by Ellison Wonderland
"Merry Christmas," called some faceless bureaucrat or other, grinning broadly.
"Merry Christmas," returned Li Ann.
What she really wanted to say was that Hong Kong didn't celebrate Christian
holidays, and that her family had a proud and ancient Taoist tradition of its
own.
"Merry Christmas."
Li Ann allowed her urbane smile to warm the people she met on her way, wishing
them the compliments of the season. Inside, her mind was seething with
irritation. Damn cultural imperialists and their blind arrogance, assuming that
she wanted to participate in the celebration of their holy days. Still, if the
Tangs had taught her anything, it was the wisdom of fitting in. Vancouver was
her home now. She might even wave a flag on Canada Day, if it was expected of
her.
"Merry Christmas, Li Ann."
Even the director?
Li Ann felt her mood lightening as she pushed the door to the briefing room
closed and slid into her accustomed chair. There was something about the
director in fishnets, ermine, and a red santa hat, that had her smiling with
genuine amusement.
Mac and Vic, on the other hand, looked as if they'd seen better days.
"Hard night, you two?" she asked with mock sympathy, wishing she had a whip like
the director's so that she could bang it down on the table and make them wince.
Okay. Li Ann was not usually vindictive. It wasn't part of the makeup of such a
clever thief. But the way her two former fiancées had gotten together, doing
things with each other in the privacy of their own homes, even trading the odd
sappy look when they thought no one was watching. It made her blood boil. Did
they have to get over her quite that quickly? And with each other?
"What's the assignment?" asked Vic, looking at the director with the kind of
baleful stare that would have had a normal person quaking in their boots.
"No assignment," said the director, smiling blandly. "I just wanted to wish you
a merry Christmas."
Mac groaned and buried his head in his hands. "You called us in here on
Christmas Day, interrupting valuable drinking time, on our one day off, just to
wish us…"
It trailed off in what sounded like a string of muffled obscenities.
"And to give you your Christmas presents."
Mac perked up at that, cutting short his litany of abuse to look up at the
director with a puppy dog smile. "Great. Whatcha get me?"
The director produced a bulky bag from beside her chair with a flourish and
pulled out a gaily wrapped package.
"Just the one?" asked Mac, suspicion all over his expressive face. Mac had
always loved Christmas. He'd celebrated it with his family before he joined the
Tangs. It was one of the things about him that annoyed Li Ann the most. That,
and the whining.
The package was slim and addressed very clearly to Li Ann. No one moved as it
sat there on the table. Eventually, Li Ann nudged it carefully with one
immaculately groomed nail, as though it might bite her.
"What about me?" demanded Mac.
"You've both been very naughty boys," said the director, doing her usual
exaggerated vamp act as if it never got tired. "And Santa doesn't come to
naughty boys. You're lucky even just to get the day off."
"And yet, here we are, at work," said Vic to the empty air, exasperation clear
in his lightly clenched fists.
"Aren't you gonna open it?" asked Mac. Presumably, the vicarious thrill of
someone else getting a present was almost enough for him. He'd always been the
most generous man Li Ann had ever known, even in the bedroom.
"Maybe later," said Li Ann. She could tell, just by the slight lift of one
elegant eyebrow, that the director didn't want her to open it in front of the
others. So why call them all in and hand it over in front of them? There was no
understanding their boss, sometimes.
"Li Ann, I want you to call in at the archives and check a reference for me. For
the Baker case," said the director, dismissing them all with a negligent wave of
her hand.
Meeting over.
Vic and Mac couldn't get out of there fast enough, though both gave her a
perfunctory peck on the cheek as they left.
"Wanta come over later?" whispered Mac as he buffed her cheek.
"Maybe tomorrow," said Li Ann, unmoved by the disappointment in his eyes.
When she turned back to the table, the director was gone as well. Probably
slithered off into some hole or other. Grasping her present gingerly, Li Ann
turned it over and over. Shook it. Sniffed it. Nearly dropped it on the floor
and trampled on it. But in the end, she unwrapped it carefully and methodically,
folding up the paper as she went.
Hmmn. A hand-held camcorder. And a card.
"The best presents are homemade," she read aloud. There followed a list of very
explicit instructions.
No need to guess any more what the director wanted for Christmas.
Only an athletic and clever person could have concealed themselves in plain
sight on the balcony outside Vic's apartment. Bundled up against the light rain,
and hoping that she didn't catch a cold, Li Ann decided that this was the most
miserable holiday of her life. But at least she had a very clear shot of the
action in the lounge, where Vic and Mac were eating their Christmas dinner.
Not that it had started with dinner. There'd been cuddling and kissing on the
couch, all faithfully recorded. Opening of presents came next, complete with an
astonished screech by Mac (literally), followed by him hurling his gangling
frame at Vic so hard that they flipped the couch over in their enthusiasm.
Nicely captured on film.
Pre-dinner drinks — recorded for posterity. Sappy sipping from each other's
glasses. In fact, there was enough blackmail material already to keep them
working for the director from beyond the grave
And now they were munching their way through turkey and stuffing. If they'd put
on paper hats, Li Ann would have had to have shot them. As it was, the camera
kept shaking in her hand as she tried not to laugh out loud. Who would have
thought that Vic and Mac would share a Hallmark Christmas? Certainly not Li Ann.
She would have pictured them, if she'd given it any thought at all, sitting
around drinking whiskey from the bottle, eating take-out and wearing grungy
sweats. Farting and laughing loudly. Maybe watching sports on TV and bitching
about the dismal performance of their favourite players and the referees.
Of course, they probably did all of that every other day of the year. Li Ann
just hadn't expected Christmas to be any different.
But there they were, in tidy clothes if not dressed up, toasting each other with
chardonnay and eating a traditional Christmas roast. With trimmings. Those
cooking lessons of Vic's had clearly paid off.
What was that? No, she hadn't imagined it. Vic had turned away for a moment and
Mac had slipped him a mickey. Interesting. Maybe Mac was going to corrupt this
saccharine scene by drugging Vic and then doing unspeakable things to his
unconscious body. Now that would be worth videoing.
Vic took a mouthful of his wine. Li Ann watched him swallow, admiring the way
his throat muscles relaxed and contracted. He really was a beautiful man. But
stupid. He didn't seem to notice anything amiss. Not that Mac would have slipped
him something with an obvious flavour to it.
While she waited for Vic to pass out, Li Ann held the camera steadily and tried
not to listen to the inane conversation being picked up by the sensitive
equipment.
"Li Ann was looking hot today."
Okay. Maybe not so inane.
"Ya think?"
What a bastard that Mac was.
"What's her beef with Christmas?"
"Vic. Newsflash. Not every country in the world celebrates Christmas. To some,
it's just a day when westerners commemorate the religion that helped them
conquer and oppress most of the planet."
"Li Ann told you that, huh?"
"Hey, I can have profound political thoughts."
"Li Ann told you that, huh?"
"Yeah, okay, Li Ann told me that. Where are you going?"
"Fuck. Suddenly I've gotta pee like there's no tomorrow."
Li Ann didn't film Vic dashing off to the bathroom. Instead, she watched in
astonishment as Mac bounded off his chair the minute Vic was out of sight,
grappling desperately for his overnight bag in the corner. He was pulling
something out — some sort of sex toy for when Vic passed out?
Hmmn. That was disappointing. A large plastic bag in which Mac began to — okay —
why was Mac slipping pieces of turkey and vegetables into the bag, looking
anxiously over his shoulder in the direction of the bathroom?
Mac was stealing food? Li Ann's heart lurched in unwilling sympathy. Maybe he
hadn't come that far from the streets of Hong Kong, after all.
Nothing could have matched Mac's nonchalant sprawl, though, by the time Vic
returned to the table.
"Hey, you've eaten half already. You must be really enjoying it," said Vic,
grinning proudly. "And you said those cooking classes were a waste of time."
"Yep. Got me there, Vic," said Mac politely, almost eating a piece of stuffing.
Li Ann watched in fascination, moving the camera in time to the motion of Mac's
knife and fork as he pushed the food around his plate.
"Damn," snapped Vic suddenly. "Gotta go again."
Mac was up in a flash, and stuffing more of his meal into his bag with an air of
maniacal glee.
Twice more, Vic had to race to the toilet, and by the time his bladder had
settled down, Mac's plate was sparkling clean.
"Damn, that was good," Mac said brightly. His face fell a little when Vic
announced that he'd made dessert, but he rallied quickly and initiated one of
the most scorching kisses Li Ann had ever seen. By the time they'd practically
devoured each other's tonsils, she was starting to shake a little, trying to
hold the camera steady.
"Fuck dessert," said Mac, groping Vic's ass in a very unsubtle way.
"I'd rather fuck you," growled Vic, in a way that hit Li Ann like a punch in the
guts. She remembered when that smoky voice had promised to fuck her. But he
hadn't been what she'd needed. Yes. She just had to keep reminding herself of
that.
Great. They were going to do it on the couch. She didn't have to try to
manoeuvre herself to a position where she could film the bedroom.
Shivering in the cold night air, Li Ann wished that the heat being generated in
the lounge could warm her. Vic was feathering kisses on Mac's face, throat and
chest, with little nips that the camera showed to be leaving faint marks. Mac's
head was lolling back on the couch and he was groaning quietly. Li Ann couldn't
remember if Mac had been this relaxed, this vocal, with her. It was hard to
concentrate.
She tried to remove herself from the scene and watch with clinical detachment,
as Vic practically tore Mac's pants to shreds, ripping them off with more haste
than finesse. Li Ann had always insisted on folding her clothes neatly before
taking things any further. Now, she had to wonder if that had killed some of the
passion for Vic. He had certainly never gone down on her with anything like the
enthusiasm he was now showing for Mac.
Despite herself, Li Ann licked her lips. Vic drew back for a second, and the
camera got an unobstructed view of Mac's heavy erection, the head bloated and
purple with lust. The director would appreciate that shot, she thought, as the
back of Vic's closely cropped head filled the lens again, bobbing up and down
with a lazy, irregular pace. It was oddly erotic, watching one former fiancée
blow the other. There was a growing heat as Vic increased his pace, as though
she could feel his tongue dancing inside her instead of licking a careful trail
up Mac's cock.
"More," she heard Mac gasp. Almost, she'd said it herself.
Vic's laugh was wicked, as he started to tease Mac, licking his thighs and
balls, swabbing everywhere except for his straining cock.
"Get on with it," hissed Li Ann.
Shit. She'd said that out loud. Heart hammering, Li Ann stared intently at the
man stretched out on the couch, and the dark-haired man kneeling on the floor
beside him. But neither seemed to have heard her. Vic continued to torment Mac
with little nips and kisses, until finally Mac grabbed a handful of Vic's hair
and forced him down hard on his crotch. Vic was still laughing, she could tell
by the way his shoulders were shaking. But he must have been doing a good job of
sucking, too, since Mac was moaning almost constantly now.
Mac was a leaker. Vic would be swallowing frantically, his throat well
lubricated by Mac's juices. Li Ann used to be able to take all of Mac that way,
he was so slippery and her control of her own gag reflex was that damn good.
Holding the camera with one hand, she mopped a film of sweat off her forehead
with the other, wondering if Vic had managed to go all the way down on him.
Lucky Mac. Vic was very talented in the oral department, as Li Ann had good
cause to know.
Mac's hands were spasming on Vic's head now, and he was giving that little shout
that he did when he came. Pushing frantically up off the couch. Practically
knocking Vic's head off, by the look of it.
Oh, gross. Now they were kissing, sharing Mac's spunk between them in a parody
of mouth-to-mouth. Li Ann could see it dribbling down Mac's chin, his face
turned towards the camera. Li Ann never swallowed, the taste and texture was
disgusting. But Vic didn't seem to mind it, and nor did Mac. Eating his own cum.
How repulsive. Still, given the way Mac had desperately tried to get rid of his
dinner, maybe anything was tasting good after Vic's cooking.
Okay. Breathe. She must be getting rattled if she was starting to think like
Mac.
Did couples usually kiss for ten minutes at a time, like that? Mac was getting
hard again. Li Ann couldn't see Vic's cock from this angle, but she knew from
memory how big and angry-looking it would be. What a fucking monster. And he was
going to put that inside Mac? How was that even possible?
That it was on the cards was clear from the way Vic had just flipped Mac over on
his stomach, his body pliant and beautiful in the afterglow of orgasm. Mac's
legs were spread wide apart and Vic was lapping at Mac's ass with his tongue.
Getting him good and wet for it. The way he used to do with her. It was lucky
that the sound of grinding teeth didn't carry through plate glass.
But Li Ann wasn't jealous. Not really. All of this was just — unexpected.
Oh, Vic, really? The old lube under the pillow trick? Show a little class.
Still, Mac was a sure thing so maybe it didn't matter. Vic'd never tried things
like that with her. Not that every day had to be champagne and strawberries, of
course. But there was a style to things, a finesse, that hard plain fucking had
nothing to do with. Maybe that was why things hadn't worked out for her with
either of them? Maybe they both just liked a good hard fuck?
Seemed like Mac did, anyway. Vic had slid home in one hard lunge, his
well-lubricated cock hitting bottom after what seemed an impossibly long time.
Mac's screams were clearly captured by the audio equipment, and Vic's harsh
grunts made a strangely musical counterpoint. The camera swayed in time with the
brutal pounding that Vic was dishing out. Li Ann's hips were thrusting and her
arms shaking, no matter how hard she tried to control them. Vic had never fucked
her like that, taking his pleasure with casual brutality, pounding her into a
ratty old couch. Suddenly, strangely, Li Ann found herself wishing that he had.
Wanting it desperately.
Mac was wailing now, a series of high-pitched shrieks that should have set off
every dog for miles around. His whole body was shaking with the force of Vic's
thrusts. Vic's hips rammed him like some sort of machine, steady and sure, never
varying the pace, over and over again.
Actually, no, that wasn't quite right. Faster and harder now. How was that
possible? How could he dish it out, and Mac take it, with such force and
strength?
And how could they both be so beautiful, a tangle of arms and legs, bodies
glowing with a sheen of sweat, loud masculine cries filling the air?
Oh god, Li Ann was starting to get damp. This was too much, too intense. She
squeezed her legs tightly together, as if that would help.
"Yes!" Vic's roar of triumph and his frantic pounding signalled his orgasm. Mac
was gibbering some nonsense that the camcorder couldn't make out, and nor could
Li Ann. But she knew that there would be a damp patch on the couch when they
were finished — Mac was a screamer anyway, but he had this particular pitch
whenever he came that could not be mistaken. And he was coming now. Bucketfuls,
by the sounds of it.
Li Ann wished she'd never been born. Spying on her friends and partners for a
bitch without conscience or soul. Getting turned on by the sight of their
passion. Laughing at their foibles and the funny little things that spoke of
love. Filming their most intimate moments.
And for what? Because the director told her to? For the good of the Agency and
the survival of the team?
Oh, the director had some fucked up explanation for all of this. It had even
made sense at the time, written out in clear precise prose on a mockery of a
Christmas card.
Li Ann made sure not to miss it as Vic pulled his softening cock out of Mac's
ass. Still connected for a moment by a string of liquid. And then detached,
apart. Not really, though, as Vic stretched out on the couch with his arms
around Mac, nuzzling his ear.
These men were in fucking love. And their lives were shit. And so was hers,
standing on a balcony in the cold night air.
Go figure.
"Merry Christmas, Mac Ramsey," murmured Vic. The camcorder picked it up easily,
and Mac's sated sigh in response.
Li Ann dropped the camcorder on the balcony floor and slowly, methodically
ground its delicate components with her foot. When she was sure that it was
damaged beyond repair, she picked it up again. Li Ann did not believe in
littering.
Noiselessly, Li Ann Tsei dropped over the edge of the balcony and disappeared
into the night.
little Vancouver drizzle goes a long way, thought Li Ann as she made her way
through the Agency corridors towards the briefing room. Rain glistened on her
short dark hair and she knew that it looked good on her. The usual tribute of
admiring glances followed her progress down the corridor.
