Ebenezer Scrooge -- An Erotic Christmas Carol.
*
Ebenezer Scrooge watched in disgust as his secretary prepared to go. It was Christmas Eve and she had to get home to her little brother. She'd be back on December 26th, she promised.
If he could fire her, he would. But nobody else would take the job. Roberta Cratchit was untrained, and only 21 years old. He'd hired her because she was the illegitimate daughter of his deceased partner. But she worked long hours for low pay. If he fired her, he'd spend the next week interviewing people who wanted more money and shorter hours. He couldn't possibly find someone before the New Year. And whoever he did find was still going to want next Christmas off.
December 26th was the absolute best offer he was going to get, so he watched without comment as his lazy secretary departed. The work was slow going after that. He had to do his job and hers, going back and forth between desks. The room was chilly, and his bones ached, but he refused to build up the fire any. When his secretary was there, they each had a blanket and neither had to move around too much. The temperature was tolerable that way. He was saving money by not having his secretary to pay during this time, but he was losing money because everything took longer without her help. Scrooge wasn't about to spend extra funds on warming the office.
At seven-thirty, he gave up. The light was gone, and he was not about to light candles or lamps. But he had accomplished little. He made his way home through the dark streets, cursing Ms. Cratchit with every step.
What was it about Christmas? It was a day like any other. Business was a little better in the weeks before, but slowed to a crawl by December 23rd. It was ridiculous.
Ebenezer entered his home and went to his sitting room. The housekeeper had built the fire in anticipation of his arrival and left immediately through the back door when she heard his key in the lock. He seldom saw her, which suited them both.
A thin soup of chicken stock and carrots was waiting for him. Ebenezer nibbled and sipped until he grew sleepy, then got to his feet and headed to bed.
But there was a strange atmosphere in the bedroom. The dark and cold were paralyzing, almost unearthly in their power. Ebenezer stood shivering in his dressing gown, wondering if he would die of the cold while he slept. Perhaps tonight, he would consider an extra log on the fire.
But he was unable to move toward the firewood. His feet were frozen to the floor as if it were ice. The room grew darker and colder until Ebenezer could see nothing and feel nothing. The bedroom had vanished from sight with the fading of the light.
That's when the spectre appeared. A glowing human form, floating just over where Ebenezer's bed should be. The bed itself, if it were still there, was completely shrouded in darkness.
"Is this a dream?" Ebenezer inquired of the ghostly figure.
"Perhaps," was the response, spoken by a faint and pallid voice that seemed to emanate from under the floor.
"Do I know you, Spirit?"
Again, the answer was, "Perhaps."
"If you have nothing of substance to your form or your purpose, then please be gone from these premises," Ebenezer insisted. "I have little time for flights of imagination that do not provide enlightenment."
"Then enlightenment you shall receive," said the Spirit. At once, the darkness lifted. Ebenezer was no longer in his bedroom, and no longer in his bedclothes. He was returned to his cold, dim office. But the furnishings were re-arranged, returned to the configuration of years ago and he was dressed once more in his clothes, but they seemed as new and well-made as when he'd first purchased them, more than a decade ago.
And the Spirit was now revealed to be his partner of those years, Jacob Marley, now seemingly of the flesh once again, but chained to his desk, unable to rise. He gave Scrooge a look of pure misery and spoke, "You see me here, in a prison of my own making. For seven years I have been sitting here, in my office, going over foreclosures and loans. I do not sleep. I do not eat. It is never warm. And nothing ever comes of it. These debts will never be paid. They are my debts."
"Why do you show me this, Jacob?" Ebenezer asked.
"Because you live in a cold, damp room that is robbing you of health. Because you live as I did, for greed and selfishness. Because the door to your own office will soon be locking you in forever. You have been given one chance to make your life mean something and I am here to warn you. Beware, Ebenezer Scrooge."
"Who are you to offer me this chance? And how do I know that you are not simply some piece of chicken gone bad and causing this nightmare"
"You will be visited by three spirits before the sun rises. Let them be my proof. And let them be your lesson."
Ebenezer blinked and the vision was gone. His bed was in its usual place. The light, though dim, was as steady as ever. And the heat of the fire was a comfort in the cold room. Dismissing the strange hallucination as indigestion, Ebenezer crawled into his bed and wrapped himself in the warm blankets. As disturbing as the night's events had been, he was asleep in moments.
The dream he fell into was much more pleasant than the scarecrow of Jacob Marley. A warm, female body, boldly nude, was pressed against him. Soft fingers were stroking his dick. And Ebenezer realized that he was nude himself. His pyjamas had vanished. It had been many years since he'd been in such a circumstance. The dream was very welcome.
Except that it wasn't a dream. "Ebeneeeeeezer," whispered a feminine voice in his ear. "Wake up, my dear."
Slowly, his eyes opened to find an angelic young woman lying naked next to him, blonde and blue-eyed, her hand on his hard cock. "Who are you?" he asked in wonder.
"I am the Spirit of Christmas Past," she said with a smile.
"Are you the visitor Marley spoke of?" Ebenezer asked.
"He may have spoken of me," said the Spirit. "But I will not speak of him. He is a lost soul. But it is not too late for you yet."
"What must I do?"
"Come with me," said the Spirit.
The bedroom vanished. Scrooge found himself standing in a festive ballroom. He was still naked, as was the beautiful Spirit next to him, and she still had a firm grip on his cock. He tried to cover himself.
"Relax," she told him. "Nobody else can see us."
It was not her words that convinced him, but the crowd of people around them, ignoring them completely. It was a Christmas party, he realized. There was brandy and rum on the side table and a pine tree, decorated with candles and muffins.
"Do I know this house, Spirit?" It was all very familiar. Then he saw the girl.
"Spirit, how is this possible?" he asked. "That is Lydia Clark, the daughter of my first employer. She died seventeen years ago in a blizzard. She cannot be alive now."
"Nay, Ebenezer. She is yet alive. The blizzard you speak of is three years in the future."
