Author's Note
A short and silly little tale for your holiday enjoyment!
* * *
Intro
Charlotte stood in the bedroom doorway with a fire extinguisher in one hand and a handful of Christmas candles in the other. There wasn't a stitch of clothing on her.
Inside, Natasha, whose outfit consisted of nothing more than a lacy bra and matching thong, was just laying out a pair of large beach towels over the bed's bottom sheet. The comforter and top sheet lay in a pile at the foot end.
Natasha looked up. "Fire extinguisher," she said. "Good idea."
"Just in case," said Charlotte, grinning.
"Do you have the rope?"
"I thought you had the rope, Mistress."
Natasha shook her head.
Charlotte shrugged, set the candles and fire extinguisher on the side table and scampered off. She returned two minutes later with two coils of red rope and an Aim & Flame lighter.
"Perfect," said Natasha.
Charlotte sauntered over with a wry grin and touched the tip of her index finger to just under Natasha's chin.
* * *
The Ghost of Christmas Wax
"Are you sure about this, baby?" asked Natasha, sitting in the middle of the king-size bed, straddling Charlotte's thighs with a Christmas candle in one hand and an Aim & Flame in the other.
Charlotte nodded. "We did it before. That one time, Mistress."
"You weren't tied to the bed, though."
"Nope." Charlotte grinned as she pulled at the ropes wrapped around her wrists. "So this time it should be twice as much fun."
Natasha pulled back on the Aim & Flame's trigger. "Hot wax..." she said, shaking her head slowly as she brought the candle wick in contact with the flame.
In the corner of the room, beyond the foot of the bed, there was a brief shimmer in the air and the sound of distant wind chimes.
"Did you hear something?" asked Natasha.
Charlotte shook her head.
"Hmm," said Natasha, turning her attention back to the candle and its flame. "Ooh," she said, "You ready, baby? The wax is already dripping."
Again, in the corner of the room there was a brief shimmering of light and the tinkle of chimes.
"Okay, I heard it that time, Mistress," said Charlotte, lifting her head from the mattress and craning her neck to look toward the corner of the room.
"Yeah," said Natasha, "It's almost like whenever I say the word wax--"
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Wax!" boomed a voice.
Charlotte and Natasha locked eyes, their mouths hanging open. Natasha let go of the Aim & Flame trigger.
"Sorry, I've always wanted to do that bit," said the voice.
"What the...?" said Charlotte.
"Who are you?" said Natasha.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Wax," boomed the voice. And then, "Sorry. I don't mean to frighten you. It's just so much fun to do the thing... You know. I am the Ghost of--"
"Yes, we know the thing," said Natasha. "What we don't know is who are you?"
"Where are you?" added Charlotte.
"I'm..." said the voice. "I'm just over here. Beyond the fourth wall."
"Fourth wall?" said Charlotte.
"Yes, the imaginary barrier that separates the characters and the audience. Like in the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off, when he talks to the camera."
"Charlotte rolled her eyes."
"Too eighties?" asked the voice.
"I know what the fourth wall is," said Charlotte. "I was a lit major for my undergrad. The question is..."
"The question is..." joined Natasha, turning her head toward the shimmer, glaring.
"What the hell is the fourth wall doing in our bedroom?" they said together.
"Oh that," said the voice. "I suppose we'll just get straight to it then. You're characters in a series of erotic stories."
"Well, I've never heard of that," said Natasha.
"Yeah," said Charlotte. "We've been living here for how many years now, and that wall's always been solid. No wind, no rain, nothing."
"Well, from your perspective--"
"Why now?" said Natasha.
"Sorry, what?"
"Why now?" she repeated.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Wax," boomed the voice.
"You already said that," said Charlotte.
"And what's with the booming?" said Natasha.
"Sorry, it's just that I paid a lot for these special effects and... Listen. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Wax. Any time someone says my name three times, I appear. That's just how it works. And since you, Natasha, are holding a Christmas candle, getting ready to drip hot wax onto dear Charlotte's tender, exposed nipples... I mean what exactly did you expect to happen?"
"Not this," said Charlotte. "An hour of stingy, squirmy, endorphin rush in the sheets, finishing with Mistress's tongue up my ass if I'm lucky, but not this."
"You like it when I stick my tongue in your ass, baby?"
"Like it?" heaved Charlotte, "Mistress, I--"
"She loves it," said the voice.
"Nobody asked you," said Natasha.
"You don't have to," said the voice. "I wrote you. I know exactly what you're going to say."
"Whatever," said Natasha.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Wax," said the voice. "You're characters in my story. I wrote you. Don't you have any questions about anything?"
"Yeah," said Natasha. "Mostly like when are you going to fuck off so we can get busy in peace?"
"When am I...? You never swear, Natasha," stuttered the voice. "I've always written written you as a--"
"Do you have any idea how horny I was just a few minutes ago?" complained Charlotte. "I had the candles. I had the Aim & Flame. I had Mistress stripped down to her underwear. I even had the damn fire extinguisher just in case! And now? Now my libido is slowly circling the drain."
