On Sale for Christmas

by Laurel Adams

  "I just do," I said slipping into the passenger seat.

  Ben had driven about two miles down an icy country road before he finally said, "She told me she was pregnant."

  Well this was a new wrinkle. "Broken condom?"

  Ben's teeth clenched. "Not that I recall. Also, she was supposed to be on the pill in case one did."

  "Condoms and the pill? You don't like to take chances, do you?"

  "Well I took one big chance. I didn't ask for a paternity test."

  "For fuck's sake, Ben," I said, not sure if I thought he was a saint or an idiot. "Why not?"

  "The last thing I wanted to do was start things off by insulting the mother of my hypothetical kid. So I didn't ask."

  "Of course you didn't," I said with a sigh. Boy, Nice Guys always did finish last, didn't they?

  "Funny thing, though," Ben said, not looking like what he was going to say was especially funny. "Turns out you don't need a paternity test when, an hour before you've got to go on a mission, your girlfriend accidentally emails you pictures of her sucking the real baby daddy's dick. If there was a baby. I'm pretty sure she made up the whole thing just to keep me on the hook in case things didn't work out with the guy in the photos."

  "Holy shit," I said, realizing that I'd missed out on a whole lot of drama here at home. "Was that the first time you've seen her since?"

  "Yep."

  "And you waved to her?" I asked, appalled. "Ben!"

  His hands tightened on the wheel. "What else was I going to do?"

  I slapped my mittened hand on the dash. "Turn around. You're going to march back into the Sweet Shack and smack her!"

  "I don't smack women unless they ask me to."

  I gave him a sidelong glance. Well, wasn't he always full of surprises? "Turn around anyway. I'll smack her for you. I'll march in there and kick her ass."

  Ben actually laughed. "That's not exactly in the holiday spirit."

  I was too outraged to laugh. "She shouldn't be allowed to get away with it. Fuck, if you were a cheerleader, you're almost obligated to break the stereotype and not be a bitch! It's just so cliche. How is it that I never heard about this? My mother is always keen to share gossip about you."

  "You're the first person I've told. Stateside, anyway."

  I fell silent under the weight of that statement while Ben turned off the main road. By the time he reached the top of the snowy hill, he pulled to the side of the road and cut the engine.

  "Pretty scenery," I finally said, eying the pristine snow on the field. "But the sheriff's office is right down that road which makes this not an ideal spot for making out."

  "Making out is for later. When I take you to see the lights in the park tonight."

  "I didn't agree to let you take me see the lights in the park tonight."

  "Not yet, but you will. You're very persuadable when my hands are all over you. Meanwhile, I've got a different physical activity in mind."

  I followed the trail of his eyes to the truck bed, where I saw a sled. "You just drive around with that in the back of your truck."

  "Doesn't everybody?" he asked, holding his hand out to me. "It's not exactly a sleigh, but…"

  "I don't sled," I said, backing away into a corner of the truck.

  "Why not?"

  "Because I could wipe out, hit my face on a tree and get snow in my panties."

  Ben barked with laughter. "That's a super specific fear."

  "It's what happened to me the last time I was dumb enough to sledding!"

  "It's not going to happen this time," Ben vowed. "I won't let it. C'mon, Becca. The last time you put yourself in my hands things didn't turn out so badly, did they?"

  No, they hadn't. Also, I wanted to wipe out the sourness of the morning. Maureen had shaken him. Ben was a different guy now than the one who left to serve his country. At least, I recognized that he was trying on a new role. A role that involved a whole lot of confidence. And like some heckler in the audience, she'd obviously messed with his head. Made him break character.

  If sledding is what he needed to get his swagger back, then let it not be said that Becca Vincent resisted taking a little slide down a hill cradled in the very strong arms of a very hunky guy.

  Ten sled rides later, exhilarated by the wind on my cheeks, and the trees flying by, and Ben's body wrapped around mine, I had a whole new outlook on sledding.

  "Not one wipe out!" I cried, triumphantly.

  "Told ya," Ben said, trudging back up the hill with the sled trailing behind us at the end of a rope. Then, suddenly, he stopped and stared at me. "You're gorgeous."

  "You're not bad yourself."

  "No, I mean you're fucking gorgeous, Becca. Like, you're going to be a huge movie star one day. That frosty pink nose. That smirky little mouth…"

  "Bet I'll look even better in the slutty outfit you bought me. When are we going to have a fashion show?"

  "Still arranging it," he said.

  Oh. So it was still on. And I was starting to lose track of whether or not it turned me on more to think about doing it or to think about the fact that it was Ben who was arranging it. "You're kind of an unlikely pimp, you know…"

  "If you think bringing that up is somehow going to mess up the moment we're having here, you're wrong."

  I smirked. "We're having a moment?"

  "We're having a moment. Go with it."

  "Where are we going with it?"

  In answer, Ben leaned forward, bending his head to kiss me. When his lips closed over mine, a light snow began to fall. And I was surprised each flake didn't hiss and sizzle when it touched us. Because this kiss, at the top of a snowy hill, was filled with unexpected erotic promise when he drew me against his hard body.

  "Go to the light show with me tonight," Ben whispered.

  A little bit dazed, I asked, "Why?"

  "Because you're wrong about me."

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm not a dog person, I'm a cat person."

  Confused, I tilted my head. "You never even had a cat."

  "What about Boots?"

  I gasped. "Boots is my cat!"

  "Five days out of the week, sure. But didn't you ever wonder where she went for the other two? She'd come to the back door yowling for me, and I'd give her milk in a saucer, and she'd lap it up."

  "That doesn't make her your cat!"

  "That's what I love about cats. They don't really belong to anybody except when they want to. They're independent divas, kind of like you. You've gotta earn your time with them. And I think I've earned a light show."

  I stared him a moment, our lips a breath apart, and the fight went out of me. All I could muster was a weak, "But it's not a date."

  "We're just hanging out," he said, with a grin.

  I didn't begrudge him. Not even when, later that night, strolling past twinkling displays of candles and heavenly spires in the park, he took my hand. I made him pay for it, of course. Telling him all about what I'd learned about stage lighting.

  We talked plays. Tanks. Basketball. Pretty much everything. The conversation pinging back and forth until he drove me back to my car in the parking lot of the Sweet Shack and we lingered after our goodnight kiss. "So, Becca. You asked before why I'm single. There's not a lot of time for relationships in the Sandbox, but mostly…the girls I've dated never measured up to you."

  I peered up at him suspiciously. "I realize that Mean-Girl Maureen is a really low bar, but you really shouldn't lay it on that thick. Until the past few days, you hardly even knew me."

  "Not true. I've always known you were a badass chick with a fierce sense of self who never took shit from anybody. You did your own thing and didn't care what anybody else thought about it. That was catnip for a teenaged boy. It's just as addictive now. Just because I'm cautious and careful doesn't mean I can't admire courage when I see it."

  I snorted a little bit. "You're a soldier and you think I've got courage?"

  "Big time. For one thing, you get on stages and perform while e
verybody is watching. For another thing, you were brave enough to tell me your fantasy…and that took some brass ovaries. Pretty soon we're going to see if you're brave enough to play it out."

  Chapter Four

  TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT FOR REINDEER GAMES. I'LL PICK YOU UP AT 7:30PM. BRING THE BOX AND ALL YOUR SEXUAL FANTASIES WITH YOU.

  I received this text from Ben while helping my mom bake her famous buttery pecan pie. We always needed at least three pies. One to give to the neighbors. One for Christmas Eve at Grandma's. And one for Christmas Day at our house for just the two of us.

  I'd been on chopping duty and was supposed to keep an eye on the oven to take the first pie out when it achieved its perfect golden-brown crust.

  Unfortunately, I scented the faint trace of smoke in the air just before my mom called out, "Becca! You're going to let it burn."

  "Sorry," I said, quickly slipping my phone into my back pocket, wondering how long I'd been staring at it . "I—I got distracted."

  "You're forgiven," mom said, fishing the pie out of the oven with big red mitts. "You've been so helpful this Christmas. And you really are an excellent little actress, because you've even pretended to be in good spirits about it."

  I had been in good spirits. I'd cheerfully helped with baking and wrapping, all while humming Christmas songs. Which wasn't like me at all. I wasn't sure what this thing with Ben was doing to me—riding that edge between sappy romance and down and dirty filth—but it was doing something.

  It was driving me insane, is what it was doing.

  Which is why I blurted, "Mom, you don't mind if I go out with Ben tonight, do you?"

  I guess I wasn't the only actress in the family, because I watched my mom smother her excitement behind a casual shrug. "Where are you going?"

  "Caroling," I said, tapping into my inner snark.

  My reward was my mother's snark in return. "As long as you're home in time to help me pack the car for Grandma's house tomorrow morning."

  "Mom!" I was a little outraged at her implication that I'd be spending the night with him. Then I was doubly embarrassed to realize that I was planning on doing something way worse than spend the night with him.

  Mom's self-satisfied grin finally broke through the facade. "I heard that you and Ben were spotted at the Sweet Shack together. He sure grew up nice, didn't he?"

  Nice? Even I was having a hard time thinking of Ben that way anymore, given that the text he just sent me was burning a naughty hole in my back pocket. "Is nothing ever secret in this town?" I groused.

  "Oh, you and Ben have a secret?" mom asked with a suggestive waggle of her brows. "That sounds romantic."

  "Stoooooop," I whined, because what we were about to do was anything but romantic. Because selling your body to a stranger was about the most unromantic thing a girl could do, right? "We're just friends."

  We weren't just friends. We were…something else. But not anything I could name. I was pretty sure that if I went through with our plan tonight, we'd have to strangers ever after. Because how do you look a guy in the eye when he knows you've done something like this?

  Luckily, our lives would take us in different directions, so I wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

  Of course, there was a part of me that didn't really believe he'd go through with it. A part of me that was sure Ben was going to take me somewhere and put on a mask and pretend to be some stranger—destroying the fantasy completely and my respect for him along the way.

  The problem was, I couldn't decide if that would be a relief or not. The only thing I knew for sure is that I'd had more fun with Ben than any guy since…well, maybe ever. And I didn't want the games to stop. Which meant that I was ready at the front door, at precisely 7:30pm. Freshly showered, legs shaved, matching underwear, and a box of slutty clothes and sexual fantasies in hand.

  Ben came crunching up the snow on the walk to present me with a bouquet. "Flowers?" I asked, opening the front door before he could ring the bell. "Seriously? This isn't a date!"

  "They're for your mom," Ben replied, with an easy grin. "Besides, they're poinsettias. Beautiful but dangerous. Thought you might like that juxtaposition."

  I laughed. In spite of my nerves, he'd made me laugh. Just as easy as that. He made everything so fucking easy—including me.

  Because my blood was running so hot all I wanted to do was jump him the minute we were alone together in his truck.

  "Just so we're clear," Ben said, wrapping his arm around my seat as he twisted to see out the rear window. "This is totally a date."

  "Whatever," I replied, taking a shuddering breath of cold air.

  "You might want to settle in for a long drive, though," Ben said, pulling onto the main road. "We're going out of town. Far out of town. Where nobody knows either of us."

  "Good," I said, wetting my lips. Glad that he'd thought of that. If there were already rumors about our meeting for hot cocoa at the Sweet Shack, I could just imagine the rumors if I was seen hooking by the side of the road. Or however it was supposed to happen.

  Given that it was my fantasy, maybe I should have thought this through.

  It had to be anonymous. That's all I knew. "So, how is this supposed to go down?"

  "I thought you wanted me to surprise you."

  I did say that, didn't I? And strangely, it helped me feel more at ease to just go with it and see what he had planned.

  ~~~

  But my hands went to my face as we pulled off the snowy highway onto an access road for a No-Tell Motel with a blinking neon sign.

  "What, too classy?" Ben asked, eying me carefully.

  "No," I breathed over my galloping heart-beat. As far as my fantasy went, it was pretty much perfect. "It's just starting to get alarmingly real. How far are you going to take this?"

  Ben's jaw clenched. "As far as you'll let me. But you say the word, and I turn around, Becca."

  Was he kidding? This is farther than my nerves would ever have taken me. If we turned around…it'd never happen. I'd never know what it felt like. Never burn with sexual heat the way I was burning now. My god, I was so turned on, my panties were already soaked through. "I don't want to turn around."

  "Okay then," Ben said, parking and turning to me. "Then you should pretty much do whatever I tell you to do for the next few hours so that none of this goes sideways. A guy is going to meet us here—"

  "Holy shit. You're not screwing with me? Because if you're screwing with me…"

  "I'm not screwing with you. This is what you wanted, right?"

  Breathe, Becca. Breathe!

  "Right. But I'm feeling…I'm feeling like if you turn this into a joke—"

  "It's not a joke, Becca," he said, reaching for my hands. "It's serious for me too. Maybe the most serious thing I've ever done with a girl before. I've gone to a lot of trouble to prove something to you and to myself, so you can trust me."

  I did. I really did trust him. Even with something this big. Something I wouldn't have trusted anybody else with. Which was a really strangely erotic feeling. My whole body was atingle following him to the motel room, watching him fiddle with the keys.

  I think he was nervous—maybe as nervous as I was—but he was doing a good job of hiding it. And I needed him to.

  Once inside, I took off my coat and Ben blinked. Then he blinked again. "Wow. You look…"

  I glanced down at myself in the green retro-dress I'd pulled out of the back of my closet—the one that had pleats of chiffon but was in no way revealing. I guess I'd chosen the outfit defensively. An outfit as at odds with what we'd come here to do as possible. As if my inner good-girl, if she existed, was screaming out her last hurrah. "Like a virgin?"

  Ben dug his hands into his pockets. "I was going to say that you take my breath away."

  "Oh." I trailed off, ridiculously pleased. "You think I should wear it for…"

  "No," Ben said, his soulful eyes glittering. "I think you wore this dress for me. Wear the one in the box for him…"

  "Righ
t," I said, because that somehow made sense. And because if I said anything else, I'd have to think about this mysterious him that was allegedly coming to have sex with me. "How long before he gets here?"

  "About twenty minutes. You can change in the bathroom," Ben said, gentlemanly to the last.

  I wanted to just strip right in front of him and tackle him down onto the rickety little bed. But he'd asked me to do whatever he said for the next few hours and I felt like I wanted to honor that. Besides, it was a huge turn on.

  I slipped into the shabby bathroom with the box of slutty clothes and slipped into the leather, which actually fit like a glove. The shoes were too small and pinched my toes, but I didn't expect that I'd be wearing them long.

  Then I took a look in the chipped mirror.

  The mini-dress hugged the bottom of my ass, but stopped short enough to show off the tops of my black thigh-high stockings. I looked like…well…I looked like a hooker. Which was exactly the idea. And to make sure that I looked as hot as I felt, I took my make-up out of my bag and added a little more. Red lipsticks for my smirky lips. Black kohl for under my eyes. Then I pulled my straight black hair up into a sassy pony tail.

  I looked like sex on a stick; I knew I did. So I tottered out of the bathroom on the too-tight too-tall lucite stilettos, and posed in the doorway. "Hey, Soldier. What do you think?"

  Ben had been at the window, looking out over the snow-covered parking lot. Turning to glance my way, he flushed, redness crawling up his neck to his ears. "I think—I think I'm having a heart attack. Jesus, Christ, I'd better sit down before my knees give out."

  His reaction turned my personal thermostat all the way up. "So which do you like better? The good girl outfit or the bad girl outfit?"

  "Why do I have to choose?" Ben lowered to the edge of the bed as if his knees really were wobbly. He didn't bother to hide that he was hard beneath his jeans—his cock straining against the denim. "Especially since what I really want is to undress you…"

  That made me curious. "So why'd you pick the leather dress?"

  "I wanted to see something tight and smooth on your sweet ass…"