Unwrap these Presents

by Astrid Ohletz

  She just smiled.

  My mouth dampened with the sweat between her breasts and the feathers tickled my cheeks. I glided down her middle, my lips hovering just above her skin, making her shiver. When I reached the top of her panties, I stopped. They matched the bra, and had a little white bow and a little bell in a very strategic place.

  “Do you wear Christmas underwear all season long?”

  She looked at me, with a flash of wickedness and shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

  Holy crap.

  The satin was smooth beneath my fingers, and I brought my index finger down to tinkle the bell. She squirmed and my already blazing desire was turned up even more. I lifted the bra over her breasts, which fit perfectly in my hands when I cupped them, and she moaned. I reached down to her hips to pull off her panties, but stopped. She’d gone to the trouble of putting on this sexy underwear, I felt bad taking them off. Then, as I explored, I realized that I didn’t have to because they were crotchless. Well, they had a crotch, but it was open in the center for easy access. I felt her wetness and dipped into it with my finger. She lifted her hips, inviting me in, but I wanted to feel her from the outside a while longer.

  The sounds of Christmas cheer got louder outside the bear cave as the afternoon throngs descended on Christmastown, and the heat of frenzied humans reached our huggable hideaway. I licked Leisha’s moist skin, from her throat to her shoulders, and she sucked in her breath. I pushed my thigh into her crotch, bumping it gently but firmly.

  Above the Christmas din came another sound. The jingling sound. It was faint at first, but the harder we rocked, the louder it became. It reminded me of a classic Christmas story: It started in low, then it started to grow.

  I looked down at Leisha’s bra, bunched up above her breasts, and knew that it wasn’t that, and it couldn’t be the underwear, as my thigh was still pressed into her. I stopped, remained still, and listened. But the jingling had stopped, too, so I continued kissing her.

  Again, the little jingle.

  I looked up sharply, intent on discovering the source of the sound. Holy shit, it was the bears. The bells on their little coats and hats were tinkling away. It sounded like we were riding in a sleigh that just happened to be pulled by a team of Care Bears. I knew no one would hear us—the real problem was the integrity of the structure.

  Leisha took my hand and pushed it downward, sending a clear message of “fuck me.” So I brought my hand back down to her crotch and continued stroking her.

  The walls began to wobble again, and I was gripped with fear that the whole thing would come crashing down.

  Jingling and swaying. And hot as hell.

  We were going to get caught for sure. In the midst of the Christmas jolly that was being had all around us, we were going to get caught butt-ass naked.

  I was trying to decide what to do when voices came from outside the structure. It was not the voices of visitors going through Christmastown on the other side of the curtain. These were clearer. Closer.

  Panic seized me and Leisha’s face now sported a wide-eyed look of alarm.

  “The damn gears got stuck,” a man said. “So they had to take the damn thing apart.”

  “So it’s just sitting here like this?” another man said.

  Oh, great. Just what we wanted—to put on an X-rated show for a couple of idiot guys. Muff Divers in Christmastown.

  “Yeah, there’ve been so many other problems this year they didn’t want to spend any more time on this. They may never get to it.”

  Afraid to move, I held my breath. Leisha stared up at me. I wanted to put her mind at ease, so I gave her a quick nod to let her know that it would be okay.

  “So what do you want to do with it?” the second man asked.

  My heart almost stopped. Through a protective instinct, I almost shifted so that my entire body would cover Leisha’s. So what if they saw my bare ass? I just didn’t want Leisha to be humiliated. But something told me to just stay still.

  With my hand still in her crotch, I bent my head down onto her shoulder to mask my breathing, now labored because of the heat and my nerves.

  I stopped breathing altogether when the structure began to rock. There was jingling all over and a bear fell from the ceiling onto my head with a thud. I didn’t know if Leisha heard the thud or if the sound was just in my own head, but for a soft, furry toy, it sure as hell hurt.

  “How sturdy is this thing anyway?” I heard the second man ask.

  Leisha’s nails dug into my shoulders and she bit her lip. Was she laughing?

  And just like that, our plight went from tense and embarrassing to comical and inconsequential.

  The bears stopped rocking. Outside, the other man responded, “I don’t know and I don’t care.” He was apparently ignoring the sturdiness question. “If it ain’t their priority, it ain’t mine.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  The sound of their footsteps fading was like a cap being removed from a bottle of soda—everything just released. My breath, Leisha’s laughter, and both our muscles seemed to unclench.

  “Wow, that was close,” I said, trying to catch up with my missed intakes of breath. Sweat was dripping from my face and a drop landed on Leisha’s chest. I tried to pull my hand from between her legs but couldn’t. The snow shit on my stupid ID bracelet had gotten caught on the little bell. Yanking it caused a ripping sound, so I stopped.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I’m stuck,” I whispered. This began a new wave of laughter, and I joined in. The whole thing was so absurd. She laughed so hard that tears rolled down her cheeks.

  She sat up as best as she could, her laughter diminishing into chuckles, and reached down to help me. With all four of our hands in her crotch, we pulled the bracelet free.

  She leaned back on her hands and took a few deep breaths. Sweat coated her forehead and upper lips, and she looked really hot. In both ways.

  “Listen, why don’t we take this somewhere else?” she said.

  “I have to finish my shift.”

  “I know. I meant after.”

  A little thrill ricocheted through me. “I’d love to.”

  It was a tight squeeze with both of us trying to dress, and we kept falling over ourselves, which led to more giddiness and chuckles. The bell on her panties tinkled as she slid her pants back on, and the sound made me smile.

  I poked my head out and looked around. “All clear. Let’s go.” We crawled out and together we adjusted the bears, putting them back into place. I almost didn’t see Snowflake, a helper elf, standing there looking at us. She had a mop and bucket in her hands, so she was probably on her way to clean up some kid’s mess.

  Dread prickled my spine, until I realized that I didn’t care. I grinned and, pointing to Leisha, said, “Replacement elf. I’m showing her around.” Leaving Snowflake with a puzzled look on her face, I led Leisha toward the staff elevator, out of the way of the public. “I’m really sorry about that,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? That was hilarious. Although, I must say, I’m a little disappointed. I’ve never had sex in a bunch of bears before.”

  “No, can’t say I have either. Too bad we didn’t actually do it.”

  “Are you going to get into trouble?” she asked.

  “Nah. And even if I do…” I shrugged. “I’m sick of Stanton’s Fascist Christmas Regime anyway.”

  At the elevator, I pressed her against the wall and kissed her. I couldn’t help pouting for a moment. “You must be disappointed.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t perform any magic acts.”

  Leisha looked at me. “On the contrary,” she said, the tip of her forefinger on the top button of my elf smock. “I’ve had more fun this Christmas than I’ve had in a long time. I think you’ve performed some magic here.”

  Her soft eyes were so inviting and gentle that for the first time since I was a kid, I believed in Santa Claus. Without my asking, he had sent me the Christmas pre
sent I most needed.

  “So, Jingles, it looks like we have some unfinished business. Can I take you to dinner first?”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Okay, I’ll pick you up. Five, right?”

  “I’ll need a few minutes to change.”

  “Oh, you’re changing?” she said in a wounded voice. “Too bad. That outfit’s kinda cute. Besides, wouldn’t I be the envy, walking into a restaurant with a Christmas elf?”

  My cheeks grew hot. “Umm, no, not really.”

  Her laughter filled my ears and I fell in love with it. It was more melodic than any bell, and her smile was superior to any Christmas present. Her sense of humor beat all. My stomach knotted at the thought that I might fall for even more of her.

  She stepped into the elevator and turned. “I’ll meet you downstairs at the main entrance.” I nodded and watched the doors slide shut.

  When I was back at my register, the Elf Overseer gave me a stern look from across the room. I was a few minutes late returning from my lunch.

  “Nice of you to join us, Jingles,” said the elf whose lunch break was delayed.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, stifling myself. “I got tied up.”

  At that moment, I decided that I loved my elf name. It was appropriate after all. I chuckled.

  “Oh, you think this is funny? This is cutting into my time,” the elf said. With an irritated look, she stomped away. I began taking customers again and with each woman who approached with an excited or crying child, I wondered if she’d ever had sex in a pile of stuffed animals.

  Then my thoughts turned to Leisha lying almost naked among the bears, squirming under me. And I craved more. More of Leisha and more of the things she had made me feel. Her laughter and deep brown eyes made me believe in magic again. I wondered what other plush worlds I could have her in, and I hoped that she wanted to see me long enough to try them all out.

  First Christmas

  Jean Copeland

  I peeked at Lily from the kitchen, studying her dark chocolate eyes behind her rhinestone-encrusted glasses. Perched on the corner of Martha’s sofa, she looked pensive after our discussion about the book club choice that week, The Great Gatsby.

  “Lily, you haven’t said a word since we finished,” Carol said. “Something you’d like to share with us?”

  Lily, soft-spoken and ripe with ageless beauty, offered a slight smile. “Even though I’ve recovered from the cliché of a cheating husband, I’d be lying if I said all the infidelity in Gatsby didn’t remind me of Frank.”

  “Me too,” I chimed in as I helped Martha gather the dessert plates and coffee cups. “Cheating wife, I mean.”

  Carol shot me a playful look. “Yeah, Erin, you’re recovered, all right. That’s why you still commune with this old lonely hearts club every Friday night.”

  “I beg your pardon,” I said. “It’s a book club, and I come for the stimulating literary discussion and Martha’s strudel.”

  Lily looked at me with a grin.

  Carol glanced out the window into the rainy night and turned to Lily. “I hope it won’t be flooded or icy under that bridge when I take you home.”

  “I’ll take her home,” I said. “She’s on my way.”

  She really wasn’t, but for that sweet face, I would have chauffeured her to Canada.

  * * *

  A glass of chardonnay was my compensation for the ride home. Lily built a small fire in her family room and lit a Douglas fir candle. The recessed lighting low, the stage was set for seduction—if only she had been so inclined.

  Halfway through her first glass, Lily curled her feet under her on the sofa and brought up Gatsby again. “I’m really enjoying the novel,” she said. “I could never have appreciated it in high school the way I can now—the whole idea of being haunted for years by a lost love. Oh, it gives me the chills.”

  I nodded. “Unlike in tenth grade, I’m actually reading it all the way through without Cliff’s Notes. Even for a cynic like me, totally down on relationships, I couldn’t help getting swept away by the tragedy of it—how we’re all just ‘boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly to the past.’”

  “Oh, I love that quote,” she said. “The one thing I don’t like is how Fitzgerald doesn’t show us a thing that went on between Jay and Daisy when Nick left the room. What did they say? What were they feeling? That was the most exciting moment in the novel. Why would he skip over it?”

  I shrugged. “I think leaving it to the readers’ imaginations heightens the sense of possibility. Haven’t you ever wanted someone so bad that it made you…”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, no doubt you will. It gets everyone, eventually.” I felt sad for her. How could someone have been married for twenty years and not know that feeling?

  “Hey, can I make an odd confession?” she said. “I never thought of gay relationships as being the same as straight ones.”

  I shrugged, not surprised. “What did you think happened in them?”

  She shrunk into the plush sofa and hesitated. “I used to think they were just about sex. In my defense, I grew up in the white bread capital of the Midwest.”

  I grinned. If it were anyone else, I would’ve been savagely offended, but her candor was adorably innocent. “I should be so lucky. Obviously, you’ve never heard of lesbian bed-death syndrome.”

  She shook her head and recoiled as though it were a contagious disease.

  “Sparing you the unpleasant details, I can assure you gay relationships are as real and wonderful, and awful as yours.”

  “Oh, I know that now. You must think I’m so ignorant, but honestly, I’ve never had a problem with gays, and I’m all for marriage equality.”

  I teased her with a handshake. “I guess now we can be Facebook friends.”

  She giggled and slapped my hand away. “I can’t believe how comfortable I am around you. I feel like I can talk about anything.”

  “I feel the same way. You seem surprised.”

  “It is a little surprising if you think about it. I’m straight and a mom, soon to be a grandmother. We’re just very different people.”

  I twirled the stem of my empty glass. “With one major thing in common. We’re both rebuilding our lives. I may not have had kids with Vanessa, but I spent almost fourteen years of my life with her. I thought we would be together forever, and then at forty-one, I found myself starting over.”

  As she nodded, Lily’s olive skin shone in the glow of her white Christmas tree lights. “When you told me about Vanessa, it felt like you were describing Frank and me, especially when you said it wasn’t just Vanessa you lost; it was your whole way of life. Another person rips it out of from under you, and you’re left to piece it back together on your own.”

  I agreed, wishing I could touch her. “I couldn’t piece together a life I’d built with someone else. I had to learn how to live without being half of something.”

  “I’m finally figuring out how,” she said, straightening her posture. “My sister keeps trying to fix me up with guys she knows, but I keep saying no.”

  “It’s only been eight months.” The prick of jealousy surprised me. I enjoyed seeing Lily every week at Martha’s, and we had started texting or talking on the phone a few times a week. A new guy in her life would pose a serious block to that situation.

  “At first, all I thought about was finding someone else,” she said. “Frank wasn’t alone. I didn’t want to be either—more like I was afraid to be. But now I actually like it.”

  “I’ve been single for almost two years,” I said. “I love the freedom. I’m getting to know who I really am, which is something I couldn’t do with my identity tangled up in Vanessa and me as a couple.”

  “Do you know what’s really going to suck?” she asked.

  “Never meeting anyone ever again and dying alone?”

  She giggled. “No. Christmas. Christmas is going to suck.”

  I nodded. “Your first Christmas a
lone.”

  She nodded, too. “Thanksgiving wasn’t so bad because my daughter and her husband came to my sister’s, and we all had a nice time eating and drinking—lots of drinking.” She offered a devilish grin.

  “Why can’t you do that on Christmas, too?”

  “They’re driving down to my son-in-law’s parents in New Jersey. I can’t complain. He’s spent the last three up here with us. Besides, it may sound weird, but Christmas has always been such a romantic holiday to me.”

  “Did you and your husband have some special tradition?”

  She gave a vague shrug. “There’s something so romantic about cuddling on the couch with all the lights out, nothing but the fireplace and Christmas tree, a mug of hot chocolate or a glass of good wine. And then maybe it leads to love making. I’ve always had the fantasy, but reality never quite lived up to it. I’m afraid I’m such a hopeless romantic that it sets me up for disappointment every time.”

  Silence hung between us as I fantasized about acting out every part of Lily’s reverie with her. “Wow,” I finally said. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at Christmas the same way again. Thanks for making me dread the next five weeks.” I winked at her.

  “Well, maybe we can have a special holiday book club meeting with the girls closer to Christmas. I’m sure Martha would appreciate the company, too.”

  “And if Martha’s strudel won’t ease the ache of a spouseless Christmas, nothing will.”

  She grinned as she poured us refills and raised her glass to mine. “Here’s to Martha’s strudel.”

  I chinked my glass against hers. “And to great friendships that keep us sane,” I said and hid a sappy smile behind a long sip of wine.

  She licked her lips after the toast and drew her eyeglasses back into her hair. Suddenly, everything sexy about her came alive. The way my body tingled, there was no doubt that if I pursued this friendship, I’d ring in the New Year in a support group instead of a book club.

  * * *

  Over the next week, I sent Lily a few texts that danced precariously between sincere compliments and shameless flirtation, the latter of which I diffused with smiley faces and an over-abundance of “lols.” When my toes did shuffle over to the flirty side, she seemed almost ambivalent.