The Christmas Eve Worker Parts 1 2
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The Christmas Eve Worker - Part Three free porn video
The Christmas Eve Worker Part Three
By Silly Sissy Sarah
- Sarah's words -
Hi, everyone! Thank you for all your support in this story. I
read the reviews, and thanks again for the nice comments and
constructive criticisms. This is the third part of the story and
I hoped that I don't drag it too long. Please enjoy the story!
***
The mechanical humming noise of the running engine pulsated
endlessly in my ears. With old hands at helm, this old wagon
cruised smoothly on the wavy highway. Nighttime came quickly and
the surrounding was enshrouded in darkness. In front of us,
chains of soft glowing red lights traveled orderly like a line
of marching ants. Occasionally, a couple of bright lights sped
past us at the opposite lane that led to the city.
It was pretty boring and discomforting when you are stuck in
your seat for the next three hours. I stared idly at the huge
full moon. It seemed to be traveling along with us. Its pleasant
light shone faintly into the car. Sometimes, the shy moon hid
behind the passing clouds from me. I imagined its gray patches
started to transform into two bunnies hopping in the field.
While I was daydreaming, my mom took a quick glance at me. She
saw that I sat straight up, leaned slightly towards to my
window. Both of my knees kept together closely with my hand
covering the front hemline of my skirt for modesty. My ankles
were resting in a feminine slanted position.
She sighed deeply and asked my dad, "Dear, have you figured out
any solutions?"
"Erm... not really," Dad answered dumbly.
I gave my penny worth of suggestion and uttered, "I can wear
Dad's spare clothes..."
"Don't be silly! Your dad is built like a tank and is twice as
big as you are," Mom retorted strongly.
She's right. My dad used to play for his high school football
team as a quarterback. He's even bigger now with his beer belly!
I would look like a Hobbit in his size XXXL clothes.
"Then, I can wear yours, Mom!" I joked, while covering my mouth
with a hand to suppress the giggling.
Dad joined into the laughter, but mom looked at me sternly.
She reprimanded me, "Pete! This is no time for jokes."
"Besides, you are also a size too small to wear mine either,"
she added coldly.
Oh great! My mom had rubbed in very badly. I pouted like a
little girl and opposed strongly, "That's not true!"
Although I refused to admit it, I am still two inches shorter
than she. I am like a stick insect compared to her curvy figure.
It is not my fault that my body refused to grow anymore. I had
a huge appetite, but I wondered where all the digested food
went.
"Well, there is a petrol station at the exit of the highway.
Let's see if they sell any clothes at its shopping mart," Dad
interrupted us just at the right time to break the frosty
atmosphere.
Mom reluctantly replied, "We'll see."
The journey was traveled in silence after the little exchange.
I constantly felt my mom's prying eyes on me. Her eyes shifted
slowly to me when I wasn't looking. But she quickly focused on
something else when I pretended to look in her direction
casually. It was getting a little uncomfortable for me.
"Mom, what is it? Is there something on my face?" I asked
sweetly. I tilted my head, letting my hair fell freely. I
blinked my large eyes innocently.
Mom was startled with my question. She answered anxiously,
"Nothing really, honey."
She heaved a deep sigh again before she looked out to her
window. I guessed it was no point pursuing the matter since she
did not want to talk about it. My mom is quite stubborn
sometimes. Wondered what's eating her.
Finally, we reached the petrol station after an hour's ride. The
place was decorated with Christmas ornaments. Strings of
blinking colored lights coiled just about everywhere. It was
brimming with customers who either needed a quick bite or just
topping up their depleting petrol tanks.
Dad went into the mart, but mom and I stayed in the car. He came
out ten minutes later, empty-handed. Dad shook his head as he
approached our vehicle.
"No such luck. They only sell gloves, socks and hats, no
clothes," my dad grumbled.
"Awww!" I groaned.
Mom and I looked at each other with disappointment. I don't know
what else to say.
Mom inquired, "Did you ask the sale girl?"
"Yes, I did. But she said that they do not usually sell such
items." he responded glumly.
Mom turned to look at me tentatively before she gave that sigh
again.
She said with strong determination, "Come with me, Pete."
Unexpectedly, she grabbed my hand and led me out of the car. I
was surprised by her sudden behavior. I followed her without any
struggle because she was in the do-as-I-said mode.
"Honey! Where are you going?" Dad cried out.
Mom called without looking back, "I'll be back shortly!"
Mom was walking swiftly. She was tugging me along behind her. I
struggled hard to keep up to her pace as I could only manage to
mince small wobbly steps in my skyscraper heels.
"Mom! Slow down! I can't walk so fast in these boots yet!" I
whispered sharply.
She replied nonchalantly, "Then you better learn how to do so,
because you are going to spend this Christmas wearing them!
Young lady!"
Huh? What's she talking about? Young lady? Who? Me?
While I pondered about what she just said to me, we reached the
ladies' restroom.
"Mom! This is the ladies'! I can't go in," I exclaimed in a
hushed tone.
She cautioned me, "Be quiet! You want people to know that you
are a boy? Just follow me calmly."
She led me into a cubicle and quickly bolted the lock. I thought
it is weird for two people to go into the same stall together.
But I noticed that the rest of the women in the restroom did not
seem to be bothered by us. I guessed girls have the habit of
sharing a single cubicle together. Creepy!
"Sit," my mom ordered me strictly.
I sat down on the toilet seat obediently and waited for her next
command. She fished out her makeup kit pouch from her handbag.
Little shiny bottles, funny-looking pens and some weird stuff
were poured onto the shelf behind the toilet flushing system.
"Look up." I did as I was told.
Mom clipped my long fringes up with a translucent pink plastic
hair-clip. She began to wipe my face clean with those wet,
perfumed tissues.
"Mom! What are you ...?" I complained, wrinkling my nose.
Mom cut me off with a 'Shhh' noise harshly. I hated it when she
did that. She continued to work her stuff on my face. It was
apparent that she was applying makeup on me. But why would she
do this unless she wanted me to go to the Christmas dinner
dressed as a GIRL?
I squirmed on my seat at that idea. My little brother was
stirring up again. In an attempt to suppress that aroused
thingy, I clutched my thighs together and turned my knees
inwardly.
"Stop fidgeting! Don't blame me if I poke your eye," scolded
Mom. She was trying to draw my eyes with that sharp looking
eyeliner.
I mumbled, "Sorry."
"Ouch!"
"Did it hurt, honey? Sorry, but you have some strayed hair."
Mom didn't look sorry at all. She continued to pluck my
eyebrows. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!
She continued, "Close your eyes." She brushed some eye shadows
on my eyelids. It felt so itchy. I tried to scratch it, but a
stingy slap smacked my rising hand. "Don't touch it!" she
hissed. "Now, pucker your lips."
Mom painted my lips red with her lipstick. It tasted funny,
really funny. "Botch it," she said and held up a piece of
tissue. Huh? Botch what?
"Your lipstick, like this," she pretended to press her lips
tightly on the tissue paper. Oh, that. But why ruin the nicely
painted lips? Is she stupid?
Mom ordered impatiently, "Just do it!" Okay, mom. Whatever you
say. I mimicked her demonstration. "Pucker up again." she said,
while picking up that lipstick again. I did not question her
this time. I followed her request like an obedient soldier.
I asked with annoyance, "Is it done yet?"
"Almost done now, honey," she claimed. "Let me brush your hair
properly. Jesus! What a mess." She pulled out a big hairbrush
and began yanking at my hair. Ouch!
"There!" Mom said with satisfaction. She pinned my ear-covering
hair behind my ears. She clipped the end of my side-parting
fringe near my temple. It was a Hello Kitty hair-clip. Totally
girlish! Beats me why a woman at her age carries a Hello Kitty
hair-clip everywhere.
"I must have forgotten something..." she tapped her chin
lightly. Her eyes flashed with excitement in a sudden. She
produced a small bottle of perfume from her handbag. I cringed
at the heavy smell that immediately swamped the small cubicle.
It was way too flowery scented for me!
I tried to back away as mom cornered me. She dangled that
poisonous little concoction in my face. "Come on! Be a man and
take it!" she challenged me. I had not reply yet, but she
already grabbed my skinny arm and sprayed a small amount on my
wrist. I gave up resisting her strong means. She did the same
with the other wrist, dabbed a bit on my neck and sprayed some
more perfume on my chest. Great, now I am a walking flower that
could attract honeybees a mile away!
"Go on, take a look," she said, ushered me out while she packed
up her cosmetics. I stood in front of the big mirror, and ... Oh
My God! I can't believe that reflection is mine! She was so ...
so beautiful! The star-struck girl in the mirror touched her
lightly powdered face cautiously. I blinked my eyes hard, and
she blinked her big, stunning eyes too. I am falling in love
with myself. Am I getting wacko?
"Miss! Are you all right? Hello?" an old woman asked in concern.
I was so dazzled, that I didn't realize she was talking to me.
"Sweetie, where's your manner? That's no way to treat your
elders!" Mom reprimanded as she emerged out of the stall. She
talked to the lady, "She's a bit slow, dear. She doesn't mean to
be rude."
"Yes, I know. But she seems a little shocked... Is she all
right?" the kind lady asked again. "Oh! She's fine! You know,
these young girls nowadays... always self-absorbed in their
little worlds, dreaming of pretty clothes, shoes and stuff like
that..." Mom lied. Well, it was not entirely a lie. I was just
admiring my pretty face, there's all.
Mom nudged my stomach hard. Ouch! That hurts! I woke up from my
dreamy state instantly. "Erm ... Good Evening, Madam. Thank you
for your concern. I am fine," I greeted her with a weak smile.
"Well, you're welcome, darling," the nice lady said. She
inspected me intensively from head to toe. I felt very awkward
when she did that. She continued, "Such a pretty and sweet girl,
but I must say that the skirt looked a little inappropriate...
You don't want give the boys the wrong signals, do you?"
"Oh, I told her many times! She just won't listen. Girls her age
are just so rebellious and stubborn," Mom complained instantly.
"Even in this winter, she still picked this miniskirt. I just
don't understand what she is thinking!"
Hey, stop bad-mouthing me in front of strangers! It is so
embarrassing already! I groaned, "Mom...!" Mom cut me off with
that 'Shhh' again. I made a pout to express my irritation.
The empathetic woman held my mom's hands gently. She pacified
Mom, "Oh, don't worry too much about it. My daughter used to be
like her. But look at her now; she's a wonderful housewife with
two cute babies!"
The two women chatted endlessly for a long time. I just stood
quietly, listening to them impatiently. I made an awkward smile
whenever Mom mentioned about 'my' terrible deeds. She should
really be nominated for the Oscar's Best Actress Award!
"Mom, Dad's waiting in the car..." I interrupted.
"Oh all right! Such a Daddy's girl isn't she?" my mom sighed
laughing. The old woman chuckled delightfully. She looked at her
watch, "Oh dear, I must go now. It was wonderful talking to you,
Merry Christmas to you all!" She leaned forward and kissed my
forehead gently.
Mom and I kissed her in return. "Merry Christmas!" we called as
she wandered out of the toilet. We rushed back quickly to our
car. "Why did you lie about those things which I never did?" I
complained out to Mom. "Well, unless you want me to tell her
that you are a boy, do you?" she threw the question back.
I shrugged and said, "But you don't have to bad-mouth about me!"
"It was to make you looked more convincing," she explained.
"Besides, I really don't understand why you chose to wear this
skirt in this weather! Do you have any common sense?"
"Well, erm ..." I mumbled. I am lost for words now. "Never mind,
just get into the car," she cut me off as she opened the car
door for me. I climbed back into my seat hastily.
Annoyed Dad turned around and scolded, "Where did you go? Took
such a long time!" It wasn't very long before he noticed that I
looked very different now. His jaws dropped. "What have you
done?" he gasped.
Mom answered coolly, "It's just some makeup, dear."
"What do you mean some makeup?" Dad growled angrily.
"She's going as a girl. No self-respecting girl will leave her
house barefaced, so I decided to make her looked more decent."
"What?" Dad exclaimed. I winced when she said that. Geez, Mom
really wanted me to go there dressed as a girl. Wait, did Mom
say 'she', 'her'?
"But ... But how do we explain why is our son dressed in girl
clothes?" he asked almost in a pleading tone. "There's no need
to lie or what-so-ever. Just tell the truth!" she said as a
matter of fact.
"But ... but," Dad stammered.
"No buts, this is the only solution I see, considering the
little time we have. Peter will have to do the explaining
himself," she declared.
"Me?" I cried in astonishment. "Yes, you," she answered for me.
"Since you're the one who thought of this dressing up idea, I
guessed you are responsible to explain it."
She softened a bit and coaxed, "Peter, there is nothing wrong to
tell the truth. You may have made some silly decision to dress
like this, but you made an effort to come with us. And that's
very precious. I am proud of you to have you as my son... or
daughter now."
"Mom ... thanks," I felt my eyes were getting a bit misty.
"Hush, don't cry now. You don't want to have panda eyes, do
you?" Mom hugged my shoulders tenderly.
Dad let out a sigh and said, "I think that settles it." He
steered the wagon out of the parking lane and continued our
journey.
It was all bumpy roads and dirt tracks for the last half hour of
the trip. I remembered I used to play with my cousins and
friends among these fields when I was younger. We moved to the
big city when Dad found a job in one of the big accounting firms
there. He worked his way up and is holding a managerial post in
the HR department now. I had fond memories of this country
place. Not that I disliked the city life, which my parents
pursued, but I loved to live here when I retire in the future.
I could see my grandmother's red brick house now. White fumes
were pouring out of its tall chimney. Soft lights from the lamps
in the house glowed dimly out of the windows. Many cars were
parked at the huge open space in front of the three-floored
house. I guessed all of my relatives had arrived for a long
time.
Dad swiftly steered our car between Uncle Joe's huge BMW and
Aunt Jasmine's tiny Volkswagen Beetle. I quickly got out of the
car and stretched my stiff back. My dad did the same thing; I
heard his bones cracked very loudly.
"Help me carry this stuff! You two!" my mom struggled to get the
luggage bags out of the car boot. As we were carrying the bags
out, the front door swung open. "Harold and Jessica! Is it you?"
Uncle Joe called enthusiastically.
"Hello, Joe! Merry Christmas!" Dad greeted warmly. He had a huge
grin on his face. Mom just waved and smiled pleasantly. They
climbed the stone staircase up to the doorway where Uncle Joe
was standing. I was reluctant to follow them.
"Merry Christmas! What took you so long?" he and my dad embraced
in a brotherly hug. He then kissed Mom on the cheek, "Merry
Christmas, darling." She kissed him back and said, "Merry
Christmas to you too, Joe."
Uncle Joe looked around keenly. He asked my parents, "Where's my
favorite nephew? Pete, where are you? Did he come?"
Mom gave a knowing look to Dad who rolled his eyes
uncomfortably. She stepped aside and stood beside my dad. She
signaled to me with a sharp twist of her neck. I slowly stepped
out of the shadow, which I hid myself from Uncle Joe.
"Hi, Uncle Joe. Merry Christmas," I greeted shyly.
He looked confused and inquired Mom, "Whoa! Who's this pretty
young thing? And where's Peter?"
Mom heaved a long sigh. 'Here we go', she thought to herself.
She replied flatly, "Joe, this pretty young thing is your nephew
Peter."
I looked at Uncle Joe brightly with my best smile. I said
cheerfully, "Hi, it's me, Pete! Uncle Joe!"
"Holy Jesus Christ!" he cried out, looked totally shocked.
To be continued.
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