card and get on with my life. I might send Taylor a copy of the refund receipt too and let her know what she’s missing out on.

So I’ll be able to enjoy another Christmas day on my own, this year. I do like to watch the Bond movie and I can cook the turkey, I’ll be on leftovers for a while, though.

I’ll be fine, I’ve done Christmas on my own for the last three years since mum passed away. It’s nothing new. Who needs company at Christmas? I can happily do without all the extra hassle.

“We’re here, mate. That’ll be fourteen quid.”

I pull a twenty out of my wallet, “Keep the change.”

“Cheers mate, Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, “same to you.” and slam the door shut behind me.

The bus depot is a strange place with all those buses lined up with their engines off. You almost feel like tippy-toeing so you don’t wake them.

“Are you Mr Randal?” a soft voice comes from behind me and I turn round,

“Yes, I am. You must be Kelly.”

“That’s right, Sir, I am.”

“Call me Patrick,” I smile, this woman is so pretty. Her red hair bounces around her shoulders framing her pale face and large, green eyes. I can’t help staring at her.

“Okay, Patrick.” She blushes and clears her throat. “I’m afraid there’s been a slight delay, the Thirty Seven hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Oh, right.” I reply, glancing up and down her frame. She has so many delicious curves, I just want to dive right in.

“But he should be here soon,” she continues, “so, if you’d like to come and wait in the office for a bit…”

“Yeah, Thanks.”

“I’m terribly sorry for this inconvenience, Sir, I mean Patrick,” she flusters, “You must be wanting to get back home as quickly as possible.”

“Not really,” I shrug, following her to the small prefabricated building in one corner of this echoing vehicular bedroom. “I just found my girlfriend in my bed with another man.” I’m not sure why I revealed this nugget of personal information, I’m known for keeping my business to myself, usually.

“Damn, that’s awful.” She rests a hand on my arm, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I smile, “I’m coping.”

“On Christmas fucking Eve, too. Oh, excuse my language.”

I laugh, “It’s okay, really.”

“It’s just my boyfriend dumped me back on Valentines Day, so I know just how crappy it is to be dumped on a holiday.”

“Now that does suck,” I reply, “What a bastard.”

“Yep, that’s the conclusion I came to, as well.”

She leads me in through a heavy blue door and indicates for me to sit down on one of plastic orange chairs. I take a seat and she sits beside me.

“It’s been totally hectic, today.” She smiles, “But it’s quietened down and it usually slows down near the end of my shift anyway.”

“When do you finish?”

“At five o’clock, so just an hour to go.”

“Is it that time already?” I look up at the plain white clock opposite me. I’ve lost a whole day of my life because of that handbag. It’s cursed.

“Time flies when you’re having…oh, sorry.” She blushes.

“Don’t worry, it was a bit painful at first but now I’ve forgotten the pain. It’s like I’ve ripped off a plaster.”

“How long had you and your girlfriend been together?”

“Just a few months. It seems she was using me to get a roof over her head and her every whim catered for, well, every non-sexual whim anyway.” I add bitterly.” She has David to take care of those for her.”

“Ouch.” She winces, her cute face scrunching up in sympathy. “Mine ran off with a blonde half my age.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” I raise my eyebrows and she bats me with her hand again, causing my skin to flame under her touch.

“Oh, hush. She was of legal age and then some but skinnier and apparently, better in bed than me.”

“Pfft.” I wave my hand dismissively. “I don’t believe it. Why would any man give up on such curves? You were too much for him, that’s my bet.”

A tense silence hangs in the air and I pull my gaze away from hers and stare the plastic tree opposite me square in the fairy-lit face. I think I may have pushed things a little too far, there. This woman has gotten to me, though. She’s the total Anti-Taylor. She isn’t fake, she’s beautiful without a ton of make-up and she has hips and breasts like a real woman should have.

“What’s your girlfriend like?”

She barely whispers it, drawing my attention back to her plump lips.

“Ex girlfriend,” I smile. “She’s a model.”

“Oh,” Kelly’s face pulls down into a frown, her brow wrinkling.

“High maintenance, too skinny, bitchy and demanding.” I add. “It was only sheer vanity on my behalf that kept her around. It made me feel young and cool to be dating a real, live model. It was a shit relationship though. I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“Oh, we all do that,” She nods, “being left for a young chit of a girl certainly made me feel like the fool.”

“No, love,” I shake my head, “He was the fool for leaving you.”

I mean it sincerely and as her eyes scan my own she must see a sparkle of that honesty. She leans forward just a fraction and our lips rest just millimetres apart.

“HONK!”

A loud noise makes us jump apart, cheeks blazing.

“Oh, that’ll be the thirty-seven. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I take a shuddering breath as Kelly’s shapely bottom, encased in tight, navy polyester exits the room. I can’t remember ever being so instantly attracted to a woman before and it seems she’s attracted to me, too. Am I just imaging it, though? Maybe I’m just on the rebound.

Thing is, I don’t want to hurt her. She’s already been prated around by some wanker with a school girl fetish. A Christmas Eve one night stand is not going to make her feel any better. And that’s all I can realistically offer her. Instant chemistry like this doesn’t last forever, I’m sure.

“Is this it?” She breezes back in, my bag in her hand.

“That’s it, thank you.”

“So, you’re a cross dresser.” Her face is straight and solemn apart from one corner of her mouth which gives away the amusement hidden in her eyes.

“No,” I chuckle, shaking my head, “Though I can be if it’s what you like.”

Her laugh is a warm, cheering sound like reindeer bells on a cold night.

“No, love, that’s quite alright, well, not on the first date, anyway.”

“Are you asking me out?” I grin, taking the bag from her outstretched hand.

“Yeah,” She nods her head as if agreeing with herself, “Yes, I am. I finish in forty minutes. We could go and grab a bite to eat if you like.”

“That’d be great.”

“I’m so glad you agree. That’s the first time I’ve ever asked a man out.”

“You did it perfectly,” I reply and she giggles, causing my heart to flutter and my cock to harden.

“So, what’s in the bag?” She asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

“A fuchsia pink handbag worth two thousand pounds.”

“How bloody much?” She exclaims.

“Two grand,” I reply taking the tissue from the paper bag and unwrapping the monstrosity. “It’s Dior, darling.”

“Good grief, that’s one ugly bag.” She stares, aghast. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s not a present for you mum or something, is it?”

“Lord, no. Mum would turn in her grave at the sight of such a thing. It was for Taylor, the model. She demanded it from me.”

“Oh, well, that says it all, really.”

“Doesn’t it just.” I wrap it up and put it back in the paper bag.

“It’ll go back on Boxing day, unless you’d like it?” I don’t know what made me offer but suddenly the two grand price tag seems insignificant.

“Erm, don’t take this the wrong way, but no. That bag is vile.”

“Good decision.” I reply putting the bag under my chair.

Kelly sits next to me. “I’ve done all my work now, the thirty seven was the last bus on my books.”

“So, you’ve got some time to waste then.”

“Yeah, about thirty minutes, then Charlie will take over.”

“I guess I have thirty minutes to wait until I can take you out for dinner, then.”

“Seems that way.” She replies and a weighty silence hangs between us. I feel it square on my shoulders. We turn to face each other at exactly the same moment. Our lips parted, ready to let soothing, silence-filling words fall out. It is as if some kind of secret code kicks in as our word laden lips come within an inch of meeting. I move my head forward a fraction, she moves hers and we’re kissing.

Not tight-lipped and tentative, as one might assume for virtual strangers, but open and wet and plundering like comfortable lovers desperate for their daily infusion of lust.

My fingers find their way into her hair and wrap themselves in the russet curls. Her hands are running up and down my back and pulling up my shirt to find the soft, warm flesh beneath. My mind has gone, my instincts have taken over and as I kiss I get harder. This burning ache leads me to pull open her buttons as my lips slide sensually down her neck.

As soon as I’ve freed enough buttons to reach through, I prise her hot flesh from the cage of her bra and mould her soft, succulent breasts in my hands. She coos with a sweet, needful sigh as I tease out her nipples, hardening them with every movement of finger pad against finger pad.

I’m so absorbed in the silken feel of her breast and the sweet, citrus scent of her perfume that she has the zip of my jeans down and her hand inside them before I really notice. When her fingers skim the length of me through my thin boxers my attention is dragged directly to my crotch and the hand stroking it. She delicately rustles around, pulling and shifting material until she finds the opening. With a gentle but firm tug my cock unfurls from its 100% cotton jail and sticks out over layers of black boxer and blue denim.

Her hand strokes up and down, the pressure of pleasure building and forcing a groan of delight out from my lips.

“I have to taste you.” She whispers, dropping to her knees on the cold, hard floor. My hands seek eagerly for something to hold on to. It’s as if my body has been dissolved into separate parts, all of them acting on their own without the compulsion of my brain. My hands grasp her head, fingers entwining red ribbons of soft hair as her mouth ravages me.

It is all at once the weirdest and the best sexual moment of my life. Here I am sitting on a thin, old plastic chair in the grey waiting room of the bus depot with a hot redhead sucking my cock. There’s a little voice in the very back of my mind telling me that someone could walk in at any moment. But my hot-headed dick is completely ignoring every other sense and impulse as it works its way to ultimate ecstasy.

“I want you.” She gasps, sitting back on her heels. I ache from the lack of her lips around my cock. I feel the cold wrapping around me but then she kicks off her flat black shoes. Next she skims the black tights down her legs with her light knickers caught up in them and the heat of arousal floods me once more.

She moves forward, a hesitant little smile on her lips. She grabs my hands and places them on her hips. My fingers clasp her ample curcves and pull her towards me. Her thighs part and she kneels around me, lowering her cunt down onto my hot cock.

She groans as my tip presses between her slick folds. I hold my breath as she pauses with my tip inside her, I can’t breath for fear of upsetting this perfect moment. I want to feel the rest of her pulsating pussy around me and my fingers dig in to her hips offering encouragement.

With a fluid motion she dips down onto my cock. The pleasure screams around my body and brain, turning my limbs to liquid. She’s encasing me within her flesh and as I stop thinking, and concentrate on feeling, her lips seek out mine. She slides up and down as our lips palpitate. Being joined in two places so intimately makes breathing become secondary to kissing and when I gasp I am desperate for her lips, not the cold, emotionless air.

Her left hand leaves my shoulder and slips down my still clothed chest and stomach and rests between her pelvis and mine. I feel the subtle tapping as she stimulates herself to orgasm. I admire a woman who knows her own body so well and has the confidence to do what she needs to come.

Her breath tickles my lips as our mouths part, hovering a kiss-breadth away. She is close to hitting her peak and so am I. I can feel her cunt contracting, massaging me, pulling me tighter and tighter into it’s wet softness. We are both equally eager for release.

Her lips press hard against mine as she explodes. I feel the hand between us still as her pussy pulses and massages me, teasing my orgasm out of my body and in to hers. I wrap her up in a tight embrace, a blissful mellowness slipping through my veins.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers and she pulls away from me. “But we’ve got to get decent. Charlie will arrive at any minute.”

She hisses as she stands. Two red gunnels run down her knees from where the edge of the plastic had been digging in. She notices me staring.

“It’ll be okay,” She says, “They’ll disappear, soon.”

“I’ll kiss them better, later.” I wink and tuck my deflating cock away as she slips her breasts back into her bra and buttons up her shirt. “I’ll hold you to that.” Kelly laughs, picking up her tights and knickers. She strides towards the door at the back of the room and comes back out with her plain black handbag slung over her shoulder.

“I couldn’t be arsed struggling back into those torturous things. I only wear them because it gets so damn cold in here.”

“Have you got your knickers on?” I ask her.

“No.” She grins.

“Wicked woman.”

“That’s me.”

Just as I’m about to make a lecherous comment, the door opens and a man in a navy suit walks in.

“Alright, love?” He nods, polystyrene cup clasped in his thin, pale fingers.

“Aye, no problems to report, Charlie.” She smiles, “Enjoy your shift.”

“I will,” He sniffs, his giant nostrils flaring in his tiny face.

“It smells weird in here, like it’s gotten wet, where’s the air freshener?”

“In the cupboard under the sink,” Kelly replies smiling shyly, her cheeks as red as her curls of hair.

“Merry Christmas.” He bids, walking on into the room.

“Merry Christmas,” We both echo, then, as the door shuts we giggle,

“He’s very astute.” I comment. “It got really wet in here back there.”

She slaps me playfully.

“Let’s go and get that meal, eh?” She laughs, “I’m starving now.”

“So am I.” I grin. “Hey, you know, there’s this Chinese near me that serves great food, they even deliver.”

“And…?” She scrunches her brow in confusion.

“Well, we could go back to mine if you like and order in.”

“Yeah, I guess we could.” Kelly replies, “it’s not very festive, though.”

“I’ve got a Santa hat at home, I can wear that and yell “Ho,Ho,Ho!” for you if you like.”

“You’ve got a deal.” She chuckles, “Come on then Santa. I want to see what you’ve got for me.”

“All in good time, young lady, you’ve already had a good fiddle about in my sack.”

” I only got to briefly feel my presents.” Kelly says, “I want to squeeze them and shake them and caress them properly.” Her voice purrs the words and her eyes express the sexual innuendo in glorious, decadent green.

“Well you have been a very, very good girl.” I grin.

“Thank you,” She kisses my cheek. “Now let’s get going, I’m feeling, erm, festive.”

“Ho,Ho,Ho!” I exclaim, “What a coincidence, I’m feeling frisky, erm, I mean festive, too.”

As we walk down the frost-laden street hand in hand I turn to her and ask. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“Not that bloody bag for a start.” She replies, “Can’t you guess what I want?”

She turns her face towards me and I see the lust in her eyes. As we embrace I feel that lust on her lips.

“That was a very good guess but now, I want more.”

“Do you deserve it, though?” I tease and she reaches a hand down between us, cupping my cock.

“Yes, I do.” She squeezes and my flesh Sstiffens. “But have you been a good boy all year?”

“Apparently so, look at the Christmas present I’ve got.”

“An ugly bag?” she plays the fool so sweetly.

“No, a beautiful, sexy woman with a sensible taste in handbags.” I reply.

“Today was your lucky day, then.” Kelly’s hands wrap around my waist, pulling me close.

“Yeah, it really was.” and suddenly the ugly bag swinging freely from my hand turns into a blessing, not a curse. Maybe I’ll keep it, after all.