Blisse Christmas Collection , livre ebook

Title Page
A BLISSE CHRISTMAS
COLLECTION

Victoria Blisse



Publisher Information
A Blisse Christmas Collection
published in 2014 by House of Erotica
an imprint of Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2014 Victoria Blisse
The right of Victoria Blisse to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead and is purely coincidental.
This ebook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by the way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, electronically copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent.



Proving Santa Exists
Curvy Jenny welcomes Jonathan to Manchester from the USA and involves him in all her Christmas celebrations
“Have you seen the new guy yet, Jenny?” Susan from Accounts giggles, as she joins me in the queue to use the coffee machine.
“Oh, yes. He’s just by the door, a couple of cubicles up from me,” I reply, not wanting to say too much to the office gossip generator.
“He’s from America, you know? Transferred over from the Texas branch.” Susan beams proudly all over her thin, narrow-nosed face as she offers me this well-nibbled bone of information.
“Really?” The tone of my voice is a verbal pat on the head. “I didn’t know that!” I did, actually, but there’s no use upsetting her. I can’t bear to see the disappointment in her eyes.
“Well, yes. I wonder why he ended up all the way over here, in cold, wet Manchester and so close to Christmas, too?” Her gaze floats off, a wistful hint to her blue eyes. I know she’s hoping for a drop of juicy gossip from her out loud wonderings. I shrug, then slip my silver coins into the machine, select tea, milk, no sugar, and wait for the appliance to do its business.
“Do you think he’s been demoted - like, big time demoted? Or maybe he’s pissed off the boss and has been deported to this Godforsaken place?” She’s desperate for more gossip to spread, but even if I did know something, I’d not tell her.
I shake my head as I pick up my tea. “Maybe he just wanted to see England. Who knows?”
Susan sighs, shakes her head, and wanders off to find riper pastures . She’s probably not even thought to talk to the latest addition to the work family. No, she might be in danger of finding out the mundane truth that way. I walk past the new guy’s cubicle on my way back to mine, and I smile at him.
“Hiya.” I stop for a moment, and he looks up from his monitor.
“Hi!” he replies, smiling nervously.
“I’m Jenny. I’m in the cubicle just over there. ” I point diagonally over to my little square of space. “You can just see the back of the monitor from here, and the tinsel that surrounds it. You’ve probably seen my elbow at some point this morning, at least.”
He chuckles, his cheeks flushing soft pink, his dark, coffee bean eyes shining. “I probably have,” he replies, his deep American accent very apparent. “Oh, my name’s Jonathan. Nice to meet you, Jenny.” He reaches out a hand and I clasp it. His fingers are thick and strong but soft. We grip hands for a second then pull apart.
“So, is this your first day at Computers, Incorporated?” I ask, and he nods his head.
“Well, this one anyway. I was at the Texas branch for - what? - six years before moving over here.”
“Do you like rain then?” I giggle, and he looks kind of confused - very politely confused, mind - his thick lips holding a tentative smile and his cheeks pinking up further. “It rains a lot in Manchester. People often make jokes about it. That was a lame attempt at humour. ”
“Oh, I see.” His eyes light up, and I’m rewarded with some more of his rolling chuckles. “I wanted a change, really.” His face settles into more serious a shape. “And I’ve always wanted to see England. So, when this IT position came up, I took it. I mean, why not, huh?”
I smile, nodding my head, then taking a sip of my just warm tea. “Has your family come over with you as well?”
“No. Well, I’ve got no family really. I’m an orphan.”
“Oh, gees. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Don’t worry.” His hand waves in front of his face. “I know you were just making small talk. No, don’t worry. Don’t worry yourself at all.”
“Okay, then.” I grin and he grins back, his smile lighting up his whole countenance. “You’ll find that we British folks are very polite. Oh, yes, we hate to be seen prying into someone’s personal business. We’re too dignified for any of that nonsense.”
This time he picks up on the joke, and laughs without needing my prompting, thank God. “I’m used to it. Everyone gets a bit flustered when I first tell them. I’ve just found it better to be up front with it, y’know?”
I nod vigorously, then notice the time on the office clock. “Blimey! I’m sorry, Jonathan, but I’m going to have to get back to work. The damn boss seems to think that’s what I’m here for!”
He chuckles once more. “Oh, I know. Damn strange, ain’t it?” His American accent rolling round the a in ‘ain’t’ and making me swoon. It’s such a different sound to the typical Mancunian I’m used to hearing. I nod, my green eyes sparkling with mischief. “What lunch shift are you on?” I ask as I turn to walk away.
“One o’clock.” he replies, and I stop and turn to address him once more.
“Oh, so am I . I’ll see you then, then.” I answer awkwardly, and he nods.
“See you later.”
Yes, Jonathan is a lovely chap: funny, polite, interesting, and damned good looking, too. His eyes! Boy, oh, boy, they’re beautiful. And those lashes - so thick and luscious. Many women will be jealous of them, that’s for sure.
Anyhow, I can’t afford a crush right now, and I know he’d not be interested in me like that anyway . No one ever is. I’m Jolly Jennifer , everybody’s friend; no one’s lover. I’m pretty short, plump, and have a well-developed mothering instinct. I take care of people: keep them smiling, encourage them, and help make them laugh. That’s all. No use dwelling on the situation. I could sit here and mope about it all day and all night, but why? There’s nothing I can do to change the fact. I’ll just get on with being friends with him.
He’s on his own, and it’s very nearly Christmas. It’s a terrible time of the year to feel lonely. I know, because I do everything in my power every Christmas to keep busy, surround myself with people, and attempt to forget how lonely my life actually is. It works to an extent, but I have to go to bed each night in an empty house, and it’s then the loneliness really hits me.
When one o’clock finally rolls around, I step into his cubicle.
“Lunch?”
“Oh, yes.” He pushes back from his desk and spins around in his chair. “I’m really ready for a break.”
“I know this sweet café, just round the corner from here,” I say to Jonathan, as we walk out of the office together. “It’s slightly more expensive than the canteen, but the food is nice, which makes it worth it, I think.” I pull my coat collar up, blow out a puff of air, and shudder. “Ooh, it’s sharp out!”
“Pardon?” His eyebrows knit with puzzlement.
“Oh, I mean it’s cold - really, sharply cold. You see? It’s sharp out.”
“I see.” He grins sheepishly. “I’m gonna have to work at learning the language, I think.”
I chuckle. “Yes, and we speak a strange variant up here in the North. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”
“They say the best way to learn a language is to immerse yourself in it.” He nods .
“And you couldn’t get much more immersed!” We laugh, and I direct us to the modest café beside the office building. From the outside it doesn’t seem much, but you can tell by how many people are inside that it’s a good place to eat. It’s quite full, but we find a small, two person table in the corner by the window and sit down. “What would you like? I’ll go up and order.”
“Oh, er, I’m not fussy,” he replies, not even looking at the menu. “You pick me out something good.”
“Okay, then. I’ll be back in a moment.”
What I choose for us takes only a few minutes to be served, once I get to the front of the queue. I just hope Jonathan enjoys it. “Here we go.” I slide the tray onto the mushroom-coloured Formica tabletop. “I just ordered the Christmas lunch special for two. It’s very good.” I slip the two bowls of thick, red, chunky vegetable soup to the table, then place the plates of turkey and stuffing sandwiches next to them. Lastly, I set down two steaming mugs of tea.
“It looks delicious!” he enthuses as I take my seat. “How much do I owe you?”
“Oh, no. Put your money away. This is my treat. Count it as a welcome-to-Manchester present.”
“Well, that is very nice of you, Jenny. Thank you. ” He beams. “I’m definitely liking Manchester so far.”
The thick soup is warming, and the chunks of vegetables melting in my mouth feel intensely comforting. You can’t beat a good bowl of soup on a cold day.
“Mmm, this is really tasty. Thanks for the tip.” Jonathan licks his lips. I try not to imagine licking them for him.
“My pleasure. Good food is a passion of mine, as you can see!” I wave a hand down my body, showing off my ample curves, being sarcastic about my size, as I always am. I find it stings less if I tell the joke before anyone else does.
“I know very little about good food,” he replies, completely ignoring my self put-down. “I’ve not experienced much so far in my life. I’m a terrible cook myself.”
“Oh, well, you’re over here now. We’ll set you straight on that score, especially at Christmas. It’s a great time for good food. What are your Christmas plans?”
He shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t have any. I’ve never real