A Mermaid Christmas

"But," Margaret was firm but still friendly, "this news goes to no one outside of this room. Sorry. Also, until the official results are out, your duties will remain those of lawyers-in-training. But you'll get to enjoy the holidays without this hanging over your heads."

"Thank you, Margaret," Sarah said, Rachel nodded her agreement.

"And," the door opened behind them, the seated pair turned. They both fought to control their reactions. The woman was their height but the comparison ended quickly. Her hair was long, to the small of her back and a lustrous blonde color. The open 'V' of the front of her green dress reached to an inch above her navel and exposed her massive round breasts to the edges of her areolas, the shapes of her erect nipples clear. The length of her dress made even the daring hemlines of the two new lawyers look like they were members of a conservative religious order. Her broad hips gave her silhouette a totally different appeal in her at least six inch stilettos.

"They're real," Rachel's near subconscious whispered statement, her dedicated studies of porn videos gave her an unerring eye, but their firmness, their only slight movements, left her confused. Both looked at the shoes then at each other, admiration mixed with amazement.

They'd seen Margaret in the halls a number of times, her near-perfect legs in skirts ending just below mid-thighs, her feet always in high stilettos perfectly color matched to her clothing. A pack of aides, sharply dressed young women and men, struggled to keep up. But they'd never seen, had no clue an assistant such as this existed.

They finally noticed the woman had a silver tray with three filled champagne flutes. She walked smoothly behind the desk and Margaret took one, then she moved to offer the other two. The woman behind the desk nodded and they took one each.

"Thank you, Anastasia," Margaret said and the woman smiled and strode quickly out of the room, Rachel turned just quickly enough to see Margaret's eyes on the red-haired woman's impeccable ass as she pulled the door closed.

"To Bezerg Industries two newest lawyers," she held her flute up, both young women reciprocated and all three sipped.

"Wow," Sarah ran her tongue along her lips to retrieve every drop. Rachel nodded in agreement. They almost reflexively drained their flutes as Margaret smiled and watched.

"Now, both of you are leaving next Monday to spend Thanksgiving with your families?"

They both nodded.

"As soon as we're done here, get with the Travel Guru and leave as soon as you can be ready. Tomorrow is fine, hell, tonight if you can swing it. It'll know what tickets you have and the company will cover any extra costs to change."

The Travel Guru was Bezerg Industry's AI that had long ago made obsolete not only human travel agents but even most self-planned travel, you interacted with the AI and it always, always, knew better where you should go and how to get there than you did yourself.

"What," Rachel said slowly, "tha—"

Margaret put up her hand to forestall immediate conversation. She reached behind the desk and pulled up two blue, square envelopes. Each was sealed with an old-fashioned red wax seal with the "MU" logo. She set one in front of each young woman. She nodded to them and they set their empty flutes on the desk and picked up the envelopes.

"You'll each need to tell your family you'll not be able to spend Christmas with them, but before I say more, please open the envelopes."

Rachel's and Sarah's faces were masks of confusion, they saw their names in fancy, apparently hand-written calligraphy on the front of the envelopes. They broke the seals in unison and pulled out a piece of singly-folded vellum likewise hand written. Their mouths gaped as they read, they both looked at the face of the smiling, patient older woman.

"Yes, you'll be attending Melon's house-warming Winter Party. It starts on the day of the Solstice, as you see, and lasts as long as Bezerg says it lasts. You'll be staying in guest quarters at the Mountain."

Both young women's mouths worked but neither could manage words.

"You'll need to bring clothes, but please, expect most of the time you'll be in various climate-controlled conditions and, of course, it's Southern California."

"So, we, um," Rachel smiled, "shouldn't plan on heavy knit sweaters, eh? Or underwear?"

"Indeed," Margaret's conspiratorial smile was returned by Rachel despite Sarah's barely vocal 'uh', "and the house has multiple pools and spas."

"Neat," Rachel said, her gaze distant.

"Just one thing," Margaret's voice was firm, suddenly commanding, two pairs of eyes locked onto hers, "there will be plenty of others from Bezerg's various companies, and many from outside. But, as egalitarian as we try to be, not every Bezerg employee will or can be there. So, please, you will be quiet about this and you'll tell no one. Including your families."

"Huh," Sarah broke hers and the room's sudden silence.

"Your first task as newly minted lawyers," Margaret's tone was kind again, "will be to convince your families you'll be deep in a special project for Bezerg from before Christmas, you can imply it might be something that just might change the future, but no more. But you can't tell them where you'll be or how long you'll be there. Can you both handle that? After all, changing the future is what the world expects us to do here at Bezerg Industries."

"Oh my fucking god," Rachel said in a rush, "you better believe it!"

Sarah nodded rapidly, her turn to acknowledge the response without speaking.

"Good," Margaret said, "you have your orders. Now, get out of here and if I see either of you in the building after lunch today I'm going to put a stiletto up whichever very attractive ass it is that I see. I've cleared your calendars. Make sure you're back here the Monday after Thanksgiving and you'll get the full details for the Party and the project early in December. Now. Go."

The two young women stood quickly, almost stumbled over the chairs and with overlapped 'thank yous' turned to go.

"Ladies," Margaret's voice froze them just before the door, they half-turned, "I'm glad you got my hint about your skirts... Safe travels, leave the door open."

They did so.

The Winter Solstice

"I can't believe we're actually going...," Sarah said as her left hand tightly held Rachel's right hand as the long black limo pulled away from their apartment building.

"Today's the Solstice," Rachel squeezed the hand back, used her other hand to sip at the champagne the driver, a tall young man maybe a year or two older than them in a black traditional chauffeur's uniform including the hat, had pointed out was on ice in the back.

"We were told we'd be picked up at noon," Sarah said, "and it's noon—"

"And we'll be allowed a couple of hours to unpack and get dressed for dinner," Rachel finished, "and it'll be formal but we should 'dress to impress.' I know what I'll be wearing."

"But that won't include underwear," Sarah snorted, her own champagne glass in her hand, "unless you've been shitting me about that."

"Oh, no," Rachel's voice was faux-serious, "I didn't even pack underwear. Not even wearing any now... Wanna check?"

She pulled Sarah's hand toward the waistband of her well-fitting skinny jeans, both women had them tucked into over-the-calf boots with four-inch heels. Each wore an equally tight thin knit top with moderate necklines. The sky was grey and the temperature hovered around sixty degrees but the next few days were forecast to be clear and a bit warmer, nothing out of the norm for December in southern California.

"No," Sarah's voice firm but clearly amused as she pulled her hand back to separate them and both laughed, "but it's very obvious you're not wearing a bra!"

"Hell," Rachel chuckled, "I've never in my life needed a bra...

"Me neither," Sarah laughed along for a moment, "but... you know, mine feels kinda, I don't know, tight. I mean, I don't really need them for the support but I've always liked the shape, don't like my nipples getting out of control. So, well, I've always made sure they fit perfectly..."

"Hmm, well," Rachel's voice was deliberate, "look at my chest. I think..."

Sarah scrunched her eyes, bit her lower lip.

"Yeah, I've seen yours plenty," Sarah nodded, "it's not like you're shy about sitting around the apartment topless... yeah..."

"Bigger," Rachel stated firmly.

They sat in silence and sipped at their champagne before Rachel reached and refilled both glasses as the limo whirred along Wilshire Boulevard toward Beverly Hills and their destination. Traffic wasn't bad, probably why they'd been picked up at this hour.

"Sarah," Rachel said after a few moments and a long slow sip, "my legs have been a bit tingly when we've gone running. I just wondered if we'd been overdoing a bit or something, we have been working out pretty hard."

"Shit," Sarah inhaled slowly, "mine too. Want to make sure we're look good for this, thought I'd, we'd, put on a few pounds last few weeks..."

"It felt a bit weird this past weekend," Rachel said, "when I was with that Leonard. Not quite the same. He wasn't as big, you know, like Izzy, who you STILL haven't called, but still decent. But my nipples were really sensitive..."

Now Sarah smiled.

"Crazy that you made it JUST through 'L' before the party, girlfriend, a party, hmm, hosted by a man whose name, now, I forget, what letter does his name start with?"

"Hadn't even crossed my mind," Rachel put on an air of aggrieved insult, "total coincidence. But, if, if I was keeping track, maybe it's for another 'M.'"

Sarah gave her friend a long look before speaking softly.

"She just might be quite happy to accommodate you on that, her, yes, but I didn't think—-"

"I don't," Rachel shook her head, "well, I've never been interested, but, when she looks at me..."

"Power," Sarah said firmly, "it's the ultimate aphrodisiac."

"Well, enough of this," Rachel said, "we have a whole other bottle of this incredible champagne so let's forget all that and enjoy the ride."

Both women stepped together out of the adjoining rooms they'd been assigned as if they'd been cued by a director. They turned and smiled at each other.

"You're looking hot, hot, hot, blondie," Rachel said.

"You too, tall, dark and beautiful," her friend responded.

Both had the highest heels they'd ever worn, strappy with stiletto heels so sharp they'd penetrate a skull with barely a push. Their legs were bare and their dresses had been hanging in the closets when they'd arrived, "Solstice Party" written on tags. Both dresses had spaghetti straps. The dresses flowed along their toned abs and followed their hips to end a couple of inches above their knees. Both had slits that rose to where their thigh met their pelvis.

Sarah's dress was a sunset red that let her hair be the sun and her blue eyes the sky of dusk. Rachel's dress was blue that flowed from a midnight blue where it met her hair through a steady change to cerulean at its hem.

To both women's surprises the ruched chests of the dresses were perfectly adapted to their new, larger bust sizes. They pushed their breasts up and were clearly meant to expose as much flesh as possible without showing nipples. They were also pleased to have actual cleavage on show, an unusual experience for both.

"This slit is so high I could only wear my skimpiest g-string, you didn't have the same problem, I see," Sarah said, she shook her head and smiled.

"Like I said, couldn't even if I'd brought any," Rachel laughed, "but I did trim closely, just left a nice, black landing strip to, you know, catch a few eyes. Now, c'mon, we don't want to be late."

She slid her arm into Sarah's and they enjoyed the lush but not overly thick carpet in the hall. Their rooms were small suites furnished like they were in a five-star hotel. The doors along the hallway made clear this building was for guests. Their ultimate boss was known to gather people around himself for work and impromptu conferences so clearly his mountain home had been built to accommodate.

At the end of the hall they both started when they saw a tall blonde woman in an even skimpier dress than theirs, her extremely large breasts almost entirely exposed but for the large, protruding shapes of her nipples.

"Anastasia," Rachel said, besides the hair color she was sure this woman definitely looked older than when they'd seen her in Margaret's office, "right?"

The woman smiled. "Sarah, Rachel, welcome to Bezerg Industries Winter Party and House Warming. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the ball."

They followed her broad hips and round ass perfectly displayed in the dress, her red hair loose and flowing as she led them first to an elevator and once they'd descended two floors they emerged into another hallway where they could hear the distant sounds of many conversations, laughter and merriment.

"This way," Anastasia said as she turned and led them in the direction of the celebration.

They both gasped as they were led into a large ballroom with a high ceiling lit by multiple crystal chandeliers spaced around the room. Two or maybe three hundred people, the young women guessed, men in suits, tuxedos, the women in all manner of beautiful gowns. Men and women dressed as traditional English butlers circulated with silver trays of wines, champagne and hors d'oeuvres. They'd entered through doors in the center of one wall that were matched by closed doors directly ahead of them. To their right the high wall had windows that met the ceiling and indicated this part of the house was partially below grade. Lightly decorated Christmas trees that reached the ceiling stood in each corner.

"Rachel, Sarah," they jumped when Margaret Timmons seemed to appear from nowhere at their sides, "you two look ravishing."

They turned. Margaret was in a slinky silver dress that offered tasteful if plentiful cleavage before it showed that her abs were almost as toned as their own. Her hips were broader than theirs and the dress fell to a stop just before the floor with slits more modest than theirs in the front and back that allowed her still-beautiful legs to be seen to mid-thighs with each step. Her heels were almost as high as theirs and Anastasia's.

But what most surprised them was the woman, apparently an assistant, just behind and to Margaret's right. She WAS every bit the twin of the red headed Anastasia with the giant tits they'd seen in Margaret's office but had dark hair. Not Rachel's near-black but a rich, deep chocolate color. She carried a tablet which appeared to be a list of names.

"Are... are we late?" Sarah's voice was tentative.

Margaret laughed.

"What time did I tell you to arrive?"

"Um, well, now," Rachel said, "you told us to arrive now."

"Yes, ladies, there was no reason for you to wait around while all of these people genuflected to Bezerg and fought to get their tongue's allowed five seconds up his butthole."

Two uncomfortable laughs that lightened when the older woman laughed gaily.

She nudged them so she could slip each of her arms into theirs before she led them forward. "Now, let's go introduce the both of you to Bezerg."

They caught the eyes of people as they were led, unsure if it was them, Margaret, or her twinned assistants that followed closely. They heard various Spanish accents, a variety of continental European languages and Asian languages neither of them had a clue about beyond the odd word of Mandarin that Rachel was happy she could understand.

They saw a rough circle of people around a core group inside of the circle. Margaret led them to the edge and released their arms. She touched an older man whose back was to them firmly on the shoulder and nudged him forward to open a space. He stepped but turned quickly and his eyes flared for a moment until he saw the two shocked young women before he realized who their leader was. His face flashed what Rachel thought was fright before he adopted a smile. Margaret simply returned a barely perceptible nod.

Sarah nudged Rachel, mouthed 'Vice...'

"Vice President of the United States," Rachel whispered, "yeah..."

Inside the outer circle they saw a much smaller knot with the unmistakable form of Melon Bezerg faced away from them. They'd only been this close to him once when he'd done a walkthrough of their building a few weeks after orientation day. He would take a couple of weeks and block outside commitments and visit all but the smallest operations around the world. Rachel and Sarah had been stage-managed along with their immediate coworkers into a room and Bezerg had arrived right on time, along with Margaret Timmons and a train of aides and assistants.

"I've got my eye on you two," he'd said as he first shook Rachel's hand then Sarah's, a quick wink as he did so, a big smile from Margaret. Rachel had made it through the rest of that day without needing to wash her right hand. Sarah's expression the next morning when Rachel told her that she'd had the best orgasm she'd ever had after rubbing one out with that hand had made clear Sarah had done the same.

As they approached they could see Bezerg's broad shoulders and his firm, erect posture. A few steps closer and they heard his smooth baritone as he spoke. Unlike every other male attendee he was not in a tuxedo or suit, but in dark blue denim jeans and a blue blazer, even amongst this crowd he made his own rules. Rachel nudged Sarah's shoulder and mouthed 'French?' Sarah responded with 'perfect.' Rachel could speak Spanish and Italian, but she'd never be as good as Sarah was in French. Together they'd started learning Mandarin as Bezerg's interests and the Middle Kingdom's converged.

Rachel realised the reason for the language. Speaking with Bezerg was the very handsome French Prime Minister, Navarre Baptiste.

Rachel momentarily regretted not wearing underwear, she felt her moisture at the scene. She wanted to grab Bezerg's waistband and shove his jeans to the floor and no matter how big his cock was, and she knew it couldn't be small, she'd show everyone here that she could plant a lipstick ring at the very base on the first swallow. After that, she'd push him to the floor and mount him. She'd lean over and kiss him and she'd offer her ultimate boss the freedom to offer her.

That handsome young French Prime Minister would be the first one in her ass, the most powerful man on earth up her cunt and the leader of a country still a major player buried in her ass. If he could get it up the VP could have her mouth. He was Oswald something or the other so it worked.

It would be the first time since that night at the frat.

She'd been a freshman undergrad and had pledged a sorority. All of the pledges were loaded into a minibus and told that they were to attend a frat party at another University in town. The better the 'reviews' received for each pledge the more highly they'd be considered. She'd met a handsome, well-built upperclassman, the Vice President of the frat. She'd had nothing on beyond a barely-there dress and heels and after a couple of glasses of champagne had found she was naked on top of the young man, his quite nicely-sized steel-hard cock up her very wet pussy as she'd kissed him enthusiastically.

That had been when she'd felt greasy fingers push into her asshole. She'd opened her eyes and broken the kiss, saw the look in her lover's eyes as the fingers were removed and something larger moved into place.

'Yes,' she'd said.

Her ass wasn't virginal, no part of her was anywhere near such a state, but two at once was new. She'd never felt anything like it and once the two men had worked out a rhythm it was ecstasy. The boy in her ass was quick and she'd been surprised at how happy she'd been when there was another hard shaft ready to immediately replace it. That was when she'd noticed a third frat brother stroked his erection alongside the bed to her left. She'd leaned that way and he'd slowly pushed it into her mouth.