Jingle Balls (Ball Games #5)

by Andie M. Long

  Staring around the room, I catch sight of the drinks cabinet and remember I bought a bottle of sherry. I’ll get into the spirit of Christmas for today only.

  “Dora.” Ooh, Timmy’s home. I’d better get up to say hello.

  The room fucking tilts. “Bollocks.” I clutch the wall.

  The door opens and Tim walks in.

  I school my face and think carefully before I speak.

  “Tim. Lovely husband. Glad you’re home safe. Had a nice day?”

  “Are you shit-faced, Dora?”

  I slide down the wall. “I fucking am.”

  Tim heads over to the drinks cabinet. “I’ve had a twat of a day. I’m going to join you.”

  “Tim, I’m not doing Sh-Ch- Oh, why did they make it such a hard word? Why not Pressie Day? I can say that.”

  “It remembers the birth of Christ, remember, love. Not the birth of your perfume collection. By the way, Angel, pahahaha. Isn’t there one called Devious?

  “You’re not nice. I’m a lovely angel. Look.” I open my blouse. “See? I have a sparkly bra.”

  “Dora, I don’t think angels show men their bras.”

  I sigh and lie down on the carpet, then spread my arms and legs, moving them about.

  Tim takes a large swig of his drink. “What are you doing?”

  I roll my eyes, which makes me go dizzy. Good job I’m lying down. “I'm a snow angel. But on the carpet. A carpet angel. Ouch.” I squeal and shoot up. The room spins again. “I’ve fucking burned myself.”

  “Let me see.”

  “Fucking hate this Ch-ris-mas. I’m on strike,” I yell, and shoot my arm out with such a flourish that I slap Tim in the face.

  “Jesus Christ, Dora. Sit on the sofa and stay still.”

  I decide that I’m going to play musical statues. There’s no music so I’ll have to be still all the time.

  “Dora.”

  Still.

  “Dora.”

  Why’s he shouting? I’m sitting right beside him, being a statue.

  He pushes me. “Dora. Are you alright?”

  I glare at him. “Until you moved me, yes. I was winning.” He gives me a blank look. “I was playing musical statues.”

  “Against who?” Tim downs the rest of his drink. “Fuck me.”

  “Oh, yes please?”

  “What?”

  “See my shiny bra that you said angels don’t wear. I’m taking it off because I’m being thrown out of angel school.”

  As I focus on Tim, I see his cheek is bleeding and put my hands on my face. “Oh, Tim, you’re injured. Let me take care of that. Does it hurt?”

  “We’reshggngnow.”

  “Why are you mumbling?” Then I realise my boobs are pressed over his mouth.

  “Dora?”

  I sigh. I’m in trouble again?

  “What?” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “Get back on that carpet in a snow angel position right now, and I don’t want to hear another word from your mouth, other than groans of ecstasy.”

  As it happens, I don’t think I’d manage to get up the stairs, so I lie on the carpet because a shag seems the best option.

  Friday 2 December 2016

  I walk downstairs gingerly. Tim’s left for work already. As I walk into the kitchen, I prepare for my heart to sink at the sight of abandoned baking, but thank God Tim put the biscuits away. I could have spoilt an order with my recklessness. I walk towards the sink to fill the kettle and notice the ache between my thighs. I smile. Nothing like a good seeing to. Doesn’t happen often at our age, that reckless abandon. It’s usually thirty minutes of the usual in the bedroom. Not that I mind the usual. When you’ve got a good thing going why change it? Sometimes there are a few position changes but mostly there’s a routine to it. After the accidental Alpha/Submissive sex phase, I’m more into plain missionary, to be honest. But last night, well, I ended up with a few more carpet burns, especially on my knees. I fix a well-needed coffee and glance through my emails. Ooh, Ann Summers! Let’s see what’s new. Sexy Santa outfits. Ooh, I might do Christmas after all, or rather, I might do Tim for Christmas.

  As Beth’s now working from Cam’s premises, I pack up the car and drive to Kid Zone to deliver my baking.

  Camille declares it coffee time and says she wants to talk to us about Christmas at hers. We gather round one of the tables.

  “So what do you think about a Christmas buffet?” Cam asks.

  I choke on my coffee. “What?”

  “There are so many people coming. I thought rather than a massive meal that makes everyone fall asleep, I’d do a buffet. Turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce sandwiches. That sort of thing.”

  “Well, I really think people will be ex--”

  “Whatever’s easiest for you, Cam. You work hard so why not? You could get some of that party food from Iceland. Those little Yorkshire puddings are adorable.”

  Where’s the fucking sherry again?

  “People will want a proper dinner,” I protest.

  “Oh, Mum, half the time they’re full of chocolate, and no one likes Christmas pudding, so I’m not bothering with that.”

  “I like--”

  “God awful stuff,” says Beth.

  “So, buffet it is then?” confirms Cam.

  “I could bring a few things round, share the load. I’ll send Leo food shopping.”

  “That would be amazing.” Cam looks at me. “You don’t have to do anything, Mum. You can have Christmas off.”

  “Oh, I am. No Christmas projects here. I’m not doing anything for Christmas, other than dressing up for your dad.”

  “Mother!”

  “What? I do it every year. It’s your first Christmas living with Dylan. You need to dress up. There are loads of outfits on the web. Hey, we should have a girly shopping day and go buy ourselves something sexy.”

  “I do not want to know what disgusting costume you’re going to dress up in for my dad. In fact, can the image be taken away from my mind before I have nightmares?”

  “I’ll get us another coffee,” I tell her. I’m still feeling hungover. As I get up, I realise my skirt has ridden up, meaning my leg has stuck to the plastic chair. “Ow.” I suck in a sharp breath. That really hurt.

  “You all right, Mum?”

  “Yeah.” I look at the angry red mark on my leg.

  “Oh, my God, did my chairs do that to you?” Cam jumps up. “I’ll have to change them. I’ll be sued.”

  “Cam.” I put a hand on her arm. “It’s a carpet burn from where I shagged your dad last night.” I show her my others.

  She sticks a hand over her ears and sings, “Lalalalala.”

  “I hope you’re taking precautions, Miss Evans,” says Beth, laughing.

  “Yes thank you, sweetie. I have my coil. Right, I’ll get these coffees. Who can do the outfit shopping tomorrow because I don’t want things selling out?”

  I return with the drinks.

  “So how have you decided to trim up the house, Mum, now a home-made Christmas is so common?”

  I finish off a mouthful of biscuit and then reply. “I’ve told you, I’m not doing Christmas. Unless your dad changes his name to Mr Chris Mass.”

  “Lalalalala.”

  “I’m going to concentrate on the baking and make sure I get to the gym so I look fit not fat over the festive season. Let’s face it, it’s only one day.”

  “That’s what Dad says, and you always tell him it’s Christmas from December 1st to the end of Boxing Day and to shut his trap.”

  “Well, I agree with your Dad now. So we’ll come for the lovely buffet in the house with no tree.”

  “Bob would pull it over.”

  “I know, darling, you said, and especially now there are going to be four cats. They’re going to be everywhere, aren’t they? Miranda’s so excited about staying at yours. She always adored you. Anyway, I told her you and Dylan don’t sleep together because she’s gone religious and is a bit weird about that sort o
f thing. You can share with Miranda. Dylan can go in the spare room.”

  “What?” Cam shrieks. “No way am I sharing with Auntie Miranda. She lets the cats on her bed.”

  I turn to Beth. “See how she gets when she thinks she might be deprived of Dylan’s cock? Bless her. That’ll soon wear off.” I turn back to Cam. “I was kidding, love, the only religion your Auntie practises is watching every episode of Coronation Street.”

  “Mum, you’re not funny. Oh, and I’m not getting Christmas Crackers either. They’re a waste of money, and they’ll make the cat jump.”

  I roll my eyes. “Right, well, I’m off,” I announce. “If you girls aren’t going to spice things up for Christmas that’s up to you, but I’m going to hit Primark for a sparkly chemise.

  As I stand up a man dressed in yellow trousers and a green shirt walks in. He’s tall. Dark shaggy hair curls around his face and neck. He’s like that Poldark bloke. He walks towards Gemma and talks to her, but she stands frozen, seemingly unable to utter a word.

  I practically run over. “Hi, there. Anything we can do for you?”

  “Yes, Madam. I’m from the local circus theatre group and wondered if the manager would be interested in booking us for any Christmas entertainment?”

  Cam walks over. “Funnily enough. I’ve been let down by a magician who’s decided to disappear to the Canary Islands for Christmas. Come through to the office, and we’ll have a chat.”

  I say goodbye to my daughter and Beth, and then walk up to Gemma.

  “Fabulous set of balls he had.”

  “Seriously?” she asks. “I was too nervous to check out how endowed he was.”

  “I meant his juggling balls, Gemma. The ones in his hands,” I reply, and wink.

  “I want to die now. Let the ground swallow me up,” groans Gemma.

  I laugh and leave the play centre.

  Chapter Six

  Beth

  Sunday 4 December 2016

  Us ladies agree to forgo our usual Sunday routines to do a spot of Christmas shopping together, complete with a visit to the Sleigh Bar in Sheffield City Centre. Dora is determined that everyone should have a sexy Santa outfit, the only concession she’ll make to anything Christmas. I want to get some things for Trey while I’m not with him, but I’m not sure what to buy for Leo. He seems to have everything he wants.

  We meet outside Boots, and Dora insists everyone pile into Gregg’s for one of their Christmas pasties with Turkey and cranberry sauce. I have to say it's delicious. I’d not had time to eat before I left and it’s very welcome.

  After hitting a few shops with none of us purchasing anything, Dora calls an emergency meeting in the Sleigh Bar. She treats us to a hot Pimms, and we take a seat on a wooden bench.

  “So, did anyone bring a list of what to buy?” asks Dora.

  We all shake our heads to the negative.

  “You can’t not plan Christmas shopping,” she tells us. “You’ll end up frustrated or overspent, or both. Now, I have a jotter and pen here. We’ll go around and see what everyone needs.”

  As bossy as she can be, Dora has our best interests at heart. I know she will pull me around to a firm plan of action.

  “Right. Beth. You first. Who do you need presents for?”

  “I’ve got Leo and Trey still to buy for. No idea what to get either of them because Leo has already bought half of Toys R Us.”

  “Hmm, still trying to compensate, is he?”

  “I think so. Or maybe he has the money and doesn’t care.”

  “So what do you want Trey to have?”

  “I was thinking about some Thomas the Tank engine stuff as he’s into trains at the moment, and there’s plenty of space in the lounge for a table to be set up.”

  “You’ll be able to get some of that from Argos.”

  “Yes, but will the table fit once Leo has set up the drum kit?”

  “He hasn’t?”

  “Oh, he has, and a guitar and keyboard. He wants to encourage Trey’s musicality.”

  “Oh, love, let him get on with it. That’s easily solved. Get Leo bladdered on Christmas Eve and make sure Trey opens and uses those presents first. Really let him at it. They’ll be moved into the spare room by Boxing Day I assure you.”

  “You sound very confident, Dora.”

  “Been there, done that, that’s why.”

  I laugh.

  “So kids of Trey’s age don’t need a lot. Go for some Thomas pjs and a cuddly as well. He’ll be so pleased.”

  She tears off the paper in her jotter and hands it to me. “That’s your list.”

  My forehead creases, “but we’ve not talked about Leo’s present.”

  “You’re Leo’s present, wrapped in a nice set of lingerie. You’re all he wants Beth, and if you can’t see that you’re blind. How’s it going anyway, living together in the big house?”

  I take a drink of my Pimms, and it warms my chest. It’s gorgeous. “Fantastic. All we needed was a bit of space. We’re ending the counselling sessions next week. Our counsellor is happy that we’ve worked things out and are looking forward to the future.”

  “What a lovely way to end the year,” says Dora.

  Seemingly out of nowhere an idea hits me, like a splash of boiling melted chocolate on bare skin. “I’m going to propose.”

  “What?” Dora, Camille and Lindsay shout in unison.

  “That’s Leo’s Christmas present. I’m going to propose. You say he just wants me, Dora. Me and Trey. Well, he can have us.”

  Dora squeals. “Oh my God, this will be the best Christmas ever. When are you going to propose? Christmas morning?”

  “No. I don’t want to detract from Trey’s Christmas. I’ll do it at Cam’s over food. If I ask in front of everyone, he’s unlikely to say no.”

  “As if he will say no, anyway. Oh, this is fantastic. You could have served him a ring in a Christmas pudding, but there won’t be one,” she adds curtly, looking in Cam’s direction. “Oh well. I’m sure you’ll think of something amazing.”

  Butterflies are already tying my stomach up in knots. I’m excited but nervous.

  “So, Lindsay,” I turn to Tyler’s girlfriend. “Over to you. What do you need to buy?”

  “Just something for my parents. That’s it really?”

  “You’ve already got Tyler’s present?”

  Lindsay fidgets in her seat. “Yeah, that’s already done. I’m stuck on what to get my folks though.”

  Dora writes on her pad, tears it off and hands it to Lindsay. “Voila.”

  “A Netflix subscription?”

  “Yeah and a bottle of red, and one of white. They can Netflix and chill.” She winks.

  “You should get a nice present now he’s signed his book deal,” I say.

  Lindsay sighs. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ll think I’m really selfish, but when I found out what he was doing, I was really angry. I thought he was making an idiot out of me. When I saw he could earn good money from it, I set up as the other side of him, the woman talking about how to control a man. Only, I have the grand sum of 100 subscribers. All they ever message me about is when Tyler is going to feature in another of my videos. I’ve bombed. How come he’s making a shit ton of money and no one’s the slightest bit interested in mine?”

  “Because my son is one of a kind,” says Dora.

  Cam rolls her eyes. “Here we go again, my beautiful son who can do no wrong.”

  “He’s done plenty wrong and had the red legs to show for it,” states Dora. “Look, Lindsay, he’s a bit naive is our Tyler. He’s only just started his journey of independence and it's come at the same time as he’s started dating seriously. This whole concept is about him genuinely trying to figure out how to keep a woman happy. It’s endearing. That’s why he has so many subscribers. I don’t think anyone is taking him seriously. They enjoy watching him try. Think about how you feel when Sheldon from the Big Bang experiences an emotio
n. That’s what Ty is doing. He’s loveable and innocent, and that’s what appeals.”

  “He’s not that innocent,” I hear Lindsay mutter under her breath. Dora’s too busy with her Tyler is amazing speech to hear.

  “So, all you need to buy is the wine. You could get those from M&S. Then, of course, your Santa outfit.”

  “There’s no way on earth I’m dressing up for Tyler, he’ll probably film it and show it on his YouTube channel.”

  “Fair point,” says Dora.

  Lastly, it’s Camille’s turn to be grilled.

  “I don’t have time to get presents with work and the dinner. Everyone’s getting a gift card. Yours is from Waterstones.”

  “Excellent, that’s only around the corner.”

  Beth queries..“She gets away with that? Buying gift vouchers? My mother would kill me.”

  “That and her father will have told her what I want from Boots, so she’ll make an excuse to go there later.”

  “I will not.”

  “Whatever, sweetie. I promise I’ll not notice. Don’t forget to get my present from your brother as well.”

  “How come he doesn’t have to do shopping?”

  “Camille, darling, sometimes I have to shake myself that he’s held down a job and keeps a house, let’s not get carried away. Okay, I have my list ready, so I need to go to Ann Summers, John Lewis, and Poundland. I suggest we split up for a couple of hours and meet in Costa at 3 pm. See you later, ladies.” With that Dora is off with a mischievous grin on her face.

  “What’s your mum up to?” I ask Cam.

  “I don’t know, but that smile is always worrying.”

  Dora

  I head straight to John Lewis where I purchase three boxes of Elf on a Shelf and an Elf Funko pop. The official version is creepy as fuck. I’ll spend half the night imagining them crawling out of the boxes. However, I had a great idea while chatting to the girls. It’s obvious they are incapable and too time-stricken to handle Christmas themselves, so elf’s going to give them a helping hand. And in case they suspect me, elf will visit my house too, just to throw them off the scent. Oh, this should be fun.

  From there I pop to Ann Summers where I purchase a sexy elf outfit. It seems appropriate. I also pop a one-size outfit in my basket as I think someone needs a helping hand. It’s good that I have spare keys to Cam and Ty’s. All I need is a way to get into Beth’s. I high five my left hand. Christmas Dora style is going down, without me doing any of it. Take that, guys. I’m going to slay Christmas. Slay - sleigh - get it?