It’s comfy under the tree. The presents make good pillows. I lay there and sip cognac. Crotches walk by. Some stop and talk about me. Sharon’s face is looking at me. “C’mon big boy.” She is pulling me up.
Sharon is warm and moist and smells like wine all over. She guides me down the hall and into the cocaine bathroom. “We’re going to wake you up a bit.” She locks the door. I sit on the toilet and I feel the beginnings of that spinning sensation. I put a hand on the tub and a hand on the sink. Sharon is chop chop chopping lines in the counter top. She leans over the countertop to sniff and snort. I can see boobies bobbling. She sees me looking.
“What are you looking at?”
“I can almost see your titties.” She lifts her Christmas shirt and shows me her tits.
“All you had to do was ask.”
I stand up and grab her. We kiss, a long, wet, alcohol kiss. Her nose leaves white streaks on my cheek. We look in the mirror and laugh. She steps aside and I bend over the counter with the straw in my hand. The cocaine is gummy, hard to snort. I huff away, trying to get it up there good. Sharon is playing with my ass. Someone brushes against the door.
It’s the girl. Fuck. I grab Sharon and kiss her again. She sinks to her knees and unzips my pants.
Now these are the moments that make life worthwhile. A Christmas party. Drunken pukers. Bathroom blowjobs with cocaine smeared everywhere. I close my eyes.
She pulls out my pecker. I must watch now. Sharon is smiling at my pecker, eye to eye. I notice how full and red her lips are. How they part so beautifully. She is like a lip model.
She kisses the head of my dick. I should say she pecks the head of my dick. Mouth closed. She tucks my dick back into my pants and zips them up. She looks up at me smiling, with drunk fucking eyes.
I can swallow my rage sometimes. I try real hard to just breathe for a moment. The coke is beginning to take effect. It would be easy to lose it, to pound Sharon to a pulp, but that might spoil the party.
She’s a robot. Her brothers are robots too. Everybody is a robot. They are here for one purpose, and that is to test me. I swallow my rage against the robots and taste the robot cocaine. Yes, there it is. Mechanical cocaine. I can breathe. I can smile. I can walk out of the bathroom calmly and serenely. The children are all out there, looking at me as though I did some evil thing to the mommy robot. I stroll down the hall and back to the barf kitchen.