The End of the Christmas Party

Two-thirty am. They were the only three left in the dark, glittering room. The white clothed tables stood empty, strewn with the remains of crackers and party poppers. Chairs pushed back, napkins dropped to the floor, champagne, wine and beer glasses abandoned on every surface.

The DJ had left an hour ago, leaving the disco randomly selecting tracks from an eclectic mix of CDs.

Out of the windows the lights of Cardiff Bay danced in the chill of the night - the one-hundred-and-eighty degree view enchanting.

Returning from the bar, Jeremy saw Richard standing in front of it, looking out at it, watched him as he started to sway to the music when the gentle strains of Madonna's 'Crazy For You' replaced Elton John's 'Step Into Christmas'.

He was still holding a glass of champagne, his other hand tucked loosely into the pocket of his sable trousers; jacket and tie long gone, white shirt unfastened at the throat, the diamond lights of the slowly turning disco ball playing across his back and in his hair.

When had the sight of this other man started to have such an incredible effect? Why couldn't this have happened in another life?

You're so close but still a world away
What I'm dying to say is that
I'm crazy for you

Putting his pint down on the nearest available table, Jeremy crossed the dancefloor.

Richard looked up at him, big brown eyes sparkling, and moved easily into his arms - the most natural thing in the world. Jeremy enfolded him, holding him close, resting one cheek against the silky dark hair.

They moved together, slowly, to the lazy rhythm of the song, the only two people in the world until Jeremy opened his eyes and smiled at James walking towards them.


Taking the half-full glass of champagne from Richard's fingers, sipping the dying bubbles, James leaned against the back of a chair and watched his two friends. Co-stars. Lovers.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this happy, this proud, this contented.

I'm crazy for you

With the song coming to an end, he pushed away from the chair, put the glass down, and moved behind Richard, dropping a kiss to the back of his head.

Softly, he whispered, "Merry Christmas," and turned to walk away.

It was Jeremy who grasped his wrist, Richard who took his hand. And for a second they stood there, frozen in time.

"Let's go to bed." It could have been either of them who spoke. It didn't matter, not really.

But James smiled and nodded. No better way to end a Christmas party.

There was no one about but the hotel staff and they knew the meaning of the word 'discretion'. Still the three of them went out into the bright, Christmasy oval lobby, walking a respectable distance apart, and looked up at the web of lights hanging over them as they waited for the elevator to take them up to the seventh floor.

Jeremy had taken the suite. It hadn't mattered which of them had checked into it - somehow they'd known the night would end like this.

Locking the door, they dropped onto the white Egyptian cotton sheets of the King size bed in a sprawling heap of limbs and kisses - Richard sandwiched between the two taller men; held, loved, desired.

Breathless moans, throaty groans and yelps from minor accidental injuries; the quiet soundtrack accompanied them until dawn, when the rays of the early morning winter sunshine settled over three sleeping, naked bodies entwined across the wide bed.