Champagne1982
Mrs. Katrina Jessop watched proudly as her daughter, Cheri, sang her solo during the early Christmas Eve service at Reverend Niles' Presbyterian Church. Katrina had always loved the fellowship she felt with the other Snippetsville residents this time of year, they were especially charitable and generous. With all the good feelings that abounded during the season, it was shameful that she had to take the graveyard shift at the women's shelter tonight. She sighed, supposing that if anyone were in need of a visit from Saint Nicholas, then those children that were spending their Christmas day at the shelter, certainly qualified.
She looked over at her darling husband. His beard had grown in a snowy white this autumn. There was some remnant of red still in his hair but maybe she only noticed because she knew what color it used to be. He had a paunch happening and Katrina so loved to tease him that a cardiologist shouldn't allow himself to get too out of shape, no matter what the contents of his personal gene pool. Katrina smiled as she imagined her beloved Jordan transformed, for just one day, into Kris Kringle. He'd look very good in red.
The congregation was rising to its feet, getting ready to sing the perennial favorite, "Silent Night". Standing by the microphone with his acoustic guitar, Constable McDougall waited for the choir conductor's signal. Tears glistened on the tips of many an eyelash as the final "Sleep in heavenly peace" floated out onto the street into the evening.
Hushed murmurs of Christmas wishes swept through the pews as all the families turned to their neighbors, loth to change the moment, yet eager to let the rest of the night unfold.
Katrina looked up at a child's ringing laughter and saw Cheri tickling one of the numerous Oates' grandkids. As if on cue, laughter and loud calls of, "Merry Christmas!" erupted in near-unison from everyone in the church.
Cheri waved to her parents and made her way to them, "Randy McCrae has invited me on the sleigh ride and wiener roast out at the Lazy Snips this evening. I know you have to work Momma but I'll be home early enough to say good night."
"Don't worry about it, Sweetie. Your mother and I will be fine, we have been since you've started college, you know?" Jordan Jessop smiled at his only child, "We love you, darling. Have fun with Randy."
Katrina grasped her husband's forearm in both hands and leaned against him when she watched her child greet the tall, handsome, young man. "Oh my! Jordan, she's in love with him." She felt tears heating her eyes and blinked them back.
Her husband raised his hand and brushed her cheek with the backs of his strong, surgeon's fingers, "Come home with me now, my love," he led her through the wide, open doors of the church to the carillon playing "Joy to the World" and the children's laughter.
As they walked west toward Main Street, Jordan asked, "I was thinking, Katrina. I know that men aren't welcome at the shelter, but do you think it would be remiss if Santa showed up for a little while in the visitors' lounge tomorrow?"
Katrina looked up into Jordan's warm brown eyes, "Rules are made to be broken. I don't think anyone will mind at all, but I will check when I get to work and call you." As they turned south towards Hope Creek and home, she stopped, "I love you, Jordan. You are going to be the best Santa this sleepy little town has ever seen."
* * * * *
Christmas Spirit
by
Seattle Zack
Tyler sat at the window, his surly gaze fixated on the house across the street. Fucking Preston. He took a swig of Jack, the liquid smoke sending flames through his body. "A Christmas Story" flickered on the muted television.
The icicles on the eaves -- he'd countered that with lights wrapped around his picket fence, sixteen different flashing patterns. The illuminated star on the garage -- Tyler had one-upped that with five strands of lights, all green, in the tall pine in his front yard. Three hours of climbing, hands sticky with sap by the time he was done, but it had been worth it. But this was too much. On Christmas Eve, no less -- the bastard.
He took another gulp of fire, anger increasing by the minute. All the houses on Oakmont Drive were decorated, of course, but his had always been the brightest, grandest display in the neighborhood. Until that asshole Preston moved in two years ago. Where did he get off, anyway?
Tyler was surprised to see the bottle empty. He rose, swaying a bit, resisting an urge to smash something. Reindeer. Nine fucking reindeer with an animated Santa waving gaily from the roof. Tyler's plastic snowmen with their flashing noses and his six-foot tall candy canes seemed pathetic by comparison.
"Give that fucker a piece of my mind," he muttered, staggering to the door.
Dressed only in shirtsleeves, the chill blasted him as he crossed the street. He stopped, swaying, at the front door. Bastard even had a better wreath. He stumbled, leaning against the door, and was surprised to feel it swing open.
Tyler blinked stupidly. The house was dark, but the stairway was illuminated with candles on every other step, filling the air with a waxy scent. He stepped inside uncertainly.
"Yoo hoo! Come and get me!" A woman's voice, slurred, coming from upstairs.
Unsure what he was doing, Tyler navigated the stairs, careful not to kick over any of the candles. The door at the end of the hall was open, illumination from more candles flickering inside.
It felt like a dream. He floated down the hall, stopping at the doorway.
"I'm your Christmas present," she giggled.
Preston’s wife was naked, sprawled across the bed, bows stuck to her nipples. She was wearing a blindfold, one of those sleeping masks. His gaze flickered down her pudgy body ... completely bare down there.
Three empty bottles of champagne lay on the floor. She's as plastered as I am, he realized. Spreading her legs, she stretched lazily. "Come and take me, Preston," she whispered huskily.
He smiled slowly. Dropping his pants, he stepped out of his slippers. Even as drunk as he was, he still managed a respectable hard-on after a few minutes of rough encouragement. She squirmed on the bed. "Fuck me."
He climbed on top of her, fumbling a little, entering her finally. "Oooh, yes!" she purred. Pinning her wrists down, he began thrusting, grinning like an idiot. This was better than a punch in the nose. Fucking reindeer.
She let out a long moan as he pounded into her harder, the plastic bows brushing against his chest. His fingers tightened around her wrists as he came, a smooth satisfying release that seemed to go on for ten minutes.
He stumbled to his feet, the alcohol still swirling in his brain. She lay on the bed, sprawled out obscenely. Hearing her snort, he realized she was snoring.
Chuckling gleefully, he staggered drunkenly back across the street, hardly feeling the bracing wind. He’d have to congratulate Preston tomorrow on his tasteful decorations.
* * * * *
Christmas In The Woods
by
PierceStreet
In the living room of the rustic cabin, the family gathered around the Christmas Tree. Everyone was dressed alike in knitted Christmas sweaters. The Dad was finishing a reading of the “The Night Before Christmas.” His parents sat smiling, watching the twin five year old girls struggle to stay awake.
Outside, snow was falling. Tomorrow, Dave Smith would come for them in his restored Snowtrac, basically a truck with tank like tracks, so they could cook their Christmas dinner in a modern kitchen at Grandma’s.
After the story, everyone helped bed the girls down under a stack of comforters. The adults would fill the fireplace, and the wood burning stove before going to bed, but the fires would die out by morning and the cabin would grow cold. Under the mountain of comforters each had, everyone would stay warm.
“Daddy,” said one of the girls, “tell us again why we are spending Christmas here?”
“I’ve told you that a million times lately.”
“Pleaseeeee,” they implored in unison.
“OK. When I was a little boy, maybe a bit older than you, Grandma and Grandpa and I spent a wonderful Christmas here. We stayed here for a couple of months actually, and it was a grand adventure. I remember it as my best Christmas ever.” The grandmother wiped a tear from her eye. Only the daughter-in-law noticed her father-in-law blink away a tear.
“And I wanted my little girls to know a Christmas like that. Mr. Smith, who owns this cabin now, agreed to rent it to us. Back when I was a boy, this cabin was owned by his Dad, who was a friend of Grandpas.”
“Will Santa find us out here?” asked the more practical of the girls.
Thinking of the huge stack of gifts Smitty had hauled out the day before they arrived and had hidden in the storage room, the grownups assured the girls Santa would be there.
