Merry Christmas, My Love


Patricia stood by the open doorway, looking out through the storm door
at her small, snow covered front yard, and the street beyond. Her
front porch light illuminated the heavily, but silently, falling snow
which prevented traffic on the street. Her heart felt heavy and a tear
slid down her cheek because she knew the storm would prevent Tom from
coming to see her tonight. He probably would not come tomorrow either
because the forecast was for heavy snow through tomorrow night.

She closed the door and pressed her forehead against to cool wood. She
could hear a chorale group singing "Jingle Bells" on the radio in the
living room. "Why? Why did we have to fight? Now, of all times?" she
asked herself.

Christmas Eve and she was alone. Pat had been alone before, but this
year she had made wonderful plans. She was going to serve Tom wine and
cheese, they would talk and laugh, and then they would exchange gifts.
They would dance to slow Christmas carols in the glow of candles and
Christmas lights. They would kiss under the mistletoe then she would
give herself to him completely. She wanted to make love with him for
the first time. He would have been so surprised because she had always
said she only believed in sex when married.

She stood in the doorway between the front hall and the living room
and looked at the Christmas tree. It was that tree that had caused the
fight, and it stood now in the dark corner of her living room, unlit
and unappreciated. She could almost see the two of them decorating it
only four days ago. Tom had brought over his decorations and they had
mixed his and hers together on the branches, and then they untangled
the strings of lights and put them in place. When she put the angel on
top and turned the lights on, Tom got a funny look on his face. He
said he didn't care for twinkling lights and he thought there ought to
be a star on the top of the tree. She said of course the lights should
twinkle and an angel should be on the treetop. This small disagreement
had escalated until she told him if he didn't like how she decorated
her tree he could just leave. And he did. And he didn't come back.

She waited in vain all the next day for Tom to call or come over. She
waited again for his call the day after that, but he still didn't
call. She hoped he would come over at six o'clock this night, like he
said he would, but it was nine o'clock now and from the way the
weather was, she doubted he could come now, even if he wanted to.

Pat went into the kitchen and put a kettle on to make tea, and then
she went back to the front door to look out one more time. There were
still no tracks in the snow and there was still no traffic on the
road. "It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas" was now playing on
the radio. She closed the door and, with new tears in her eyes, went
back into the kitchen and made a cup of apple cinnamon spice tea for
herself. The sweet odor of the tea filled the room, making her
remember Christmases from long ago, when she wasn't alone.

As she sat at the table sipping her tea, she thought back on the last
six months. They had met at a singles mixer at church. Tom was so shy
it was almost comical. He had been standing by the door just watching
everyone talk, and then when the games started, they were paired up
for charades. They won! He was brilliant at it and it was as if he
could read her mind. That broke the ice and they started talking. When
the evening was over, he asked if he could call her and she gave him
her number. He called the next day and took her on a real date, with
flowers, dinner, a movie, and a quick peck on the cheek when he took
her home.

For the first time since her divorce four years ago she had a friend,
a love, a soul mate. Tom was kind and gentle and caring. Being around
him was a joy because when they were together, his entire attention
was on her. He made her feel important, a refreshing thing for her
because even her ex-husband had never been very attentive.

They had never been apart for this long since that night at the
church. Missing Tom felt like a hole in her heart. Never would she
have guessed that one man could mean so much to her. New tears started
to fall as she pictured his strong gray eyes looking at her. "Okay,
girl," she thought, "pull your self together. What can't be cured must
be endured. You can do nothing about the weather, so just accept the
fact you won't be seeing him until after Christmas. You can make up
with him then."

Pat stood up, put her cup in the sink, and turned out the light as she
left the kitchen and went into the living room. An instrumental
version of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" was now playing. She took
one last look at the dark tree then turned out the lamp by the easy
chair. The soft knock at the door came just as she blew out the first
candle. "Must be the wind," she thought as she moved to the next
candle. Before she could blow it out she heard another knock, louder
this time.

Her heart leaped as she rushed to the door, new hope welling up
inside. She flung the door open to see a man standing in the glow of
the porch light, covered with snow, looking frozen, and holding a
bouquet of flowers.

"Tom?"

"M-M-M-Merry Ch-Ch-Christmas" Tom shivered, pushing the flowers
forward.

Pat threw the storm door open, "Get in here, you crazy man! What are
you doing out in this kind of weather? And where did you get flowers?"

"I-I-I could-couldn't wait until the st-st-storm was over to s-s-see
you again. I didn't want Ch-Ch-Christmas to go b-b-b-by w-w-w-without
being with you."

"Well, give me your wet coat and hat," Pat said, "and the flowers."
She quickly turned away with Tom's wet things so he wouldn't see the
tears welling up in her eyes as she realized what he had done. Pat
took one step away and stopped. "No," she thought, "I don't care if he
knows I'm crying."

She dropped the flowers, hat, and coat, turned and said, "I'm so glad
to see you!" and threw herself into his arms. Tom wrapped her in his
arms as she squeezed him tight. "I missed you so much! I'm sorry we
had a fight, forgive me, please?"

"It's okay," Tom murmured into her hair. "I'm s-s-sorry I left. I
m-m-missed you, too."

Pat looked up, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Tom, I..." He
shut her up with his lips. The kiss lingered as their lips made up for
lost time.

When they finally broke apart, Pat smiled and said, "Come into the
kitchen, I'll make you a nice cup of hot tea to help you warm up.
Wait. Take off your wet shoes first." She picked up the flowers and
handed them to him, then picked up his hat, coat, and shoes and took
them into the kitchen. The hat and coat she hung by the radiator, the
shoes she put on a piece of newspaper underneath the radiator. Then
she turned the burner under the kettle on again.

"If you don't mind, Pat, I would really prefer sugar-free hot cocoa
with a half teaspoon of instant decaf coffee in it."

"As chilled as you are, you need to have..." Patricia started to say,
then stopped, realizing this was how the fight started before. Smiling
at him, she said, "...to have whatever you want. Sit down and I'll get
it for you."

Pat bustled around the room, preparing his cocoa and putting the
flowers into water. "Where did you get flowers on a night like this?"
she asked, as she handed him the cocoa.

"At the 7-11 store by my apartment."

"That's over three miles away! You didn't walk all that way, did you?"

"It was the only way to get here, sweetheart. There are no cars moving
on the roads."

"You must be chilled to the bone."

"Well, my feet are kinda cold," Tom said.

"Oh, you poor dear," Pat said. "Wait here." She hurried into the
living room and returned a moment later with a colorfully wrapped
package and a lap blanket. "Here, open this. It's a little early to
open presents, but I think you will want it now," she said as she put
the blanket across his shoulders.

Tom ripped the wrapping paper off and opened the box. Inside was a
thick pair of wool slipper/socks. He immediately removed his wet socks
and slipped them on.

He stood up and gathered her into his arms. "They're perfect! And very
timely. Thank you." He kissed her softly to show his gratitude.

Pat kissed him back. "You're welcome. Come into the living room, I
want to show you something."

"Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow" was coming from the radio as
she led him into the candle lit living room and made him stand facing
the tree. Pat flipped the light switch that controlled the outlet the
tree was plugged into.

Tom grinned when he saw the tree light up. The lights shown bright and
steady and there was a shining white star on the top bough.

"You changed them for me," Tom said in awe, "even the top of the tree.
Why? It was so important to you."

"You, my darling, are far more important to me than some lights or
decorations," Pat said. "Traditions are only good if they have meaning
and belong to each of us."

"Then we should make our own traditions," said Tom. "Go get the
angel."

When Pat returned with the decoration, Tom had her stand in front of
the tree, then he bent down, wrapped his arms around her knees from
behind, made her sit on his shoulder, and lifted her up. "Put the
angel on top and plug it in."

When she was done, Tom stepped back and lowered Pat to the ground.
Standing up behind her, he circled her waist with his arms and pulled
her back against him. They stood that way for a while, just looking at
the brightly shining lights and the colorful angel.

Pat thought herself in heaven, with Tom's arms around her, leaning
back against him, with her arms resting on his. Finally, she pulled
his arms apart just enough to turn around. When she was facing him,
she put her arms around his neck, and said, "Look up."

Tom glanced up and saw that she had hung the mistletoe right above
where they were standing. "Good planning. It looks like there is an
old tradition we can both agree on. May I have a yuletide kiss?"

"Mmm-hmm"

Tom lowered his lips down to Pat's and gave her a kiss that was
passion, need, joy, happiness, and love, all rolled into one. It was a
long kiss. They were both breathless when they finally pulled apart.

"Wow!" they both said together. Then Pat said, "If you've finished
your cocoa, would you like some cheese? And I have some wine."

"Yes," said Tom, "wine and cheese would be great. If you have any
crackers, that would be good too, I am kinda hungry."

"For you, my sweet, all the crackers and cheese you want. Sit down and
enjoy the lights and I'll get everything." She lit a few more candles
as she left the room. She was back in a few minutes with the wine and
snacks.

Tom pulled the cork from the wine bottle with the ease of an expert,
something Pat always had trouble doing. He poured two glasses full and
handed one to her. "A toast to us. To being together."

"To us," she said, "together."

Just as she had hoped, they talked and laughed together, listened to
Christmas carols and sharing stories about Christmases when they were
young, plus other stories.

At 11:00 PM the disc jockey came on the radio and said, "Good evening
ladies and gentlemen, I hope you're all having a safe and warm
Christmas Eve with someone you love. It will be Christmas in one hour
and for the next hour we will be playing nothing but soft, romantic
Christmas carols for all you lovers out there. Enjoy."

"White Christmas" by Bing Crosby was the first song. "This is my
favorite carol, and I still love watching the movie," said Pat.

"Of course you do," said Tom, "because it's my favorite too." He stood
up and held out his hand, "May I have this dance?"

"With pleasure," Pat said, took his hand and flowed into his arms.
They danced slowly around the room. When "White Christmas" was over,
they danced to "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas", "The
Christmas Song", "O Holy Night", "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day",
and "Silent Night." There were more songs, but they were so wrapped up
in each other, they didn't pay attention to them.

After 30 or 40 minutes, they were just swaying together in the middle
of the room. Pat had her arms around Tom's neck, with her head resting
on his chest. Tom's arms were around her waist, pressing on her lower
back and pulling her tight against him. They were again standing under
the mistletoe.

Patricia shivered in his embrace from a combination of contentment and
desire. As she held him close, she could feel how he was reacting as
her body pressed against him. There was no doubt he was becoming more
and more aroused. Pat smiled to herself. "It's time," she thought.

Loosening her arms from around his neck, she leaned back until his
arms pulled apart and his hands were on her sides. Pat could see that
he was embarrassed.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not going to forgive you this time," she said in mock
seriousness, then she smiled, "well, maybe." She reached down to his
wrists and pulled his hands away from her sides and gripping his
thumbs from the back of his hands, brought them up to her face. Pat
gently kissed the palms of each of his hands, and then, looking Tom in
the eyes, lowered his hands until they were in front of her chest, and
pulled them toward her until they were pressing against her breasts.

Even though there was a blouse and a bra between his hands and her,
the feeling was electric. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands
squeezed her, her nipples becoming hard and pressing into his hands.
Pat slid her hands up Tom's chest and behind his head, and pulled down
until they were kissing. She slid her tongue out and it was met by his
as their passion burned hotter.

Tom pulled back and said, "Are you sure?"

Pat smiled a million watt smile and said, "I've never been surer of
anything in my life. I want you to make love to me, right here, right
now."

"I'd like to ask you something."

"Not now, please, Tom. No talk, just this," Pat said and kissed him
again.

Her body was quivering as if cold, but she felt hot shivers as he
flicked his thumbs over her hard nipples. Tom moved his hands to the
top button of her blouse and slowly undid it. He pressed his index
fingers against the skin of her chest and slid them down between her
breasts to the next button. That button came open and he slid down to
the next. He continued the same way with each button until every one
was open. He grabbed the cloth at her waist and, with a firm tug,
pulled the bottom of her blouse out of her skirt. She let the silky
blouse slide off her shoulders and drop to the floor.

"Your turn," Tom said between kisses.

Pat was not as subtle as Tom was. She ripped his shirt out of his
pants, quickly unbuttoned it, and pushed it off him and onto the floor
with her blouse. She did the same with his undershirt.

Now it was Tom's turn to shiver as Pat ran her fingers through the
hair on his chest and kissed his nipples. She circled her arms around
him and just hugged him close as she inhaled his scent. This is what
she wanted, what she needed, what she had hoped for, to hold her man
close and to know that this is where she belonged.

Tom unsnapped her bra and pulled the straps off her shoulders. Pat
leaned her body back so he could peel her bra off her breasts,
exposing them to his gaze for the first time, but they both knew, not
the last.

To Tom, they were the most beautiful he had ever seen, not overly
large but both a perfect full round shape. Her pink nipples and areola
were wrinkled and hard from the excitement and anticipation.

Pat dropped her arms down so the bra could fall onto the floor, then
she grabbed his belt, pulled it open, unbuttoned his slacks, lowered
the zipper, and pushed his slacks to the floor. The bulge in the front
of his boxers proved his interest, not that it was ever in doubt.

With her heart beating as if she were running a race, Pat pushed Tom's
boxers down to join his slacks around his ankles. He gasped when she
wrapped her hands around his penis for the first time. It was stiff
and hard, but also silky soft to her touch, as she knew it would be.
Dark brown hair grew from his collarbone to down below his knees,
thick in some spots, like in his pubic area, thin in others, like his
stomach and legs.

Tom stepped out of his slacks and boxers, but kept the slipper/socks
on. He caressed her breasts once more with his work callused hands,
then he lowered his right hand to the button at her hip, flicked it
open, then lowered the zipper of her skirt, which fell and formed a
pool at her feet. Pat stepped out of the skirt and into his arms,
sliding out of her loafers as she did so. She now wore only her sport
socks and low rise, pink, bikini panties.

His erection pressed into her belly as they embraced and Tom said,
"You're over dressed."

Pat just smiled and wiggled her eyebrows once.

Tom smiled back, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties,
and lowered them to her ankles, dropping to his knees before her as he
did. He held onto the panties as she put one hand on his head and
daintily stepped out of them.

Still holding the panties, Tom sat back on his heels and looked at his
naked and willing love. His eyes roamed from her sock covered feet, to
her dimpled knees, her "Yes, she's a real blond" pubic hair, her
"innie" navel, her lovely breasts, her smiling face, and ended the
5'2" journey at her silky blond hair. His mind was able to see her
imperfections, but he looked with the eyes of love, and to him, she
was more perfect than the goddess Aphrodite. With awe in his voice,
and speaking barely above a whisper, he said to her, "You are the most
beautiful woman I have ever seen."

Patricia blushed from the top of her head down to her breasts. "Thank
you'" she was all she could say.

She reached out her hands to help him stand up, which he did
effortlessly. Pat did her own survey of Tom's body when he was
standing, starting with his well-defined runners legs, to his slim
hips, his broad chest and shoulders, his well trimmed beard, and
ending her 5'9" visual journey at his chestnut brown hair. Yes, she
was also able to see his imperfections, but they meant nothing to her.
To her, he was the personification of Adonis.

Her eyes looked back down at his hard penis, and her heart beat just a
little faster because she knew it was this way for her. Once again she
reached out and wrapped her hands around it, feeling its soft
hardness, and then gently cupped his scrotum. As she held him, she
could feel herself become wetter, and she throbbed with desire.

"Make love to me now, Tom. Please."

She threw her arms around his neck when Tom quickly scooped her up in
his arms and held her against his chest. "Where?" he said.

"Right here, under the mistletoe, in front of our tree." Pat said.

Tom pulled her face to his and kissed her, as he slowly lowered her to
the carpet. He gently laid her out and stretched out beside her, never
breaking the kiss. He caressed her breast, then moved his hand down
over her stomach to her pubic hair and to her nether lips. As soon as
he touched her vagina, she whimpered, gasped, arched her back, and
threw her head back.

She couldn't believe she had a small climax from his first touch.

Tom kissed her neck, and then started kissing down to her breasts. He
kissed, licked, and nibbled on her hard nipples, but when he started
kissing further down, she stopped him.

"No. Please, Tom. Not this time. I want you so much, just put it in
me."

Tom smiled, "Anything you want, my love." He again stretched out
beside her and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled
him on top of her. Pat threw her legs wide to give him room. Holding
himself with one arm straight and on his knees so he was at an angle
to her, Tom grasped his penis in his right hand and aimed it at her
opening. He was lowering himself towards her when she put her left
hand against his chest as if to stop him. He stopped and looked at
her, puzzled.