Bowie-PChristmasA Present ChristmasJ. P. BowieTotal-e-boundCopyright © 2008 by J P BowieErotica/Romance. 20447 words long. enNovellatext/xmlErotica/Romance

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A Present Christmas
by J. P. Bowie
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Erotica/Romance

Total-e-bound
www.total-e-bound.com

Copyright ©2008 by J P Bowie

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

CONTENTS

Christmas Spirits:

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

About the Author

Total-E-Bound Publishing

* * * *

A Total-E-Bound Publication

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www.total-e-bound.com

A Present Christmas

ISBN # 978-1-906811-43-3

©Copyright J.P. Bowie 2008

Cover Art by April Martinez ©Copyright December 2008

Edited by Michele Paulin

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2008 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

Christmas Spirits:

Ghost of Christmas Present

* * * *

* * * *

A PRESENT CHRISTMAS

J.P. Bowie

[Back to Table of Contents]

Dedication

For Phil and all my readers—Merry Christmas!

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter One

Agnes sighed heavily as she made her way to her sister's cottage. No doubt, she'd have to listen once again to the litany of criticism Esmeralda always had for her on these visits. Hopefully, Judith wouldn't be there to regard her with the faint sneer that always seemed to hover around her thin lips whenever Agnes was in the room.

It was that time of year again, when the world was in rhyme—or so the song went—but all it meant for Agnes and her sisters was that they would be meddling in other people's affairs in the hope that they could make them see the error of their ways. It was something Agnes had not excelled in for the last couple of years. Particularly last year—oh, that had been nasty. After Agnes had failed to move the miserable old bitch from her miserly ways, it had taken all of Judith's threats of hellfire and damnation to scare the woman into including her young grandson in her will. And even then, it had been done with ill grace. Agnes hoped she didn't have to deal with someone that belligerent again.

Esmeralda was standing in the doorway as Agnes walked slowly up the garden path that led to the little cottage in the woods. Like Agnes, Esmeralda was not tall, barely five feet in heels. Their sister, Judith, was the tall one. Esmeralda had once remarked that Judith had to be tall for the future was limitless, whereas the past and the present took up much less room.

“In fact, dear,” she'd said with a patronising air, “I wonder that you have to be almost as tall as me, when the present is so fleeting.”

Fleeting maybe, Agnes had groused to herself, but it could still be a giant pain in the neck! She forced a smile to her pixie-like face as she came within a few feet of her sister.

“You're late, Agnes dear.” Esmeralda's pursed lips said it all. It was going to be one of those afternoons.

“And good afternoon to you, too, sister dear,” Agnes said. “Is the kettle on for tea?”

“Of course. Come along in—there have been some changes made to this year's business.”

“Oh, pocks weed!” Agnes plunked herself down on one of the cosy armchairs by the fire. “What kind of changes?”

“Language, dear. We're not going to be working together this year. You're on your own.”

Agnes's eyes widened. “On my own—but why?”

“Because the young man you're to help is only too painfully aware of the past, and if you do your job properly, the future will take care of itself.”

“Oh, dear,” Agnes murmured. “So it's all up to me?”

“It really shouldn't be too hard, even for you, Agnes.”

“Huh! Thank you for that vote of confidence. And what will you and Judith be up to, may I ask?”

“Someone in the White House needs a lot of help this year—end of an era, and all that.” Esmeralda handed Agnes a cup of tea. “She's having to give up a lot, and gain very little in return, I'm afraid. It'll be my job to help her forget most of the horrors of the past eight years, and dwell only on the good times. I'm sure there must been a few, at least.”

“And who have I got?” Agnes asked.

“William Calder, twenty-seven years old.” Esmeralda picked up a file from the kitchen table and opened it. “Five ten, one hundred sixty-five pounds, eyes blue, hair dark blond ... you can take this file with you, but from what I see here, he's recently out of a relationship and a job. Very low self-esteem, is hating the prospect of Christmas on his own—and frankly, the Boss is a little concerned that he may be contemplating suicide.”

“Oh, my. Doesn't he have family?”

“An only child to elderly parents—both deceased, it says here.”

“Poor boy.” Agnes held out her hand. “Let me see...” She took the file from her sister and flipped it open. “Oh, but he's so cute. Stunning eyes. Boy, those are baby-blues all right—and what a lovely smile—nice teeth.”

“And he's gay, Agnes.”

“Oh ... well, at least, he'll smell nice.”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Agnes, be serious. This is an important mission for you—so don't mess up...”

“Like I usually do, I know. You don't have to say it. As the Spirit of Christmas Present I have a bad rep. Ever since I took over from fat and jolly Chris, there's been nothing but complaints.” Agnes sighed, then sipped her tea. “I think that if I can't do better this year, I'd best think of retiring.”

“Spirits don't retire, dear,” Esmeralda said. “You're here ‘til the Boss says different.” She passed a plate of cookies. “Now, don't get pessimistic. Try your best. Help the young man see there are brighter days ahead.”

“I thought that was Judith's job.”

“Well, it's going to be yours this year. Help him forget the past, enjoy the present and look forward to the future.”

“Bah, humbug!” Agnes snorted.

Esmeralda stared at her, appalled. “Agnes—that is not for you to say!”

“It's just an expression.”

“Agnes dear...” Esmeralda gave Agnes the sternest look she could muster. “You must do better this year, or the Boss will be most displeased, and you know what that means. Now, drink your tea. You have to start immediately.”

Agnes looked at her sister with surprise. “But why? Christmas is still two weeks away.”

“The Boss wants you to succeed at this, and you're going to need every single day to pull it off,” Esmeralda said. And from the tone of her voice, Agnes knew her sister meant every word she'd said.

“Oh, pocks weed,” she muttered, drinking down the last of her tea.

* * * *

Bill Calder stood looking out the window of the small hotel room he'd been renting for the past month. His eyes fastened on a snowflake that seemed to have been caught in some kind of updraft as it fluttered and danced in front of his window before landing on the glass, level with his nose. He touched his finger to the window pane, trying to feel the crystalline iciness, but as he watched, the flake started to melt and slide down the glass until it became no more that a drop of water.

“Kinda like life,” he muttered to himself. “Beautiful one minute, slush the next.” Sighing, he turned from the window and started to pull on his clothes. Today, he had determined that he must find a job. His money was running out fast, and he didn't want to start pawning his personal belongings. He knew the watch Dave had given him two Christmases ago was worth quite a bit of money, but he really didn't want to part with it. It was all he had left of Dave, apart from memories...

He gave himself a shake. He was not going to go there today. Too much to do, and if he started getting maudlin again, he'd end up drowning his sorrows with the aid of a bottle of Scotch and accomplishing nothing—like yesterday ... and the day before...

* * * *

As Bill stepped onto the sidewalk outside the hotel, he knew what he wanted for Christmas—an overcoat! The bitter north wind that was sweeping down Third Avenue all the way from Canada had the immediate effect of chilling him to the bone. Winter in New York—not the place to be without the proper clothes. All his winter gear was still in the house he'd shared with Dave for the past two years until ‘donkey-breath’ had come along and turned Bill's life upside down.

But he wasn't going to go there...

He wrapped his arms around himself, clutching the thin sports coat he wore tighter against his slender body, put his head down and marched towards the coffee bar that had become his little haven since he'd been on his own. At least, it was warm in there, and he could read the employment section in the newspaper for free. He pushed his way into the coffee bar, brushing the snow from his hair and shoulders, and inhaling the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

“Mornin’ Bill!” Sally, the owner, sang out. “Don't you have a coat?”

“Hi, Sally. Yeah, I just haven't unpacked it yet.”

“The usual?”

“Please.” The ‘usual’ was a tall Columbian espresso with extra cream. “I'll have a cheese bagel, also.”

“Comin’ up—and honey, unpack that coat!”

While he waited, Bill snagged a newspaper from the stand and flipped to the employment section. He was distracted as the door flew open, and a young man stepped hastily inside, a flurry of snow and a cold draught following him.

“Damn, now it's getting really windy,” the young man said to no one in particular.

“Mornin’ Tom,” Sally said. “Cold enough for ya?”

“Sure is. I'll have a hot chocolate, please, Sally.” He took off his fleece-lined bomber jacket and shook the snow from it.

“Anything to eat?”

“No thanks.”

From the moment Tom had entered the coffee bar, Bill had been unable to take his eyes off him. What a hunk, he thought, taking in Tom's dark good looks, his black curly hair and deep brown eyes framed by long thick lashes. Those dark eyes met Bill's stare, and Tom nodded, a little smile lifting the corners of his wide mouth.

“Hi,” Tom's smile got wider.

“Hi.” Bill's innate shyness made him drop his eyes from Tom's steady gaze.

“Lousy out there, huh?” Tom remarked.

“Yeah ... lousy.”

“You know, we really have stop meeting like this.”

Bill looked up and gulped. “We ... we do?”

Tom chuckled, and his eyes twinkled with mischief and a certain anticipation. Bill's cheeks turned a fiery red as he felt his cock harden inside his briefs. Lord, but this guy is so ... so...

“Here's your espresso and bagel, hon,” Sally said, winking at Bill. She leaned forward and whispered, “Hot, isn't he?”

“Uh ... yeah,” Bill muttered, blushing even more. Hot—that was the word he'd been looking for. He grabbed his coffee and bagel and retreated to the far corner of the bar. Jeez, he must have sounded like an idiot! He'd noticed Tom before—it was hard not to notice his quarterback-like physique—but he'd always been too shy to even get as far as they had today. And what was he thinking, anyway? He was in no position to start getting friendly with any guy right now. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how Tom's lips would taste, and how it would feel to be locked in his arms.

As he buried his head in the newspaper, willing his erection to subside, he caught a glimpse of Tom shrugging slightly then turning away. Bill cursed himself for being all kinds of a fool and tried to concentrate on the Holiday Help Wanted ads. He figured he'd have a better shot at getting something temporary to see him through Christmas and the New Year, then after the holiday chaos, he could make up his mind what he really wanted to do. Stay in New York or go back home to Boston. Not that he'd considered Boston his home since his parents had died, but he still had some friends there—from before he'd met Dave—and he'd been in touch with one or two of them sporadically over the past two years.

He took another peek over the top of the paper at hunky Tom, but instead found himself looking into the smiling face of an older lady with tight grey curls, apple cheeks and twinkling hazel eyes.

“Hello, young man,” she said. “You look a little blue.”

“You should have seen me earlier,” Bill kidded. “Blue all over.”

“No wonder. Where's your coat?”

“Don't have one—well, actually, I do have one. I just can't get to it right now.”

“I see. I'm Agnes, by the way.”

“Bill.” He held out his hand and took the tiny warm one Agnes extended.

“Looking for a job?” Agnes asked.

“Yeah. I need to get something to tide me over ‘til after the New Year.”

“They're hiring over at Kimbel's, the department store across the street,” Agnes told him. “I'm thinking of applying there myself.”

“You need a job?” Bill stopped himself from saying he thought Agnes was retired. Maybe she was younger than he thought.

Agnes laughed, a delicate tinkling sound that made Bill smile. “You were thinking why's an old Granny like me looking for a job, weren't you?”

“Oh, no...”

“That's okay, William. Truth is, I've worked all my life and will ‘til the day I can't get out of bed and punch the clock anymore.”

“Good for you.” Bill's eyes flicked away from Agnes as he saw Tom-the-hunk heading for the door, pulling on his bomber jacket.

Agnes turned to see what had caught his attention. “Quite the hottie, isn't he?” she remarked. “Nice buns.”

Bill almost choked on his espresso, then he grinned as Agnes's tinkling laughter filled the coffee bar.

“You're amazing,” he said warmly.

“Not bad for an old broad,” Agnes chuckled. “No matter how old you get, you can still appreciate a nice tush on a man. Now what d'you say? Shall we give Kimbel's a try?”

“Let's do it.” Bill threw back the last of his espresso and jumped to his feet. “After you, m'lady,” he said, bowing courteously.

Agnes giggled. “Thank you, kind sir.” Oh boy, she thought, this is going to be a piece of cake. The Boss must've been wrong about William thinking of suicide. He's just lonely, is all—and I can take care of that.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Two

By the time they had crossed the street and reached Kimbel's ornate, brass-framed doors, Bill was frozen through and covered in snow again. He jumped up and down a few times to get some feeling back in his feet and shook his head to free his hair of snow.

“You really need a coat,” Agnes said.

“Yeah, it's on my Christmas wish list,” he muttered as he opened the store door for Agnes. “We can stop and see Santa after we apply for a job.” He looked around the busy store, ablaze with Christmas lights, trees and decorations. Despite the cold, Bill felt a warm glow suffuse him as the sights and smells of the Christmas season filled his senses. He nudged Agnes. “There we go,” he said, pointing at a sign that said, Holiday Help Needed. Apply 3rd Floor.

They took the escalator to the third floor, expecting to see a long line of hopeful applicants, but the waiting area outside the door marked Employment was completely empty.

“I hope that doesn't mean they've got everyone they need,” Bill said, his voice filled with disappointment. He really did not want to have to trudge around the streets of New York looking for work in the foulest of weather.

“Let's find out, shall we?” Agnes pulled at his sleeve, steering him towards the door. They were almost bowled over by a large man with a red, angry face who came charging at them from inside the office.

“I can't believe it!” he yelled at Bill.

“Excuse me?” Bill croaked.

“That blithering idiot of a Santa Claus I hired last week had a nervous breakdown. Can't take the kids, he says. What kind of a Santa Claus can't take the kids?” He stared at Bill as if he'd just seen him. “What d'you want?”

“I, uh ... I...” Bill stammered.

“He wants a job,” Agnes piped up, peering at the man's name tag. “Sounds like you're in luck, Mr. Jennings. You need a Santa, William here needs a job.”

“He's too skinny,” Jennings said, eyeing Bill up and down.

“He's slim, not skinny,” Agnes sniffed. “You got padding, don't you?”

“He's too young,” Jennings said, peering into Bill's face.

“You got a beard, don't you? All white and fluffy.”

“Well...” Jennings took a step back, appraising Bill from top to toe. “Don't you have a coat, young man? It's freezing out there.”

“He'll get one with the store discount once you give him the job,” Agnes told him.

Jennings gave Agnes a look of annoyance then stared again at Bill. “Well ... desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose. Can you start right away?”

“Uh ... well ... I...”

“Yes, he can,” Agnes blurted.

“I mean, this very minute,” Jennings said, with another annoyed look at Agnes. “The children are already lining up at Santa's Grotto.”

Bill pulled himself together. “Yes, sir. I can start right now.”

“What kind of money are you offering?” Agnes asked.

“What are you? His agent?” Jennings snapped. “We pay fifteen dollars an hour plus meals.”

Agnes frowned. “Can you up that offer?”

“Agnes,” Bill warned, seeing Jennings red face take on a purple hue. “That'll be fine, Mr Jennings. Uh ... my friend Agnes here, needs a job too.”

“Does she now?” Jennings sneered. “May I suggest she try Macy's?”

* * * *

A half hour later, Bill was padded, bearded, rouged and bespectacled and striding out to his grotto in a blazing-red suit trimmed with fake ermine, a jaunty red hat on his white-wigged head. He had never felt quite so foolish in his entire life, but as he approached the line of little children waiting patiently with their parents, a shout went up. “There's Santa! Yah, there's Santa!”

Grinning, Bill pushed out his padded tummy and gave out with a jolly “Ho, ho, ho!” just as Jennings had rehearsed him. “It's not har, har, har, Mr. Calder,” Jennings had remonstrated at Bill's less than hearty laugh. “Nor is it hee, hee, hee. It is, ho, ho, ho! And don't you forget it!”

“Now, who's first to visit Santa today?” Bill boomed, really getting into the role.

A couple of little boys ran over to him—twins. Oh how cute. One on each knee.

One of them reached up and tugged on his beard. “Does that come off?” the little tyke demanded. Fortunately, over the years, store Santa's had been issued tug-proof beards, and Bill's held fast.

“Ouch,” he winced. “That's not nice, little fella. Now what would you like for Christmas?”

“Who wants to know?” the other kid sneered.

Oh, this is going well...

“I do, of course. How else would I know what to drop down your chimney?”

The two boys cackled and drummed their little heels on Bill's legs. “Drop it down the chimney? That's funny. We don't have a fireplace, so how you gonna do that?”

“Ah,” Bill pretended to muse. “Then I'll have to use magic.”

One of the kids punched Bill on his big fat tummy, then they both jumped off his knees. “You're a phony, Santa.”

“Oh, now boys,” Bill said through gritted teeth, looking at their mother for help.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Just give them their gifts,” she muttered, then added, “You're not very good.”

* * * *

At lunch break, Jennings arrived to show Bill where the cafeteria was. “You get a half-hour,” he said, sniffing. “Make sure you don't take any longer—and go to the bathroom before you come back. It takes forever with all that padding.”

Bill picked up a tray and got in line at the cafeteria counter. So far his day had been brutal. Kids just aren't very nice anymore, he thought, helping himself to a turkey sandwich and fries. Nor were their parents for the most part. The words, ‘You're not very good’ had been repeated several times by disgruntled mothers as they hauled away their kids. Who knew being Santa was so difficult?

He found an empty table and sat down to eat. The beard ... shoot. He'd have to take it off. He just hoped he'd be able to get it back on. After a lot of fiddling he managed to pull it free, and after dropping it on the table beside him, along with the spectacles and hat, he took a big bite out of his sandwich. Mmm, not bad ... fries are good too. Well, at least, he wouldn't go hungry for the next couple of weeks. Maybe he could get a coat on credit? His thoughts were suddenly brought to a screeching halt as he saw Tom from the coffee bar enter the cafeteria.

Oh, shit! Like I want him to see me in this get up! Picking up the beard he held it to his face and ducked his head down. Wait a minute, the guy wouldn't know me from Adam anyway. He probably wouldn't remember me at all.

“Need some help with that, Santa?”

“Huh?” Bill looked up into those warm brown eyes and felt a quiver run through his body. Holding the beard in place he mumbled, “Oh yeah, if you could just fasten it back there.”

“Sure thing.”

Bill felt strong fingers stroking the back of his head as Tom fastened the beard's special clasp. Bill was glad he was sitting down. The tingling from Tom's touch had gone straight to his groin.

“There you go...” Tom smiled into Bill's blue eyes. “Don't I know you?”

“Uh, no ... no. I'm just a fill in for the Santa who got sick.” Bill rammed on the spectacles and hat.

Tom shook his head. “Your eyes look familiar.”

“They do?” he almost squeaked his surprise. He hadn't thought for a minute that Tom had really noticed him. “Oh, but look at the time. I'll be late back to the grotto ... gotta go!”

“Okay, see you,” Tom said, watching him hurry from the cafeteria. For a long moment Tom stood by the table ‘Santa’ had vacated in a hurry. I'm sure I've seen those eyes before, he thought. Sexy eyes. Now there was a fantasy he'd never had before—sex with Santa Clause! He grinned as he felt himself grow hard. But where had he seen Santa before? Wait a minute ... the guy in the coffee bar?

Oh, yeah ... take away that beard and, hopefully, that padding and it was him—the cute guy from the coffee bar—the one he'd noticed for the past few days, and had actually managed to get a couple of words out of this morning. A shy guy ... Tom liked that, and most definitely wanted to get to know him better.

Whoa, he thought, better sit down before anyone notices I'm sporting one helluva hard on. He looked around guiltily as he slid into the seat Bill had just vacated. It was still warm and that simply served to make him even harder. Oh yeah ... when he closed his eyes, he could see the guy's cute shy smile, those brilliant blue eyes and that mouth just made for kissing. Tom was willing to bet any money that those kisses would be the sweetest ever—soft, shyly hesitant until passion took over.

Oh, my God ... His eyes flew open as he felt his cock spasm inside his briefs. He was leaking pre-cum all over ... if he didn't get to his office and do something about this he'd have the blue balls from hell!

* * * *

Bill dashed back to his grotto, remembering too late that he needed to pee. Jennings words of warning sounded in his head as he hesitated outside the men's room. Damn ... he'd just have to hold it ‘til next break. He had a surprise waiting for him as he rounded the corner of the grotto where a line of kids had already formed.

“Hey, Agnes,” he said, pleased to see the little lady he'd met in the coffee bar. “That's some getup.”

Agnes was wearing a bright green tunic with hose to match and atop her head was a perky three cornered pointy hat complete with a bell on each point.

“Hello, William. I'm Santa's little helper,” she whispered.

“How'd you swing that? I thought that Jennings guy told you to try Macy's.”

Agnes smiled impishly. “I can be very persuasive at times. Now, we'd better start before the little darlings get restless.”

Bill sighed. “I was told a few times by the mothers that I wasn't very good at this.”

“You'll get better, William. Practise make perfect, or so they say.”

“Right. Okay, here goes ... Ho, ho, ho! Who's first in line to see Santa?”

“I am,” said a tiny voice, and Bill peered down over his tummy at the little girl who gazed up at him from the most beautiful pair of violet eyes Bill had ever seen.

“Wow,” he muttered involuntarily. “I mean, aren't you the pretty one? Come along, and sit on Santa's knee, and tell me what you want for Christmas. But first, what's your name?”

“Rebecca.”

“And what would you like for Christmas, Rebecca?”

“I'd like my Daddy back for Christmas.”

“Oh ... well...”

“Rebecca, honey, I told you that you mustn't ask Santa for things he can't bring.” A slim blonde woman lifted Rebecca from Bill's lap. “I'm sorry,” she muttered. “Her Dad and I are getting divorced.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Bill saw the tears well in Rebecca's eyes, and he felt like shit. “Here you go, sweetie...” He rummaged in Santa's sack and drew out a trinket. “This is something in addition to what I'll bring on Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas, Rebecca.”

He watched as Rebecca's mother led her away, and a wave of depression washed over him. Christ, he thought, I'll never make it through ‘til Christmas if there's any more like her.

“Next,” Agnes whispered.

“Right. Ho, ho, ho!”

* * * *

About halfway through the afternoon, Bill thought his bladder was going to burst, and the kids who bounced about on his knee didn't help matters at all.

“Agnes,” he hissed, “I really have to go to the john.”

“Go right ahead,” she said. “I'll keep the tots amused while you're gone.”

“Okay. I'll be as quick as I can.”

“Give it a good shake when you're done!”

“Agnes...” Bill didn't want to laugh for fear he'd pee his pants. She is something else, he told himself as he scurried through the crowds to the men's room. He pushed open the door and flew in so fast he knocked the guy exiting against the wall.

“Shit ... sorry!” Bill gasped. Oh, no ... it's Tom...

“Whoa, Santa,” Tom said, grinning. “You're the one wearing the padding, not me.” He poked Bill's tummy. “That is padding, isn't it?”

“Yes.” For a long moment, Bill found himself staring into Tom's dark eyes. Eyes I could drown in, he thought, and Tom stared right back, his grin changing to a slow sensual smile.

“Uh ... s ... sorry,” Bill stammered. “But I have to, you know...” He pointed at the line of urinals.

Tom chuckled. “When you gotta go ... I'll see you around, Santa.”

“It's Bill,” he said over his shoulder, but the door had already swung closed. Bill thought he'd best use one of the cubicles just in case some kid came in and saw Santa dropping his pants to take a leak.

“Damn,” he muttered. “This padding is a bitch to get out of!”

* * * *

As he hurried back to the grotto, he saw Jennings standing behind a group of kids all seated on the floor surrounding Agnes. Bill slowed his pace, marvelling at the rapt attention on the children's faces as they listened to the story she told them.

“And so, the miserable old miser woke up the next morning,” she said, “thrilled to discover it was still Christmas Day, and he vowed to make that Christmas the happiest that Tiny Tim had ever known. The end! And now here comes Santa back from visiting Rudolph!”

A chorus of “Hi Santa,” and “How's Rudolph?” greeted Bill as he made his way through the crowd of children. He stopped to pat heads, shake his tummy which made the little ones squeal, and threw in a few ho, ho, hos.

“See? You're really getting into this,” Agnes whispered.

“Thanks for covering for me,” Bill whispered back. “Look, even old Jennings is smiling.”

The day went quickly, with an endless stream of children, all clamouring to sit on Santa's knee and tell him of the outrageously expensive gifts they wanted him to bring. Quite a few mothers would question him after their son or daughter had whispered in his ear.

“What did he say?” they would ask, and Bill would watch the horror spread over their faces as they began to calculate the cost.

When the store finally closed, Bill and Agnes sat staring at one another totally exhausted.

“Bet you're one hot patootie under that suit,” Agnes remarked.

“The shower most definitely calls,” Bill said, grinning at her and starting to remove his beard. Then, seeing Tom strolling towards them, he hastily slapped the beard back into position.

“Santa! How'd it go today?” Tom asked.

“Oh, swell.”

Tom looked at Agnes. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi yourself, cutie.” Agnes beamed up at him. “Have you met my friend Bill?”

Tom pouted. “You mean your name isn't really Santa?”

“'Fraid not.” Bill chuckled as he held out his hand. “Bill Calder.”

They laughed together, and Tom took Bill's hand in his own warm strong fingers. “Tom Davenport.”

Agnes watched with satisfaction as the two men held each other's hands for just a beat longer than was necessary. Oh, yeah, she thought. A piece of cake. Esmeralda and Judith are going to be so surprised that I pulled this off so easily.

“Well.” Tom was the first to break the contact and step back. “I'll see you both tomorrow. Nice meeting you.”

“He likes you,” Agnes said, nudging Bill who watched Tom walk away.

Bill sighed as he unfastened the beard. “Too bad there's no future in it.”

“What d'you mean?” Agnes asked, alarmed.

“The last thing I need right now is to get involved with another guy I can't hold on to,” Bill told her. “And besides, once the season is over, and I've saved some money, I'm going back to Boston.”

“What's in Boston?”

“Home, friends ... familiar stuff, I guess.”

Agnes frowned. “And what d'you mean about another guy you can't hold on to?”

“It's a long story, Agnes, and boring as hell to listen to.”

“I'll listen. I like boring stories.”

Bill chuckled. “Another time, maybe. I gotta get home and shower. I'll see you tomorrow, Agnes. Thanks for being such a great help today.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “G'night.”

Agnes watched him go, not at all pleased with what had just happened. So, maybe it wasn't going to be a piece of cake after all.

“Nothing's ever easy,” she sighed. Well, she still had ten more shopping days till Christmas. A lot can happen in ten days!

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Three

When Bill got back to his tiny hotel room, he felt a wave of crushing depression wash over him. Truth was, he just didn't do well on his own. Of all the things he missed about not having Dave in his life anymore, the biggest was the lack of companionship. Someone to kick back with at the end of the day, to snuggle with on the couch and talk about life—and love. He missed that, and on reflection, he missed it more than he actually missed Dave. Dave was a critic—he couldn't help it, Bill mused, it was just part of who he was. But boy, had it caused problems between them on occasion, both at home and at work.

Maybe that had been their major problem. Living and working together, never getting a break from each other's company. As Calder and Evans, Event Planners, they had led hectic lives, consulting with prospective clients, travelling to various cities, planning conventions, weddings ... the list had been endless, at times. And when things went wrong, invariably it was Bill's fault or so Dave told him. Bill had bitten his tongue and put up with it for the sake of their business and their relationship—until Terry had come along. And according to Dave, Terry did everything just about perfectly.

“I don't have to worry about things not getting done when Terry's in charge,” Dave had told Bill on way too many occasions.

For a while, Bill had tried to ignore what was going on between Dave and Terry, but the whispers and looks of sympathy cast his way by their employees had gradually worn him down. The night he'd confronted Dave about Terry had been the last night Bill had seen either one of them. Bill had just about lost it when Dave had confessed he and Terry were having an affair and had been for the past three months.

“Three months?” Bill had yelled, so angry that he knew he had to get as far away from Dave as he could, or he might just slug him. Although the person he really wanted to punch on the nose was Terry Blaine—that slime bucket. He'd come prancing into their lives with oh so many ideas for making their business even more profitable, and Dave had fallen for it—and Terry Blaine—hook, line and sinker. So Bill had stormed out of his home, foolishly perhaps, giving up everything in a fit of rage and letting Terry take over in bed and at work.

Still, there was no going back. He poured himself a stiff Scotch and lay down on the bed. At least, he had a job for the time being, and Agnes was so sweet. He enjoyed working with her. And Tom ... well, that was a pity. At any other time in his life, he'd have welcomed Tom's interest. Had Tom guessed that the guy he'd smiled at in the coffee bar and the replacement Santa were one and the same? Bill had a feeling Tom knew. And who was Tom anyway? Bill had been so busy trying to hide behind his disguise, he hadn't even asked Tom what position he held at Kimbel's.

Not that it mattered. There was no way he would encourage Tom's attention. After all, what did he have to offer Tom or any guy? He was practically down and out. Yes, he had a half interest in a house and a business, and a car of his own parked somewhere in the city. Well, the car was doubtful. That first night he'd gotten so drunk, but he'd at least had the sense to get out of the car and do his bar crawl on foot. Trouble was, he couldn't remember where he'd left it, and when he'd called the police a couple of days later they had been less than helpful, saying they'd get back to him if it showed up in one of their towed-car lots. So far, he'd heard nothing. As for the house and business, he'd more or less forfeited them both by telling Dave he could stick them up his ass—all the way.

“Damn,” he muttered, drinking down his Scotch. Festering over all this again was not helping his depression. Getting drunk probably wasn't a good idea, but it did help him sleep, and being tipsy seemed to make the idea of suicide less acceptable. Yep, another snifter, or maybe two, would certainly help ease the pain—and the heartache.

* * * *

Someone was knocking at his door.

“Go away,” Bill mumbled. He'd been dreaming—a strange, confused jumble of angry voices, shouting, accusations ... then Tom had been there, smiling, beckoning, holding his arms open wide ... but there was that knocking ... getting louder. Groaning, he opened one eye and looked at his watch.

“Oh, no! Oh, fuck!” It was nine o'clock, and he was already late for work. He sprang out of bed, then nearly keeled over from the pain that shot through his head.

“Oh, God...” He looked at the empty bottle by his bed. “I drank all of it? Oh, Jesus...”

The knocking grew even louder and more insistent. “All right, I'm coming!” He staggered over to the door and flung it open. “Agnes,” he gasped. “How d'you know where I lived?”

“Sally at the coffee bar told me you lived in this dump,” she said, holding out a cardboard cup. She brushed past him, sniffing the air. “Smells like a brewery in here. You better pull yourself together if you don't want to get fired after one day on the job.”

“Right,” Bill muttered, popping the top of the coffee cup and drinking half of its contents in one swallow. “I'll rinse off real fast. Make yourself at home.” He headed for the bathroom while Agnes looked around the room, shaking her head sadly.

Bill stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Oh boy,” he muttered peering at his bloodshot eyes. He grimaced as the hellish hangover he knew would take hours to go away, pressed between his ears. Every ho, ho, ho was going to feel like an axe through his skull. He dove into the shower, soaping up himself good then turned the water to as cold as he could stand it.

“Yikes!” he yelled as the cold jet hit his crotch.

“You all right in there?” Agnes called out.

“Just fine,” Bill gasped. “But no peeking right now. You'd be disappointed.”

He heard her chuckle, then she said, “Tom was in the coffee shop, looking for you.”

“He was?” Bill turned off the water and reached for a towel. “He doesn't even know what I look like without the beard.”

“Oh, yes, he does. He told me he remembered you were in the coffee shop, and you smiled at him.”

“I did? I mean, he said that? So he knows I'm Santa?”

“He said he'd know those eyes of yours anywhere.”

“Yeah, wait ‘til he gets a load of them today.” He wrapped the towel around his waist. “Don't look, Agnes. I need to get some underwear from the dresser.”

Agnes pretended to look the other way. “Why are you drinking so much, Bill?”

“Drowning my sorrows,” he replied, rummaging in the drawer. “Or I should say, trying to forget my stupidity.”

“Stupidity?”

“For letting my anger take over my common sense. For walking away from everything because of some conniving piece o’ shit tramp named Terry.” Bill dropped the towel and pulled on his briefs. “There, you can look now,” he said, slipping into his shirt. “Anyway, that's enough of that. I told you it was boring.”

“Doesn't sound boring to me.” Agnes handed him his pants. “Do you have a sweater, at least? It's colder that a witch's you-know-what out there.”

“Nope. I lost my credit cards, and I need all the money I have to pay for this dump.”

“I can lend you some.”

Bill bent to kiss her cheek. “That's sweet, but no thanks. I'll ask Jennings if I can open an account at the store—at least enough to get some kind of coat. Okay...” He pulled on his sports coat. “Let's hit the road. If they fire me from being Santa, maybe I could be a snowman!”

* * * *

Jennings was waiting for them as they hurried into the store. Making a grand show of staring at his watch, he said, “You are late—both of you!”

“I know, sir,” Bill said, doing his best to look contrite, though his freezing features were none too malleable. “It won't happen again, Mr. Jennings.”

“You're right, because at the end of this shift, you will be terminated.”

“Oh...” Bill really didn't know what to say. “I guess that means I can't open an account here then?”

“Mr. Calder!” Jennings puffed out his chest. “Surely you jest.”

“Aren't you being a little harsh?” Agnes piped up. “He's only a half hour late, and the grotto doesn't open until ten.”

Jennings looked down his nose at Agnes. “You are to be fired also, Miss ... Miss ... what did you say your name was again?”

“Present.”

“Right, Miss Present. Your tardiness cannot be excused either.”

“Oh, but she's late because of me,” Bill protested. “She came by my place to wake me up!”

“Nevertheless, I cannot excuse this...” Jennings broke off as his cell phone rang. “One moment. Hello? Oh, yes sir, good morning. Mmm? But they ... they are ... oh, I see. Very good sir.” He closed his cell and glared at Bill. “Kindly get ready and be in the grotto on time, if you don't mind. And uh ... you can forget what I said about being fired. We'll keep you both on for the season.”

“Wow, thanks!” Bill grinned at him, wondering who had just saved his ass from being fired. “Come on, Agnes. Let's do it!”

* * * *

The morning went quickly for Bill and Agnes, with no major headaches—except the one Bill had woken up with. Agnes felt bad for Bill. She could fix his headache with a wave of her hand, but she felt it might just do him good to suffer a little. She didn't want him making a habit of getting drunk. People sometimes do silly things when they get drunk...

At the lunch break, as they sat together, she enjoying a ham sandwich, Bill toying listlessly with his and looking decidedly green around the gills, she couldn't stand it any longer. She waved her hand in front of his face as if she was trying to get his attention.

“What?”

“How's the head?” she asked.

“Just the same ... wait a minute. Wow!” He beamed at her. “It's gone, Agnes. Completely gone. It's a miracle!”

Almost, Agnes thought. “Your eyes look better too,” she said. “Now, do me a favour, Bill. No heavy drinking tonight—or any night for that matter. It's not good for you.”

“It helps me forget.”

“But it doesn't fix anything. In the morning, the memories are still there, along with a bitch of a headache.” She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “Things will get better, hon. Trust me.”

Bill smiled at her earnest expression. “You are the sweetest lady I know, Agnes. Thanks for being there for me.”

“And you'll take it easy on the booze?”

“I'll try.”

“Try hard ... for me.”

Bill nodded, his eyes flicking to the cafeteria entrance as a crowd of young executive types piled in. He noticed there was no sign of Tom among them, and he felt a pang of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. Stupid, he told himself. Don't even go there!

“So, this creep Terry you mentioned earlier,” Agnes said, getting his attention again. “Are you just going to let him get away with what he did?”

Bill stared at her then blinked. “I hadn't really thought about it, Agnes. He walked in—I walked out. I burned my bridges as they say. After what I called the pair of them, I don't think I could ever look either one in the eye again. I was kinda out of control. I still get embarrassed when I think about it.”

“You felt betrayed.”

“Yes, but I should've been cooler about it. Now look at me, Agnes. Broke, homeless and forced to go ‘ho, ho, ho’ a hundred and fifty times a day.”

“Probably more...” They smiled at one another, then broke into laughter.

“Come on, Santa's little helper,” Bill said, gathering their trays together. “Put your bells on and let's do it!”

* * * *

At closing time, after Bill had changed into his street clothes, he waited by the grotto for Agnes to appear, but as the minutes went by and there was so sign of her, he figured she must have gone on without him. He gave himself a shake as loneliness closed in around him.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered angrily. “You're a big boy now.”

“Hey, Bill ... wait up!”

He turned to see Tom walking quickly towards him. “Glad I caught you. I tried getting over here earlier, but it's been one busy day.” He touched Bill's arm. “Like to go for a beer?”

Bill gazed at Tom for a long moment, drinking in the warm smile on his handsome face, a smile that went all the way into his beautiful brown eyes. Oh, it would be so easy to fall for this guy, he thought.

“Bill?” Tom looked at him with a quizzical expression.

“Oh ... sorry.” Bill laughed self-consciously. “Uh, actually I hit the sauce a little too hard last night, so I really should stay on the wagon tonight. But thanks—maybe another time?”

Tom's smile didn't falter. “How about a coffee then?”

“A coffee? Oh, well ... okay.” He returned Tom's smile. “Sounds good.”

“Fantastic. So, grab your coat, and let's go.”

“Uh ... this is my coat,” he said, fingering the thin material of his sports coat.

Tom gaped at him. “That's your coat? But it's freezing out there, guy.”

“I know, and I don't want you to think I'm some kind of vagrant or something. I do have a coat—it's just that I can't get to it right now, and I lost my car and my credit cards, and—Oh, shit!” Bill glared at Tom. “Why in hell am I telling you all this? I'm sick and tired of thinking about it, never mind talking about it!”

“Hey, take it easy, Bill.” Tom put a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Tell you what, let's go to the men's department and get you a coat.”

“Now? But the store's closed, and—”

Tom took his arm and steered him over to the men's department. “Just pick out a coat, and we'll deal with it tomorrow when the store opens.”

“But isn't that kinda like stealing?”

Tom chuckled. “Hardly. I know the owner quite well. I'll okay it with accounts in the morning.”

“You sure?”

“I'm sure.” They stopped in front of a rack of leather overcoats. “How ‘bout one of these?”

Bill fingered the leather. “Like butta,” he quipped. Then he saw the price tag. “Whoa, forget it.”

“Wait, you get an employee discount,” Tom said, taking the coat off the rack. “And I happen to know these coats are all going on sale for Christmas. Plus, you can get a thirty day waiver, and by that time, you should have your credit cards reinstated.”

Bill smiled. “You've covered all the bases, haven't you? You're quite a salesman.”

“Just try it on,” Tom said quietly. “The sales not complete until the customer is totally satisfied.” He held up the coat, and Bill slipped his arms into the quilted, silk-lined sleeves. “There...” Tom's breath was warm on Bill's cheek as he leaned in to help him into the coat. “Feel good?”

“Oh, yeah...” Bill murmured, but Tom's nearness was even better. “Feels really good.”

“Okay.” Tom moved in front of Bill, buttoning the coat for him, their eyes locked on one another. Tom ran his hands up over the coat's lapels. His fingers brushed Bill's cheek then he leaned in closer. Bill held his breath as his heart pounded in his chest.

“Oh, Mr. Davenport, sir. Lights are going out!” They turned to see one of the security guards standing a few feet away.

“Right, John,” Tom said. “We're just about done here.” He winked at Bill as he removed the price tags from the coat. “Coffee time.”

* * * *

The snow had stopped, and the wind had dropped to a chilly breeze as they made their way along Third Avenue.

Tom put his hand on Bill's shoulder. “There's a really nice little bistro on the corner about two blocks from here. They do great coffee and desserts. How's that sound?”

“Excellent,” Bill murmured, turning his head to smile at Tom.

“How's the coat?”

“Wonderful. Thanks so much for helping me out like that.” Bill's mind was a confusion of mixed thoughts and sensations. He really liked having Tom's hand on his shoulder, and he really liked being with him. He sensed something innately solid and dependable in Tom's character, which was crazy because they hadn't known each other any length of time at all. It had to be the fact that Bill's self-esteem was at an all-time low, and he was only too eager to respond to any kind of comfort and kindness shown him. Completely the wrong reason to get close to the guy—the dreaded rebound syndrome which would be totally unfair to Tom. Well, coffee and dessert was as far as it needed to go.

“Here it is,” Tom said, guiding Bill towards the door of a cosy-looking, little restaurant. He pushed the door open and held it for Bill to brush past him. They took a table near the window. “The coffee cake is to die for,” Tom said, as the waitress approached their table.

“Then, that's what I'll have, and an espresso, please.” Bill looked with admiration at Tom's upturned profile as he ordered from the waitress. “So, what d'you actually do at Kimbel's?” he asked after the waitress had taken their order.

“Oh, a little of this, and a little of that,” Tom replied, chuckling. “Mostly up in admin.”

“That's your job title? This and that?”

“No, it's something fancier.” Tom cleared his throat. “But enough about me. You look like something's really troubling you. You wanna share some of the load?”

“Oh, God no!” Bill said too sharply, causing Tom's eyes to widen slightly with surprise. “Sorry...” Bill apologised quickly. “Didn't mean to snap like that. It's just that it's all too pathetic really, and I'd be embarrassed to talk about it and have you consider me the biggest loser in the land.”

Tom laid his hand on top of Bill's. “Come on, guy. Do I come across as judgmental? We all make mistakes in our lives.”

Bill sighed, feeling even more conflicted. He liked Tom—under better circumstances he'd admit to more than liking him. But Tom was some big cheese at Kimbel's, and what was he? Some down at the heel, down on his luck loser with few prospects and a giant case of self-pity! As he gazed into the warmth of Tom's eyes, it took all of his self-control not to bawl like a baby and spew out all the misery of the past month.

“Bill...” Tom's eyes had lost all their humour, and he now gazed at him with deep compassion. “Tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help somehow.” He pulled his hand back as the waitress delivered their coffee and cake. He waited until she'd gone, then said, “I mean it, Bill. Whatever it is, it'll feel better if you get some of it off your chest.”

Bill stared down at the slice of coffee cake on the plate in front of him. “Looks delicious,” he said, picking up his fork.

Tom sighed. “Okay, I got the hint, loud and clear. None of my business, right?”

As much as he didn't really want to, Bill nodded, and Tom, his eyes showing the hurt of having his offer of friendship rebuffed, picked up his coffee cup and did not pursue the subject any further.

“So,” he said after many minutes of awkward silence. “What are your plans for Christmas?”

“I don't know,” Bill mumbled.

“Sorry, didn't hear you.”

Bill glared across the table at him. “I said, I don't know!” he snapped.

Tom stared back at him, shocked, then calmly put down his cup and stood up. “Bill, I'm really sorry for your troubles,” he said, quietly. “And I'm sorry you see my trying to help as some kind of interference, but you won't have to worry about that again. Goodnight.” With that, he picked up the tab the waitress had left on the table and walked away.

Bill, feeling like the biggest schmuck in the world, watched him pay the waitress, then leave the restaurant without a backward glance.

“Oh, God,” Bill moaned, burying his face in his hands. What had he been thinking? To more or less slap that sweet guy in the face for trying to be his friend and showing he cared.

"You can't let him leave like that.”

The voice he heard so clearly startled him, and he look up, expecting to see Agnes standing at his table. It had been her voice he'd heard. Was he finally going nuts? But at any rate, she was right, wherever she was. He jumped to his feet and tore out of the restaurant. The snow had started up again as he looked wildly around him, trying to see in which direction Tom had gone. Through the driving snow, he could just make out a tall figure, shoulders hunched against the cold, slowly walking away from him.

“Tom!” he yelled, breaking into a fast run. “Tom, wait!” He saw Tom hesitate then stop and turn, waiting for him. “Tom!” Bill skidded to a halt on the slippery sidewalk. “Jesus, Tom, I am so sorry,” he panted. “I was behaving like an idiot back there—an ungrateful idiot. Please forgive me ... please.”

For a long moment, Tom stared at Bill, then he stepped forward, cupped Bill's cold face in his hands and kissed his lips, gently at first, then as he felt Bill's lips warm under his, with a fervour that had both men gasping into each other's mouths.

“Tom,” Bill mumbled against Tom's lips. “What are we doing?”

“It's called kissing, Bill.”

“I know, but in the middle of the street? We might get arrested.”

Tom drew back a little so he could look into Bill's eyes. “Was that an invitation?”

“To my place?” Bill balked at the idea of Tom seeing how he'd been living for the past month. “It's kinda crummy, Tom.”

Tom kissed him again. “You'll be there, won't you?”

“And how. Okay, just expect the worst—then it might not look so bad.”

Laughing, they set off, their arms around each other's waists.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Four

Bill hesitated outside his hotel room door. “Maybe if you just keep your eyes closed the entire time.”

“Just open the damned door,” Tom hissed. “I can't wait to kiss you again!”

“Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, then flicked on the light.

“What the heck's the matter with you?” Tom asked, walking in and looking ‘round the room. “This is really cute.”

Bill gasped as he took in all the changes in the room. What had happened? Who had done this? “I ... I don't understand,” he muttered, staring at the tastefully decorated space, the walls painted in muted tones of beige, the new comforter with a splash of gold, set off to great effect by the carpet's plush creaminess.

“Maybe they decided to renovate,” Tom suggested, walking over to the bed and sitting down. He patted the comforter. “Come sit. You look dumbfounded.”

“I am. They never said anything about redecorating. Oh, boy ... I bet that means the rent is going up.”

“Come here!” Tom laughed, standing and throwing off his bomber jacket. “Let's get you out of that coat. I have a need to get closer to you without all those layers between us.”

Still feeling slightly stunned by his room's transformation, Bill slowly walked to where Tom stood, a seductive smile on his handsome face. He let Tom unbutton his coat, slip it off his shoulders then tackle the thin sports coat underneath.

“I can't believe you thought you could get through a New York winter wearing just this,” Tom murmured as he threw the jacket onto a nearby chair. “You have to be one tough guy.”

“Not really. Dumb maybe...”

“Cut that out.” Tom brushed Bill's lips with his. “I don't make love to dumb guys.”

Bill gasped his pleasure as Tom's hands slid inside his shirt, caressing the sides of his torso. “M ... make love to me?”

“Yes, Bill. That's what I'm going to do. Now, how d'you want it? Standing up or lying down?”

Bill stared into the laughter behind Tom's eyes, and chuckled. “Are you sure you want to make love to a knucklehead like me?”

Tom kissed him. “Very sure, but only if you'll promise to stop putting yourself down.”

“I promise,” Bill whispered, losing himself in Tom's kiss and the taste and scent of his maleness. An incredible feeling of euphoria stole over Bill as that kiss went on and on. A soft warm moistness enveloped him as Tom's tongue slipped between his parted lips, caressing the inside of his mouth and sending little jolts of excitement through his entire body. A long, low moan escaped him as he gave in to his desire. With shaking fingers he unbuttoned Tom's shirt and pulled it free of his pants. The exquisite feel of Tom's smooth skin under his hands combined with the heat Tom's lips created made Bill's head reel from an overload of sensation. He hadn't realised until that moment just how much he'd hungered for this—for the elation, the exhilaration that another man's kiss could bring him. And the fact that it was Tom who kissed him, Tom who held him in his arms, caressing him and bringing him these incredible sensations—surely he was dreaming all of this? But it couldn't be a dream for Tom was solid muscle and warm skin under Bill's hands, his lips were soft, his breath sweet on Bill's mouth, and all of this Bill wanted to capture and keep, to have time stand still and this rapture to never end.

Their clothes thrown aside, Tom gently lowered Bill onto the bed, his eyes fastened on Bill's, and Bill could almost literally drown in those warm dark brown pools glimmering with shards of gold.

“Such beautiful eyes,” he murmured, his fingers tangling in Tom's dark curls.

“All the better to see you with,” Tom whispered, then gave a wolf-like growl as he lowered his head and sucked on Bill's bud-like nipples. Bill writhed under him revelling in the sensation of Tom's lips sliding down his torso, lingering over his navel, his tongue following the treasure trail of dark blond hair that led to Bill's throbbing erection. Tom's warm mouth on the head of his cock had Bill almost over the edge. Oh God, he thought wildly, maybe he should have jerked off more in the past month. He was so close to coming.

Tom, as though intuiting Bill's dilemma, pulled back a little from his prize, gripping it gently at the base and blowing a cooling breath over the slit where a glistening drop of pre-cum oozed. Tom scooped it up on the tip of his tongue then raised his head to smile at Bill.

“Yum,” he said, his eyes filled with a lascivious gleam.

Bill reached for him, pulling him up and into his arms, bringing the heat of their bodies together, loving the sensation of Tom's hard as a rock erection sliding against his own. Their mouths met in another scorching kiss that had both men moaning as their tongues meshed and tussled in each other's mouths. Bill rolled Tom over onto his back and couldn't help but stare with admiration and considerable lust at the glorious sight of Tom's long, smoothly muscled body that still retained the faint glow of a summer tan.

Wow, he thought. Just wow—and for tonight at least, he's all mine.

He bent to nuzzle Tom's armpit, smiling as Tom groaned at the sensation. He explored Tom's chest with his lips then traced kisses over his hard torso. Tom's impressive erection nudged at his cheek, and he grasped it at the base, bringing the glistening head to his lips and licking all around it to savour the salty juice leaking from the slit. The long drawn out sigh of pleasure from Tom's lips, the gentle caress from his fingers across Bill's face urged Bill on. His lips slid down the hard length of Tom's cock, his throat muscles relaxing to take it all in. He marvelled at the feel of the hot, satin-smooth flesh that seemed to fit so well inside his mouth and throat. As he sucked, his movements slow and deliberate, he cupped Tom's balls in his free hand, massaging them gently, feeling them tighten in the palm of his hand. He heard Tom moan, a long, low sound of pure ecstasy.

Bill released Tom and sat astride his thighs, pushing his cock into the cleft between his buttocks. Tom gazed up at him, a dreamy smile playing on his lips.

“Wanna fuck me?” Bill whispered.

“Yes...” Tom reached up to play with Bill's nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger. “You have protection?”

“In my toilet bag, in the bathroom. I hate to leave you.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

Bill leaped off the bed and ran into the bathroom to rummage through his toilet bag, hoping he wasn't spoiling the moment by not being more prepared. He shuddered as he felt strong arms enfold him from behind.

“I missed you.” Tom pressed his lips to Bill's ear. Bill leaned back against the other man's solid frame, grinding his rump into Tom's crotch, feeling the hardness of Tom's erection between his butt cheeks.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling a condom packet from his toilet bag. He gasped and felt Tom's body buck against him as he laughed. “Oh, my god!” In his hand he held one end of a string of condom packets, at least six of them.

“Whoa, Bill...” Tom hugged him, still laughing. “What? Were you saving them for a rainy day?”

Bill turned in Tom's embrace. “And guess what?” He held up the condoms in one hand, a tube of lube in the other, and kissed the tip of Tom's nose. “That rainy day is here.”

Grinning, Tom lifted Bill into his arms, and Bill wrapped his legs around Tom's waist letting himself be carried back into the bedroom. They fell onto the bed, Tom lying over Bill, their mouths totally involved in a long and hungry kiss. Tom removed the lube from Bill's hand, carefully smearing some onto his fingers, then without breaking off their kiss, reached between Bill's thighs and found his tightly puckered opening. The ice cold lube made Bill shiver, but as Tom's fingers slipped inside him, he bore down, drawing them in deeper.

“Oh, Tom ... feels so good, so good...”

“Yes, baby, it does,” Tom murmured, his long fingers moving inside Bill, preparing him for the big event. He pulled out, then took the condom Bill handed him, rolling it over his prodigious erection.

“Go slow,” Bill said, eyeing Tom's cock. A shiver of anticipation ran through him as he felt Tom's hardness slip between his thighs and probe at his lubed opening. He raised his pelvis and wound his legs around Tom's narrow hips, his hands holding onto Tom's shoulders. As Tom pressed forward, Bill groaned involuntarily, his sphincter muscles tightening in protest at Tom's invasion. Tom paused, then pushed a little harder then paused again.

“Fuck it,” Bill muttered, thrusting upward. Tom's cock went all the way in, setting Bill's entrails on fire. “Oh, God...” He bit down on his lip as he tried to lessen the pain inside him. Tom's arms enfolded him, holding him in a tight embrace, while he crooned in his ear. Bill relaxed as the pain receded and was replaced with a kind of intense feeling of completeness. He could feel every inch of Tom inside him, filling him, bringing him sensations he had never before felt.

“Sorry I hurt you,” Tom whispered, kissing Bill's ear.

“It doesn't hurt now ... feels good.” It did feel good, and as Tom lowered him onto his back and lay over him, his hips moving to a slow and sensual rhythm, it felt even better, the long smooth strokes gliding over his prostrate and bringing sweet fulfilment. He reached up to bring Tom's face to his, his lips to his own, to feel again the unique euphoria that only this man's kiss could bring him. Tom's breathing, along with the movement of his hips quickened, and Bill moved with him, matching his thrusts, clinging to him as he neared orgasm. Tom groaned aloud as his body shuddered and spasmed and his seed erupted into the condom buried deep inside Bill. As he came, he grasped Bill's aching erection and, with only a few tugs on the hard shaft, brought him over the edge into a mind-blowing climax that had him biting down on Tom's shoulder to muffle his cries of delirious joy.

For a long time after, they lay entwined in each other's arms, content to not move from the tender comfort of their embrace. Bill thought he might have died and gone to heaven. Never in his life had he felt this way—not with Dave, not with any man. He knew he had found someone very special in Tom, and he could only pray that Tom felt the same way about him.

* * * *

Tom propped himself up on one elbow and ran his forefinger over Bill's lips. “Now are you going to tell me what's bothering you?” he asked gently.

Bill sighed and grimaced. “It's boring and whiny,” he said. “And I don't want to ruin a perfect evening by having you listen to my tale of woe.” He sucked Tom's finger into his mouth. “Naw wen a ca ha you may luh tomay agay.”

Tom laughed and pulled his finger from Bill's mouth. “What?”

“I said, not when I can have you make love to me again.”

Tom grinned and kissed him gently. “That's a given, but I know you'd feel better if you just get at least some of it off your chest.”

“Okay.” Bill took a deep breath and intoned, “Many years ago, in a dark and faraway land where the people thrived on lies and deceit, a naïve young man—Ow!” He jumped as Tom tweaked his left nipple.

“Be serious.” Tom lowered his head and kissed the nipple he'd just tweaked. “Or no more of this.”

“Well, the part about the naïve young man is true enough,” Bill said ruefully. “Naïve or totally stupid, I'm not sure which.”

“You are not stupid, Bill.” Tom tapped him lightly on the chin. “And didn't you promise me not to put yourself down?”

“Sorry. I'd just come out of college after taking a business administration course, and had the idea of starting my own event planning business. My parents had left me some money—”

“Wait,” Tom murmured. “Your parents...?”

“I lost them both when I was in my teens.”

“Jeez, Bill. I'm sorry. I had no idea.” Tom kissed his lips with a tenderness that made Bill's heart turn over.

“It was rough. I was a late baby. My mom and dad were in their late forties when I was born.” Bill was quiet for a little while, remembering, while Tom stroked his chest with a comforting hand.

“We have so much to learn about one another,” Tom said finally.

Bill smiled up at him. “That's the fun part. Anyway, where was I? You sure you want to hear the rest of this?”

“Absolutely.”

“I used the money from my folks to get started, and almost immediately, I started to do pretty well. Then I met Dave, my ex. He had his own event planning business, so we decided to merge, and for the next two years our personal and working lives were totally as one. We had an office, but we worked out of the house quite a bit, and a lot of times dinners and other social occasions were shared with clients. We ate, drank and slept our business, and we were doing very well—financially.”

“But your relationship?” Tom asked.

“Well, that's where the naïve part comes in.” Bill chuckled ruefully. “I thought we were okay, but then Dave brought this guy, Terry, into the business. We had decided we needed an assistant, but Dave hired Terry without even consulting me. I really didn't care in the beginning, didn't have a clue about what was going on between the two of them. I did notice that our sex life had dwindled to practically zero, but he kept saying it was because he was tired, then I found out why he was so damned tired!”

“Oh, boy.”

“Right. I found out that shithead Terry and Dave had met through the internet, had been fucking since day one, and Terry had convinced Dave that he should come and work for us. So I lost it, kind of. Called them every filthy name you can think of—and left. That was almost five weeks ago, and I haven't heard word one from him. A part of me is glad about that, ‘cause I wouldn't know what the hell to say to him if he did call, but at the same time, I sometimes think, for him it's like two years of living, working, breathing together never happened.”

“What a jerk,” Tom said, stroking Bill's chest. “Sounds like you're well rid of him.”

“That's what I think, too.” He was also thinking, that not once in the two years he and Dave had been together could he ever remember feeling as close to him as he now did with Tom. “Now, will you please make love to me again?”

Tom smiled and kissed him. “Try and stop me.”

Bill sighed. “Not tryin'. Have your way with me, please.”

* * * *

They lay snuggled together under the comforter on the new clean sheets that felt as though they belonged on a bed in a five star hotel rather than this pokey little place. Bill was still in wonderment of all that had happened. Should he pinch himself to see if this had all been a dream? No, better not. He felt as if he might just burst into tears if Tom suddenly disappeared along with all the other goodies in the room. He smiled as Tom's lips touched his ear then traced a warm, moist trail over his jaw line. Bill let his hand stray between Tom's legs and found him hard and ready for action again.

Oh, boy ... was he ever going to be tired in the morning. Tired but truly happy.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Five

Agnes watched Bill breeze into the coffee shop, a big smile on his face. Aha, she thought, so things went according to plan. She could tell by Bill's pleased as punch look that he'd gotten laid. She giggled as she imagined her sisters’ horrified expressions when she told them that titbit. They really had to get over their prudishness! How did they think she was going to get Bill to forget his woes and get on with his life, if not in the arms of another man? In her opinion, Tom was just what the doctor ordered, and Bill wasn't through being surprised—not by a long shot!

“Good morning, sunshine,” she called out, waving to Bill from their corner in the coffee shop.

“Hi, Agnes.” Bill beamed at her before ordering his espresso.

“No sign of Tom this morning,” she said as he sat opposite her.

“No, he had to run back to his apartment and—”

Agnes hooted as Bill clamped a hand over his mouth and stared at her with guilty eyes. “Oh, you are such a cutie,” she chuckled. “So you boys did the dirty deed?”

“Agnes.” Bill looked pained. “For God's sake don't let on to Tom that I let it out of the bag that easily. Jeez...” He shook his head. “I just can't believe I'm acting like some lovesick adolescent, like it never happened before.”

“Maybe it never happened that good before.”

Bill grinned at her. “It was ... terrific.”

“He's a doll, that Tom—and don't tell me you can't hold onto him, or I'll slap you up the side of your head!”

Bill's eyes took on a faraway look. “Suddenly, it makes things seem a whole lot brighter, you know? Like Christmas isn't going to be the total bust I thought earlier.”

“What's your Christmas wish now, Bill?” Agnes asked, taking his hand.

“I ... I don't want to wish for too much,” he said, his expression clouding a little. “I don't want to jinx this by putting too much hope into it.”

“Bill...” Agnes squeezed his hand. “Don't go getting pessimistic again, hon.”

“Right. I'm being stupid.” His blue eyes lightened as he smiled at her. “What I wish for Christmas is for Tom and me to find some really romantic hideaway, far from here, in the mountains maybe—a log cabin, a roaring fire—no phones, no TV, just the two of us...”

“And lots of lube and condoms!”

“Agnes.”

* * * *

With Christmas Eve fast approaching, Kimbel's was a zoo, and much to Bill's disappointment, there was no sign of Tom the entire day. Nor did he show up at closing time.

Agnes gave Bill an encouraging smile. “He must be swamped with work, Bill.”

“He never did say what he did here,” Bill said, slipping into his leather coat. Earlier, he had gone to Jennings and explained he was paying for the coat as soon as he got his credit cards reinstated, and Jennings had given him an urbane smile and nod.

“Mr. Davenport has already explained that to me, Mr. Calder. And may I say, it was an excellent choice of coat.” Whatever Tom did at Kimbels, Bill was sure he had Jennings totally under his thumb.

“So, wanna go for a quick bite somewhere?” Agnes was asking him.

“Uh ... oh sure, Agnes. That'd be good.” He took her arm as they walked to the exit. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you that the hotel redecorated my room. It looks incredible. I was so worried about taking Tom back there—you know it was grungy, to say the least.”

“That was lucky,” Agnes said brightly. “I mean, them doing the renovation just in time.”

“Tell me about it. I kept thinking he'd take one look and change his mind about ... uh, you know.”

Agnes chuckled. “Yes, I know, Bill. Now let's eat. I'm starved.”

* * * *

Later, after she and Bill had said their goodnights. and he had headed off home, Agnes stood in a doorway opposite Kimbel's and waited. She couldn't quite get rid of a nagging fear that something had gone wrong. Why hadn't Tom shown up all day or bothered to send word he couldn't meet Bill at closing? Something wasn't right, and she didn't like it one bit. This was no time for her planning to go awry. Not after the men had come this far. She had put so much emphasis on Bill's state of mind, that she hadn't even stopped to consider something might be wrong in Tom's life. But he seemed so happy go lucky, so grounded, that she had seen him as the perfect antidote to Bill's melancholy. Had she been wrong? Boy, she was really going to get it in the neck if she messed up this one!

She stiffened as she watched Tom exit Kimbel's main entrance, waving goodnight to the guard then walking briskly along the sidewalk—in the opposite direction from Bill's hotel.

“Well, pocks weed,” she muttered. “This won't do at all!” Making herself invisible like she'd done while watching Tom and Bill in the restaurant the night before, she glided over the street and followed Tom as he strode purposefully along, unaware that he was being trailed by an invisible spirit. He stopped at the corner and hailed a cab. Agnes slipped into the backseat alongside him. She looked up into his eyes she remembered as being warm and kind, but now they had a distant and sad cast to them.

What the heck is going on? she wondered, wishing she had Esmeralda's gift of seeing into the past. Then, at least, she'd know what was troubling Tom. They pulled up outside Manhattan's Central Hospital, and Tom climbed out, paid the driver and hurried off towards the brightly lit entrance, Agnes hot on his heels.

Hospital, huh? Was he sick, or was it someone close to him? He sure doesn't look sick, she mused, but then sometimes you really couldn't tell. Her heart sank at the possibility that Tom was ill. She'd be powerless to help—that much interfering she could not do. She scurried after Tom as once again he strode towards the elevators. She just managed to squeeze in beside him as the doors closed. Her heart went out to him as he sighed and leaned his head against the elevator wall, looking thoroughly despondent. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but of course, that might just give him a heart attack, so she'd better not. She followed him as he got off the elevator and went to the nurse's duty desk. The nurse in attendance looked up and smiled at Tom.

“Hi, Mr. Davenport.”

“Hi, Ruby. How is she tonight?”

“Not so good, I'm afraid. She's been asking for you. They're just changing her IVs. If you'd take a seat, I'll call you when she's all set.”

“Thanks.” Tom sat, picked up a magazine and flicked through the pages, without really seeing them.

Agnes couldn't stand it any longer. She materialised beside him. “Hi, Tom.”

He looked up, startled, then smiled wanly. “Agnes. What're you doing here?”

“Oh, visiting a sick cousin,” she lied. “I saw you get off the elevator. Why are you here?”

“My mom. She had a bypass operation last week. She's been doing really good until this morning.” He wiped at his eyes. “They called me, and I couldn't get away what with all the madness at the store. I know she understands, but I still felt like a shit for not being here.” He looked at Agnes sadly. “It's been rough on her since Dad died two years ago. She took over the reins at Kimbel's, and of course, I've been helping as much as possible. Since her heart's been giving her trouble, I've had to take on the whole shebang.”

Agnes gaped at him. “You mean you own Kimbel's?”

“Well, actually Mom does...”

“But your name isn't Kimbel!” Agnes said in almost accusatory tone.

“No, it was my great-grandfather's name on my mother's side.”

“Oh.” Agnes let that one sink in. “Anyway, Bill was really worried when you didn't come by today.”

“Yeah. Well, he's got enough to worry about without me adding to the pressure.”

“Don't you think you should let him be the judge of that? I mean, after what you guys did ... I mean, after what happened...” Agnes stuttered to a stop aware she might have said too much—and from the look on Tom's face, she had.

“He told you?” he gasped, his face reddening.

“He didn't have to. When I saw him this morning, all smiley-faced, I knew something wonderful had happened.”

“Something wonderful...” Tom gazed at Agnes as if stuck for more words.

“Oh, Mr. Davenport,” the nurse called out. “You can go in now.”

He stood. “Right, thanks Ruby.” He looked down at Agnes's upturned face. “Okay, Agnes, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“And Bill...”

“And Bill.” He smiled then bent to kiss her cheek. “You're a good friend to him. He needs that.”

Agnes tapped him on the tip of his nose with her forefinger. “He needs more than that, Tom. He needs you.”

* * * *

When Bill had returned to his hotel room, he'd taken the longest shower he could remember having. Maybe, he'd thought it would help wash away the gloom that had settled on him—it didn't. After slipping on a tee and a pair of lounge pants, he'd exhausted every channel on the television and not come up with anything worth watching. Reruns of old Christmas movies were bound to put him in a worse mood. He'd been festering all night about why Tom hadn't bothered to even stop and say hello the whole day. Then not to show up after he'd said he would at closing. Had last night meant so little to him?

But Bill found that hard to believe—it had been so wonderful.

“Shit,” he muttered. He needed a drink, and there wasn't a drop in the room. Whoever had cleaned and redecorated had removed every vestige of alcohol. He supposed he should complain to the management, but that might appear petty after what they'd done here.

His cell phone jangling made him jump. “Who the hell ... Hello?”

“Mr. Calder?”

'That's me.”

“Sergeant Maloney here, Second Precinct, NYPD. We've located your car, Mr. Calder.”

“You have? That's great,” Bill said, sitting up on the bed.

“Well, not exactly great, sir. I'm afraid the car has been stripped—wheels, seats, radio and CD player, of course—and they urinated over the interior.”

“Oh...” Well, the perfectly lousy end to a perfectly lousy day. “Thanks for calling, anyway. I don't think I'll bother claiming it. Bye.”

Bill didn't know whether to laugh or cry. First Tom now his car. Suddenly it looked like Christmas was going to be just as god-awful as he'd originally thought it was going to be.

“Shit,” he repeated, staring up at the ceiling. He had to get out of this town. If he was going to wallow in self-pity, he could do it better at home in Boston. He reached for his wallet and counted out the money he had left. Two hundred and ten dollars. Was that enough for a plane ticket to Boston? Wait, the bus would be cheaper. He'd have to return the leather coat. He sure as hell couldn't afford that now. That meant he'd have to go back to the store in the morning—and no doubt face Agnes's wrath when he told her what he was going to do. Why did life have to be so darned difficult?

The knock at his door startled him. At this hour, who? Hopefully, not management wanting payment for the décor change. He refrained from yelling, “Who is it?", although in New York it wasn't a bad idea. He opened the door a smidge, keeping the chain on, and peeked out. His breath caught in his chest when he saw Tom's beautiful face looking back at him. He looked so sad.

Quickly, Bill undid the chain and opened the door wide. “Tom, come in. What's wrong?”

Tom stepped in, kicked shut the door behind him and took Bill into his arms, burying his face in the hollow of his neck.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

“For what?”

“For not talking to you today. For not coming to get you at closing like I said I would. My mother...”

“What about your mother?” Bill pulled back from Tom's embrace and stared into his glistening eyes. “She's not...?”

“No.” Tom sighed. “You have a drink here?”

“'Fraid not. I can make some coffee.”

“Please.” Tom took off his coat and flung it onto the chair. “I owe you an explanation and an apology for not letting you know what was going on.”

“You don't, really...” Bill busied himself with the coffeemaker then turned it on. ‘"But if you want to tell me what's troubling you, I'm listening.” He grinned at Tom. “After what you listened to last night, I think I owe you.”

“Well...” Tom sat on the edge of the bed. “My mom's in the hospital recuperating from a bypass operation she had last week. She had a bad day, and I couldn't get away from the store because of the madness there. Anyway, it put me in a foul mood, and truthfully, I didn't want to burden you with it. You have enough on your plate without some guy you hardly know dumping on you.”

“Why not? I dumped on you, remember?” Bill sat next to Tom on the bed. “So, how is your mother?”

“Better. When I left the hospital she was sleeping comfortably. She'll be okay—just needs to rest. I saw Agnes at the hospital and—”

“Agnes?” Bill interrupted. “What was she doing there?”

“Visiting her sick cousin, she said. Anyway—”

“Sick cousin?” Bill interrupted again. “She never mentioned she had a sick cousin.”

“Anyway ... Are you going to let me finish or what?” Tom asked, his dark eyes flashing.

“Sorry.”

“You told her we made love last night.”

“Uh ... I did? No, I'm sure I didn't—tell her, that is.”

“Well...” Tom smiled and touched Bill's cheek with his fingertips. “She said you didn't have to. You were all smiley-faced, she said.”

“Yeah, I was,” Bill murmured. “That's what you did to me.”

“I was smiling, too, Bill—'til I got to work, and the shit hit the fan. Man, I hate this time of year.” He laid his head on Bill's shoulder. “Forgive me?”

“You know I do.” He kissed Tom's forehead, then trailed his lips down Tom's nose to his lips. Their kiss was long and sweet and kindled a need in both men that had them moaning into one another's mouths, their hands tugging at their clothes. In a moment, a jumble of shirts and pants were strewn around them, and they had fallen back onto the bed, their arms and legs intertwined, their mouths locked in a rapturous kiss. The feelings of sadness and apprehension that had dogged both men that day vanished in the joy they now brought one another.

“Oh God, Tom,” Bill whispered, “I'm so glad you came by.”

Me too,” Tom panted, laying kiss after kiss on Bill's face, lips, and neck. Then sliding down to Bill's chest, he laved both nipples with his lips and tongue before nibbling gently at them and causing Bill's body to buck with pleasure under him. “Jeez, but I love every part of you ... can't get enough...” He kissed his way down to Bill's cock, taking the head between his lips, then sliding down the length with one long gliding movement that had Bill thrashing about in ecstasy beneath him. Tom's teeth closed around the base of Bill's erection, nibbling gently at the hard flesh, then as he backed up, his tongue swirled around the rigid length all the way to the head. He released Bill's cock then licked it from base to tip, in long, sweet strokes that had Bill writhing under him, begging for more. Tom then licked his way up over Bill's torso to his lips. He reached for the nightstand drawer where Bill had stowed the lube and condoms.

“Your turn,” he murmured. With a wanton smile, he sat astride Bills thighs and ripped open the foil wrapper. Bill watched through lust filled eyes as Tom rolled the condom over Bill's cock, then slathered a copious amount of lube on it. Grasping Bill's now raging erection he guided it into the cleft between his buttocks, easing himself down on the throbbing shaft. Their eyes locked on one another, their bodies began to rock together, gently at first, then as passion and sensation took over, with a fervour that had them both moaning out loud.

Tom bore down, his sphincter muscles pulsing around Bill's cock. “Oh yeah, Bill ... feels wonderful. Fuck me hard.” And Bill thrust upward again and again, pounding Tom's ass for all he was worth. Tom leaned back, supporting himself with his hands flat on the mattress while he moved rhythmically up and down on the hard length of Bill's cock. Each downward thrust caused Bill's cock to glide over Tom's prostate bringing him tiny electric shocks of pleasure. His eyes rolled back in his head as he gave himself up to the incredible bliss that being joined to Bill was bringing him. He felt his cock being taken in Bill's warm hand, and at the same time felt his orgasm build in his balls. It was too good to resist, and as he thrust through Bill's fist he came with a joyful shout, splattering cum all over Bill's chest and face. Bill grasped Tom's hips, ramming into him hard and fast. His body stiffened between Tom's thighs as he climaxed, and Tom could feel the heat of his semen despite the latex that separated their flesh. Tom collapsed forward into the haven of Bill's arms, and for a long time, neither man could find the words to express just how wonderful all that had been. Later, after they'd cleaned up, and lay wrapped in each other's arms, the words they spoke were of hope and love, and the future.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Six

Agnes was pretty sure her work was done—and ahead of schedule. She allowed herself a little smirk as she imagined telling Esmeralda and Judith how well she'd done on this assignment. Maybe it would be enough to wipe that constant sneer off Judith's face and stop Esmeralda's carping.

Only two more shopping days to Christmas, and of course, the store was packed with frantic last minute shoppers. The line at Santa's grotto was reaching record lengths, but Bill's energy level never seemed to flag. Agnes had heard it said that he was the most popular Santa in all of New York's major stores. Quite a feat, considering his less than stellar start. She wished she could really take the credit for Bill's newfound happiness, but that particular award had to go to Tom. True, she had more than engineered the success of the boys’ first date, but it was Tom's warmth and caring nature that had really won over Bill—and the sex, of course—but she wasn't supposed to know about that.

She smiled as she caught sight of Tom rushing through the store on another Kimbel's customer service mission. That young man was all business when he had to be, yet he managed, as he now did, to pause for a few seconds and give Santa and his little helper a smile and a wave. She knew that made Bill's day and gave him the satisfaction of knowing that at closing, Tom was all his.

Yes, it was Christmas Eve tomorrow, and Agnes was free to depart knowing she'd done a really good job. She had one more surprise up her sleeve—one she was sure would thrill Bill to no end. Then the rough part. She'd have to tell Bill goodbye, and she wasn't quite sure how she'd do that. How would she just disappear from his life without an explanation? Agnes had to admit she'd never let herself get this close to a mortal before. In some strange way, she regarded Bill as more than just another assignment, he'd become like family to her.

“Lunchtime!” Her reverie was interrupted by Bill's happy announcement. “And just in time, ‘cause I'm starving.”

Agnes giggled. “Tom's burning up the calories, huh?”

“Agnes.” Bill pretended to look shocked, but he'd become used to the little lady's raunchiness over the time they'd known each other. He took her hand as they walked together towards the employee cafeteria. “You know, tomorrow's our last day working together.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I want you to promise you'll keep in touch with me and Tom. Go out for dinner with us, that kind of thing.”

“That would be nice,” Agnes said quietly, knowing it was impossible.

“Well, don't sound so enthusiastic,” Bill chuckled.

“Oh, sorry. It's just that you and Tom don't need a little old lady playing third wheel on your dinner dates.”

“Agnes...” Bill pushed open the cafeteria door for her. “You are much more than a little old lady to me. You're my friend, and quite honestly, I sometimes get the feeling that all that has happened in the past few days wouldn't have, if you hadn't been there for me.”

“Oh, silly boy. You'd have met Tom whether I was there or not.”

“Maybe ... anyway, you won't be a third wheel, ever.”

They gathered their lunches on trays then found a table to sit. Bill slipped off his beard in order to tackle his tuna sandwich. His blue eyes twinkled as he gazed at Agnes.

“You know, sometimes when I look at you in that getup, I can honestly believe you're some kind of spirit—you know, like out of a Christmas Carol or It's a Wonderful Life. You look the part, ‘specially with that hat and the bells.”

“I don't remember those characters wearing a stupid hat like this,” Agnes said. “They kinda glowed in the movies I saw.”

Bill smiled. “You have a kind of glow about you.”

“That's ‘cause you're in love, Bill. Everything takes on a rosy glow when you're in love.” She looked over Bill's shoulder and saw Tom walking towards them, a big smile on his face. “And here he comes now—your lover and the owner of Kimbel's.”

Bill turned and smiled at Tom then back at Agnes. “I thought you said he had the owner with him.”

“He is the owner, Bill. Hasn't he told you that yet?” Agnes looked at Bill with alarm as she saw his face grow pale. “What's wrong, hon?”

Bill didn't answer her, instead he looked up at Tom with angry eyes. “You own this store?” he asked, his voice flat and accusatory.

Tom stared at him, surprised at his tone. “Uh, yeah ... well, kind of ... my mom actually owns it, but I've been running things since she got sick, and—”

“So you're some kind of a millionaire or maybe even a billionaire?”

“Bill,” Agnes murmured. “Not here, sweetheart.”

Bill stood up suddenly, almost knocking his tray off the table. “I have to go back to work,” he snapped, grabbing his beard and striding off through the cafeteria.

Tom and Agnes exchanged puzzled glances, then Agnes said, “I thought you'd have told him by now.”

“It never came up,” Tom muttered. “But why that reaction? I don't get it.”

Agnes frowned. “Bill's a proud man. Proud of the fact he's always made his own way in life—never relied on anyone else's money. When he lost everything, once he got over the initial urge to just give up, he was determined to start over, by himself. You coming into the equation gave him another reason to succeed.”

“So, he sees my having money as some kind of threat?” Tom asked, slumping down onto the seat Bill had vacated.

“I'm afraid that might be it. Face it, Tom. It's hard to compete with millions.”

“But I don't want him to compete, Agnes. I want him to have a good life—with me. I just want him to be happy. Shit ... who knew he'd get mad just ‘cause I have money?”

* * * *

Agnes got back to the grotto a few minutes before they had to reopen. Bill was already there, his eyes avoiding hers as she smiled at him.

Agnes put her hands on her hips and got in his face. Bill was sitting so she could just about do it. “So he's rich,” she hissed, her nose two inches from his. “So what?”

“I'll tell you ‘so what', Agnes,” Bill replied, bridling. “All this time I've been letting him take care of things when we went out—dinner, drinks, my coat, the sweater he bought me the other day, because I knew that eventually I'd be able to repay him when I got my act together.”

“So what's changed?”

“Everything, Agnes. Now I feel he's been looking at me as if I were some charity case!”

“Oh, what piffle, Bill.” Agnes felt like giving him a good shake. “Tom loves you, you bonehead. Stop feeling so darned sorry for yourself, and start seeing what you've got. A great boyfriend who just wants you to be happy—a boyfriend who's super rich and super hung...”

Bill blinked. “Excuse me?”

“What?”

“What you said about him being super-hung. How would you know that?”

Agnes giggled. “I just said that to get your attention.” Her eyes widened. “You mean he is?”

“I'll never tell,” Bill said, a slow smile forming under his beard.

“Well, better put that smirk away, Santa. It's opening time.”

Bill stood and let out a ho, ho, ho. “Who's first in line to visit Santa today?” he boomed.

“I am.”

Bill looked down at the tiny girl with the beautiful violet eyes. “Rebecca,” he whispered, stooping to lift her into his arms. “You've come to see me again?”

“I brought my Daddy,” she said, hugging Bill. “I wanted to say thank you for making my wish come true.”

Through glistening eyes, Bill gazed at the young couple who stood hand in hand, smiling at him.

“She said she had to come and thank you personally,” the young man said. “Wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“Well,” Bill grinned at the couple. “I'm glad Santa's magic still works. Good luck to both of you and a Merry Christmas.” He kissed Rebecca's soft cheek and handed her over to her father. “Merry Christmas, Rebecca.”

“Merry Christmas, Santa.”

As the little girl left with her parents, Agnes nudged Bill. “Look,” she whispered.

Tom stood outside the grotto, his eyes riveted on Bill. Bill met his gaze then lifted his hand and gave him a little wave. Tom's face reflected his joy as he waved back.

Agnes blew out a long sigh of relief. Oh yeah, we're back on track...

* * * *

Bill received a message towards the end of the day that Mr. Davenport would like to see him in his office after he'd changed out of his Santa suit.

“He probably wants to know what you'd like for Christmas,” Agnes suggested.

“Shit,” Bill muttered. “And I, of course, don't have anything to give him.”

“Oh, yes you do,” Agnes said, winking lewdly.

“Agnes, be serious.”

“I am being serious,” she protested. “You're giving Tom what he really wants—you. He loves you and you love him—the greatest gifts of all, so they say. Don't knock it!”

* * * *

Bill hadn't been up to Tom's office before, so the massive, mahogany-walled space was a bit of a surprise when Tom ushered him in.

“Old fashioned, isn't it?” Tom remarked seeing Bill look around appraisingly.

“Wouldn't have thought it was your style.”

“It's not. Hasn't been changed since great grand-daddy's day. Mom keeps threatening to redecorate, but she's just never gotten around to it. Anyway...” He grabbed Bill and kissed him soundly on the lips. “I got a call from the hospital,” he said, holding Bill tight. “They're releasing my mom tomorrow—just in time for Christmas. Isn't that great?”

“That's wonderful, Tom.”

“So, you'll come and spend Christmas Day with us?”

“I can't bust in on your family like that,” Bill protested. “They don't know me...”

“It's only my mom and me,” Tom said, chuckling. “So you know half the family already. I put all our usual Christmas plans on hold ‘til I knew where she would be. I don't want her travelling to our home Upstate, so it would just be the three of us in my apartment—unless Agnes would like to join us. Is she still downstairs?”

“Dunno,” Bill said. “She manages to just vanish sometimes.”

“The soul of tact, that lady. Well, we can ask her tomorrow.”

“Tom...” Bill looked at the other man, his expression serious. “About what happened earlier—”

“It's okay, Bill.”

“No, it's not okay. I acted like a jerk—something I seem to do way too much around you, because I react before I think.” Bill cupped Tom's face between his hands and kissed him gently. “But I really need to say this.”

“Okay...”

“You're rich. I'm not.”

Tom shifted uncomfortably. “Bill, don't start that again.”

“I have to, Tom. I don't want you to think that I'm some kind of gold-digger, happy as a clam because the guy I love is as rich as Rockefeller. That's not me.”

Tom brightened. “Well I liked the bit where you said you love me. Can we stop there?”

Bill sighed and stepped back from their embrace. “Why can't anyone take me seriously? First Agnes, now you.”

“Sorry.” Tom gave him a cute smile. “I'm listening.”

“Okay ... since I've been here, I've noticed you don't have an events planning department.”

“You're right. Mom and I have talked about it from time to time.”

“So, I'm applying for the position.”

“You are?”

“Yes. That's what I do, Tom—and I'm damned good at it!” Bill paused, blushing a little. “Even if I say it, who shouldn't!” He cleared his throat then continued. “There's a lot of money to be made in the business, and—”

“Right!” Tom clapped his hands together. “I'm convinced. You've got the job.”

“But you haven't even listened to my credentials!”

“I've seen your credentials, and that's good enough for me.”

“Tom...”

“Okay, okay...” Tom sat on the edge of his desk, suddenly all business. “I'll stop being flippant. Here's what I propose. I rent you the space to set up your business. I'll float you a loan to get you started with advertising, office furniture, etcetera—and the rest is up to you. You'll pay me rent and a percentage of the profits. You say you're good at this, so I expect a handsome return on my investment. Now, how does that sound?”

“Very generous.”

“But acceptable?”

Bill pulled Tom into his arms. “Yes,” he murmured, his lips brushing Tom's. “Very acceptable.”

“Mmm...” Tom's eyes gleamed. “I think I'm going to enjoy the fringe benefits even more.”

“How ‘bout I give you an advance on those benefits right now?”

Tom put his hands on Bill's bottom and pulled him in close. “This deal keeps getting better and better,” he said, kissing Bill's lips. Bill moved Tom's tie to one side and unbuttoned his shirt slipping his hands inside, shivering from the delight the feel of Tom's warm, smooth skin gave him.

“You know...” Tom teased Bill's lower lip between his teeth. “I've always had a little fantasy about sex on top of this desk. It's big enough, don't you think?”

“Plenty big enough,” Bill agreed. “But what if someone comes in...”

“That's what locks are for. Okay, lover...” Tom swept the desk clean of papers and clutter then crossed over to the door and locked it with a resounding click. He pulled his tie free of his collar, and stripped off his shirt. “Drop ‘em, and assume the position.”

“What position?”

“Pants down, hands on the desk, ass in the air.”

“Oh...” Bill shucked off his shirt, unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop around his ankles. He felt himself grow harder as Tom's eyes swept over the bulge in his briefs.

Tom licked his lips. “Oh, yeah,” he murmured. Bill turned and leaned on the desk, sticking out his butt as ordered. Tom dropped to his knees behind him, and slowly pulled down Bill's briefs. “Sweet...” He kissed both cheeks, nibbling at the smooth skin covered in a fine down of blond hair. Gripping Bill's hips, Tom ran his tongue up and down the cleft between his butt cheeks, then probed forward, the tip of his tongue touching Bill's tight pucker. Bill's body shuddered from the sensation, and he groaned out his appreciation encouraging Tom to probe deeper. Tom pushed past Bill's resistance, his tongue swirling inside Bill's silky heat, the scent of his musk inflaming Tom's senses.

“Oh, Tom...” Bill wriggled his hips sensually against the thrust of Tom's tongue. “Tom ... feels so wonderful...” Tom inserted a finger alongside his tongue into Bill's hole, his saliva easing the way, stretching Bill in readiness. Standing, he licked his way up Bill's spine to the nape of his neck then slid across to his ear.

“Going to fuck you,” he whispered. Bill shivered with anticipation while Tom stripped them both of their pants, socks and shoes. He leaned back against Tom's warm chest as Tom's hands caressed him, stroking up and down the length of his torso before reaching round to grip his rock hard erection and pumping it with smooth strokes.

“Mmm...” Tom sighed in Bill's ear. “So beautiful, baby.” He bent to retrieve a condom from his pant's back pocket and rolled it over his own aching erection. “Up on the desk,” he said. “On all fours...” He climbed up behind Bill, and buried his face in the crack of Bill's butt. Bill groaned aloud as Tom's tongue bathed his opening with saliva.

“I'll go slow,” Tom panted, pushing the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle surrounding Bill's anus. He grasped Bill's hips pulling him slowly towards him while pressing forward, letting their bodies move together in unison until he was all the way in to the root.

“Oh, so good...” Bill stretched himself out on the polished mahogany desktop, revelling in the sensations of Tom's muscular body on top of him, and his cock driving in and out of his ass. He arched his hips upward, meeting Tom's downward thrusts and turned his head to meet his lover's insistent kisses.

“Need to see your face, baby,” Tom murmured, pulling out and easing Bill onto his back. “Need to see your eyes, your smile...” He lifted Bill's legs over his shoulders then pushed his way inside him again. As they rocked together, Bill wrapped his arms around Tom's neck and brought him in for a kiss that was gentle at first, but as Bill's lips parted and Tom's tongue swept inside, the kiss became more forceful, filling both men with a hungry need. They moved together at an ever-quickening rhythm, every deep pass over Bill's sweet spot from Tom's cock sending thrilling jolts through Bill's body. Their eyes locked on one another, they came together in gut-wrenching spasms, Bill's semen coating both their torsos with his creamy load and Tom's cock plunging deeper with his final thrust. Drained and shaken, they clung to one another, Tom's face buried in the warmth of Bill's neck.

For a long time, they lay in each other's arms, minds and bodies suffused by the afterglow of their love making.

“Couldn't we just stay like this forever?” Bill asked, finally. He kissed Tom's forehead tenderly. “Even though my ass is going numb from lying on this really hard desk.”

Tom chuckled and gently eased himself out of Bill. He shed the condom and tied it off, then held out his hand. “Come on, we can clean up in the bathroom, then I'm taking you out to dinner to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Your new position of course.” He slapped Bill's bottom playfully and steered him towards the bathroom. “Mind you, I might invent a few more for you in the shower.”

Bill grinned at him. “Now, that's something to celebrate!”

* * * *

Later, after they'd showered and dressed, Tom said, “So, I guess I can throw away this other proposal?” He picked up a business letter and showed it to Bill.

Bill frowned. “Another proposal? For an event planning department?”

“Yeah, it's from a company called ‘Evans and Blaine, Events Planned 4U'.” Tom waved the letter at Bill. “Sounds kinda tacky.”

“Evans and Blaine? Let me see that,” Bill growled. He looked at the letterhead and shook his head. ‘Those sons-of—” Then he laughed and handed the letter back to Tom. “My ex and his new partner.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “Oh well, in that case, I think a letter of rejection is in order—'Sorry, but I have just employed the services of William Calder, Event Planner Extraordinaire!’ Howzat?”

“I love you,” Bill said, taking Tom in his arms.

“And I love you,” Tom murmured. “Merry Christmas, Bill.”

“Merry Christmas,” Bill mumbled through their kiss.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Seven

Christmas Eve, and Kimbel's was a frantic scene of shoppers rushing madly from one department to the next, grim and determined expressions on their faces. For Bill and Agnes, the day was fairly quiet, most parents having already brought their children to visit Santa.

“Tom's going to invite you over to his apartment for Christmas dinner,” Bill told Agnes as they sat waiting for the next straggler to drag their kid into the grotto.

“Oh, that's sweet of him, but I already have plans,” Agnes said, ducking her head until it was almost buried in Santa's goodie bag.

“You do? Gee, that's too bad.”

“Yes, my sisters are expecting me. We always have Christmas dinner together and enjoy a good gossip.”

“What are you looking for in there?” Bill asked, and Agnes straightened up wiping her eyes. “You're crying, Agnes. What's wrong?”

“Oh, I always cry at this time of year,” she muttered, using the sleeve of her tunic to dab at her eyes. “There,” she sniffed. “All done. And I'm sorry I can't be with you and Tom tomorrow. But tell me about your meeting with him upstairs last night.”

Bill smiled. “Well, here's the censored version—he's renting me a space in the store so I can operate my own events planning business.”

“How wonderful!” Agnes clapped her hands with delight.

“Yeah, I can't believe that everything is just coming together so wonderfully for Tom and me.” He smiled at Agnes. “And you know, no matter what you say, I have the feeling you had a lot to do with all of this.”

Agnes took his hand in both her tiny ones. “Just my prayers, William. My Christmas wish for you to find happiness and the man you deserve—the love you deserve.”

Bill leaned forward to kiss her cheek. His eyes misted as he gazed at her. “I'm going to miss this,” he said. “You and me, working together, sharing our days. You will come and see Tom and me, won't you, now that you know where we'll both be?”

“I'll try, William. I really will try,” was all that Agnes could promise him. “Now,” she said, dispelling her air of sadness. “Give me the uncensored version!”

* * * *

As the day wound to a close, Agnes got ready to give Bill what he'd wished for. She knew Tom's mother was safely ensconced in his apartment, a nurse in attendance. Tomorrow, Christmas Day, Tom, his mother and Bill would have their first Christmas dinner together—the first of many more to come—but right now it was time for a little magic. Not so little actually, she thought with a rueful smile. Her sisters would most definitely not approve of her using her powers in this way, but what the heck—it was for Bill and Tom, and they deserved this special night together.

She waited until Bill had changed out of his Santa suit for the last time and Tom had joined them at the grotto.

“Well boys,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “It's been swell knowing you.”

“Agnes...” Bill put his arm around her shoulder. “You know you're welcome anytime you want to visit.”

“Right,” Tom said. “We're both going to be here every day. And I'd like you to meet my mom.” He grinned. “I've told her you're the best Santa's little helper we've ever had.”

“You are both just so cute together,” Agnes sighed. “And I have a little treat in store for you. Sort of a goodbye and Christmas present all in one.”

“Agnes, you shouldn't have,” Bill exclaimed. “We're both broke, and—”

“Well, no, you're not,” Tom said mildly. He produced two envelopes from his inside pocket. “Your Christmas bonuses. Everyone gets them from their department supervisors, but I told Jennings I'd deliver yours personally.”

“Gee, thanks.” Agnes beamed up at him. “First time, I've ever been paid for...” She broke off. “I mean, thanks a million.”

“Yeah, Tom ... thanks,” Bill said gruffly.

“You can thank me later,” Tom said, laughing.

“Okay, now about my treat...” Agnes took them both by the hand. “This is going to seem a wee bit bizarre at first, but you're going to love it. Now, just close your eyes, and don't open them ‘til I say so. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bill and Tom said together. They heard a car door slam then a subtle movement under them and the purr of an engine.

“What's happening, Agnes?” Bill asked.

“She's gone,” Tom said. “Open your eyes, Bill. You're not gonna believe this.”

Bill opened his eyes and gasped with shock. They were both sitting in the back of a limousine, and through the windows, he could see nothing but snow-covered hills.

“How ... how did we get in here?”

“Beats me.” Tom leaned forward and rapped on the glass between them and the driver. “Hello, where are you taking us?”

There was no reply, but the limo was slowing, and after it came to an abrupt stop, the door nearest Tom swung open. He looked at Bill then got out, Bill following immediately. They were standing on a snowy slope at the top of which was a log cabin, its windows cheerily lit and a wisp of smoke coming from the chimney.

“Be back tomorrow,” a voice called out, and the limo took off, leaving them gaping after it in amazement.

“Tom...” Bill took Tom's hand in his. “Is this a dream or something? I mean, how could we have gotten out of the city so quickly? And where the heck are we?”

Tom pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I don't know the answers to any of those questions, but I'm going to find out. Damn...” He glared at his cell. “No signal.”

“Well, maybe the folks in the cabin can tell us.” Bill started to pull him up the slope.

“Good idea,” Tom muttered, gripping Bill's hand tightly.

“Bizarre,” Bill said suddenly. “Agnes said we'd think it was bizarre.”

Tom laughed shortly. “Darned right, it's bizarre—and impossible.”

They arrived at the cabin, and Bill knocked on the door then stepped back a little. “You don't think some gnome or something's gonna spring out at us, do you?”

“Well, if it does, I'll tell him you're his Christmas present,” Tom said, grabbing Bill's arm and making him jump. They both started laughing uncontrollably. “Oh my God,” Tom chortled, wiping his eyes.

“Doesn't look like anyone's home.” He pushed at the door and it opened, revealing a room straight out of a storybook, lit by the warm glow from a fireplace burning brightly. In one corner stood a gaily-lit Christmas tree surrounded by festively wrapped boxes.

“Wow,” Bill murmured, stepping inside. “Just like I wished for.”

“You wished for this?”

“Yeah.... Agnes asked what I'd really like for Christmas, and I said you and me in a log cabin, a roaring fire, no phones, no TV...” He stopped and stared at Tom. “Oh, my God ... you don't think...?”

“I'm almost thirty years old,” Tom said. “I stopped believing in Santa and fairies and all that stuff at least a couple of years ago.”

“A couple of...” Bill started to laugh and pulled Tom into his arms. “God, I love you, Tom.” Their kiss was long and sweet. “And if somehow this is my Christmas wish come true ... wait a minute. Agnes told you didn't she? You did all this.”

“No, Bill. I can honestly say I did not. I'd love to take the credit—the cabin I could've maybe managed, but the two minute ride into the hills in a limo from Kimbel's door through downtown traffic—uh, no.”

Bill's eyes were drawn to the dining table. “Look, an ice bucket and champagne and two glasses, and...” He stopped as he stared at the little, green hat with a bell on each corner. “Agnes ... it was Agnes, Tom.”

“Wow.” A silence fell between them as the implications of all that surrounded them sank in. “Wow,” Tom said again, taking Bill's hand. “Agnes ... she really was Santa's little helper.”

“I told her there was a glow about her,” Bill murmured, picking up the little hat. “Remember, like in that movie about Scrooge, the spirits kinda glowed...”

Tom cleared his throat loudly. “Well, let's not waste any of her hard work.

Let's pop that champagne and lay by the fire and get naked and...”

Bill laughed as he spotted the box next to the champagne bucket.

“What?”

“She's thought of everything,” Bill chuckled, holding up the contents of the box. “Lube and condoms.”

They laughed together, their foreheads touching, their arms around each other. “Well, like I said,” Tom whispered, “let's not waste any of her hard work. There's a little fantasy I have...”

Bill grinned at him. “Another one?”

“Yeah. This one involves you lying naked by the fire and me licking champagne off your nipples, and then—”

“Stop,” Bill groaned. “I'm hard already.”

“That's my boy,” Tom cooed. “Now let's not waste any of that hard work!”

* * * *

A rapping at her cottage door woke Agnes with a start. She'd been enjoying what she considered a well-earned little nap in her rocking chair by the fire.

“Oh, pocks weed,” she mumbled. “They're here already.” She rose from her chair and sighed with resignation as she opened the door to let in her sisters.

“Merry Christmas, Agnes dear,” Esmeralda said as she and Judith swept in, bringing a flurry of snowflakes with them.

Judith sniffed the air through her long nose. “I don't smell turkey cooking.”

Agnes's hands flew to her face. “Oh, my ... I forgot to turn on the oven!”

“Really Agnes, dear.” Esmeralda shook her head in exasperation. “What have you been doing all day?”

“Taking a nap,” Agnes said, running to the oven and turning on the gas. “My parting gift took a bit more out of me than usual. Judith, you'll have to zap the turkey, push it along some if you don't mind.”

“As I've done every year when it's your turn to cook,” her sister complained.

“So, how'd it go in Washington?” Agnes asked.

“Not well. The poor woman is in denial about the last eight years, and Judith couldn't really come up with much of silver lining in the future for her. Oh well, we did our best.” Esmeralda went to sit by the fire. “And you, Agnes? How did you fare with the young man?”

Agnes did a little jump of joy. “Success, dear sisters. William found the love of his life, super rich—and super hung—”

“Agnes!” Her sisters gaped at her with horror.

“Well, I don't really know about the super hung part,” she giggled. “But from the look on William's face the first time he—”

“Agnes!”

“Okay, okay ... He's blissfully happy, a new man, a new job, and right about now...” She glanced at her watch. “He should be back in New York meeting his new mother-in-law. And...” She waved her bonus check at her sisters’ startled faces. “I got paid for having the time of my life.”

“Well...” Esmeralda's smile was a trifle pinched. “Congratulations, Agnes. Sounds like you've vindicated yourself this year. We could have done without the vulgarity, of course—”

“Oh, pocks weed,” Agnes muttered. “You two need to lighten up. If it wasn't against the rules, I'd like to have hung around just to see those beautiful boys go at it. I never could quite figure out who was top—”

“Agnes!”

The sound of Agnes's tinkling laughter filled the cottage and floated outside to where the gently falling snow was painting the cottage and the trees like a scene from Currier and Ives. Another Christmas Day—another year of promise ahead.

[Back to Table of Contents]

About the Author

J.P. Bowie was born in Scotland and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim's Company.

Emigrated to the States and worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. Currently living in Henderson, Nevada.

Email: jpbowie@cox.net

J.P. loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information, website and author biography at www.total-e-bound.com.

Also by J.P. Bowie

My Vampire and I

My Vampire Lover

The Set Up

Summer Bliss

Ride ‘Em Cowboy

Fabulous Brits: Under the Law

Duet in Love

Personal Trainers

Halloween Angel

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