Ep. 03
Christmas Dinner & Delightful Twins For Dessert
Written by
Donald Mallord
Copyright by DMallord, 2021, USA., Revised 2022. All rights reserved.
10,750 MS Words,
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Special thanks to Kenjisato for his impeccable editing of this revised story.
My thanks to those who provided previous feedback on the original 2021 version. Those are now corrected in this update. As for readers calling for a longer storyline; please note, I have a few physical limitations that slow my writing. Although, at this date, I have added more to the storyline to address the brevity concerns. The damage to my hands makes it difficult to type major storylines. I listened to the anonymous commentor in episode two, taking his/her positive criticism to heart and incorporated the suggestions into this episode regarding the twins rescuing, then rewarding Jim Rawlings with an erotic Christmas dessert!
INTRODUCTION
Jim Rawlings, as a former prisoner of war, is haunted by the impact of his inhuman treatment. These stories recount how he eases back into civilian status. Life has been a continuing roller-coaster of emotional ups and downs, as Rawlings experiences flashbacks of those nightmarish months while a captive in the jungles of Vietnam. Life throws some added tribulations at him, just to prove it isn't going to be easy to flow anonymously back into the mainstream of post-war life. For instance, in episode one of this saga, he fought through panic attacks, yet succeeded in completing his master's degree program feeling some sense of recovery. Then in the second episode, nearly destitute, Jim found a ray of light in a temporary job. Where, once again, life threw him a snow angel to rescue--and she bailed on him. Delightful twins come to his rescue in the current, third episode. What will life have to throw at Jim Rawlings this time?
The main character also appeared, first, in the storyline, 'The Dorm Lights Went Out -- I Got Lucky!'
Rescuing a Snow Angel Ep. 03
Christmas Dinner & Delightful Twins For Dessert
Monday morning, the day after Christmas, I lay awake in bed, waiting for a glimmer of daylight to make its appearance through the bedroom window -- waiting for the sun to vanquish the darkness. Thoughts of the previous evening's unabashed mΓ©nage Γ trois with Gabriela and Carmen had helped beat down some of the noises in my head. Sex trumps demons, sometimes. I'd come to learn that over the past year-and-a-half. After returning from the girls' place late last night, I had been able to sleep for nearly five solid, restful hours. Startled awake once more, I had to wait for another hour to tick by before the sun rose, again. How to get through that pre-dawn hour has always been troublesome. I tried to close my eyes, letting my thoughts drift, trying to relive the previous evening with Carmen and Gabby.
The first few moments of my arrival at their place started off a bit stiff at first -- not my dick -- the awkwardness of having to explain some of my background after they rescued me. It was difficult to admit the meltdown was brought on by Gabriela's tongue-in-cheek comments about tying me up, then jumping my bones. That kind of awkwardness creates some embarrassment. However, we got through a very nice Christmas dinner! Although, I'd never had tamales, rice, and beans served alongside a turkey breast with cranberry sauce before -- I didn't mention that -- and the girls seemed as though it was a Mexican-American family tradition for them.
The awkwardness began to dissolve, as we learned more about one another's history. We had at least one thing in common. We were orphans. I had never known if I had a family; or if it was just some woman that gave me up to an orphanage. I'd grown up, never having thought about actually calling someone, mom. It was about as foreign a word in my vocabulary as any word could get. The longest time period that I could recall continuously living in a foster home was--two years.
On the other hand, the twins, lost their single-parent dad this past year to a heart attack. At seventeen, and through court-determined emancipation for minors' proceedings, they inherited his landscaping and snowplowing business. Alone in the world, they had kept his business afloat for the past year-and-a-half. By eighteen, the affable duo, had a solid reputation for business integrity. With the help of Mr. Worthington's accounting advice on investments, they were doing quite well. By the time we had dishes washed and the table cleared, except for a showcase pecan pie, we were pretty well acquainted and becoming at ease with one another.
With all the stores closed, and the roads iced over; I barely made it to their place. So, I didn't have the customary token Christmas gift for them: a bottle of wine. My state of mind was a mess as it was; taking time to wander into a liquor store, at that late hour could have been an invitation to another onset of flashbacks. I offered a sincere apology for arriving empty-handed. This had led to another round of apologies, on their part, for the comments about ropes and tying me up. They, too, had nothing else to share as a means of atonement. As we ate the pecan pie with vanilla ice cream, things got quiet -- a pachyderm had entered the room. I could tell it was lurking in the shadows. We didn't know how to drive it away. And the room grew awkwardly quiet as it nudged against Gabriella and Carmen--poking them to speak up.
Finally, the behemoth spoke up of its own accord. It couldn't do anything else but announce itself, as it bore a heavy burden that had to be acknowledged.
"Jimmy, we're really sorry about the comments! Carmen and I thought that we could, well, we could, somehow, make that up to you," Gabby's soft-spoken voice stammered. I could sense that something unspoken lurked just out of reach in her voice. She seemed to be leaving out several key unspoken thoughts flowing through her mind.
Carmen, the outspoken one, cut into Gabby's straying, train of thought.
"Jimmy, we really, really want to make it up to you -- so, since we really don't know you very well, I'm going to just come flat-out and say it!"
Her thoughts weren't any more organized than Gabby's own stammer. I found myself just sitting and waiting for the two eighteen-year-olds to get on the same page with one another. And that seemed to be happening more quickly as that telepathic communication that twins seem to have, kicked in. In the lull, they studied one another's faces for a clue as to how to proceed.