A Holiday Wish

They're singing "Deck The Halls"

But it's not like Christmas at all

'Cause I remember when you were here

And all the fun we had last year

Mark had decorated. He wasn't entirely sure why. He'd brought a tree home, bound to the roof of his car. The ornaments were in the basement where he and Maddie had left them last year. Maddie. He felt the emotions welling up and brushed his hand across each eye. 'Come on, Mark, big boys don't cry.' But he had. He had for a long time. He'd cried when Maddie had told him. Cried more when she left, closing the door behind her, and lifting her two cases into the trunk. She had been the one. And he had screwed it all up.

And what for? Sure Noelle had been super cute. The circumstances had, to say the least, been unusual. And it had only been a kiss. A kinda chaste kiss. Most guys would have just let it be. But not Mark. Mark with his stupid fucking principles just had to tell Maddie. He knew it was more than that, of course. They had become distant. She had been working late. Doing more business trips. Mark had wondered about Maddie and her boss, Zachary. But he told himself it was just jealousy. That he was better than that.

And of course, she didn't leave just like that. Not right afterwards. It had taken months, almost a year. But the arguments started then. The name calling. Then, in the middle of their worst fight yet, she'd said it:

"Anyway, Zac is a much better fuck!"

Maddie had clasped her hands to her mouth in horror. But too late. The words were out there. And soon enough she was out as well. Out of the house they had shared, out of his life.

And just before the holidays. It would have hurt any time, but now? Mark wiped his eyes again and tried to pull himself together. 'Focus on something! Do something! Don't dwell on it!'

So winding lights around the tree it was. Then hanging glass bells and crystals. But he couldn't find the star. The star which topped the tree each year. Maybe Maddie had taken it.

Mark poured himself a bourbon. He'd been doing that way too much. But fuck it! He slumped onto the couch. A couch that felt much too big for one. And he gave himself up to his thoughts of misery and loneliness. Even of despair.

Then the doorbell rang. It was late, past midnight. The decorating had taken a while to finish. Mark wasn't expecting anyone, and had no deliveries scheduled. Strange.

On the stoop was a box. A plain cardboard box. Not emblazoned with the logos of either a manufacturer or delivery company. Plain, but tied with a red ribbon in a bow. And with a note:

"Joyeux Noel"

Mark looked around. But there was no sign of anyone. Just a trail of footprints in the snow. Leading to his door from the right and away to the left.

Mark stepped out and stared down the street, his eyes following the prints. But nobody and nothing. It was still flurrying and very cold, so he picked up the box and returned to the warmth of the house.

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Shivering a little, Mark put the box on the coffee table and sat back down, elbows on knees, hands cupping his chin. 'What on Earth was this? Only one way to find out.'

The bow came undone with a slight pull, and he removed the ribbon. Mark took the lid off and his first thought was, 'Barbie.' Ellen must have sent it. Of course. His sister had always called Maddie by that name. Said she was fake. Unfair? A little bit. But, in retrospect, maybe she had a point. Knowing Ellen this was probably a voodoo doll.

Looking closer, Mark realized that what he had at first taken for a cheap hunk of plastic was rather more than that. She wasn't sporting a bikini, ready to enjoy platonic beach fun with Ken, it was a red bra and panties. Beautifully sewn with tiny lace panels. She even had a matching garter belt and hose.

And her face had been lovingly crafted. Delicate brush strokes picked out Cupid's Bow lips, graceful cheekbones, and -- most of all -- her eyes. Large, then she was a doll, but striking. A pale blue-gray and somehow painted to convey intensity. Her body wasn't Barbie-proportioned either. It was petite, the opposite of voluptuous. Her blonde hair was shining silkily and held back by what looked like a tiara, encrusted with minuscule gems.

The closer he looked, the more details Mark saw. A pierced navel. Birthmarks, including a prominent one on the doll's abdomen. And freckles. But not random dots. Tiny, pale brown smudges, feathered into the surrounding skin. Mark suddenly had the image of a latter-day Geppetto, eyeglass screwed into orbit and a single-stranded brush held in a nerveless, steady hand.

This was not cheap, mass-produced garbage. It was artisanal. Hand-made. Created with what seemed like love. And she reminded him of someone. Maybe his brain was too befuddled with remorse and alcohol. But Mark couldn't recall who.

The doll was encased in white tissues. Mark carefully lifted her out of the box. He felt the wings before he saw them. Holding the doll up so that she was illuminated by the tree lights, he studied them. Was she meant to be an angel? No. Those were not angel wings. They were gossamer-like. Diaphanous. Delicate. Though they had clearly withstood Mark extracting the doll from her box.

A fairy then. Maybe a holiday fairy. Well he needed a tree topper. Turning the tiny body over, Mark saw a band sewn across the doll's back. His instinct had been right. Pulling his ladder from the side of the room back to the tree, Mark ascended the steps. He was a little unsteady. Too much bourbon. But carefully he slipped the band over the uppermost branch and she hung there. Hung there perfectly. As if she had been crafted to fit this particular tree. As if she had always been meant to be there.

Mark descended and stood, hands on hips, head on one side, assessing. He was taken by how she looked, the tree lights catching on her tiara. She was graceful. She looked totally in place. She completed the tree.

Mark went back to the couch and searched the box for a note. For anything that might solve the mystery of the doll's appearance. But there was nothing. Not even voodoo pins, he thought ruefully.

Suddenly Mark felt sleepy. It was now almost one. Maybe he'd just take a rest here on the couch. By the tree. That would be cozy. Given it was Christmas Eve, he hoped he wouldn't give Santa too much of a fright when he arrived.

Smiling a little to himself, Mark closed his eyes. His last conscious thought was that he wished he wasn't alone for the holidays. And then sleep overtook him.

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Mark hadn't been sleeping well. Tonight was no better. He turned fitfully, coming in and out of consciousness. Then he woke properly, once more shivering. The HVAC had turned itself down for the night at the house had cooled quickly.

Mark touched his 'phone screen and peered at it blearily: 2:30am. He should probably go to bed, and get under the covers.

"I'd just gone to get you a blanket, but you're up now. Happy Christmas, I guess, Mark."

Mark startled, and then relaxed. Dreams had punctuated his nights since Maddie had left. Dreams of the two of them together, which had left him aroused on waking. But also sometimes darker visions. Ones in which he was trapped, or lost, or drowning. With the hazy awareness of semi-consciousness, he told himself it was all in his head. To go with the flow.

And then she touched his cheek...

Sitting bolt upright, Mark stared at the owner of the voice. He must still be slumbering, he must. There was no other explanation.

Standing in front of him was a petite blonde. Not much over 5' tall, and waif-like. She wore a red lacy bra, her breasts hardly filling the cups, together with matching panties and a garter belt. Suspended from the last were sheer red thigh highs with darker cuffs at the top, where they were clipped. A jewel sparkled in the depths of her navel. But as Mark's gaze panned upwards, he met her eyes. Two scintillating sapphires set in a sea of muted freckles and otherwise pale skin. A tiara twinkled in her hair. It was her, her in every detail. But now life-size and very much alive.

And now he recognized her. Saw what had been shrouded before. Mark managed to find his voice, though his mouth was dry and he stuttered.

"Happy Christmas to you too...

...Noelle!"

Noelle smiled at Mark. A crooked smile, but a warm one. She seemed a little shy. Suddenly the circumstances of their first meeting came flooding back.

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It had been Christmas Eve a year ago. I had left my work party early. Some colleagues had been making a woman on my team miserable with their unwanted attention. I'd intervened. It hadn't gone so well. After getting her safely in a Lyft, I decided to leave myself.

Maddie was at her work party as well, so the house would be empty. I decided to take a walk. The streets were clear, not like this year's snow storms. I just wandered. A little concerned about how the night's events might impact me. Telling myself it had still been the right thing to do.

I didn't

need

the promotion. Sure Maddie wanted a bigger house, she said if we were going to settle down together, we'd need more room. Not for children, she said that wasn't her. But for entertaining. For having her friends and work colleagues round. That seemed unlikely now. One of the guys giving my teammate problems was pretty senior. He was clearly pissed. It didn't bode well.

I thought about calling Maddie. I wanted to. I was pretty upset, and wanted to hear a sympathetic voice. But I wasn't sure sympathy would be what I received, more likely a chewing out about putting some other woman's needs above hers. Perhaps she had a point, sometimes I was impulsive, didn't think about consequences. At least that's what Maddie always said. No. I'd just walk for a bit. If I did tell my girlfriend, then it would be in the New Year.

No snow. But it was cold. I wished I had a heavier coat with me. Then I saw her. It was out of the corner of my eye. She must have moved and caught my attention. When I turned and looked up the side alley, I saw a young woman. Sitting on her haunches, back against the wall. She was wearing only a red party dress and I could almost see her shiver.

I stood for a couple of seconds in indecision. Was it really my problem? Might I not be better staying out of it? She was tiny and looked inoffensive. But you never knew. Addicts could be aggressive. Maybe best to walk on.

As I pondered, she must have sensed my presence, as she looked in my direction. Her pale face registering both distress and hope. That did it for me. I wasn't going to be a Levite, or a priest, I was going to go talk to her.

As I walked down the alley, I found myself taking off my coat, as if on autopilot. I guess my subconscious had decided her need was greater than mine. When I reached her, my expectation was that she would be nervous. I could be anyone. But instead she smiled. The same crooked smile as today.

Wordlessly I draped my coat over her shoulders and offered her a hand. She took it and stood; pulling the coat round her and saying in a quiet tone, "thank you."

I noticed her voice was deep, deeper than her diminutive size would suggest. But it had a melodious quality. I'm a devotee of old movies and Lauren Bacall came to mind.

Something glistened around her feet and I saw that she was surrounded by what looked like shards of glass. The alley really wasn't the best place for her, for anyone.

I suddenly realized that I had not spoken. "Sorry, I'm Mark. Do you need any help? My car is two blocks away."

It was clumsy of me. A strange guy saying, 'get in my car,' what was I thinking? I tried to course correct. "Or I could call you a taxi. Or... or we could get you some food. In the warm, I mean. There's a place close that is open 365."

It was weak, I was probably coming across as weird. But she smiled again. "A warm drink and maybe a sandwich would be good. Is that OK?"

I said that of course it was and started to leave the alley, gesturing for her to follow. She caught me up and took hold of my upper arm, huddling against me. I felt an urge to put my arm round her shoulder, but told myself not to be an asshole.

The diner was not far. I sat her down and said I'd go order. No table service, it wasn't a fancy place. Her needs were simple and I returned to our table balancing two coffees. She put her hands round the cup and lowered her head to it, as if getting close to a warming fire. She took a sip and it seemed to help. She closed her eyes and her sigh was audible to me.

When she looked at me again, I was struck by the color of her eyes. They were pale. A mixture of blue and gray, with just a hint of light green around the periphery. But they sparkled, they were almost magical. After taking a second sip of her drink, she began to talk.

"So, Mark, right?" I nodded. "Thank you again. This is amazing. I'm Noelle. I know, cheesy, right? Tomorrow's my birthday."

I felt I had to comment. "I think it's a beautiful name."

She smiled again and continued. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. I was looking for someone. Um.. a friend I guess. And... well I couldn't find them. And... well time was going by. I... I looked everywhere. But... And then it got dark and cold, and I felt so lonely, and so desperate. And then you..."

She trailed off. I was pretty unclear about what she had said or why she had been freezing her ass off. But I was at least certain that I'd done the right thing in getting her off the street.

"Do you have a home, Noelle? Is there someone I can call? Who could maybe come and get you?"

She fixed me with her large eyes and I could see moisture form in their corners. "I have a home. But... but it's far from here. They will come for me, soon actually. Now that... now that they are broken. What is the time?"

Still confused by much of what she said, I told Noelle it was just past ten. She seemed to relax. "Good. Still some time then. Even so." She gulped some more coffee and made a face as it clearly scalded her.

"Take it easy. No hurry." I hoped that didn't sound as patronizing to Noelle as it did to my own ears.

"No. You don't understand. There is a hurry. Particularly after they shattered, don't you understand? I was looking for a friend, like so many times before, and now I've found one."

Her smile was warm and open, but suddenly my stomach was doing somersaults. I began to get some glimmer of what Noelle was talking about, and I was pretty sure this was a bad thing, a wrong thing. I struggled to speak and no words came out.

Noelle took my hands. And I let her. She leaned across the table. And I leaned to meet her. My brain was screaming, 'no, don't be a fool,' while my heart was murmuring, 'yes.'

And so we kissed. And it was like no other kiss. It was a soft and as comfortable as a well-loved easy chair, as exhilarating as standing on a mountain top, and exciting, so, so exciting. I felt blood surge into me. A feeling I had missed in recent months.

Two clatters broke my reverie. A plate for her, another for me. "Pay at the desk," the woman intoned in a bored voice. I guessed two people kissing hardly registered with her.

The moment was broken. Noelle looked at me with happiness in her eyes. But I saw this emotion drain away as she took in my expression. It was replaced by sadness and a kind of hopelessness. Fatalism maybe.

I tried to explain. "I'm.. I'm attached. I... live with someone. I shouldn't. It was... well it was lovely. More than lovely. But.. I can't. I really can't. I'm so sorry. I'll leave some money with them. Stay as long as you like. Eat what you want. But... but I have to go."

The look of utter despondency on Noelle's face almost had me staying. But I knew it wasn't right. I wasn't that guy. I'd tried to help, I didn't need complications. And there was Maddie.

Standing outside, I breathed the cold December air and realized that I'd left my coat behind. Well she was welcome to it. The least I could do. I began to trudge back to my car. Knowing already that I would have to tell Maddie. But after the holidays; why spoil that? I needed to tell her about work as well. Fun times ahead.

But I had more pressing thoughts. I didn't understand. I'd known Noelle for minutes rather than hours. Why did it feel like I had broken her heart? Why did it feel my own heart had splintered into a hundred pieces? I had no answers for these questions.

And now here she was.

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"You OK, Mark?" Noelle sounded concerned. Again she stroked his cheek.

Mark was struggling with confusion. 'Was he awake or asleep? What the fuck was going on?' He was also more than aware of the pretty woman standing in front of him in gorgeous and revealing lingerie. A woman with whom he had shared the most memorable kiss of his life. He finally managed to put some of his disjointed thoughts into words.

"I'm not sure I'm OK. I think I'm hallucinating. How are you here? What is going on, Noelle? You... you have wings?"

She leaned forward, Mark tried not to stare into the gap between her bra and breasts, and put a finger on his lips with a, "hush."

"Honey, it's OK. When we last met, you said you were attached. I think maybe that's not true anymore." There was a note of questioning, almost pleading in Noelle's voice.

Mark decided to go with, well, whatever this was. "Yeah, that's right. Me and Maddie..." He felt the tears welling up and was surprised to see that Noelle was also crying. Tears ran down her freckled face as she spoke. "I know, honey, I know. I understand loneliness, not having that someone. Well you have me now."

With that, she sat on Mark's lap, put her arms around him, and pressed her lips to his. Again that kiss. The intensity, the thrill. But also the comfort, the feeling that everything was OK. 'Who the fuck cares if this is a dream?' Mark embraced Noelle tightly, careful to not damage her chiffon-like wings. She giggled, "they are strong, you're not going to break me."

Mark kissed Noelle hard, his passion rising. Her softness engulfing him in warmth. Parting from him, Noelle took Mark's hand, spread her legs a little, and placed it between them. He could sense the heat of her arousal through the flimsy fabric. His finger-tips felt a slight dampness.

As Noelle kissed him again, Mark began to stroke, feeling Noelle quiver at his touch. Her wings vibrated as she kissed him more deeply. As he stoked her fires, Mark could feel his own burgeoning response to Noelle. She must have noticed the growing pressure against her thigh as she slid off his lap, smiling, furled her wings, and arranged herself between his legs.

Mark was wearing sweatpants and Noelle touched him through them, laughing at his twitching response. Then, gripping either side of the waistband, she wriggled them down as Mark lifted himself, hands pushing down on the leather couch. His boxers followed the same path shortly after. The look of hunger on Noelle's face was of a gourmet served dessert at a Michelin Starred restaurant.

Noelle's kiss a year ago had been life-altering. How she pleasured Mark now was transformational. Elevating. Taking him to realms of stimulation he never knew existed. It was almost too much. Mark thought of the warm dampness between Noelle's legs and knew what he wanted.

His voice was husky with desire as he pleaded, "let me fuck you."

Noelle released him, her face flushed, her lips wet. Her wings trembling. She blew him a kiss and silently mouthed, "I want you."

She stood and took Mark's hand, lifting him off the couch. He pulled his T off and they kissed again, Mark's hands cupping her pert butt-cheeks. Her nails scoring his naked back.