Incest/Taboo Stepfather's Early Xmas Present

All characters in the story are over the age of eighteen, and consent to all activities. The characters and storyline are of course fictional and bear no resemblance to anyone I know.
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Steve has just finished a meeting at the office of a client and has arranged to meet his stepdaughter, Kelly, in town to buy a Christmas present for his wife, Grace. His track record of buying presents for Grace is not too good. Year one was okay. Perfume that he knew she wore. She accepted that they didn't know each other that well, so it was safe. Year two was better. A trip to Dublin. If he was honest with himself, it was probably that present that prompted her to propose to him. They were married within six months of the present. Year three was the start of his steady decline in present buying. More perfume. Same designer as the first, different scent. Safe, he thought. Boring, she thought. The downward spiral culminated in an Air Fryer last year, which did not go down well at all. Hence, Steve was taking the opportunity to get Kelly to choose the present for her mum this year. It had to be better.

He and Grace have been together for seven years, married for five. He is ten years her junior. Many a dinner party, formal gathering, or just a trip to a bar, he has been introduced as her toy-boy. Funny at first. He turns forty this year, and the joke, like his hair, is wearing a little thin.

The problem with present buying for Grace is that she is incredibly successful and therefore has everything. She currently juggles three directorships of companies after having her own very profitable property business, which she sold just before meeting Steve. He hadn't known how rich she was when he met her; he knew she was successful, but not every successful person is rich, and anyway, he had been a catch, too. Six feet two, fit and muscular from years of hotel gyms, well-read and educated, and with money of his own. He sells advertising space on TV and for magazines, has an amazing list of contacts, not in the same league of wealth as her, but above the average.

They had both been married previously. Steve's marriage ended due to him and his wife drifting apart over time. He was always on the road, while she worked in a local office, near to her childhood friends, and her close-knit family. She kept a steady life that he never quite slotted into. They didn't have children, which, in hindsight, might have given them some commonality to cling to. But; They split; It was sad: Both knew it was best for one another to let the other one live their life to the full. The fact that they haven't spoken in ten years, or crossed paths at other people's weddings, or birthdays, is proof that they weren't really part of each other's lives.

Grace's split from her first husband was also amicable. They parted about six months before Grace and Steve met. Paul is in scrap metal. A hard worker. One of the best guys you would ever meet. Salt of the earth. They had met at school, but as Grace became more successful she outgrew him, his values, his views on life, and particularly his friends. Being such a great guy, he accepted that she wanted more and was happy to let her go. Unbelievably, he was also happy not to take a penny from her recent windfall. He had enough for what he needed, as long as he had frequent access to their daughter, Kelly, he knew she would be well looked after. Great guy. The best.

Anyway, back to now. Steve has left the client. He texts Kelly: "Left Office. On way to JL. Where should we meet?"

She pings back: "G8. Harris Rd entrance. CU in 15"

He assumes she means 'Great' and not a G8 entrance. The shopping together was actually more luck than planning on Steve's part. The client's office happens to be in the same town as Kelly's University, so his trip has given them the opportunity to meet up. He is staying the night at a hotel before heading on to another client the next day. If he hadn't been there for this meeting, it may well have been a Nutri-Ninja or set of cast iron pans for Grace this Christmas, followed, more than likely, by trial separation and divorce.

He arrives at the store and hangs around, looking exactly like what he is. An uncomfortable middle-aged guy standing outside a store that feels completely alien to him, of which he is scared to enter.

It's early December, and the footfall is already pretty high. People bustling past him with a purpose. Wrapped up in hats and scarves, protecting themselves from the cold. Wrapped up in the joys of Christmas, commenting on the million lights blinking in every window, decorations exploding from every possible direction. Steve shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket and tries to melt away like a snowman in March. He should be better than this at shopping, he's in advertising. This stuff is his job. But somewhere the physical activity never quite made its way into his make-up, never entered his bloodstream.

He's relieved when he sees Kelly. Some protection. Since he was first introduced to her, they got on well. They clicked. She's smart like her mum. She has a good heart like her dad. Where her mother is fierce, she is kind. Where Grace is closed, Kelly is open. Studious, motivated, with an effortless nature. It's not Grace's fault she is how she is. To be a successful female leader, she has had to develop an impenetrable shell. A coat of steel to fight a cast of bigoted men in industry. A sharp tongue to slay them. It's impressive. It's sexy. But on the flip side, it's difficult to feel needed, difficult to know what you bring to the party, difficult to feel valued. Since they have been together, instead of his confidence building, he feels like it has slowly drained from him. Who is he anymore? What happened to him being 'the catch'?

Kelly shows glimpses of her mother's strength. A fire and determination, but her dominant levels of compassion manage to override it. Almost overcompensate for it. And as she approaches him, it's this he sees in her broad smile and her sparkling eyes. Eyes with the merest hint of make-up, accentuating their blueness. Cheeks rosy from the cold. Plump pink lips, shining from lip gloss. Her long, curly blond hair pulled up into a woolly hat, with a few strands hanging down across her slender face. Her body hidden, but seemingly lovely and warm beneath a stylish, ankle length, black, woollen coat, and a long, purple and pink scarf curled around her neck. She effortlessly gives off a glow as if at that moment in time, right there, he is the most important person in her life - a glow of happiness at seeing him. At a youthful twenty years old, it's a talent. A real talent.

Sensing his awkwardness in his surroundings, she throws her arms around him and gives him a big hug. Five feet seven she is considerably shorter than Steve and reaches up on tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He easily lifts her into the air as she does so, and she gives out a little giggle.

"You look great, Steve, very smart."

"Thanks, Kell. You look great too." He is pleased with his look today for the meetings he has had. Sharp and stylish. A navy blue double-breasted pea coat with large buttons, timeless and polished. Underneath, he has on a ribbed grey sweater; it's December, after all, a bit of warmth and texture to the outfit. He paired it with a safe pair of beige trousers, which balance the darker tones of the upper half of his outfit. He is muscular and tall, so it takes him a while to get the clothes that really suit him, especially as he is not a shopper. He had his haircut just yesterday, preparing for Christmas. Short, neatly styled with a touch of grey at the temples. Maybe he's kidding himself, but he thinks it gives him a distinguished and refined appearance, topped off with a closely groomed beard.

"Come on you, let's get you in there. Once more unto the breach!" She raises a fist into the air and pulls him towards the door with a laugh. In contrast to Steve, this is her domain. Shopping and Kelly are a match made in heaven.

At first, Steve is overcome by people rushing or meandering, never at a comfortable speed for him. The sales people offering samples, or demo's, asking questions in an unfamiliar language. The Christmas music is tingling all around, earworms sticking inside his head. But as they spend more time there, he relaxes. Kelly takes him by the hand, both metaphorically and physically and guides him to the departments that might suit. And in the end, they choose a handbag at a price Steve cannot believe, but accepts as being required, and a lightweight, silk scarf that he would never have known existed, let alone have the courage to buy. They laugh together, mostly at his incompetence, and he realises as they leave the store, he has actually had fun.

"Right, I am buying you dinner," he says with gusto as the doors swing closed behind them, "I won't take no for an answer. It's the least I can do to thank you."

"Sounds great, Steve, only I've promised some friends that I'll meet them at the Christmas Market."

"Oh, okay," his bravado disappearing pretty much instantly. "Not to worry. Well, I owe you. I'll have to make it up to you some other time."

Kelly looks at her phone. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you buy me a drink? I've got a bit of time before I meet up with them."

"Only if you do have time; I don't want to make you late."

Kelly grabs him by the arm again, with a big smile. "Come on, I know the perfect place just round the corner."

As they walk into the pub, the heat from the open fire in the middle of the room hits them full in the face. The pub is an expanse of exposed brick walls, trendy furnishings with a strong feel of traditional British, cosy but spacious. The fireplace divides the room into two, open on either side for walking around. Where they stand has wooden chairs and tables, and brown leather sofas. It's about half full. Shopping bags outnumbering the clientele. Beyond the large brick chimney are higher tables and bar stools and a horse-shoe-shaped bar, all wood, and gleaming gold accents. Two or three people are propped up against it, chatting away.

"What can I get you?" A young barmaid asks as they approach.

"Pint of Guinness, please," Kelly responds in a heartbeat.

"Make that two," Steve adds before turning to Kelly. "I didn't have you down as a Guinness drinker, Kell."

"What, did you think I drank Dom Pérignon every night, Steve?" Punching his arm playfully.

"Umm. Probably. Yes. Sorry," Steve laughs.

"Well, I'm sure there are many things that will surprise you about me then, Steve."

"You have me intrigued."

Kelly just smiles in response. "What do you think of the place?" Raising her head and glancing around the bar.

"Really nice. Great decor, love the fireplace."

"Yeah, makes it special. I love it. It's also a little bit tucked away, so doesn't get the tourists or out of towners, but it gets busy enough to have a good vibe."

"I can imagine. I was worried there would be hipster beards everywhere. But I don't feel too old in here at all. Which is a bonus."

"You're not old. You're experienced." She looks at him sternly.

"I'm having that," Steve laughs, "I'm not old, I'm experienced."

They both laugh, as the barmaid put's their drinks on the bar and Steve taps his card on the payment machine she produces for him.

"Sláinte," Kelly, raising her glass.

"Cheers." Steve responds, "Thanks again for tonight, you saved my life." They chink glasses and take a sip.

"My pleasure, I know how difficult Mum can be. Shall we sit?"

Before Steve can answer, Kelly wanders over to one of the sofas and puts her glass down on a table in front of it. He follows behind.

"I'm busting for the loo," she says as he catches up with her, slipping the beanie from her head and shaking her hair loose, "I'll be back in a minute." With that, she is off again, her coat flapping behind her as she heads down the far side of the bar, where a door leads through to the restrooms.

Steve takes off his jacket, slings it over the arm of the brown leather sofa and makes himself comfortable. Doing a spot of people-watching while he waits.

A few minutes later, out of the corner of his eye, without him registering it happening, his male sixth sense draws his gaze to what it knows is a stunning blonde coming from the bar. He looks, but quickly looks away again. Instinct telling him, don't get caught looking, she's out of your league, mate. There will be a boyfriend somewhere.

But, as he looks down and reaches for his pint, taking a sip, the figure walks over to his place, throws a heavy coat over the other arm of the couch, takes Kelly's Guinness from the table, and sits down next to him.

In shock, his gaze goes from the floor, over a black patent shoe, up a thin, stocking-covered shin with a flower motif on the calf, to a knee, to a strong, elegant thigh, up to a stocking top just visible before a short red tartan skirt. His eyes don't stop, they lift to a simple black jumper. Simple but somehow stunning. Hugging a perfectly flat stomach before stretching over a magnificent pair of pert, round breasts. He almost stops there, entranced by their perfection, but he rises across a cleavage, displayed within the V-neck of the jumper, sleeves scrunched up to slender elbows, up to a joyous neck, and finally to a familiar face. "Shit, Shit, Fuck," he says as if he has Tourette's.

Kelly has watched with amusement as his eyes have traced her body. She now enjoys seeing Steve colour as he realises what he has just done. She laughs raucously and throws her head back. Tightening her neck, making her breasts bounce, and warming her cheeks, which is doing nothing to diminish the redness in Steve's cheeks either.

"How long is it since you last saw me?" She says, recovering from her laugh. She crosses her legs. Her skirt rides up, exposing more of her flesh above the tops of her stockings, and the suspenders of a garter belt.

"Umm. Sorry. What?" Steve doesn't know where to look.

"Was it last summer when we last saw each other? Before I came away?"

"I. I. I think so, yes. You've er changed a bit."

"I think it's called blossoming. She flicks the ringlets of her hair from her shoulders. Plus, I've been to the University gym pretty much every day since getting here." She spreads her hands as if miming a song in a game of Charades. "You like?"

What do you say to that, Steve thought. Your stepdaughter has suddenly become hot and asks if you like what you see. 'Fuck, yeah!' springs to mind.

"Er. Yes. You look fantastic, Kelly. Really great. Wow, quite a change from the bookworm, eh?"

"A girl has to flower sometime, right? Uni life is so much fun; I'm loving it."

"Excellent. Excellent." Steve reaches forward to take another sip of beer. He coughs. Let's change the subject.

"Your mum is looking forward to seeing you over Christmas. When are you back?"

"The nineteenth. I've got lectures until then." She gives him a glum face. He's still struggling to think straight with a gorgeous creature sitting next to him.

"Um. Steve?"

"Kelly."

"How did you and Mum meet?"

"Um. Wow. That's out of the blue. Has she never told you?"

"Maybe, but I don't remember if she did."

"Okay. Well. We met at a conference in London. I was there to drum up new business, connect with clients that kind of thing."

"What was the conference about?" She takes a big slug of Guinness, slowly licking the white foam from her lips.

Does she know what she is doing to him? Of course she does.

"Er, just an entrepreneur thing. Lots of different businesses sharing experiences and meeting one another. It's networking as much as anything. Lots of people trying to feel important. So I was there as a punter, but your mum, she was there as a guest speaker."

"Ooh. Lah-di-dah." Another pull of the drink.

"Exactly. She had just sold the business and was on those top women in industry lists. She had loads of invitations for speaker slots. So, she did a talk on her history, what she had learned - to be honest I didn't even see that, I was cruising the conference - and then there was a panel thing she did on stage talking about digitalisation or something with big bods from Microsoft, and Google and I don't know, other tech firms, not my thing either."

"So how did you get to meet her, if she was royalty and you were just a punter?"

"Michael Connelly." Steve says through a mouthful of stout.

"Bless you." She jokes. "Sorry, who?"

"The chef."

"Oh, right, yeah, I remember him. He was on Celebrity Big Brother. Short bloke, Irish?"

"That's him. Before his star turn on Reality TV, he was actually a well-known TV Chef. In fact, he still is a Chef, just less of the TV part. I did some promotional work with him early in his career, in the days when cookery shows were gold-dust, before they completely saturated the market with second raters that have no experience in actual kitchens."

"and, the conference?"

"and he happened to be at the Conference as well. We passed each other in a corridor, he remembered me, and invited me to a drinks thing that was happening that night. A drinks thing that your mother was also a guest at."

"Okay, and?"

"and I was introduced to your mother by Michael. I remember he introduced me as a 'close personal friend', which impressed Grace no end, but was not remotely true." Steve smiles remembering back and takes another sip. "Why do you want to know?" He looks into her eyes.

"Carry on." She uncrosses her legs, the skirt adjusts but stays high. Then she leans forward. 'Oh, God. More cleavage', Steve's mind starts to panic.

"Er." Another sip. "Well, we got talking. I think I er recounted stories of other semi-famous TV stars I had worked with, tried to make them sound more exciting than they really are. I suppose tried to make myself more exciting than I really am. She told me about her life, her new aspirations. We drank quite a lot, ended up dancing quite a lot, there was Karaoke involved at one point, and you know. The rest is history."

"Did you fancy her right away?"

He thinks. There's probably a tell-tale sign within the pause before he responds. He knows the answer, he just hasn't ever verbalised it.

"You know your mum, she's a force of nature, I was caught up in her tornado from the outset, I think. Snared in her trap. I guess so, yes."

Kelly smiles at Steve, knowing precisely what he means.

"Did you? You know. That night?" She inquires leaning forward even more, eyebrows rising twice quickly, a mischievous look spreading across her face.

He places a hand on her forearm, a tingle runs through his body, feeling it's smoothness, and it's warmth. A tingle runs through her body, feeling the tender grip from his manly hand.

"A gentleman never tells." But the colouring of his cheeks gives him away. He takes another sip to try and hide, reluctantly taking his hand off her arm. "But why do you want to know?" He asks again.

She leans back against the sofa and rests her pint glass against her chest. Her knees rising as her bottom slips into the sofa. It's her turn to fix him with her eyes.

"I've always wondered why you two are together, and wanted to hear how you met. Make some sense out of it."

Steve is taken aback. Where's this come from?

"Really? What do you mean?"

"Mum's a bitch. She's always been a bitch..."

Steve opens his mouth to defend Grace.

"...Don't get me wrong, I love her. She's incredible, but she's a bitch. She cares about two things. Herself and Money. Actually, three things. Herself, Money, and her reputation. So, a new man probably didn't fit her plan. She must have been peak 'Bitch' at that point."

Steve looks into his pint glass. She wonders if she went too far.

"But Steve." It's her turn to touch him. She rests her hand on his thigh and looks straight at him. "Don't think I'm doubting why she would get together with you. I guess, what I'm actually questioning is why you would get together with her. And what you said about making yourself seem more exciting? You are exciting. Don't think you have to make yourself more interesting by knowing B-listers. I think you are clever, exciting and fun. And you are nice. My mum is a bitch. You are so much better than her. That's the odd bit of the story."

Steve is taken aback again. He doesn't know how to respond.

"Thanks." Is all he can say into his pint. He doesn't know how to carry on from there.

"Actually, I'm going to prove to you that you are exciting." She sits upright again. "You are coming to the Christmas Market, and you are having a night out with me and my friends."

"Oh, that's really nice of you Kell, but I'll be fine. I'll get some room service back at the hotel. I'm fine. You don't want some old bloke..."

"Ah, ah, aaah. What did I tell you? 'Experienced', not old."

"You don't want some 'experienced' bloke hanging around spoiling all your fun."

Kelly responds impressively by downing the remaining three quarters of her pint of Guinness in one go.

"You are not 'some bloke'. Come on, drink up."

"Really? You sure?"

"Stop delaying. Come on." She says standing up.

In that graceful movement, Steve's eyes file away her tits as they rise past his eyes, her legs as the skirt slides down the bare tops of her thighs and nestles against her stockings, and then her peach of an ass as she spins and grabs her coat. He manages to take his pint and sink it before his conscience talks him out of it.

"I better know who your friends are before we get there." Steve asks. They are now hanging on for dear life in the back of a black cab, speeding through a few back streets to get to the Christmas market.

"A treat for you tonight, it's all girls, Steve."

"Really? That's worse Kelly. I'm the only bloke? And I'm your ol... experienced step dad. I'll head to the hotel, you meet the girls. I'll get in the way."

"That's the last time you try and get yourself out of it. You are coming. No more complaints. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Right, there's Chloe. She's from Leeds and is on my course. Harriett is from Kent, a bit posh, but really nice. She's studying psychology. Philippa from London. She lives in my Halls, she's taking Chemistry, and lastly Bobby is from Hong Kong, she's taking Maths and Physics, I know her from the gym. They are all really nice. You'll love them, and they will love you." She pokes him with her finger. "It's going to be fun. Say it back to me. It's going to be fun."

"It's going to be fun." Despite himself, he smiles.

"Wonderful, now repeat who my friends are."

"Chloe, Leeds. Your course. Posh Psychologist Harriett from Kent. Pippa, London, Chemistry. Bobby, Gym, Hong Kong, Maths and Physics."

"Perfect. Impressive."

"It's kind of my job. Listen, store, recall. People like it. Great for advertising."

"But don't call Phillipa 'Pippa' she hates it."

"Stored." He taps his forehead.

The Christmas market is busy. 'It's the beginning of December, for God's sake' Steve catches himself thinking, before correcting himself and saying "Wow, looks great, loads of stalls, nice and busy." But he discovers he is only talking to himself, Kelly has grabbed his hand once again and launched herself into the masses. She's enjoying this.

The market is alive with energy, another chaotic mix of twinkling lights, festive ear worms, and the hum of voices and laughter. She is weaving through the crowd with practiced ease, her hand firmly clasped around his, dodging hurried shoppers, worried parents and running children, his head twists trying to take in everything at once, but also trying to keep up.

"Where are we going?" Steve asks, raising his voice to be heard above the din.

"They are at one of the bars," she calls back over her shoulder, her tone light and teasing. Her eyes sparkling with the thrill of dragging him through the bustling market, the thrill of introducing him to her friends.

They pass stalls overflowing with hand-carved wooden toys, gaudy jewellery, Christmas cakes and chocolates, and the distinctive smell of mulled wine and spiced cider everywhere. He hears the hiss of bratwurst grilling somewhere nearby, the savoury aroma making his stomach rumble.

He stumbles slightly as they squeeze past a group crowded around a stall selling handmade candles, their flickering flames casting soft, golden light. Why so busy at candles?

"Are we close?" he asks, glancing around. It's a strange mix of magical and inane, beautiful but disorienting, garlands draped across the chalets, the faint sound of carolers singing in the distance, mixed in with 'Last Christmas' and Mariah Carey, all at once.

"Almost," she calls back, turning to flash him a grin. "You're going to love them. Trust me."

He couldn't help but smile again, her excitement infectious despite the chaos.

Suddenly they pull up, and Kelly releases Steve's hand. Instead throwing her arms around a girl in front of her and air kissing with a loud "Mwah, mwah."

"Kelly, you made it'" Another girl says to her right. Kelly switches her attention to this girl and repeats the hug and her air kisses, "Mwah, mwah", then another girl next to her, "Mwah, mwah", before finally moving back across the first girl to another girl on her left this time. "Mwah, mwah."

Steve stands, looking exactly like what he is. An uncomfortable middle-aged guy standing outside a log cabin bar with a snow-dusted roof and glowing fairy lights that feels completely alien to him, which he is scared to approach. But Kelly solves that.

She grabs all four girls and pulls Steve into them all. "Group hug," she shouts.

They bundle in together. He freezes for a moment, his arms awkwardly hovering before finally wrapping them around the others. Thick coats and scarves pressed together as they lean in, laughing and murmuring, half-lost in the noise around them. The warmth of their breaths, the warmth of their bodies, a bond so genuine it almost seemed to echo through the bustling square. His face pressed against Kelly's cheek, the other against another of the girls. Their hair in his eyes and mouth.

"Say Hello to Steve," Kelly shouts.

"Hello, Steve!" they shout back into the embrace. They all hug a little tighter.

His heart thuds in his chest, not from the cold, but from something else, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. For a moment, completely in awe.

The hug loosens slightly, but no one pulled away completely. One of the girls, gives him an extra squeeze and grins up at him. "You're one of us now," she says playfully, her breath misting in the cold air. He smiles - wide, unguarded, finally letting himself sink into the moment.

"Right, drinks. We've been waiting!" One of the other girls hollers from within the human cave. "Yeah!" Comes the joint response.

As they finally pull back, cheeks flushed from the cold and the closeness, he blinks, catching his breath.

"Are you okay?" the same girl asks, grinning at him again.

Steve nods, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yeah. Just... that was a little overwhelming, you know."

"I'm Bobby."

Her dark, captivating eyes sparkle with warmth and life, giving away her youthful exuberance. Her face is framed by smooth, delicate skin that is illuminated by a bright, infectious smile. Bright white teeth, high cheekbones and full, inviting lips, a subtle alluring hint at her inner beauty. She is, without a doubt, an exotic sight to behold.

He reaches out a hand, which she swipes away and gives him another big hug. "We're past hand-shakes, Steve." She laughs.

For a split second in her arms, the laughter and cheers from the market fade into the background as he takes it all in. The twinkling lights overhead, the soft glow of lanterns reflecting off frosty cobblestones, and the way their joy seemed to wrap around him like the coziest scarf. The sheer simplicity and magic of connection. The positivity of youth, living in the now, not thinking about tomorrow, having fun.

As they break free, Kelly hands them both a cream and brown, china mug, filled to the brim with delicious, hot, dark mulled wine.

"It has an extra shot of Schnapps in it." She winks at them, before returning to the counter to get hers.

Over the course of the evening Steve chats with all the girls, sometimes as a whole group, sometimes in twos, sometimes individually. They entertain him with stories of university life, he tells them of adverts he has made, brands and people he has worked with. They talk backgrounds, travel, music, film, pop culture. A multitude of subjects whizzing by in an instant but engaging them in thought, conversation and laughter. He is the centre of attention, each of the girls jostling for time with him. He's sure it's out of their good nature, he's not this interesting a person, but it feels excellent, nonetheless.

They eat a selection of sausages and sauerkraut, waffles and crepes, mixed in with more mulled wine and hot cider from several of the bars dotted through the stalls.

"This place closes in fifteen minutes," Harriett announces looking at her phone.

"Oooh, I don't want to stop yet," Bobby squeals. She has her arm in Steve's.

"Me, either," Harriett and Philippa agree.

Kelly circles round to Steve's other arm, and slides her's though the gap. Two beautiful women now flank him.

"I've got an idea, Steve. I'm sure your hotel has a bar, right?"

No-one needs any more of the idea to be articulated. A cheer rings out.

"We're gonna need an uber XL!" Steve says to another cheer, and a squeeze from both sides of his body.

"I'll get these," Steve say's heading to the hotel bar as they find a table at the back. "What can I get you?"

"I'll come with you," Kelly jumps in before the others can speak. "I know what they need!"

The others give out another cheer, a little more muted within the confines of the hotel bar, and a laugh, as Kelly and Steve turn.

Kelly orders five shots of a bright purple liquid, Steve has never seen, and a bottle of red wine, with five glasses. Steve thinks Guinness is probably a better choice for him to mix with the concoctions from the market, so sticks to that.

"Have you had fun?" turning to him as they wait.

"Absolutely, thanks for dragging me along, Kell, it's been really fun. Really fun. I need to let my hair down a bit more."

"See, I told you. They all think you're great."

"And I think they are all great." A broad grin across his face. "You've got wonderful taste in friends."

"Bobby likes you." Kelly says smiling at him. She undoes the front of her coat as she says it and curls it around the side of her breasts.

"I'm glad. I like Bobby too, she's really nice." Out of the four new girls, Steve has spent most time speaking to Bobby. The connection they made in the group hug, spread through the evening. Conversation was easy, her background in Asia fascinating, a unique sense of humour, he felt that they didn't stop laughing the whole night.

Kelly leans in and whispers into his ear. "No, she really likes you." He feels her breath against his neck. His pulse quickens. His hands hold the bar to stop himself floating away or fainting, he doesn't know which. He feels his body tense, his groin stir. He looks at her, almost to validate that she has said what he thinks she said. Kelly quickly peeks toward the back of the room before he sees her lips whisper again, "I told her you were taken though." Her lips touch his as she kisses him gently on the mouth, her cold lips against his, her tongue quickly darting between them. It's an instant, but it's forever.

He stands like a zombie, swaying slightly, as she takes the tray of shots and the bottle of wine from in front of her, spinning away from the bar. Through a fuzzy mist, he hears her say.

"Can you bring the glasses, Steve?"

What has just happened? His stepdaughter? Coming on to him? And a twenty-something Asian beauty? Is this some sort of parallel universe? He steadies himself. He realises he has to breathe. Maybe that was an illusion. He's drunk. The schnapps. He mis-heard her. But she kissed him. There was definitely a kiss.

The bartender is asking him for the third time to tap his card on the reader.

"Oh, sorry, sorry. Here you go. Thanks."

He steadies himself again, picks up the glasses by their stems, and walks back to the table with his beer, to join the girls.

Kelly has got back to the girls and handed out shots, she is unsure if what she just did was too much. Her stomach is churning, her body twitchy and nervous. But her lips are tingling, her nipples aroused. She casts a glance back at the bar. Steve is just turning around. At least he doesn't look angry. He looks confused. Shy. Sexy.

"What took you so long?" Kelly teases as he approaches the table, "We've been waiting for you." She's holding two of the shots, the other girls are seated, each with a glass held high above them.

Steve is now blown away for the umpteenth time that evening. All have removed their coats to reveal a collection of figure-hugging tops, exposed cleavages and mid-riffs, pert breasts with and without bras. He can't quite believe where he is.

Steve's mind processes. 'Chloe, Leeds. Kelly's course. Low cut red top, pale skin, breasts like balloons, no bra. Posh Psychologist Harriett from Kent. Tight purple jumper, covered to the neck, but mammoth breasts straining it outwards and sideways. Pippa, sorry, Philippa, London, Chemistry. Black polka-dot-mesh top, black push up bra underneath, tanned, heaving cleavage. Bobby, Gym, Hong Kong, Maths and Physics, cropped white blouse with off-the-shoulder sleeves showing her tight, toned, gym ready body and small pert breasts, no bra.' and then Kelly standing before him, with a cheeky smile on her face, her coat and scarf now removed, sleeves rolled up, he's sure he sees erect nipples in the centre of her large breasts, teasing him beneath the tight black jumper, her stockinged legs secretly hiding themselves below the table, her lips brazenly shouting to him, 'I just kissed you'.

"Sorry about that, problem with the card machine." Steve places the glasses on the table and takes one of the shot glasses from Kelly, their fingers touching for the briefest moment.

"To new friends." He says raising the glass.

"New friends," comes the chorus back as the drinks disappear. Each of the girls smash their glasses back down on the table in unison.

"Jesus, that's horrible." Steve splutters as he is the last to put his glass down.

"Last one to drink buy's the next round," Kelly says handing Steve the empty tray, with a devilish smile. He gives her an unsure look in response.

"Ah, do you think he can handle it?" Bobby says. Steve is not sure if this is out of affection, and she is generally looking out for his well-being, or her making fun of him. He opts for the latter.

"I don't need your pity, back to the bar!" He shouts, holding the tray aloft like a trophy, followed by more cheers from the girls.

As he orders the next round, Steve pulls out his phone and emails the contact he was meeting the next day, explaining that he has been held up, and won't make the meeting tomorrow, asking to reschedule. He doesn't reveal why. That a man of his 'experience' won't be in a fit state to talk shop tomorrow if these rounds of shots continue as he expects them to, as he wants them to.

The group do indeed work their way through several more toasts, getting increasingly saucy. Including, 'To strong women and the men who serve them'; 'Here's to our adopted girlfriend'; 'To the ins and outs of life'; 'To Christmas trees... and big choppers!' ; and finally, from Kelly, as she takes his hand in hers, 'A gentleman never tells, but a girl tells all of her friends.' There's a loud cheer from the girls at this one, as they drop to their seats, giggling together. Kelly holds her gaze into Steve's eyes for a fraction longer, she moves her fingers against his, they know the point she has made. Steve feels it. A part of his body definitely feels it.

As the night wears on, the sexual tension increases. Kelly ensures that she touches him regularly. The small of his back, the base of his neck, a graze of a finger. Always there, a heartbeat away. The message subtle, but unmistakable.

Steve doesn't miss the chance to speak with Chloe and get a bird's-eye view of her gravity defying breasts in her tiny red top. She blatantly teases him, stretching her arms above her head regularly, flicking her dark brown hair forward over her neck before swishing it back. He chats with Harriett and Philippa too. Beneath her coat, Harriett has revealed a short, black leather skirt and high leather boots to contrast her fluffy purple jumper. Fishnet stockings filling the gap between boot and hem. He can't stop imagining lifting that skirt and ripping the stockings apart. Then Philippa's breasts pushed up tight beneath the gauze of her top. The silky material swaying with every movement, the beating of her breasts rippling as she talks. But again, he gravitates to Bobby. Her slender body almost coiled, waiting for action. A bright happy face, but a sultriness behind the eyes. A compact frame, slight but powerful. She packs a punch. She is a vision of loveliness, a perfect symphony of grace and sensuality. As they talk, her hand sometimes touches his arm, the back of his hand, his thigh, his chest. Just briefly.

Steve wants time to standstill, the night never to end. For the bar to never close, for them to remain in this perfect state of transition through inebriation. But of course, it can't. It must. Last orders are called, and they all groan.

As he stands at the bar, ordering the last round of shots, he thinks to his wife. He hasn't done anything wrong. His mind has, but he hasn't. Her daughter has, but he hasn't. High jinks maybe. Getting carried away. But it's made him feel the most alive he has felt in years. Six years if he is counting. It's made him realise that he is not window dressing in a room, a prop for someone else's jokes. He used to be this guy. It's what made him successful. As he ponders this revelation, he feels a touch of a hand on his back. It presses firmly, he feels a breath on his neck.

"I've heard you having sex with mum." A whisper again. Hot liquid. "She never screamed with dad. How come you make her scream, Steve. What do you do? What do you have?"

He is more drunk than earlier, he freezes momentarily but recovers this time. He turns to her and pulls her into his arms. To anyone else it's a stepdad hugging his stepdaughter. To them, it's not. It's two bodies pulled against one another. Two bodies that want each other.

"Experience." He replies.

She throws her head back in laughter and he admires her face, her neck, her chest, all over again. He releases her and turns back to the bar, to get the drinks.

She puts her arm through his as they waltz back to the table. All the pieces now in place for her plan. She's scared, but exhilarated.

"Ladies, I bring gifts, the last drink of the night," Steve says as they return. He is met with more groans, but they all stand to take a glass from the tray. "To next Christmas!" He says. "To next Christmas!" comes the chorus.

As they slam the glasses down for the last time, and he hugs each of them one by one, he feels sad that tomorrow will be just another day, a loss within him that this feeling will go away. They each embrace him warmly. He gets to feel Chloe pushed against his chest, Harriett's huge breasts squashed into him, Philippa lythe within his arms, and finally Bobby. Holding him so tight he thinks he will break. Touching the back of his head, fixing his head into her neck. Kissing his neck and cheek, so subtly. But then it's over.

"Have you got a taxi booked?" He asks Kelly.

"Waiting outside already," she responds.

All six of them walk across the bar and through to the lobby together, Kelly is holding him with one arm and her coat with the other, the others are wrapped up warm again in their winter jackets.

He doesn't want her to cover her body, but he nods to her arm, "You'll need that on, it will be freezing outside."

Now she is ready.​