A Christmas Carol Revisited

The First of the Three Spirits

I snapped awake, my eyes wide, staring into the darkness.

Something had awakened me - but what? I seemed to remember, as in the fading remnants of a dream, the sound of bells... jingle bells, which might have made sense; it

was

Christmas Eve, after all...

...were it not for the fact that it was

2 AM

on Christmas Eve, and anyone with any sense had long since settled their brains for a long winter's nap.

As my eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom, I did a quick scan. Scrawny artificial tree against the opposite wall, garlanded with a single string of lights and a dozen forlorn-looking ornaments. Threadbare silver garland hung in swags just below the ceiling on the same wall, and over the door hung a morose-looking piece of plastic holly. There was an empty pizza box on the cigarette-scarred coffee table, an empty coat rack in the corner next to the door. An armchair to the left of the bed held a pair of jeans, tossed there a couple of hours ago, and a three-quarters-full laundry basket was next to it.

Beyond that, nothing. Certainly no intruder. I sighed, stretched, my joints popping and was just about to close my eyes when the sound came again, and this time there could be no mistake. It was the sound of jingle bells - but tiny, Tinkerbelle-size bells.

With the sound came the light. Tiny motes of light sifted through the ceiling like a shower of glitter, more every second, a veritable curtain of light; then the lights coalesced, so bright I had to half-close my eyes against it. The light gradually dimmed to a soft glow until I could see what lay at its heart.

It was a girl, but surely no girl such as this had ever graced these premises before. She was tall and lissome and her skin seemed to hold a luminous glow all its own. Her hair, a medium brown, hung halfway down her back and her eyes were a startling crystal-blue. Despite the cold she was barefoot and wore only a holly-print shift that fell to mid-thigh. She had long, long legs and the glow of her skin rendered the shift semi-transparent, so that I could see the outline of her body beneath.

"I an the Ghost of Christmas Past," she said in a low throaty voice. "Look upon me."

Look?

Oh

, yeah! Look, stare, gawk, ogle, drool.... I became aware at last that she was giving me an amused look. It was also then that I belatedly remembered that I habitually slept

sans

pajamas, and she'd been getting an eyeful this whole time - and thanks largely to her presence, the eyeful was rather more of an eyeful than usual. I saw a roguish twinkle in her eye and then she said, "This is your captain speaking. Please fasten your safety belt and observe the 'No Smoking' signs. We are about to visit your past, so please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. Thank you for traveling with Christmas Past."

With that, a movie screen descended from the ceiling and the in-flight movie began - only it wasn't so much like a viewing as a re-living.

Of course, there was only one thing in my past worth-reliving and both Christmas Past and I knew it.

Sarah.

I wish there was some way to convey the horror I felt when I realized that I was going to be forced to re-live the happiest - and in turn, the darkest - days of my life.

* * * * *

It began innocently enough, as such things generally do - a casual first meeting where neither was much impressed with the other; subsequent encounters where we discovered a mutual love of reading; trips together to the used bookstore, during which we learned an appreciation for the other's quirky sense of humor. And so the friendship grew, in infinitesimal increments, until, without quite realizing it, we had become Best Friends.

Then the darkness slammed down like the blade of a guillotine.

It began the day she told me she wouldn't be returning to school for the next semester. "Family problems," she said. My heart broke a little that day, but there was worse - far worse - to come.

It took a while for the whispers and rumors to reach me. It took me almost no time to confirm them. Sarah was pregnant, and a terrible, all-encompassing grief seized my heart in a grip of iron and squeezed.

We were best friends, dammit! She shouldn't have kept this from me!

Side-by-side with the grief came a towering black rage, fueled by hate, laced with veins of red lightning. Whoever had done this to Sarah, I wanted him - wanted him at my mercy so I could kill him by inches every single day for a year - or two - or ten. The hate roiled like a pit of snakes, fed on itself and the grief, grew stronger till I barely recognized the face of the stranger in the mirror, his eyes windows into a bleak and blasted landscape.

Yet so much remained of my original soul that I wrote to Sarah, told her that I knew and that it made no difference, that I was her friend no matter what. I didn't mention the rage and the hate, but I cautioned her against telling me the name of her baby's father. I told her why the day she returned to school. She looked sick and frightened and a little repelled when I had finished; yet, perversely, it was that day that she began to think of me as a man.

We began to repair our friendship; tentatively at first, like walking on broken glass - yet after two months we had advanced so far that she allowed me, for the first time, to take her in my arms. The next day she was as eager as I for me to kiss her. It was my first kiss - the first of hundreds, perhaps thousands, that we would share between us.

Two months later, when she took my virginity, we were in love. I won't even try to describe that - better men than I have fallen far short over the centuries. It's a miracle neither of us flunked that semester - we were always cutting class to sneak off and make love in vacant classrooms. For four and a half months, we fucked like a whole

tribe

of bunnies, and there were few things that two people could do together that we didn't try.

A scant month later, the guillotine came down again and I plummeted screaming into Hell.

Don't. Ask.

* * * * *

I found myself on the floor in a fetal position, shaking with grief, half-blinded with tears, my face wet. Christmas Past knelt by my side, hugging me.

"Shhh... it's over, Nick... it's all over... shhh... it's over... let it go...."

It seemed to take a long time. When I had no more tears, I looked up. Christmas Past was still there, her face a study in compassion. I found a weak sliver of my voice. "Why did you make me live that again?"

"Because a part of you is locked in the past. You clutch your pain tight and refuse to let it go because you see being happy in your life as a betrayal of Sarah.

But Sarah loved you, Nick. She loves you still, and she would be the last to wish this agony on you."

She stood and opened her arms. "Embrace the past, Nick. Learn from it... and then let it go."

Heedless of my nakedness, I stood and fell into her arms. They closed around me and the soothing warmth of the Spirit's touch spread over my aching heart like balm. Her eyes met mine, forthright and direct, and suddenly she seemed less a spirit than a mortal woman. She kissed me - slowly, lingeringly - and the short shift shimmered out of existence. Her lips were full and soft, her skin warm beneath my hands. Her tongue in my mouth tangled excitedly with mine as I cupped the firm globes of her ass to draw her into me. Her nipples scorched my chest - I half-expected to see burn marks there. She ground her hips into me teasingly and I leaned forward, took her throat in my teeth. She gasped as I pulled back, stretching the sensitive flesh, my hands squeezing her breasts, toying with her nipples. Farther down... I licked and sucked her nipples briefly, then began to bite her breasts gently, all over, not neglecting the sensitive undersides. Now and again I bit hard and held tight for a moment - a sweet ache that would later remind her of me. She moaned, her hips undulating sweetly against me. I cupped her ass and pulled her close, my tongue slipping into her mouth again, my cock hard and hot between us.

I kissed and licked my way down her body, stopping for just a second to lick at her belly button... then I pushed her back onto the bed and knelt between her thighs. I kissed slowly from her knees to her thighs, each kiss and lick slow, deliberate, tasting her... I stopped to look at her pussy. She was shaved clean and her swollen lips were parted, just slightly. I took a deep breath to inhale the scent of her, then I kissed her, sealing my lips against hers, my tongue just touching the center of her and quickly pulling back. A shudder rippled through her at that and an involuntary moan broke through. I reined myself in, then slowly, meticulously began to lick her folds, tasting her essence. I drew just the tip of my tongue along the curve of her lips and had my reward in her sigh. Back and forth... up and down... round and round. The taste of her was heady, like a sweet liqueur... Spirit or mortal, I was going to give her cause to remember this night. My tongue probed between her folds, just the tip, licking and pulling up and back, stopping just short of her swollen clit. With each lick, my tongue probed deeper. I sucked her juices into my mouth, savoring the taste... she moaned, her hips rocking in desperation. I inched my way up to her clit, took it between my lips and sucked gently. She reached to clutch my head, hold it tight against her pussy. There was no need - I wasn't going anywhere.

I stiffened my tongue, fluttered it against her clit and two fingers went into her pretty pussy as I licked. My fingers slid in and out of her at a steady, measured pace and I took her clit into my mouth and sucked sharply. She wailed, thrashing on the bed; it disturbed me not at all. My fingers kept to the same rhythm and I sucked her clit - faster! - harder! She came, drenching my face with her juices. I didn't stop, didn't slow down, just kept fingering her, eating her. I reveled in her heat and wetness and taste - pure nectar! - until she weakly pushed my head away.

She raised up and her face now was all Woman - nostrils flared, eyes hot, mouth half open as if still gasping. Without a word, she pulled me to my feet, pushed me down on the bed and went to her knees.

She looked up at me and gave me an impish smile; then she cradled my cock in her soft hand and stroked gently, loosely from balls to tip. She tightened her grip then, holding me at full extension, and began to lick my balls - slow, thorough licks that covered every inch... over and over, her mouth deliciously warm and wet, a smile in her eyes as she teased me higher. I moaned as she lapped my balls - then she switched tactics and gave them wet open-mouth kisses, licking... occasionally sucking - just for a second - her hand gliding up and down my rigid shaft. There was a naughty glee in her eyes that suggested that she was enjoying this as much as I was.... She sucked one of my balls into her hot mouth, rolling her tongue around it... then she did the same with the other. My cock was screaming for attention, but dear God - this felt so

good!

As if she could read my thoughts, she released me and ran her scorching tongue up the underside of my cock with excruciating slowness. I groaned when she began again at the base, now fluttering her tongue all along my length... she reached the head and gave me that smile that combined innocence and wickedness into one delightful package, then slowly swirled her tongue all around the head. I let out a strangled gasp as she took me between her soft lips and sucked lightly, her tongue circling the head... her nails teased my balls into a taut package as she sucked. Sparks were dancing behind my eyes and it was with an effort that I refrained from driving my hips forward to meet her. Slowly... slowly, with incredible sweetness, she took more and more of my cock, not stopping until her lips were against my balls and the head of my cock was in her throat. She held my eyes with hers for a moment... and then she swallowed. I cried out, on the edge, as with amazing control she held me in her throat, swallowing, massaging, milking... then she slid back until only the head remained in her mouth, licking.... She pulled back and smiled.

"Fuck my mouth, Nick," she said, "fuck it deep. I want to do this for you. Don't deny yourself.

Take

my mouth, use it for your pleasure. Don't hold back; don't ask permission. Do whatever you like, no restrictions.

Fuck my mouth, lover."

She gave me one of those radiant smiles, then licked up my shaft until her mouth was filled with cock. She reached for my hands, placed them on either side of her head and gave silent assent with her eyes.

I began to fuck her mouth, slowly at first, luxuriating in the feel of her talented lips and tongue; but her eyes and my need alike forbade such restraint, and soon I was slamming into her mouth, filling her throat with my thickness and she joyfully took all I could give and came back for more. It was as if her lust for my cock was as great as mine for her mouth, like she was receiving as well as giving pleasure. She held nothing back, but opened her throat and took me in again and again, urging me on with wordless cries. A spasm of white-hot pleasure shook me to my core and I exploded in her mouth. She swallowed eagerly, then took me from her mouth and jerked me onto her face, her hair, her breasts - before engulfing me once again and working my cock until I was utterly spent. I gasped and shook, the sound of my heart like thunder in my ears... and then a great lassitude fell over me and I sank back on the bed. The last thing I saw was that lovely face, spattered with my cum, and that never-to-be-forgotten smile....