All I Want for Christmas C'est Toi

Annual Winter Holidays Contest 2024

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She was the loveliest thing I had ever seen. Wavy golden locks fell over her shoulders down to the middle of her back, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of the gas heater by her sofa that worked against the chill of the huge dome over her head. The twinkling Christmas lights on the oversized tree reflected in her green eyes and her cute nose crinkled with a smile on her perfect cupid's bow lips, as she read something funny in her book.

Stylish. Poised. Sexy as hell. So fucking se...

"Excusez-moi? Excusez-moi mademoiselle!"

I snapped back to reality. The lady in front of me looked miffed.

"Excuse me miss, I ordered a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a Tikimaka cocktail a while ago?"

"Désolée madame, it is coming right away."

Malik gave me the stink eye and I cursed inwardly. Making the guest wait long enough to complain was not supposed to happen in the Hotel-Dieu de Lyon. Ever.

The old hospital turned five-star hotel was a formidable building on the right bank of the Rhône, a grand institution of hospitality in the food capital of France.

I had worked hard to be hired here and was working even harder to be accepted by my French coworkers, who were less than impressed by an upstart English girl rubbing elbows with them in the finest hotel bar in France.

"You are lucky that the maître d' isn't here, Julie," pronouncing my name with that seductive French swirl on the first letter, "you are out of focus tonight."

I winced at his comment. It was true. I wasn't focusing.

I put down the pineapple juice and reached for the Schweppes Agrumes to top off the Tikimaka.

"Shut up Malik, take care of your own table."

He gave a characteristic irritated shrug and took his tray out to table four, behind the huge Christmas tree under the high dome that gave the once voted 'Best Hotel Bar in the World' its name - Le Dôme. I picked up my own tray and tried to look effortless as I navigated around the huge presents wrapped in red and gold towards my dissatisfied customer.

"Voilà madame, je suis désolée pour l'attente." I hoped she would perk up at the dish of Christmas chocolates I added on the house.

I didn't wait for a thank you, but slid away quietly, leaving her and her companion to sip their drinks and hopefully forget about the below standard service.

I tried to get my head focused. I didn't know what had gotten into me tonight.

Well. That wasn't true. I knew exactly what had gotten into me. A pair of green eyes. Golden hair. Magnificent tits. Delicious lips.

I glanced her way. She was sipping her rosé champagne from the tulip glass she had specifically asked for. I wondered if I should be impressed or not. People who asked for tulip glasses usually either knew something about champagne or were just superficial snobs.

I didn't think she was superficial. The way she held her glass and the fact that she had asked for the Philipponnat Royale Reserve and not any old rosé told me she knew her stuff.

"Table six is waiting, Julie!"

Malik could be a pain in the ass. At least he was better than Jaques, who still treated me like a toddler after seven months in this job. He didn't consider my four years at London Edition and the Blue Bar at the Berkeley as worthy experience on the job ("I don't care about any English bars Julie; c'est la France") so he still treated me as a novice.

It didn't help that I had proved immune to his early advances, something he had a problem getting his head around that first month. That is, until he found out I didn't go for men at all, and he could just blame it on les putains de lesbiennes and not his own failure as a prospective lover. It didn't improve his attitude towards me though.

I gritted my teeth at Malik and went to take six's order. That took me right past her in the sofa at seven.

She was facetiming someone quietly, with earbuds in, so I only heard her side of the conversation.

"...It's amazing here darling, just look at this hotel..." she turned the phone around to show the bar area, "...I feel like royalty here."

I couldn't help but smirk at that, as the elderly gentleman at six pointed at one of our signature cocktails in the menu. Many of the guests thought this grand building had once been a palace rather than a hospital. It certainly looked the part.

"...I know it feels a bit strange. But I'll be home on Boxing Day sweetie, I so look forward to seeing you."

"Certainement monsieur, merci beaucoup," I said, taking his menu and moving past her towards the bar.

"...Wait a minute sweetie... Mademoiselle? Excuse me, miss?"

I turned and faced that gorgeous golden-haired goddess, trying my best not to stare. Her smile was out in force, melting my insides, turning my muscles to jelly. Her impossibly green eyes twinkled. My knees threatened to quit and move to the country. I tried to claw back control over my body and look professional.

"Oui madame?"

"Could I get a refill of the Philipponnat please?"

"Of course, madame..." I managed.

"...and the César Salade with salmon please, plus the Planche Charcuterie for one?"

"Certainly madame." It looked like she was going to have her dinner here at the bar. That meant she would stay a bit longer.

I felt stupidly giddy about that, but it was very bad news for my concentration tonight.

"Thank you so much." The seductive rays of her beaming smile washed over me before she looked at her phone again, turning what little remained solid of my heart to wobbly goo. I got a glimpse of what looked like a girl in her early teens on the screen before I turned away.

I breathed out slowly as I walked away from her, trying to still my heartbeat. Her smart satin blouse had just enough buttons undone to evocatively reveal the top of her deep cleavage. Stylish, and very sexy.

"...Don't worry about me sweetie, I had a wonderful time at the Christmas market today, and I'm just relaxing now with a book. I'm fine, you just enjoy your Christmas with daddy, okay?"

Her voice faded as I got to the bar and put her order into the system. It seemed she was here alone on Christmas Eve. I knew that feeling.

It was my first Christmas in France but being perpetually single I had usually taken the evening shifts for Christmas week anyway for the last few years back home. I didn't mind. I wasn't very close with my parents anyway, and spending Christmas morning and New Years with them was enough holiday cheer for me. Besides, the Christmas shifts paid good money.

It was a bit different being alone in another country though. I couldn't help feeling a little lonely.

It looked like the goddess at table seven was feeling it as well.

I brought the gentleman at six his Panthéon and the Espresso Martini for his wife.

"Is granny coming to dinner with you and daddy tonight? That's nice. Give granny a big hug and a kiss from me darling."

I glanced at her crossed legs in the skintight designer jeans as I switched her empty glass of Philipponnat out for a full one. My eyes wandered to her exposed ankles, admiring how one brown suede ballet flat dangled absent mindedly on her toes as she talked into her phone, exposing most of her foot.

She was nearly too perfect. Stylish. Posh. Effortlessly sexy.

She bent her face down laughing softly at something in the conversation, stroking her hair from her face as she looked up again. Oh, that hair.

My own shoulder length dirty blonde was the only straight thing about me, now pulled up high in a waiter's ponytail. I tried to give it a bit of character with streaks of screaming pink highlights. It made me look a bit less mousy, hopefully a bit more interesting.

But that golden fleece, God I wanted that.

Mostly though, I wanted to feel it sliding over my naked body, tickling my nip...

Malik bumped my shoulder, passing behind me, and shook me out of that daydream.

"Seven's order is up Julie!"

Fuck.

I couldn't keep letting him catch me out like this. If he complained to Jaques it would be unpleasant.

I fetched her salad and charcuterie out of the kitchen elevator and raised the large tray high above my shoulder. This was France after all, a bit of flair in the service was always appreciated.

She looked at me smiling, as the tray came flowing down from my shoulder to her table.

"...I've got to go now sweetie; my food is here. Give daddy a hug from me, ok? Let's talk again tomorrow after you open presents. I love you too baby."

I finished putting down her plates and took the tray under my arm.

"Sorry about that, it was my daughter."

Her smile looked wistful, and her eyes seemed far away for a second.

I knew I shouldn't converse with the guests, but I just couldn't help myself.

"Oh, are you here alone for Christmas then?"

"Yes, she's spending Christmas at her father's house. I'll pick her up day after tomorrow."

She looked at me as if to explain.

"We're separated, but he takes very good care of her."

"Oh, you're single then?"

I caught myself sounding a bit too interested and happy about that. Her eyes lingered curiously on mine for a little longer than necessary. Shit. That was all I needed tonight, a guest complaining I was looking giddy about her divorce.

"Uhm, yes, since October. First Christmas on my own, since Sophie is staying with her dad. I thought I'd feel a little less lonely coming here, having a change of scenery. Not sure it's helping though."

My face burned.

"I'm sorry madame, I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's quite alright, don't worry about it. The city is quite beautiful though, I think I might come here again for summer holidays."

"The Hotel-Dieu would be delighted to welcome you back, madame."

And I.

She was still looking at me, her green eyes scanning my blushing face. I could feel the heat in my ears and cheeks.

"You're English, aren't you?" She sounded curious rather than surprised.

"Yes, from London. Well, half English."

"Oh, fancy meeting a fellow Londoner here. I didn't really expect that in this Frenchest city in France, what with Brexit and all."

I couldn't help a chuckle.

"Heh, yeah, I know. My maman is French, but I've lived in London most of my life. Up until now, really."

"Ah, that explains it. So, whereabouts in London are you from then?"

"Bermondsey." A bit of pride flared as I revealed my working-class background to this obviously posh goddess.

"The Blue, I like that. I'm a Hackney girl originally." She smiled teasingly.

My surprise must have been written all over my face because she laughed quietly. Damn, even her laughter was sexy.

Despite having been caught assuming, it was nice to have something in common, a small blue collar connection.

"I had you pegged closer to Highgate or Notting Hill," I confessed.

"You're not far off. I'm in Kensington now." She smiled. "So, how does a Bermondsey girl end up in the poshest bar in Lyon?"

Her smile was positively wicked now, suggesting that she wasn't the only tiger to have changed her stripes. I smiled back.

"Hard work mostly. Started pulling pints at a pub when I was 17 and then got my hospitality degree and an apprenticeship at Berners. Used my dual citizenship to move here when I got an opportunity here. This place is one of the best, and, well, that's what I want to be."

"I can see why; you are very good at your job."

I blushed even more.

"Thank yo..."

There was a light but insisting touch on my arm.

"Julie, can I speak to you for a minute please."

Malik smiled his best in front of the guest, but the words came through his teeth.

Ah, shit.

"I'm sorry madame, I must attend to the other guests. Please call on us if you need anything."

I meant it. Anything. Anything at all.

She just inflicted that brain melting smile on me, holding my eyes for a second, and then I was off to face Malik's wrath.

As it turned out, there was no emergency. The arsehole was just sulking.

"You are not supposed to chat up the guests Julie."

I looked at him with my eyes narrowed.

"Fuck you Malik," I quietly barked through my teeth, furious at his prejudice in assuming I was coming on to a guest just because she was a woman. It seemed both him and Jaques thought us bloody lesbians just couldn't help ourselves around tits. Projecting fuckers.

"It was a polite chat, she's alone here on Christmas and I was making her feel welcome. That is actually our job, if you remember, merde!"

Malik shrank from my death glare, well-honed at a rowdy South London pub, and busied himself with arranging some glasses.

I turned away and sighed inwardly, trying not to think how he'd caught me fair and square this time. If I had any hope of chatting her up and into my bed, I would.

No chance of that though. Fuck. What the hell would an obviously successful professional woman want with a short, flat and uninteresting cocktail waitress? And she was at least ten years older than me. And most likely totally straight.

Why the fuck was I even torturing myself with this?

Besides, she was gorgeous enough that if she wanted company, she could probably pick anyone she wanted from the whole damn city.

I clenched my teeth again. Malik shot me a sulky look.

The evening dragged on, with steady orders for drinks and snacks, mostly couples or small groups of friends blending with the hotel guests, catching a drink after dinner.

I brought her a refill of Philipponnat twice in the next hour, getting a beautiful smile and a sincere thank you for my troubles each time. The third time I brought her some of the house Christmas chocolates to enjoy with her book.

I tried not to stare, but the temptation was just too much. As I walked towards her each time, my eyes roamed her body, imagining how it would feel to undress her, open that blouse, feel her large, soft breasts, pulling the jeans off her legs and sliding my fingers between them... into that warm, wet pussy...

I wondered if her hair was as golden everywhere...

"You look lost in thought."

My eyes shot up to find hers on me, looking curious. I was totally caught staring.

Shit.

"Just... uhm... a lot to do."

Oh, fuck that was a lousy save.

She was smirking, her perfect lips curving up on one side, her head tilting ever so slightly like she was thinking about something.

I tried to save face.

"Please let me offer you some of our signature chocolates madame... they are handmade by our renowned chocolatier, in house."

"Oh, those look delicious!" She took one of them and looked me in the eye as she put it up to her lips, and bit it in two, her perfect pink lips sliding over the chocolate like in slow motion.

"Mmmm..."

I swallowed.

"... that's positively delectable..." her eyes were half closed as she rolled the chocolate in her mouth.

Fuuuuck...

Was she...?

No.

It couldn't be.

No way.

She opened her eyes and looked straight into mine as she swallowed. The tip of her tongue slid innocently over her lips to clean up the little chocolate that lingered there. And then she smiled at me like she had all night, but now there was just a smidge of playfulness in her face that wasn't there before. It was a little hesitant, but it was there.

I tried to control my breath.

Oh shit.

She was...

Oh my God.

She was feeling me out.

Testing the waters.

I stared for a second too long. And then she knew that I knew. The eye contact lasted just a fraction of a second too long, but it was enough. She knew that I wanted her. I could see it in the slight mischief in her eyes and the little twitch in one corner of her mouth. The tiny lift of her eyebrow

My mouth was suddenly dry.

I had been ogling her all night, admiring her, wanting her, dreaming about her... but now that she turned up the tiniest bit of heat, I couldn't get out of the kitchen fast enough.

"Uhm... can I get you anything else madame?" I was standing there awkwardly, feeling overwhelmed. Out of my depth.

She just kept looking at me, open interest written all over her face now.

"No, thank you, that's all..."

I inclined my head in deference to the guest's wishes, trying to glue together the shards of my professionalism, and turned away.

"...for now."

Her voice hinted at things wanted but left unsaid.

I stared straight ahead, focusing on calming myself as I walked back to the bar and hoped that Malik wasn't watching. There was no way I could explain how furiously flushed I was. My cheeks, ears, neck, it all felt burning hot. She could not have missed that.

When I got to the safety of the bar I stole a glance in her direction. She was just sitting there, reading her book, her shoe dangling again. As I was about to look away, her eyes flashed a look over the top of the book and briefly caught mine.

It felt charged. Electric.

For the next hour she didn't ask for anything more. I tried and failed miserably to keep my eyes away from her as I mixed drinks at the bar and glided between the tables under the dome, taking and bringing orders. Trying to seem capable in my craft despite her burning green eyes catching mine every time I passed her.

Slowly, I managed to convince myself that perhaps they weren't burning. Perhaps I was imagining things. I was probably just horny. Yeah. It makes you imagine things. Dirty things that will never happen.

I mean what were the odds really, that a woman like that would be interested in someone like me? Come on Julie, be realistic.

Finish your shift without fucking up (more than you have already). Go home to your tiny flat in Garibaldi and masturbate furiously until you pass out from the orgasms.

It was a solid plan. A realistic plan.

My pussy was already wet and needy, aching for the successful execution of this plan.

But there's this thing they say, about the best laid schemes of mice and men...

The clock at the bar showed 11:03. Just under half an hour to closing time, then half an hour or so of finishing up for the night. And then home to my trusty wand.

I had managed to stay mostly professional for the last hour, only meeting her eyes a few times fleetingly, focusing on the other guests. As I moved about under the dome, I couldn't help but steal looks at her golden locks falling over her shoulder, her crossed legs and ankles, the crease in her jeans where her hip met her thigh, the curve of her breasts shaping the satin of her blouse, her fingers gently turning the pages of her book, like a lover's caress...

I just had to survive another 25 minutes without messing up.

Malik was taking the stack of plates and glasses down to the kitchen and fetching a refill for our bar fridge and ice freezer. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stand, take a last sip of champagne, and slide the book into her designer bag.

I was torn. I breathed a little easier now that she was leaving, but I still hated to see her go. I had a solid plan, but I mourned a beautiful dream.

I put away the tray on the counter at the wall behind the bar and arranged the glasses. Then I turned around to face the room and flinched.

She was standing right there. Just an arm's length away, on the other side of the bar. At least a head taller than me. Golden hair framing her angelic face.