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I Believe

By: slyc_willie



This is an official entry into the 2006 Literotica Winter Holiday contest. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I have had crafting it.

***

I watched Jana as she bounced on her feet, trying to look past the other kids and adults in line to the 'jolly fat man' seated on his throne. Her childish excitement and frustration at having to wait her turn made me laugh.

I looked to the mall Santa in his padded red suit and thick white beard. This one did a better job than most at playing the role; his beard seemed real, as did the roundness of his belly. He was flanked by a couple of cute teenagers in their Peter Pan-like elf suits, surrounded by giant-sized candy canes and all the gaudy decorations that seemed necessary for the scene.

Jana caught my eye and frantically pointed toward Santa, grinning childishly. I nodded, smiling back. Yes, Jana, that's Santa Claus. You see him every year.

The nine-year-old jumped up and down exuberantly, her little body practically vibrating with all the sugar she had consumed. I knew her mother would hate me later, once Jana was home and going on and on about Santa and what he would bring her. But for the moment, I was just happy for the little tyke. It had been a rough year, what with the separation and all. She deserved to be just a little girl for a while.

I tried to remember what it was like when I was her age, when I sat on Santa's lap and told him about the toys I wanted. I frowned as I realized my memory was lacking. I couldn't remember ever having done so.

I know they had mall Santas in the eighties, I thought. Maybe mom and dad just never took me. Hmm . . . .

I shook my head, looked back to Jana. She was getting closer in line now, practicing her balance by hopping forward on one foot. I chuckled. Oh, to be young again and with nothing to worry about but the moment.

"And why aren't you in line?" asked a bubbly voice beside me.

I was a somewhat startled. The cute little elf had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed. She stood on her tip-toes beside me, hands behind her back, swiveling back and forth. She was tiny, very tiny in fact, not even five feet tall. She had a round, glittering face, long curly blonde hair through which her pointed ears poked, and the biggest blue eyes I had ever seen.

I chuckled, looking down at the cherub. "I'm a little too old to be sitting on Santa's knee," I said.

She gave me an exaggerated frown. "Bull pucky!" she exclaimed in her girlish voice.

I laughed. "'Bull pucky?'"

She shrugged and smacked her gum. "Elves aren't allowed to use bad words," she said, then pirouetted around before me. Damn. She may have been tiny, but she did have a nicely-shaped little body. The tight green elf costume didn't leave much to the imagination, especially with that short frilly skirt . . . .

The girl suddenly grinned, showing dimples. "You checking me out, mister?" she giggled.

I blushed. Christ, she can't be more than a kid—

"It's okay," she said casually, as if reading my thoughts. "I'm a lot older than I look. We elves don't show our age, you know."

I arched an interested eyebrow. Is this girl flirting with me?

She bit her lip and rocked back and forth on her heels, pushing her little breasts out toward me. "Darn tootin' I am."

Now this was just getting too weird for words. This girl was acting like she really could read my mind. And so far, it seemed she was.

Abruptly, the girl spun around and leaned against me, pressing her little body against mine. She slapped her hands to my hips and wiggled playfully. "So, if you're not here to sit on St. Nick's lap, then why?"

I was surprised at the girl's bold move. To be honest, her forwardness was a little intimidating. "Um . . . I'm here with my niece," I said, tentatively putting my hands on her narrow shoulders. The top of her head was a few inches below my chin. She smelled sweetly of peppermint.

She pulled her hands from my hips then slapped them over my own, pulling them away. "Okay, lemme guess," she said, then suddenly clapped my hands directly onto her firm breasts. They were perfectly round, like softballs cut in half, with stiff nipples that stabbed right into my palm. "The little one with the brown hair? Red jacket?"

My eyes bulged. I looked around, wondering if anyone noticed how I was groping this girl. A few glances were cast my way, eyebrows arched in wonder. But, quickly enough, the flirtatious little elf slid my hand from her breasts to her waist.

"Uh, yeah . . . ." I said, wondering if this girl was being serious, or if she was just a curvy little teasing piece of jailbait.

She suddenly tilted her head back, looking up at me with her upside-down face. "I told you, I'm old enough. Don't worry about it."

"Would you stop doing that? Reading my mind, I mean."

The elf spun around against me, pleasantly rubbing her body against mine. My swelling groin was pressed against her little stomach. "Sorry," she said. "Habit."

I gave her a funny look. My statement had been rhetorical; hers wasn't.

"So," she said, taking my hands and leaning back, trusting me to support her weight. It wasn't difficult; she wasn't even a hundred pounds. She eased back until both our arms were extended. The ends of her honey-colored hair brushed the floor. A young man and his girlfriend stumbled out of the way as she blocked their path. They gave me a curious look.

"So?" I asked her, starting to enjoy her playful attentions. Especially now that, they way she was literally hanging off my arm, her little feet planted against mine, I could practically see up her skirt. Her legs were nicely slim yet muscular, with a golden tone to her skin that matched her face and arms.

She jerked herself back up and bounced on her feet, grinning. Her little breasts jiggled under her top, giving me ideas of what I would like to do with them . . . and the rest of her.

"So . . . If you were standing in line to sit on jelly-belly's lap, what would you ask for?" she inquired, gently squeezing my hands.

I laughed. "Santa Claus is for the kids," I said.

The girl frowned and pouted. "You telling me you don't believe in Santa?" she asked.

I shook my head with a smile. "Do you?"

"Duh!" she exclaimed. "He's right there! Why are you such a fuddy-duddy?"

I smirked. 'Fuddy-duddy.' Cute. "I'm just . . . realistic."

She gave me a contemplative look. "So . . . if you did have a Christmas wish, and it came true, would that make you believe?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, sure."

"Goody!" the girl exclaimed, and slapped my hands onto her slender hips, leaning into me again. There was just something so undeniably sexual about her, despite her girlish demeanor. Her playful round eyes glowed up at me. "So what's your wish?"

I met her gaze. "You can read minds," I said. "What do you think?"

The girl gave me a look of shocked innocence, clapping her hands to her cheeks. Her beautiful blue eyes flashed, catching the light. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed dramatically. "You're embarrassing me, Dave!"

I frowned. "How'd you know my name?"

She giggled. "You told me, silly!"

My frown deepened. I did?

She suddenly proffered her hand. "And I'm . . . Trish," she said, as if she had to think to remember her name.

I chuckled, took her hand, bent to kiss her fingers. Trish giggled again and slinked closer.

"Oo! A gentleman," she cooed. Her eyes glowed again as she moved closer. "I like that. I like that a lot."

"Are you always this forward?" I asked her as Trish gripped my hand with both of hers.

She rolled her shoulders. "Sorry. That's my nymph heritage." She rolled her eyes. "And you know how they are."

I smiled. No, but I'd love to find out.

Her eyes flashed. "Okay, so where are we going?" she asked suddenly.

I blinked. "Huh?"

Trish bit her lip. "Well, aren't we gonna go out on a date?" she asked buoyantly. "I mean, you don't have a girlfriend, and no one likes to spend the holidays alone."

"What makes you think I don't have a girlfriend?"

Trish leaned against me, pressing that warm, firm body against mine and smiling up at me, her chin on my chest. "'Cause you wouldn't'a been groping my boobies if you did," she said with an impish smile.

I settled my hands on her tiny back. "You've got a point."

Trish giggled. "I got two of them, can'tcha feel?" she said, and wiggled her body, grinding her breasts against my stomach. I could, indeed, feel her nipples through the thin layers of clothing between us.

I took a breath to try to suppress my rising libido. I had never had a girl come on to me like this before, so blatant and sexual, yet also playful. It was as if someone had taken a girl scout, high school cheerleader, and porn star and put them all together in one sexy little body.

I reminded myself of where we were: in a crowded mall, six days before Christmas, standing out in the middle of the galleria as my niece sat on a mall Santa's lap. I smiled as I watched Jana recite her prepared list to the jovial fat man.

Trish pushed back and turned around, curling my right arm about her tiny waist. "Oh, she's a sweetie," she said, looking upon Jana.

"Yeah, she is," I agreed. "I love her to death."

Trish chewed her lip as she wore a sympathetic smile. "She wants her mommy and daddy to get back together. It's the first thing on her list."

I gave Trish a curious look. How does she know that?

My attention returned to Jana as she gave Santa a hug and a kiss on his cheek. She jumped down and ran toward me, threading her way through the throng of people, a big grin on her face. I laughed at her exuberance and let go of Trish's hand, just in time to squat down and meet Jana's charge.

"I saw Santa, Uncle Dave!" my niece screeched happily, wrapping her arms around me. She squeezed me tight the way only a little girl could, pressing her grinning cheek to mine.

I gently pushed her back. "Did you tell him everything you wanted, sunshine?" I asked, using my pet name for her.

Jana bounced on her feet. "Yeah!" she said, and held up a little candy cane. "And he gave me candy, too!"

I chuckled. "Maybe you better hang on to that," I suggested. "Your mom's already gonna be mad at me because of those chocolate-covered cherries."

The nine-year-old rolled her eyes. "Okay, Uncle Dave," she said. She suddenly noticed Trisch, standing beside us, and her eyes lit up. "Are you one of Santa's elves?"

Trish grinned and stooped slightly, hands on her knees. She wasn't that much taller than my niece, I realized. "I sure am, sweetheart," she said. "You're Jana, right? My name's Trish. I'm your Uncle Dave's new friend."  

Jana's excited eyes darted back and forth between Trish and I. "Wow! Really? That's cool!"

Trish's glittering face matched my niece's enthusiasm. She touched Jana's nose casually, making her giggle. "Santa's a really nice guy, isn't he?"

Jana nodded vehemently. "Uh-huh," she agreed. "He said I was a good girl this year."

"Well, I'll tell you what," Trish said. "Santa can't make every little girl's wish come true, but . . . I'll put in a good word for you, okay?"

Jana's face glowed as she grinned. "Really?"

Trish nodded. "Promise."

Jana squealed happily, clapping her hands together. She looked to me. "I like her, Uncle Dave," she declared.

I chuckled, hugged my niece again, looking to Trish's angelic face. "Yeah, I like her, too."

Trish smiled.

***

Jana scrambled onto my back, wrapping her arms and legs around me as I headed back through the mall, Trish walking beside me and holding my hand. I noticed more than a few men looking Trish over in her sexy little elf costume. The skirt really didn't do much to preserve her modesty. Trish seemed to be enjoying the attention; her smile was constant.

I wondered how it was that this sexy little thing had latched onto me so quickly and eagerly. I had never thought I was the kind of man to attract much attention from women; not that I was a social maladroit, and I was always considered handsome. But girls had never thrown themselves at me the way Trish had. I finally decided not to worry about it, and to enjoy Trish's attention.

I just hope she's not a psycho.

We reached the entrance to the mall, with cold air and snowflakes blowing in from outside. I shivered at the sudden contrast, and Jana hugged me tighter, making a 'brrr' sound. Trish didn't seem the least bit affected.

"Hey, gimme a sec, okay?" Trish asked, pulling away as she noticed a couple of similarly-clad girls standing beside a candy stand. Like Trish, the girls were very tiny, and also like Trish, very sexy and curvy. One was a brunette, the other a redhead, with long, curly locks. They both looked so much like Trish it was eerie.

Triplets, I figured. They gotta be triplets . . . they just dye their hair differently, that's all.

"So is she your girlfriend, Uncle Dave?" giggled Jana in my ear.

Good question. "Um . . . maybe," I said awkwardly. A thought struck me. "Hey, can I see your Christmas list?"

"Sure!" agreed Jana, and I felt her wriggling against my back. "It's okay for you to see it now, since Santa already has."

I chuckled at her nine-year-old logic. Jana handed me the crumpled list, written on a piece of pink stationery with a little cartoon kitten in one corner. It was a short list, at the top of which . . . .

"1. I want mommy and daddy to be happy again."

A chill went through me. How had Trish known?

"Is it a good list, Uncle Dave?" asked Jana's innocent voice.

I smiled, pressing my cheek to hers. "It's the best list I've ever seen," I told her. "You didn't show it to anybody before you saw Santa, did you?"

"No way! That would jinx it! Only you and Santa have ever seen it!"

Thought so. I handed the list back to my niece, looked back to Trish. She left her nearly-identical fellow elves and skipped back toward me, blonde hair bouncing around her girlishly-grinning face. Her tiny skirt flapped against her upper thighs.

"So!" she said as she took my hands again. "Where are we going?"

I couldn't help but smile. "I gotta take my niece home first, but . . . are you hungry?"

Trish flashed her eyes. "I'm starving!" she declared. "Can we have pizza? I haven't had pizza in so long!"

"Sure. Anything you want," I agreed as we headed outside. Trish took my hand again and walked beside me as I piggy-backed Jana through the parking lot. I felt the chill instantly through my leather jacket and sweater, even with my niece's body heat. It was close to freezing, and snow was falling all around us in thick, heavy flakes. 

But in just her skimpy green outfit, legs bared and only her little curl-toed shoes covering her feet, Trish didn't seem cold at all. She was as comfortable in the frigid outside air as she had been in the mall.

"Aren't you cold, Trish?"

She made a 'pfft!' sound, brush snowflakes out of her hair. "This ain't nothing compared to where I'm from," she proclaimed.

"Yeah, she's from the North Pole, Uncle Dave!" said Jana, her nine-year-old mind working its usual logic. "It's like a bazillion degrees below freezing there!"

I pursed my lips. "Oh, right," I said.

Trish gave me a little smile and winked. Her hand was warm in mine.

***

Trish waited in the car as I dropped Jana off at the house. My sister greeted her squealing, exuberant daughter with a hug at the door, and Janna immediately fell into a mile-a-minute monologue about Santa, the mall, and 'Uncle Dave's new girlfriend.'

My sister Vickie gave me an interested look. "'Girlfriend?'" she asked as Jana ran into the living room where mine and my sister's grandparents sat.

I smiled sheepishly. "We, uh . . . just met," I said, glancing back to my car. I could just make out Trish's blonde head in the front seat.

Vickie craned her neck, looking. "Well, bring her in," she said, and gave me a smirk.

I scratched the back of my head. "Eh . . . we've got a date," I said. "She wants pizza."

My sister chuckled. "Well, good for you," she said, playfully punching my arm. "It's about time you got over Donna."

I screwed up my face. "Yeah, well, um," I said awkwardly, taking steps back and gesturing behind me. "I gotta, well, um, you know—"

Vickie rolled her eyes, still smiling. "You have your key, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "Uh . . . good night, sis."

Vickie shook her head, laughing. "Good night, little brother," she said as she closed the door. "Have fun!"

I blushed and turned back to the car. Trish was grinning at me as I approached and headed around to the driver-side door.

"You're so cute when you're flustered!" she exclaimed as I got in.

I stared at her, sitting with her legs curled beneath her on the seat. The heater had warmed the car as it idled, yet I had the feeling that it could have been ice-cold in the car and Trish wouldn't have cared.

"I just wanna say something," I said, staring into her pixie-like blue eyes.

Trish bit her lip and leaned closer. "What's that?"

"You're the most incredibly beautiful woman I've ever met," I said honestly.

Trish's eyes softened. She licked her soft lips. "I think we gotta get something out of the way," she said.

"What's that?" I asked, staring at her sexy mouth as Trish leaned even closer.

"This," she whispered, and pressed her lips to mine, kissing softly, deeply. She slid halfway across my body, pressing her hands to my chest. Trish moaned and sighed softly, sucking ardently on my lips and searching for my tongue with her own. I willingly responded, meeting her passionate kisses with my own. I discovered that she didn't just smell like peppermint, she tasted like it, too.

Trish finally pulled back with a soft sigh, touching my lips and staring into my eyes. My heart was pounding with desire for this girl. Never had a kiss been so arousing.

"There," she said, her voice soft and breathy. "That's better."

I smiled. Maybe for you, I thought. But now I've got a serious hard-on!

Trish glanced down to my lap and giggled upon seeing the bulge in my jeans. She slid back into her seat, giving me a coy smile that seemed to say, 'Don't worry, I'll take care of that soon.'

God, I hope so.

***

The best place in town for pizza was Constantine's, located on the edge of a large city park. The diner-style restaurant was fairly busy when Trish and I headed inside. She was still in her little elf costume, of course, and just about every guy in the place looked at her like she was the gift they wished Santa would leave under their tree. The fact that Trish was hanging off my arm did wonders for my ego.

The restaurant had wooden tables draped with red-and-white checkered cloths and simple, red-padded stools. Trish and I took one near the window, away from the middle of the room. Our waitress commented on Trish's costume before taking our drink order.

"What are you drinking?" Trish asked me.

"Um . . . Coke works fine for me."

"Me, too," said Trish. She giggled as the waitress stepped away, then pushed her menu aside and leaned across the table, pushing up with her knees upon the stool. She gave me a soft, wet kiss, then leaned back while licking her lips. "I'm gonna make it a personal rule to give you at least one kiss every fifteen minutes, okay?"

I chuckled. "I'm not gonna argue with you."

"Better not," she said. Her eyes dipped to my open menu. "So what are we having?"

I shrugged. "What do you like?"

"Everything," she said with a flash of her eyes. "Especially you."

"Well, unfortunately, I don't come on a pizza," I said.

Trish's eyes smoldered sexily. "I bet I could make you," she said suggestively, pouting her lips just a little.

And there it was, Mr. Erection once again. I stared at Trish, suddenly wanting nothing more than to drag her across the table, rip her clothes off, and—


I Believe



Trish blushed deeply, looking around as her tight little body trembled slightly. Her nipples poked aggressively through the painted-on material of her top. "Now, now, bad boy," she said playfully, her lips curled.

I took a breath. "Sorry," I said.

"No, it's okay," she said coquettishly, pushing her breasts together with her upper arms. "I'm turned on, too. But let's at least have dinner first."

I arched an eyebrow at her statement. "'First?'"

She nibbled her lip, her eyes never wavering from mine. "Well, we are gonna make love, aren't we?"

I took another breath, gritting my teeth as Mr. Erection tried to push up through my jeans. "Wow . . . you are direct, aren't you?"

Trish giggled. "I just know what you want," she said simply. "And it just happens to be what I want. Besides . . . you like being teased, just a little, right?"

I nodded. "But you already knew that," I said.

Trish nodded as well. "Yeah, I already knew that," she said softly.

I huffed, forced myself to look down at the menu. "Okay, well . . . let's pick out a pizza."

***

"So, who were those girls you were talking to, right before we left the mall?" I asked Trish about half an hour – and a couple kisses – later, after our pizza had arrived and we were on our second round of sodas.

"They're my sisters," she said, nibbling on her slice of pizza.

"I kind'a figured," I said. "They looked just like you."

"Oh, we all look alike, 'cept for hair color," she said casually. Her brow furrowed. "Not really sure why, exactly."

I chuckled, glancing to her pointed ears. They looked pretty good for plastic. "You're really into the whole elf thing, huh?"

Trish gave me a strange smile, set down her half-eaten slice. "It's what I am," she said simply.

Okay, she wants to play out the fantasy, I thought. No problems here. Never had an elf fantasy before, but I sure have one now.

"So . . . any male elves up north?" I asked, deciding to just go with it. Sometimes it's fun to cater to a fantasy, even when it isn't entirely sexual.

Trish shrugged. "Yeah, but they all got beards and those big mustaches and pot-bellies. All that thick dark beer, I guess. And they're so short!"

I chuckled. "Not your type, huh?"

Trish smiled. "I prefer tall, handsome guys with dark hair and clean-shaven faces," she said meaningfully. She picked up her soda and sucked on the straw.

I watched her lips move, the way her little nose wrinkled a little as she drank. "What else do you like?" I asked.

Trish grinned and snatched up her slice. "I like pizza!" she declared, and took a big bite. "Harmph!"

I laughed, watching her. So playful, so cute, so damn sexy . . . if she's the same way in bed . . . oh, man . . . .

Trish gazed into my eyes, chewed, swallowed. There was a smear of tomato sauce at the corner of her mouth. "What do you like?"

"Hmm. Cute little blondes with pointed ears."

Trish reached up and touched her ears. "You like them? Really? I hate them. Get in the way when I wanna wear a cowboy hat."

I reached across the table with my napkin and dabbed the corner of her mouth. "Since when do elves wear cowboy hats?"

"I was in Oklahoma last year," she said. "Lots of cowboys down there."

"That's true," I agreed. "So how'd you end up here?"

"This is just where they sent me," she said with a shrug, then gave me a sweet look. "But I'm really glad I'm here."

"Trust me, so am I."

***

"Oh, I feel loads better!" declared Trish as we headed out of Constantine's. Impulsively, she jumped onto the short, snow-covered railing beside the steps, slid down to the ground. She giggled, slapped snow off her butt as she danced across the slush-covered parking lot.

"I think I ate too much," I grumbled, rubbing my stomach.

Trish jogged up to me and gave me a sympathetic look, touching my abdomen. "Aw, poor baby. Too much in the tummy?" she asked with a pout.

"I'll be all right."

Her eyes lit up. "Hey! It's been more than fifteen minutes!" She jumped up into my arms, wrapping her little arms and legs around me. Softly, affectionately, she kissed my lips, little sucking, pecking kisses amid gentle murmurs that brought life back to my erection. I settled my hands on her wet butt.

"Mmm," she moaned gently, pulling her face back. She rubbed the tip of her button nose against mine.

"So what do you want to do now?" I asked her, testing the waters by gently kneading her firm cheeks.

Trish bit her lip and squeezed me with her thighs. "Hmm," she contemplated, looking around. She noticed the meandering paths of the nearby park, with snow-covered trees and bushes. "Let's go in there."

Sounded like a plan to me. I headed away from the car, toward the park, keeping Trish tight against me. She gave me no indication she wanted to be set down.

"Oh, this is romantic," sighed Trish, looking around. The thick layers of snow upon the bushes and tree limbs gave our surroundings a soft, pale glow. The air was still and crisp, but despite the cold, Trish's body heat was keeping me comfortable. Or maybe I was just so turned on that I didn't notice the chill.

"Yes, it is," I agreed, stopping to give her a soft kiss. Trish grinned, kissed me back. I headed along one of the winding trails, walking slowly, just enjoying the feel of Trish's warm tiny body against mine and the soft kisses she gave my lips, chin, and neck. I shivered with pleasure when her darting tongue tickled my ear. That had always been a serious erogenous zone for me. My penis bulged in my jeans, seeking the source of the heat between Trish's legs.

"So," she whispered, her peppermint breath warm on my face. "Ready for desert?"

My arousal swelled. "Here?"

Trish's blue eyes flashed naughtily. She glanced around, noting the seclusion afforded by the frosty vegetation. She nodded. "Right here. Don't worry. No one'll catch us."

My dick pulsed in my jeans. "Hmm . . . ."

Trish giggled playfully, then smothered my lips with a serious kiss, moaning into my mouth. My nervousness about public sex – always my most arousing fantasy, but one never realized – was quickly assuaged by Trish's soft lips, questing tongue, and gently-undulating body. I squeezed her ass more firmly, and Trish squealed with excitement.

She broke the kiss and leaned back in my arms, crossing her own to grip the hem of her skirt. In a swift move, she drew her tight dress over her head, tossing it casually aside. "You want me, baby?" she asked breathlessly.

I stared at her body. Flawless, golden skin glittered in the refracted light that bathed us. Trish's breasts were full and firm, standing high and proud on her chest, capped with strawberry-colored nipples. Her abdomen was trim and well-toned, her waist incredibly tiny. Sexy hips flared out as her legs straddled me. Her pubic hair was almost the same color as her golden skin, making it practically invisible. It didn't even register to me that her panties had somehow disappeared.

"Oh, Jesus, you are beautiful," I said, heart pounding.

Trish's face glowed as she cupped her breasts. "Wanna taste?"

I was feeling light-headed with desire. "God, yes," I replied and lowered my head. Trish sighed as I cupped my mouth over one of her stiff, sweet nipples. And it really was sweet! She tasted like cinnamon. Trish hissed as I sucked first the one nipple, then the other. I frowned in pleasant surprise as I tasted nutmeg.

Peppermint, cinnamon, nutmeg . . . this girl's a sexual candy store, I thought as I laved her breasts with my lips and tongue.

"Ohh, yes, baby, that's it," cooed Trish. She ran her hands through my hair, then pulled herself up my body. I felt her warm breath in my ear as she nipped at my earlobe. "Unzip your jeans."

I didn't need to be told twice. Licking back and forth between her flavored nipples, I took one hand from her ass and tugged on my zipper. I had to work to get my erect penis out, grunting with the effort, which made Trish giggle. Finally, my cock was freed, thrusting out into the cold air.

"Mmm, there we go," sighed Trish, lowering her body back down. I groaned as I felt the heat of her sex, ethereal wisps of pubic hair tickling the head of my penis. Damn, this girl was turning out to be every fantasy I had. Petite, eager, playful, gorgeous . . . and with a full bush, which I always preferred on a natural blonde.

But . . . .

Trish gave me a little pout as I stopped her from impaling herself on me. "What's wrong?" she asked heatedly, clearly as aroused as I, perhaps even more eager to consummate than I was.

"Um . . . I don't have a condom," I said sheepishly.

Her brow crinkled just above her nose. "A what?"

I chuckled. "You know, a condom? Rubber? Prophylactic?"

She suddenly understood. "Oh, you mean one of those stretchy things you guys have to put over your wieners?"

"Yeah, one of those." How could she not know what a condom was?

She smiled sweetly. "We don't need it," she said firmly. "I'm not old enough to get pregnant."

I gave her an alarmed look. "What!"

Trish giggled. "For an elf, silly!" she exclaimed. "You gotta be ninety-nine before you can have kids, and I'm a long way from that."

I gave her a strange look. Okay, there's only so far you can go with a fantasy, I thought. Even if this girl is the hottest thing I've ever . . . met . . . oh . . . damn . . . .

Trish had slipped her hand down between us and was lightly stroking my cock, tilting it up and slipping the head back and forth between very wet and very warm lips. I could feel the stiff button of her clitoris, which seemed larger than normal against the head of my cock.

She kissed and sucked my neck, panting in my ear. "Put it in, baby," she whispered hotly. "I wanna feel it inside me. Please. Pleeeaasseee . . . ."

"Oh, God," I groaned, then thrust up inside her, feeling her slick tunnel sucking me in. All concerns over sexually-transmitted disease vanished. Fuck it, I thought. Sometimes you just gotta take the risk.

Trish gasped loudly, followed by a long sweet sigh of pleasure as my cock slid all the way home. She was tight and sweet, with fluttering muscles that rippled along my shaft like dozens of tiny hands. I groaned at the pleasure of being inside her, of being joined with her. Trish's heat seared into my cock, spreading through my body.

"Oh, David!" she cried, squeezing me with her legs, wanting to get every last inch inside her tight body. I swayed on my feet, trying to keep my balance. Trish rolled her hips, sucked on my neck, moved to kissing my mouth. She moaned and whimpered, squeezing my thrusting cock with her hot, incomparable pussy.

I squeezed her cheeks, slapping her down against my loins. Trish squeezed me tight, her sexy, girlish sounds heightening my already astronomical libido. She panted on my neck, fucked me back with as much energy and enthusiasm as I gave her, threaded her fingers through the hair on the back of my neck. Again, one of my most sensitive erogenous zones. Trish somehow knew just where to touch.

"Mmm, oh David! Oh, David!" she panted desperately, shaking against me. "Oh, yes! Yes!"

Trish vibrated against me, her body spasming as she came. Her tunnel sucked hard on my cock, insanely tight and caressing, nearly triggering my own orgasm as hers washed through her lithe, twitching body. But I managed to hold back, feeling the hot bath of her orgasmic fluid soaking into my cock.

"Ooo, oh, baby," she moaned, coming back down from her high. She kissed me deeply, passionately, licking my lips and finding my tongue to suck on. She kept rolling her hips, massaging my cock with her vaginal muscles as she slid back and forth.

I didn't last much longer.

"Oh, God, Trish!" I grunted as my orgasm began. My prick throbbed inside her.

Trish jerked her head back, staring into my face, her own a mask of pure passion. "Now, baby?" she asked.

I shook, squeezing her ass. I was right there . . . "Now!" I cried.

Swiftly, smoothly, Trish drooped to the ground, landing in a squat before me as my cock slipped, shiny and wet, from her pussy. Immediately, just before my eruption began, she sucked it into her mouth, wrapping her soft pink lips tightly around my shaft, just beneath the head. Her hands gripped my hips and she sucked hard, staring up into my eyes.

Holy shit! I thought in erotic amazement. She wants me to cum in her mouth! How did she know that's what I wanted . . . .

"Oh, fuck!" I cried, ejaculating with the most intense orgasm I had ever known, gushing my load into Trish's insistent mouth. She moaned and whimpered around my cock as she tasted me, her eyes glazing over in an expression that seemed genuinely grateful. The always pleasurable sensation of cumming was magnified as Trish sucked out a literal river of my cum.

I held onto Trish's head for support, watching as her cheeks bulged slightly. Thick trickles of snow-white cream oozed from the corners of her mouth, dribbling down her chin. I groaned at the kinky sight. And then she sucked in her cheeks and swallowed, devouring my gift. I trembled and almost fell over.

If I had felt light-headed before, now I felt drunk. Trish kept sliding her slick lips back and forth along my cock, taking most of my length as it softened. She murmured in appreciation, gliding her tongue around my very satisfied penis. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, petting Trish's soft blonde hair, feeling the tips of her pointed ears, listening to the tender wet kissing and licking sounds she made, her affectionate murmurs.

"Oh, Jesus," I sighed at last, blinking my eyes open.

"Nope. Just me," said Trish with a giggle, popping back up. She had her elf dress on again, and she had evidently wiped her chin. Not a single trace of my orgasm remained.

I gave her a dazed look as Trish lifted up and kissed me. The peppermint flavor of her mouth was mixed with a slight, lingering trace of my cum. As we kissed, Trish deftly tucked my spent penis away and zipped me up.

Trish took my hand and gave me a sweet, little-girl smile. "Come on, baby," she whispered. "I gotta get back."

I tried not to show my disappointment. "Oh."

Trish touched my face. "I know you want me to stay with you," she said. "But I can't. We'll be together tomorrow, okay?"

I smiled at her implied promise, and squeezed her hand. "Okay."

"Let's go, David," she said, tugging on my hand. I stumbled beside her.

She giggled again. "You okay, baby? You gonna be able to make it to the car?"

I sighed. I had never felt so satisfied in my life, so pleasurably drained. "Barely . . . ."

***

I pulled the car along the side the curb before the closed-down mall, near the same door through which we had exited earlier. The parking lot was a ghost town except for the patrolling security trucks with their flashing amber lights.

I looked around. "Where's your ride?" I asked.

Trish smiled, snuggling against me. "They'll be here in a minute," she said.

I returned the smile, looking down into her beautiful blue eyes. "I'll wait with you," I said.

She lifted up, kissed me. "That's okay, sexy," she said. "You go home, get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow, I swear."

I frowned, started to speak, but Trish shushed me before I could get the words out by settling a slender finger to my lips. She smiled.

"Let a girl be mysterious," she whispered, then gave me one last, deep, soulful kiss. She pulled away with a musing sound, dragging her hands along my chest and over my lap, and opened the door.

"Um . . . what's your phone number?" I asked. "Or, do you just want to met me here?"

Trish bit her lip and winked. "I'll find you," she said. "Promise."

I frowned, confused, but I had the sense that I could trust her. I nodded. "Okay."

"Good night, lover," she said, then slipped out of my car. I watched her walk along the sidewalk that wrapped around the mall.

I was startled by a tap at my window. I looked to see a hefty black woman giving me a look.

"Move along," she said through the window. "Mall's closed."

"I was just making sure my girlfriend's okay," I said.

"Your who?" she asked.

I frowned, looked back to where I had seen Trish. She was gone. She couldn't have gotten around the corner that fast!

"Come on, get going," said the security officer impatiently.

Confused, I nevertheless started the car and pulled away from the curb. I looked back one last time, but saw no trace of Trish.

***

The lights were still on when I got back to my sister's house. Our grandparents were gone, back to their home on the other side of town. Our mother's car was in the driveway; I assumed she had come over to help my sister plan Christmas dinner.

I really didn't want to talk to my sister or mother. I loved them both, but after the incredible experience I'd had, I just wanted to take a shower, go to bed, and make tomorrow come that much quicker. I couldn't wait to see Trish again.

Alas, I didn't even make it through the door before I heard Vickie's voice.

"Hey, Dave!"

I groaned inwardly. The tenor of her salutation told me she wanted to hear about my date. Don't wanna be rude, I thought.

I smiled at my sister and mother, sitting in the living room. They had some late-night Christmas movie on the TV and were sipping rum cocktails. Jana, of course, was asleep in her room. It was too late for her to be up.

"So?" prodded Vickie.

I shrugged, playing it cool. "So . . . what?"

My sister rolled her eyes. "Dave, come on."

I chuckled, headed into the living room, gave my mother a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Mom."

She smiled knowingly. "So?" she asked, mimicking my sister.

I sighed. "She told you, obviously."

My mother laughed. "Of course she told me," she said. "And it's about damn time, too!"

"Why does everybody say that?" I asked rhetorically as I headed to Vickie's dry bar. I poured some rum into a glass, dropped in a cherry as an afterthought.

"Maybe because it's been over a year since you and Donna broke up."

I shrugged, sat down on the couch. "Just haven't met anyone," I said simply. My face soured a little. The pain of Donna's leaving still stung after fourteen months, especially considering that she had moved with my best friend Joe to the West Coast, just like that, throwing away four years of our lives together.

"Until now," said Vickie.

I blushed and smiled. Trish's aroma and her varied sweet flavors remained soaked into my senses. "Hope so," I said.

"Jana told me she's one of Santa's helpers," my mother said.

I chuckled. "Yeah, she's one of those holiday elves," I confirmed. "We just . . . hit it off. Actually, I was surprised; she came on to me."

"That's because my baby is a handsome boy," my mother said in her typical, motherly way.

I rolled my eyes. "Please, Mom. I'm twenty-seven. I think you can stop calling me your 'baby.'"

Mom laughed. "You're always gonna be my baby," she said. "Even when you're fifty-five and coming to see me in the old folks' home."

I laughed, sipped my drink.

"You gonna see her again, stud?" my sister asked chidingly.

I nodded. "Tomorrow," I said, then immediately thought, I hope.

"Ah, holiday romance," my mother said wistfully. She gave me a little smile. "Are you going to bring her over for Christmas dinner?"

I chuckled. "Mom, we just met," I said. "Let me get to know her before you guys scare her off."

My mother feigned an insulted look. "What a terrible thing to say!" she exclaimed, then smiled disarmingly. "I'll be nice, I promise."

"We'll see," I said.

My sister grunted as she rolled forward in her chair. "I need a refill," she said. "Anyone else?"

My mother and I answered at the same time. "Sure."

We watched the movie on TV for a while, one of those typical, feel-good holiday specials staring TV actors. At one point, a scene showed the main characters heading through the mall, shopping for presents. Seeing the mall Santa reminded me of something.




I Believe



"Mom," I said. "How come you and Dad never took me to see Santa in the mall?"

My sister perked up. "Yeah! What gives?" she asked. Obviously, Vickie had never gone to see Santa, either.

Our mother sighed. "Your father," she said sourly. She and Dad had been divorced since a week after I graduated high school. She gave me a look. "You know how he was. 'Mr. Practicality.' Didn't want you kids believing in things like Santa Claus."

I pursed my lips. "I was just wondering," I said. I smiled. "Man, you should'a seen the look on Jana's face when she came running back."

My sister grinned with vicarious pride in her daughter. "She always loves seeing Santa. I swear, that girl is gonna believe in Santa Claus for the rest of her life."

I met my sister's eyes. "You know what she asked for?"

Vickie's smile faded slightly. "I've got an idea," she said, considering her drink.

"What is it with you and John?" I asked, referring to my sister's estranged husband. "I mean, nine years, and . . . pfft! That's it?"

Vickie gave me a look. "It's not that easy, Dave," she said heavily.

I sighed. "It's breaking Jana's heart."

"Yeah, well it broke mine, too," Vickie said darkly.

"Vic—"

My sister ground her teeth. "I really don't wanna talk about it right now, okay?"

I nodded. "Sorry, sis."

She didn't say anything as she sipped her cocktail. I caught the expression on my mother's face, one of warning to me and understanding for the sympathy I had for my niece. I just gave her a short nod, wordlessly saying, 'I won't push it.'

"Well, I'm gonna go to bed," I said, and drained my second drink. I pushed up from the ouch, gave both my mother and sister a kiss good night. I held Vickie's hand a moment, letting her know I was sorry for bringing up a painful subject. She squeezed my fingers and let me go.

I headed up the stairs to my room. It felt strange to have a room in a house again; since I was nineteen, I had always had my own place. My own bathroom, my own kitchen, my own living room. But after spending the previous year's holidays alone, I did not want to go through that feeling of unbearable loneliness again. 

So when Vickie's invitation came to let me stay with her through Christmas, I jumped at it. I was between jobs as a bartender and had saved up more than enough money to carry me through for at least a few months. Being around family would do me good, I figured.

And I had been right. Not just my sister, but my mother lived in the same city, as well as my grandparents on my mother's side. I had been away for too long, I figured. In the week since I had been back, I had begun thinking about finding an apartment in the city.

Starting over.

Getting on with life.

I paused beside the cracked-open door to Jana's bedroom, pushed it open just a little to peer inside. My niece was tangled up in her sheets, laying on her side, facing the door in her Spongebob Squarpants pajamas. I smiled. Donna and I had talked about having kids when we were engaged; hell, we planned on it. Two kids, we decided, a boy and a girl. We had even picked out names: Jeremy David and Melissa Shane Cooper. We had shared dreams about our life together.

Now, those dreams were gone. Dust. Just shattered glass and broken promises.

My smile faded. I started to leave Jana's room.

"Uncle Dave?"

I looked back. Jana had lifted her sleepy head, brown hair sticking out. "Hey, sunshine," I said.

"I had a dream about Trish," she said, blinking slowly, stretching her eyes open.

I frowned, stepped into her room. I sat down on the bed beside my niece, stroked her back. "Did you?" I asked.

Jana smiled, murmuring, still sleepy. "Um-hmm," she said. "She told me my Daddy's coming home."

I felt a tugging on my heart. "Sounds like a nice dream," I said.

"She also told me she thinks you're really cute!"

I laughed. "I think she's really cute, too," I said. I leaned over and kissed Jana's cheek. "Get some sleep, honey."

Jana curled her arms up beneath her, her eyes closing once more. "Hmm . . . okay . . . ."

I stood and left my niece's room, softly closing the door. Then I headed down to my room, stripped off my clothes, and fell into bed. I was asleep within minutes.

***

I helped around the house the following morning, doing dishes and laundry, being the good brother for Vickie. I made breakfast for Jana as my sister slept off her hangover from the night before. As I would later discover, she and our mother had stayed up until the wee hours, drinking half a bottle of rum between them.

"Uncle Dave?" asked Jana as I cleaned up after breakfast.

"Yes, sunshine?" I asked, glancing to Jana as she worked on a Sudoku puzzle. I couldn't understand her addiction to the Japanese concoction.

"Is Trish a real elf?"

I frowned, putting the pots and pans in the sink. "Do you think she is?"

Jana screwed up her face in thought, tapping her pencil on the table. "I think so," she said.

I smiled. "Well, I trust you," I said. "If you think she's a real elf, then that's good enough for me."

Jana gave me a concerned look. "But if she's a real elf, then you can't get married and have babies."

I approached the table and sat down, poured some orange juice from the carafe on the table. "Why do you say that?"

Jana furrowed her brow. "'Cause she's an elf," Jana said, as if that was all the explanation she needed to give.

I pursed my lips. "Do your puzzle," I said.

Jana shrugged, studied the puzzle for a moment, then looked back up at me with a little smile on her face. "Although . . . if she really is an elf . . . ."

"Yeah?"

My niece grinned. "Then that means Santa really is real."

***

It was just before noon. I was out in the back yard, having a snowball fight with Jana and Vickie, when I heard my mother call my name: "Da-vid!"

"Yeah!" I called back, and turned around toward the patio deck. My heart caught in my throat.

Standing beside my mother, dressed in a tiny denim skirt, brown leather go-go boots, and a tight yellow halter, was Trish. Her hair was in pig tails that trailed down along the length of her arms. She gave me a sweet, sexy little smile. My heart flip-flopped.

God, she's gorgeous, I thought. But how'd she know where to find me--

A snowball smacked right into the back of my head.

I stumbled, wincing at the sting of the impact, reaching back to scoop snow out of my hair. Jana and Vickie both howled with laughter. My sister ran up beside me, grabbing my arm.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she said, over and over.

"It's okay," I said, shaking compacted ice off my gloves. I looked toward Trish again, saw the amused smile on her face.

"Wow, that's her, huh?" my sister asked. She leaned close. "Dave . . . she is old enough, isn't she?"

I shot her a look. "Yes, she is," I said.

"Trish!" screamed Jana excitedly, running, stumbling through the snow of the back yard. My new girlfriend jumped down from the deck and met Jana with a hug, grinning ear to ear.

"Um . . . looks like Jana really likes her," my sister said, and slapped my back. "You know what that means."

"No. What?"

Vickie chuckled. "Dum-dum-da-dum . . . ." she said, mimicking the first bars of 'Here Comes The Bride.'

I rolled my eyes after my sister as Vickie headed up to the house. Strangely enough, I wasn't all that perturbed by her apparent precognition. Maybe I didn't know Trish all that well, but I couldn't think of anything about her that I didn't adore . . . or even love.

***

My mother loved her. My sister was impressed with her. And Jana simply thought that Trish was the 'coolest thing in the world.'

The four of us sat in the living room, with Trish cuddled up beside me on the couch. Even though she was out of 'uniform,' my petite, cherubic little lover had her pointed ears on. The long, slender protrusions were made even more prominent by her pig tails. I had to admit that the things looked convincing; I could tell where her real ears ended and the fake ones began.

"So, are you in school?" my mother asked Trish as we all shared a casual lunch of toasted ham and cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

"Sort of," Trish said. "Guess you could say I'm into anthropology. I'm a big time people-watcher."

"Grandma," said Jana, plunking her sandwich down in her lap for a moment. "She's an elf. Elves don't go to school."

We all smiled at Jana's childish comment.

"Well, that's not true," said Trish, leaning forward and the couch and tousling my niece's shoulder-length hair. "Elves go to school, too. We have to know how to act around you humans."

Jana nodded slowly. "Oh . . . well, that makes sense."

I looked to my mother; she was giving me a strange smile.

"Trish?" Jana asked.

"Yes, sunshine?" responded Trish, casually using my niece's pet name. I frowned. I didn't tell her about that, did I?

Jana gave Trish a serious look. "Is my daddy really coming home?"

Trish's smile didn't waver. "Didn't I tell you he is?"

Jana grinned, excited. "Yay!" she exclaimed. "Daddy's coming home! Daddy's coming home!"

My sister looked visibly disturbed, shooting Trish a look that my elfin girlfriend seemed to ignore. "Um . . . J-Jana, why don't you get your colors? I bet Trish would love to see your pictures."

Jana grinned and jumped up. "Yeah! Stay here, Aunt Trish, I'll be right back!" My niece ran up the stairs.

Aunt Trish? I thought.

"Trish," my sister said, giving my girlfriend a look. "I know you mean well, but Jana's father and I . . . it's complicated. He's not coming back."

Trish's didn't skip a beat. "You sure of that?"

Vickie laughed ruefully. "You really don't know us that well, okay? So don't go giving my daughter false hopes."

Trish's expression was dead serious. "I don't give false hopes," she said.

My sister stared at her, with a look that told me she was about to explode into one of her patented inflamed diatribes. I decided to head it off.

"Hey," I said, forcing myself to sound upbeat. I looked to Trish. "I almost forgot! We were gonna see that new movie today! You know, that comedy! The new one!"

Trish held my eyes a moment, then smiled. "Yeah, that's right," she said. "Wow. Where has the time gone?"

"Well, we'd better get going now, or we're gonna miss it," I said, standing and taking Trish's hand. Trish stood up with me, setting her plate on the coffee table. She looked to my sister and mother.

"It was nice meeting you," she said.

"Likewise, dear," my mother said.

"Yeah. Likewise," said Vickie acidly.

***

"Why did you do that?" I asked Trish as we headed down to my car.

Trish darted ahead of me, stopping my march to the car. She stared up at me. "What makes you think I'm wrong?"

I forced myself to stay calm. "Look. Jana's very vulnerable right now. She doesn't need someone telling her that her father's coming home, when he isn't."

Trish's confident look remained. "Oh? And you know that for a fact?"

"More than you know that he's coming back."

Trish's lips curled. "Well," she said. "We'll just see, won't we?"

***

I held onto a handful of Trish's long, silky hair, my other hand on her naked hip as I shoved into her from behind. She gasped and panted, clawing the back of the passenger seat, all but screaming as her orgasm roared through her tiny body.

"Cum on me, baby!" she cried passionately. "Come on, do it! Shoot it all over me!"

I grunted as I felt my balls tighten. I slipped out of her snug pussy, admiring the way her fine blonde hairs surrounded the puffy lips of her sex. I marveled at her perfect ass and bright pink anus. Trish whipped around, onto her back, spreading her legs wide and cupping her breasts in her hands. She stared up at me with a feral, passionate expression, her mouth hanging open as she panted.

"Yeah, baby, stroke it," she whimpered, her eyes darting down to my cock as I masturbated over her. "Jack it, baby, go on! Go on! Do it all over me!"

I shuddered with release, spurting thick streams of cum that splashed onto Trish's breasts, stomach, and pubic mound. A few ambitious globs of fluid landed in her mouth, upon her soft pink tongue. Trish grinned and cooed, watching me erupt. As my spurts became dribbles, she rolled up and slipped her mouth around my cock, sucking out the last little bit and swallowing with a sigh.

I collapsed in the driver's seat, panting as I regained my breath. Trish cuddled close, running her hands up and down my body and affectionately fondling my spent cock. She ducked down to kiss and lick my penis, then snuggled her head on my chest. She murmured contentedly, scratching lightly along my abdomen.

"Mmm, baby," she moaned softly.

"Jesus," I huffed. "Now I know why people wanna smoke after sex." I looked around at the steamed-over windows. The air inside my car was steamy and warm from our frenzied lovemaking.

Trish giggled against me. "I think we were 'smokin'' enough," she said.

I laughed. "Damn, Trish . . . I can't believe how good you make me feel. And not just like this."

She lifted her head, brushing back a strand of hair. A thick dollop of sperm was conspicuous on her chin. "I'm glad I make you feel this way, baby," she said. "It really makes me happy."

I smiled, kissed her forehead. "Do I make you happy?" I asked her.

She gave me a dreamy look. "David, do you even have to ask?"

***

The following few days were a passionate, hedonistic blur. Trish and I would make love two, three times a day, always in my car or in some secluded little grove in the park. While our sex life was the stuff that great porn is made of, it never felt like just fucking. Trish and I made love, albeit in the most incredible, intense ways imaginable. 

But never at the house, or wherever she lived (questions about which she always managed to deflect). Whenever I picked her up, it was always outside the mall, and when I dropped her off, late at night, it was always at the same spot. A couple times, I met her inside the mall, near 'Santa's Wonderland.'

She was always excited to see me and seemed nearly impatient to be alone with me. Sometimes, we spent time at Vickie's house, and Trish and Jana were almost inseparable when she was there. Jana always referred to my girlfriend as 'Aunt Trish,' a title that perturbed me less and less.

But more than make love with all the passion and desperation one would expect from virgins on their wedding night, Trish and I talked. I told her about my life back in Florida, and with her urging, about Donna and the pain I felt. Trish listened sympathetically, never once sounding offended for hearing about my ex-fiance.

By Christmas Eve, I was seriously considering using the remainder of my savings to buy an engagement ring. The idea was ludicrous, to be sure, but . . . Trish was everything I had ever desired in a woman, and then some. Physically, emotionally, Trish seemed to have been molded directly from my fantasies. Sexually, she was more than any woman had ever been, more than I had ever realistically hoped for. No matter what I wanted, Trish was always instantly and eagerly willing to comply.

While my sister tried to keep her distance whenever Trish came over, even she could not resist Trish's overwhelming charm and charisma. With some reluctance, Vickie warmed up to my lover, apparently forgiving her for her remarks to Jana. As Christmas loomed closer, Trish was introduced to my grandparents and other members of my family. She always seemed to almost instantly endear herself to everyone she met. No one ever had anything bad to say about Trish, although a few comments were made here and there about her tiny stature and pointed ears. Jana conveniently explained that 'that's just how elves are.'

But, as much as I wanted to have a life with her, somehow, I knew it wasn't to be.

"She's a wonderful girl, Dave," my mother said to me the afternoon of Christmas Eve, as we stood out on the patio of Vickie's house. Trish, Jana, Vickie and a few of my cousins were all in the back yard, making a snow man.

"Yeah, she is," I agreed, watching Trish. Now and then, she would look back to me and smile, wave her hand.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?"

I sighed, frowning. "Yeah, I think so."

My mother moved around and looked into my face. "So what's bothering you?"

I sighed heavily. "There's something wrong," I said, then checked myself. "No, it's not wrong, just . . . I have this feeling."

"What feeling?"

I looked to Trish forlornly. "Like . . . like this is the last night we're gonna be together," I said.

At that moment, time seemed to slow down, like a movie set on slow-motion. Trish, slapping a handful of packed snow onto the snowman's face, turned her head toward me, giving me a smile. It was a sad smile, an apologetic smile.

Don't leave me, I thought.

Her smile changed a little, and seemed to say, I have to.

***

I wasn't all that surprised when Trish told me she had to head back to the mall that evening. She changed into her elf costume in the bathroom (pretty quickly, too) and held my hand tightly as we headed down to the car. 

Trish was quiet on the drive, staring out the window with a blank expression on her face. Once we stepped through the doors to the mall, she made a bee-line for 'Santa's Wonderland,' pulling me along behind her. 

The galleria was crowded. Nine o'clock on Christmas Eve, and there was still a line for Santa. I watched the kids fidgeting in line, anxious to see Santa before the mall closed.

I noticed Trish's 'triplet' sisters standing at the edge of the gated area, watching us approach. They seemed to look at Trish as if thinking, it's about time you showed up.

Trish stopped at the edge of the display and turned to me. She squeezed my hands, looking up into my eyes. Her own were swollen and wet, ready to burst with tears.

"I have to say good-bye, David," she whispered, her words choked.

I held back my emotions. "I know," I said, strangely accepting the moment.

She shook. "I don't want to, I really don't," she said.

I touched her face, her neck, threading my hands through her hair as I gently cupped one of Trish's long, pointed ears. She closed her eyes a moment, enjoying my touch, her soft lips parted as she breathed in and out. I hated to admit it, but my suspicion was finally confirmed. Trish's long, pointed ears weren't fake.

Strangely enough, the confirmation of what Trish was didn't surprise me. I realized I had always known. I just had to accept it.

I stooped, tilting her face up, and kissed her dearly, lovingly. Trish whimpered and pressed herself against my body, curling her arms around me and squeezing tight.

"I love you," I whispered.

She breathed out, a hot, heavy sound. "I love you, too, David. I always will."

I kissed her again, wanting to keep her with me, to just pick her up and run like a mad man back to the car . . . but I understood somehow that I knew I couldn't. Trish pulled away from me, stepping backwards, tears streaming down her cheeks.  

"Good-bye, baby," she whispered.

"Good-bye."

And then she was gone, meeting her sisters, vanishing with them into the crowd.

I sighed heavily, straightening, swallowing my tears. The buzz of conversations, the chime of advertisements, the melodies of Christmas carols surrounded me. I wiped my eyes, almost feeling self-conscious about my display in such a public place with so many people around. But ultimately, I really didn't care what anyone saw or thought.

***

"Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas, young man! Off you go!"

I watched as the little boy – six or seven years old – jumped off Santa's knee and ran toward his mother. Santa smiled as well, a genuine expression that made his snow-white beard shift upon his broad chest. His small, grandfatherly eyes drifted to me.




I Believe



"Oh-ho!" he exclaimed jovially. "Aren't you a little old to sit on Santa's lap?"

I smiled in self-admonishment. "Probably," I said, stepping up to him. Looking more closely now, I could tell that the beard wasn't fake, nor were the rosy cheeks or the big round belly. Nor the look of kindness, age, and wisdom in his eyes.

"Well, what can jolly old St. Nick do for you, young man?" he asked.

I shook my head with a smile. "Not a thing," I said. "I just wanted to say 'thank you.'"

His eyes smiled. He gave a short nod in understanding. "You're welcome, David," he said. I wasn't surprised that he knew my name. "Love is a gift you never lose. Remember that."

I nodded. "I will."

Santa held up his hand, holding a plastic-wrapped candy cane. "Merry Christmas," he said. "And a very happy New Year."

I laughed, even as I felt a tear trickling down my cheek. I took the candy, clasped his hand. "Merry Christmas . . . Santa."

***

I was in a strange mood when I returned to Vickie's house. The tears had dried, and I was left with a feeling of acceptance and inclusion into something very few people ever enjoy.

Cars filled the driveway and lined the streets. I had to park half a block away and walk back to the house. I didn't mind. The air was still, crisp and pleasant, carrying the aromas of peppermint, cinnamon, and nutmeg. I was smiling by the time I reached the front door. Everything just seemed . . . right.

Vickie opened the door at my knock. I could have used the key, I knew, but it somehow seemed more appropriate the rap my knuckles on the door beneath the mistletoe wreath.

"David," she said in a soft voice. Her face was red and her eyes were swollen. She looked like she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

My sister suddenly grinned, and crushed herself against me. "He came home, baby brother," she said, sighing in my ear. "He came home."

He? I stepped into the house with my sister and looked to the living room. There, sitting on the floor, was my brother John, playfully wrestling with his daughter. I watched them for a moment, stunned. Then I slowly smiled. Of course.

Somewhere, ethereally, at the edge of hearing, came the sound of sleigh bells.

Vickie squeezed my hand as she stood beside me. "He showed up about two hours ago," she explained. "Right after you left. Didn't call or anything, he just . . . showed up."

I looked to my sister, saw the elation on her face through her happy tears. "I guess Trish was right after all," I said.

Vickie flashed her eyes to me, staring a moment, then laughed. "Yeah, she was," she said, and sniffled again.

"Uncle Dave! Uncle Dave!"

Jana ran up to me, leaving her father for the moment, arms outstretched and young face glowing. I automatically dropped down and hugged her close.

"My daddy's home!" Jana cried in my ear. "My daddy's home!"

I squeezed her tight. "Merry Christmas, sunshine," I said. I held up the candy cane Santa Claus had given me. "I brought you something."

Jana pulled back, grinning happily. She snatched the candy cane from my hand. "Where's Aunt Trish?" she asked. "I wanna thank her for bringing my daddy back."

I touched Jana's nose, making my niece blink. "She had to go home," I said.

Jana cocked her head, smiling sweetly. Her eyes seemed to suddenly contain the wisdom of the ages. "Don't worry, Uncle Dave," she said. "Christmas comes every year, you know."

I chuckled, hugged her again. All the questions in the world could be answered by a nine-year-old, I realized. Jana squeezed me with all the strength she possessed, then drew back. "So . . . you believe in Santa Claus, now?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "I believe."

-finis-

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. As always, let me know what you think.



I Believe in Faeries!



He had become frightfully cunning. "Wendy," he said, "how we should all respect you."

She was wriggling her body in distress. It was quite as if she were trying to remain on the nursery floor.

But he had no pity for her.

"Wendy," he said, the sly one, "you could tuck us in at night."

--J. M. Barrie, Peter and Wendy

When I wake I always remember the white birch forest. It's bright there, and quiet like sacred ground is quiet.

"Is this the way?"

My companion grins mischievously and seizes my hand: "Come on!" 

She's not quiet human: doe-eyed with arched brows, a pixie's nose, full lips and a close-cropped shock of burnt sienna. Walking with her is like hearing your mother-tongue spoken in a far-off dialect, or tasting strawberry chewing gum for the very first time. 

When I was very small my parents took me to see a stage production of Peter Pan. There I saw a grown woman dressed as a magical boy flying on wires, and was forever smitten. I'm in her country now, a lost boy, my heart thrilling again to songs that only she can sing. 

She's different now, grown up along with me, exchanged her green tights and cock-eyed cap-and-feather for rough denim slacks of umber-ochre and a knit sweater space-dyed with violet reds and deep sea greens. No longer clownish or carnivalesque, she's still the wild spirit of the woods. 

When we reach her cabin she beams proudly and crows, "Well what d'ya think?" Before I can answer she scoops a handful of birch leaves off the ground and sprinkles them over my head. "Faerie dust!" she says, and laughs.

As we enter a fire is already burning in the cast iron stove. It's musty and dark, but a ray of brilliant sunlight falls through the single window onto her face and neck and across her broad shoulders. She's radiant, transfigured.

"Give me a thimble," she says, pulling me close. 

I lean in to taste her salt-stained lips; I fall into her embrace and my soul takes flight. In a little while I become, I won't say childlike, but playful and trusting, uncalculating, disarmed. I can feel her love at work within me, changing me, a vine with a thousand tendrils taking root in virgin earth, turning over unseen soil in the darkness. 

I feel something else too, an unformed thought sensed just beyond the mind's horizon, vast and troubling, closing in fast, concealed for the moment behind her double-edged tenderness. So I hold her a little closer, kiss her a little more passionately, seek a little reassurance, find a little courage. In her embrace I am ready to accept fate and scorn suffering, brave like mothers in childbirth. 

When in time she lifts my shirt to caress my swelling breasts, their strangeness no longer startles me. "Of course," I think, with dream logic, "She's Peter, I'm Wendy."

My metamorphosis pleases her. She regards me with a casual and proprietary air. As she carelessly fondles me I feel a heat rising, rising and then condensing again in a narrow burning ridge between my thighs. I'm paralyzed by its intensity, helpless in her arms. I coo and murmur, I kiss and moan. And as she fingers that blazing ridge, I cry out.

Her breath is the wind. My body is earth. Her hands call forth my fire, and water flows from a deep fissure within me. I feel it pouring out of me, tricking down my legs. I'm lost to her now, enchanted. 

When she reveals her own nakedness I see that she possesses, like a stolen scepter, the soft instrument of masculine pleasure. A hesitation overtakes me, or rather, a tension, a doubt whether having acquired a woman's form, I might also have acquired a woman's vulnerability.

I'm dizzy. My limbs are heavy and torpid. She grins wickedly, imp-like and spreads my legs until I'm splayed wide before her. Teasing me open she slides inside of me begins to take her pleasure.

I panic. I try to wake, to shake her off. I struggle and writhe, but it only seems embolden her, and soon my body betrays me through bliss and we begin to struggle together toward something inexpressible. I kiss her tenderly.

"Please," I whisper, with all of the poignant ambiguity of passion.

She stops, as though pierced through the heart. She seems overcome by a sudden pity. She withdraws, and climbs until her knees are astride my ears. 

"Are you afraid? Then save yourself." 

I understand. I kiss it. I take it inside my mouth. I caress its soft underbelly with my tongue. 

She reaches one hand behind her and caresses my thighs to stoke my fever heat. Our eyes lock and we begin a contest of pleasure. I take her more deeply inside my mouth and hope that her desire will burst forth in a flame upon my lips, like at Pentecost. 

For just a moment she seems moved to distraction. For a moment the tables are turned in my favor. When she breaks away, I'm shattered. She mounts me again and this time I make no resistance. My body is hers now. I want no say in it. 

She takes her time. She lets herself enjoy every slow thrust. She's pacing herself. I linger on the brink of ecstasy, patient, at her service, enduring innumerable shades of pleasure...

Afterward we hold each other tightly and I am slowly returned to myself, a little more whole for having been broken. It's a sweet dream, not a nightmare. Sometimes I wake and in confusion recall a line of Blake's: "The cut worm forgives the plow." 

* * *

I look for her in my waking hours. (Evidently it's not an uncommon longing; my queer friends complain of "tranny chasers".) But I haven't found her yet in any form meant for me. Sometimes I joke that if I feel an immediate, deep, attraction to a woman at our first introduction, she is almost certainly a lesbian.

Every now and then I meet a hetero-tomboy. Once I pursued a soldier. Such women fill me with hope. But looks are deceiving, and plenty of strong, broad-shouldered women want nothing more than to be some man's pussycat. I wish them well; and yet I will always hope to meet such a one as the young admirer who wrote to Sacher-Masoch:

"As a child I liked to wear boy's clothes, and ruled over them as a king. To this day I have an impulsive, domineering, obstinate spirit, and the thought of being obedient to or dependent on anyone has always been intolerable. I have at times been loved, but I have never loved. I have a cold heart, and cold blood." 

I'm growing older. It's long past time to settle down, to "get serious", to marry sensibly and perhaps start a family. But I can't—I still believe in faeries.



I Believe in Miracles



October 20th - Kandahar Valley, Afghanistan

Finally, mail from home. Scott hadn't received any correspondence from home since his outfit deployed to Afghanistan two months ago in late August. Grabbing the half dozen letters he headed toward the tent he shared with five other Marines. Of six return addresses on the envelopes three were from his mom and dad, two from his younger sister and only one from Stephanie. That was disappointing, maybe there would be more tomorrow now that the mail had finally caught up to the outfit.

Saving the one letter from Stephanie until last he quickly read through the ones from his family. Mom's letters were typical mom to son letters. Everything was fine at home although his father still worked too many hours at the office. She was still active in the church ladies group sending cards and gift boxes to the troops overseas. Mom closed each letter with. "We love you and are praying for your safe return." The first letter from his sister, Robin, was full of stories about her return to college that semester, how great the football team was doing and a description of her latest boyfriend.

Robin's second letter was not as much fun to read. She spoke of seeing Stephanie several times in the last several weeks. Stephanie was always with the same guy, Kyle Johnson. Robin was not happy about seeing them together, but she didn't go into any details. She closed her letter with "hurry home, you are missed."

Opening Stephanie's letter he began to read.

September 17th

Dear Scott

I know of no other way of saying this but I have been dating another guy ever since you left. I ran into Kyle Johnson in the hospital cafeteria during my lunch break from the emergency room. One thing lead to another and he asked me to dinner and I accepted. That Saturday we went to Cafe Max and he told me that he saw you at the Hilton the night before you deployed. Remember, that was the night that I had to work overtime in the emergency room because of the school bus accident that sent so many young kids to our trauma unit. 

Anyway, Kyle told me he saw you sitting in the bar. He said you told him you were waiting for me. That's when your cell phone rang. It was me telling you I would be at least two hours, or more, late meeting you. I know you were unhappy, but there was nothing I could do about it.

It was then that Kyle left you to join some friends at another table. He told me that he saw Susan Morgan come into the lounge and sit next to you at the bar. Then he told me that he saw you walk her to the reception desk, get a room key and go up with her in the elevator.

I didn't want to believe it but then I remembered how cold and distant you seemed to be with me when I finally met up with you three hours later.

Kyle has been more than a dear friend to me and has told me quite a lot about some other things he saw you doing in the weeks before you left. How could you do that to me? I never want to hear from you again!

I have fallen in love with Kyle and he asked me to marry him. The wedding is October 12th. Don't bother sending a gift. 

Stephanie

Scott sat on his rack stunned, tears rolling down his cheeks. He folded the letter and placed it in his shirt pocket under his flak jacket. Just as he opened his foot locker to take out a pad of writing paper the camp came under a barrage of rifle and automatic weapons fire. Grabbing his M-16 and helmet he ran to join his squad. For the next two hours the unit was engaged in a fierce fire fight with hundred or so insurgents. During the engagement Scott was hit several times and a tiny piece of shrapnel nicked his optic nerve and everything went black. 

November 2nd - Ramstein, Germany

"Well Lieutenant it looks like we are shipping you home tomorrow to complete your recovery. The surgery went well and I believe we were able to repair that tiny nick to your optic nerve. I put your chances at about seventy-five percent that you will have your eyesight fully restored. We'll have to keep your eyes wrapped for a while before removing the bandages and then we will see how successful the operation was," The doctor continued saying. "The bullet wounds to your legs did considerable damage but that also should heal nicely. You will be in a wheelchair for the time being. But with extensive physical therapy you should be able to get around, unaided, without any trouble. One of your nurses will be in shortly to get you ready to leave. Good luck to you, son." And with that he left the room.

Thirty minutes later a pretty, young red haired nurse with green eyes entered Scott's room. "Hi Lieutenant Anderson. It's me Katelin, Katelin O'Hara. I see that they're sending you home tomorrow. You even get your own personal escort all the way to the veteran's hospital in your hometown. Want to guess who it is?" And then she quickly answered her own question, "Me!"

When Scott was first brought into the military hospital Katelin had been assigned to him. Katelin was the first nurse in a program, funded by a grant, from a large and influential consulting firm. The idea was that severely wounded service personnel would benefit from having one individual to provide them with physical and emotional support that was so important in their recovery. She took more than just a professional interest in him. She could see he was a good looking young man even under all the bandages covering his face and eyes. There was something about him that captivated her. He had a very positive attitude about his treatment and recovery. It was only when she brought up the subject of him going home and who might be waiting there for him did he become depressed and stopped talking.

One day, shortly after he arrived he asked about the uniform he had been wearing on the day he was admitted. She told him it was still there, hanging in the small closet along with his flak jacket and some of his personal belongings. He sighed and asked if there was still a letter in the shirt pocket. 

When she retrieved the folded letter from the shirt said he needed to answer it and since he couldn't see would she please write it or him.

"Sure, no problem," She said as she sat next to his bed. "Fire away."

"First you need to read it while I think about what I want to say," he said.

As she began to read tears soon came to her eyes and then anger. How could anyone be so cruel to make accusations like this without hearing and considering any possible explanations.

Katelin began writing Scott's letter to Stephanie.

October 22nd

Dear Stephanie.

By now you may have heard what happened to me and I know you didn't want me to contact you. Let me begin by saying that there is nothing I can do or say can stop you from marrying Kyle. But I find it necessary to respond to some of the things he accused me of doing. Yes, I did secure a key from the reception desk with Susan. But it was a key to one of the banquet rooms on the second floor. You see Susan's mom and dad were already up there getting ready to set up and decorate for her engagement party. She came back down and saw me sitting at the bar and asked me to help her dad with some of the heavier boxes of liquor. I think you know her fiance, Thad Peterson.

Thad is an Ensign in the Navy and only had a two day pass before reporting for sea duty. He was on his way but was delayed by bad weather in Atlanta. So, Susan and her family were trying to have everything ready when their friends and he arrived. I helped them and I'm glad I did.

As far as being "cold and distant" with you, I apologize. I knew I would have to leave you for a very long time in less than 12 hours and I was feeling sorry for myself. But you seem to forget how annoyed you were with me when I spoke about our upcoming separation. 

And what "other things" did Kyle tell you about me? I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you in any way. 

I am not going to say anything about Kyle other than he has always had a problem with telling the truth. I know he has been after you for years and it looks like he finally got what he wanted. As you can see this letter is not in my handwriting. One of my nurses has been kind enough to write it for me as right now I cannot.

As far as a wedding gift goes I can only wish you the best.

Scott

P.S. My name is Katelin O'Hara. I am Lieutenant Anderson's nurse. He does not know I am adding this post script. You will never begin to fathom how much this man has sacrificed. I have sat with him many, many nights and listened to his tortured speech as he suffered through nightmare after nightmare always professing his love for you. You are one cruel and stupid bitch. Katelin did accompany Scott on the flight back to Jacksonville Naval Air Station and then on to the veteran's hospital in his home town. When he asked her why she replied, "I always wanted to live and work in Florida and I was just lucky enough to get a job at the hospital where you are being admitted." She didn't tell him that her father, who had considerable influence in the Department of Veteran Affairs, had seen to it that a position was made available to her.

November 4th - Malcom Randall Veterans Hospital, Gainesville, Florida

Scott and Katelin arrived late in the afternoon and after processing Scott was assigned a room and was moved into it. Scott's parents, John and Patricia Anderson, and his sister Robin were there waiting for him. After a lot tears, hugs and kisses the family sat down to catch up with all that had happened to Scott in the past few months. Katelin stayed in the background and only after Scott asked for her was her presence made known to the family. She explained what was going to take place over the next few days and that she would be there to look after Scott.

A little after seven that evening Doctor Schmidt entered the room. He explained in detail what Scott would be facing over the next several weeks and months. The bandages would removed from his eyes in a few days. He could start physical therapy as his leg wounds were healing nicely. Scott would be allowed to leave the hospital during the day time as long as he was accompanied by his nurse. Again, it was Katelin who was assigned this task.

On a Sunday afternoon the day before Scott's bandages were to be removed Scott's mom and dad decided to have a combination good luck/welcome home party for Scott. Scott's aunts and uncles along with his cousins and several friends and neighbors were invited to celebrate his homecoming. About four in the afternoon there was a knock at the door and Robin went to answer it. It was Stephanie standing there clutching Scott's letter.

"I would like to speak with Scott, if I may?" she asked. 

"Why? Haven't you caused enough heart ache for him?" Robin replied.

"I've, I've come to apologize," she stammered. "I discovered that Kyle was, is, a liar. When I confronted him about everything he said, he became abusive and hit me." 

"All right. Come in but make it quick and then get your ass out of here," Robin said as she turned and walked back into the house.

As Stephanie stepped into the room all conversation ceased and everyone looked at her, some with downright loathing, knowing what she had done to Scott.

"Scott, I am so sorry. How can I ever ask you to forgive me? The day after Kyle beat me I saw an attorney, got a restraining order and started divorce proceedings. I want to go back to the way things were before you left" she said as she knelt down in front of Scott's wheelchair and put her arms around him. 

Standing behind Scott's wheelchair Katelin stood there with tears in her eyes and a look of sadness on her face. Katelin's reaction was not lost on Robin. Looking at her she immediately knew how much in love she was with her brother. Poking her mother she nodded toward Katelin. Mom's eyes said she had the same thought as Robin.

"I forgive you." Scott said with a smile on his face. "And, and . . ."

Before he could go any further Robin stepped between them and said, "I think it's time we were getting Scott back to the hospital. He has a long day ahead of him tomorrow. The bandages come off his eyes and we are praying his eyesight will return. Come on, Katelin, let me help you get him back into the van and I'll follow you to the hospital in my car".

Stephanie stepped back as family and friends surged forward to say good-bye and wish him well.

"I'll come by the hospital tomorrow. I want to be there when they take the bandages off and then we have a lot to talk about," Stephanie said as Katelin wheeled him out to the van.

Monday - November 14th

Monday morning Katelin wheeled Scott to the ophthalmologist's examination room. She left him there and went to a small conference room just down the hall. Inside the room she found Scott's parents, sister and Stephanie. Katelin explained that the bandage removal and subsequent tests would take about thirty minutes to complete and then Scott and his doctors would meet with them.

An hour passed before the door opened and Scott was pushed into the room by the eye specialist. The look on Scott's face and the fresh bandages covering his eyes said everything even before the doctor spoke.

"There is no change. He is still blind," Doctor Fletcher said. "I've ordered an MRI for this afternoon and perhaps that will give us some idea of what's going on."

Everyone was speechless. They had such high hopes that Scott would regain his sight. Katelin rose and stepped behind Scott's wheelchair and putting both hands on his shoulders began to gently massage the tension from his body. "OK. This is a setback but it is not the end. I'm sure Doctor Fletcher and his staff will be able to devise a another, more successful, treatment," she said.

Scott's parents and sister began offering positive comments in hope of raising Scott's spirits as they surrounded him.

Stephanie just sat in her chair. "I am not sure I can handle Scott being blind for the rest of his life. I mean, what am I going to do? I can't care for a blind man for the rest of my life," she said as she stood up and left the room.

"You bitch! Get the hell out of here!" Robin shouted after her. "Oh, Scotty everything is going to work out. I promise," she said softly to her brother.

Scott finally spoke, "I think I would like to go sit outside in the sunshine. Will you help me, Katelin?" 

For the next hour and a half the family and Katelin sat in the court yard giving Scott all the love and support they could. Looking at her watch, Katelin announced that it was time for the MRI exam and they needed to go back inside.

After settling the family in the waiting room she pushed Scott down the corridor toward the MRI examination. Katelin and two techs placed him on the table that would slide him into the imaging machine. Before leaving him she bent down and kissed him and whispered into his ear, "Please don't worry. I am here for you and I'll always be here for you. I love you." She then rejoined the family in the waiting room.

When the exam was completed the MRI techs got Scott back into his wheelchair and the family, as well as Katelin, spent the remainder of the afternoon together.

Later, after mom, dad and Robin had left for the evening Scott and Katelin had a long conversation lasting well into the night.

The next morning after Scott had his breakfast and received a shave and a sponge bath by another of the nursing staff Katelin arrived. Putting him into his wheelchair she said, "we're going for a little ride to another wing of the hospital. There is someone I want you to meet."

After a short ride, with Katelin pushing him, they arrived at the Gait and Balance Clinic. "Scott meet Todd. He is going to begin with your physical therapy this morning. I am leaving you for a little while. Be back to get you later." 

"Good morning Lieutenant. I went over your medical records and it looks like you and I are going to become close friends for the next several weeks. I won't lie to you, it's going to be rough. But, if you work hard I guarantee you will be standing and able to walk without crutches or a cane before Christmas. And if you work really, really hard you might even be able to going dancing on New Year's Eve," Todd said as he wheeled him over to the first of the progressive weight machines he would be exercising on that morning.

Two hours later Katelin returned. "Hey, big guy," she announced. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Damm, get me out of here! This guy is trying to kill me. If I could see him, I'd slug him," said an exhausted Scott with a grin on his face.

"Hey, it wasn't that bad. Just wait until tomorrow. That's when you're really going to get a workout, you big sissy," Todd chuckled as they left.

"Scott, they told me that they got the MRI results back. Let's go see Doctor Fletcher before lunch and hear what he has to say," Katelin said as they headed back toward the main building. 

"Well, Scott I have some news. Some good and some bad," Doctor Fletcher began. "First the good. I went over the MRI results for hours last night and this morning. At first I couldn't see any reason why your eyesight has not returned. Your optic nerve has completely regenerated itself. As we went through the images, one layer at a time one of my MRI techs, Peter, noticed something. A small speck, about half the size of a grain of fine sand, appeared at level five of the images. It wasn't visible at level six and was not there at level four. Peter enlarged that image for me. We discovered that speck to be a tiny fragment of the original piece of shrapnel. Your body has been trying to isolate it by growing scar tissue, essentially a cyst around it. It's this cyst that is causing pressure on the nerve and preventing the return of your eyesight." "Can't you go back in and remove it?" Scott asked. 

"It's not quite that simple," Doctor Fletcher replied. "The surgery is very tricky and complicated. There are only a few surgeons, three to be exact, in the U.S. that have the skill and expertise to to it. The one I'd recommend is Doctor Susan Lee at John Hopkins."

"Great." Katlin interjected, "can you get her to come and perform the surgery?" "Remember I said that there was good news and bad news. When I went to administration to secure permission to contact her to see if she would be willing to come down and help us they turned me down. No reason, just no. I think these bureaucrats only think of the bottom line. Too expensive." 

Doctor Fletcher continued, "we'll appeal this, but it could take weeks, if not months, to reverse the decision. Time we don't have. As the cyst continues to grow it will completely destroy the nerve and then the blindness will be permanent." With this dreadful news hanging in the air, the doctor excused himself and left the room.

After several minutes of silence Scott said, "Katelin, please take me back to my room. I am not very hungry any more."

Once Scott was safely back to his room Katelin excused herself saying, "I'll be back shortly. I have to do something. I'll be back as soon as I can. I love you."

Once outside, Katelin tapped a number into her cell phone. When a voice answered she began speaking. "Hello, Andrea, it's me Katelin. I need to speak with my father. It is really important," she said, beginning to cry.

Andrea Phillips was one of Katelin's father's long time aides. She had been with him for close to thirty years. Had seen Katekin born and was there when Katelin's mother was killed by a drunk driver when Katelin was only five. Rather than placing her in a daycare center or with a nanny, Andrea had taken her home to spend time with her children who were about the same age while her father grieved and then returned to work.

"He's in a meeting with the President right now. I'll slip him a note and have him call you right back," Andrea replied.

She re-entered the conference room and passed Thomas O'Hara a note with just three words written on it. 'Katelin, important, crying.'




I Believe in Miracles



Thomas read the note, cleared his throat and said, "Mr. President may we take a short recess. My daughter needs me", showing the President the note. 

"Of course. I have two daughters myself and sometimes they need their daddy. Why don't we break for two hours and return after lunch?" With that he stood and left the room.

Thomas O'Hara quickly called his daughter and listened as she told him what had just happened. "I'll see what I can do, sweetheart. Just hang in there I'll get back to you," he said ending the call.

Just then the President entered the hallway, saw the look on Thomas's face and asked him if he could help. When he heard Thomas's explanation he turned to one of his aides and instructed him to place a call immediately.

"Call Ralph Simpson over at Veteran Affairs. Tell him I want this made right and to do it NOW! Also tell him to get in touch with the CEO at John Hopkins and ask Doctor Susan Lee to make herself available, as favor to me. Thomas O'Hara will be calling him within the hour with detailed instructions regarding transportation."

As Thomas stammered his thanks. The President replied, "No problem. We daddies have to make things right for our daughters when we can. After all what else is more important. Remind me to make some changes to policy those jerks at VA have implemented. They are going to do everything that needs to be done for these men and women who have made so many sacrifices for this country. Or else heads will roll," with that being said he disappeared again.

Turning to Andrea, Thomas said. "Please, get a hold of George at the airport. Have him get the Gulfstream prepped and ready to fly no later than four this afternoon. He'll know who I want to fly it."

Forty minutes later Thomas was on the phone with Ralph Simpson at the VA. After being assured that Doctor Lee was more than ready and willing to fulfill the President's request he explained that a car and driver would pick her up and take her to Dulles where he kept his plane. He told him to tell her anything she needed or didn't have he would supply.

Katelin was back in Scott's room when her cell phone vibrated, looking at the caller ID she stepped outside the room and answered. Her father quickly brought her up to speed on what was happening. After she managed to stop crying she whispered into the phone. "Thank you daddy. I love you."

"I know," he replied. "See you in a few hours."

As she re-entered the room she saw Doctor Fletcher and the head of the hospital administration walking down the hallway toward her. 

Doctor Fletcher walked over to Scott's bed and announced with a big grin on his face, "there has been a change of plans."

"The hospital administration has been instructed to change it's decision and to make available any, and all, resources necessary to insure proper treatment for Lieutenant Anderson." The Head Administrator told me. "Someone has considerable influence far up the ladder of command. I can only say that I am extremely pleased that our decision was overturned."

After he left Doctor Fletcher continued, "I've scheduled the surgery for tomorrow afternoon at one-thirty. You may have a light breakfast no later than six, go to physical therapy and then we'll start prepping you around noon. I spoke with Doctor Lee just as she was leaving to board a private jet for the trip down. She'll arrive a little after five and we plan to go over the MRI results and develop a surgical plan of attack as soon as she arrives. Boy is this happening fast. Someone really pulled some strings. Got to go. I'll stop by later this evening and give you further details." 

Scott was stunned. "Would you call my mom and dad for me and give them the news. I'm too overwhelmed to talk with them. Everything is happening so fast. I can't understand it."

Katelin made the call and spoke with Scott's dad telling him what had just transpired. Even Scott could hear the screams of joy over the phone from his mother and sister as his father relayed the news.

After Katelin ended the call she said to Scott. "they will be here as fast as they can. They want to share this moment with you."

"You know I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. I think I just got my appetite back. Any chance you could take me down to the cafeteria for a bite to eat?" he asked.

"Right. Let me help you dress and we'll head on down there before your family shows up. I'll tell them at the nursing station where we are in case we're not back when they get here," she replied.

Wednesday - November 16th

That morning after breakfast Scott was taken to the Gait and Balance Clinic and was, again, subjected to an exhausting workout. As he was waiting for Katelin to retrieve him Todd sat down next to him and started talking. 

"Lieutenant I understand you're scheduled for more surgery this afternoon. Just want you to know that as soon as we get the go ahead from the docs we are going to double up on your PT workouts. Remember, I told you that you'd be walking by Christmas and I don't want to be called a liar. Good luck this afternoon. God bless you."

At one-thirty Scott was rolled into the operating room, sedated and the complicated operation began. Five hours later the last incision was closed and Doctors Lee and Fletcher watched as Scott was taken to the recovery room. 

"That was a tough one Doctor Lee. I have to say you are one hell of a surgeon," Fletcher commented.

"You're not so bad yourself and please after what we just went through, call me Susan," she replied.

"Ok, Susan. I'm Eric. We have at least a couple of hours before he wakes up in Recovery what do you say we go out for dinner?" he asked.

She responded by saying, "I can't think of anything I'd like better. I'll shower and change in the women's locker room. I'll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes."

On the way to his office to shower and change he stopped in the surgery waiting room to to meet with the family. 

"Whew! That was a rough one. But he's going to be all right. Doctor Lee is better than advertised. Scott is in Recovery right now and will be there for quite some time before he is taken back to his room. So go have some dinner and come back after nine tonight and I'll give you all the gory details," he said smiling.

As he turned to leave Katelin stopped him saying, "Doctor Fletcher I want to introduce you to my father, Thomas O'Hara."

Quickly putting two-and-two together Fletcher realized that this was the man that was responsible for everything that happen yesterday. Susan had filled him in on everything, including the request from the President to perform the surgery the evening before while they planned the procedure. 

"Would you and your daughter care to join Doctor Lee and I for dinner this evening?" he asked.

"I am sorry, but I'd like a raincheck on that invitation. The Andersons have asked us to dine with them. We have a lot to talk about. I'm sure you understand," he said with a wink and a smile.

Later that evening Susan Lee and Eric Fletcher came by Scott's room to see how he was doing. Since it was so late they arranged to meet the following morning to discuss the operation and what to expect in the following weeks.

Thursday morning at ten o'clock the two doctors met with the Anderson family as well as Thomas and Katelin O'Hara. They explained the nature of the surgery, what was accomplished and what would happen over the next few weeks. Scott would resume his PT next week, the day after the Thanksgiving Holiday. His eyes would continue to be bandaged until late December. Doctor Lee assured them that given this ample recovery time Scott's vision should be restored.

Patricia Anderson, while looking directly at Katelin and her father, spoke. "We certainly have a lot to be thankful for this year. Our family cannot begin to find a way to express our gratitude. Each of you doctors and Mr. O'Hara have a special place in our hearts for what you have done for our son. And to you Katelin words can never express our love and the feelings we have for you in your devotion to Scott," and in saying that she hugged Katelin as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Robin watched as Katelin returned the embrace with tears in her eyes as well. It was at this moment that Robin vowed to make sure that Katelin would become a part of their lives forever. 

Wednesday - December 21st

While visiting with Scott after he returned from his PT workout Robin was amazed with the progress her brother had made over the last several weeks. True to his word Todd had Scott standing and walking. He was still using a cane but was relying less and less upon it.

"Scotty. Can I ask you a question? Do you have any feelings for Katelin? You know she is deeply in love with you. You'd be a fool to let her get away."

"You know sis, up until now I've been afraid to think too much about my future, especially with her. I . . I don't know what to say or do. We have had some long talks about what life holds for us. She shares so many of my hopes and dreams. I have known her for how many months now? I still don't know what she looks like and I don't really care. 

"Remember what grandma always said. 'What makes a person beautiful is not what you see but what you don't see. It's what is inside you.' I think Katelin is the most beautiful woman in the world."

He continued on, "Robin, I would really like to propose to her, but I don't even have a ring. Got any ideas?"

"Let me talk with mom. I know she has been thinking about something. I'll get back to you. Meanwhile, don't say a word about this to Katelin. Trust me. What mom has in mind will thrill her. See you later," and with a kiss on the cheek she was gone.

Thursday - December 22nd

As Katelin was walking Scott back from his morning PT workout her cell phone rang. Answering it she said. "Yes, he is right here with me. He just finished PT and I thought I'd treat him to lunch. Care to join us?" Passing the phone to Scott she whispered in his ear, "Your mother."

"Hi mom, what's up? Ok, I'll have her drop me at your house after lunch. Right. I'll tell her." Handing the cell phone back to Katelin he said, "Mom wants to see me about a family matter. If you would please drop me at her house, she will take be back in time for my afternoon PT session."

"Not a problem. I have some Christmas shopping to do at the mall. I know how uncomfortable you are in crowds and the place will be packed with us last-minute shoppers," she replied.

Sitting in mom's car as she and Robin drove him back for his evening PT workout he couldn't believe what his mother had just told him.

"Scott, one day just before your grandmother died she gave me the ring your grandfather gave her when they became engaged sixty-five years ago. She told me to keep it until the day you were thinking of getting married and if I thought you had made a good choice, I was to give it to you. You could not have picked a better girl than Katelin. Robin, your dad and I absolutely adore her. We all are so happy for both of you."

The ring was a one-carat diamond in white gold setting with smaller diamonds on either side of the main stone. His mother had told him the setting was a little old-fashioned, but could be changed to suit Katelin's taste if need be.

"When are you gonna pop the question, Scotty?" Robin asked.

"I thought I'd wait until Friday after the bandages come off," he replied.

"Wow! How romantic, Christmas Eve," both Robin and his mother shouted.

Saturday - December 24th 

At two o'clock Thursday afternoon Scott was escorted into Doctor Fletcher's office. Katelin on one arm and Patricia Anderson on the other. Robin and his dad followed behind. Waiting for them were Doctor Fletcher, Doctor Lee and Katelin's father.

"Daddy! What are you doing here?" Katelin exclaimed. "What a surprise."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world. After all I did play some minor part in getting Scott here today. I also brought Andrea, her husband and both of their children. You remember them don't you? They are waiting just down the hall. I flew all of us down this morning," Thomas O'Hara answered.

"All right, let's get this show on the road. Doctor Lee wanted to come and see the fruits of her labor, so to speak. Mr. O'Hara thank you for including her as your guest on the flight today. 

"We are going to dim the light so the shock of their brightness doesn't hurt your eyes. After all you haven't had the use of them for almost three months and they will need some time to adjust to the light," he said. 

Scott was seated in a chair with Katelin kneeling in front of him holding both his hands. Doctor Fletcher began to slowly remove the bandages.

As he finished Scott exclaimed. "I still can't see anything!"

"Scott. You have to open your eyes first," Katlin gently told him.

As he slowly opened his eyes a huge grin appeared on his face. 

"What do you see?" Doctor Fletcher asked.

"The most beautiful woman in the world," he answered, looking directly into Katelin's face. 

"Ok. We have a few simple tests to do. So if you all will excuse us, I need to take him into the examination room for a few minutes. Please make yourselves comfortable. We'll be right back," with that Doctors Fletcher and Lee left with Scott into an adjoining room.

In less than five minutes they returned with Scott leading the way. The two doctors both had smiles on their faces that threatened to knock their ears off.

"Perfect, just perfect. He has 20/20 vision and completely no sign of any damage to his eyes," Doctor Fletcher announced. "Please follow me down to the reception room on the next floor. There are a lot of staff and others waiting to see him, and more importantly for him to see."

Katelin again grabbed one arm and Robin the other and for the first time in months Scott was able to escort them to a crowd of family, staff and well-wishers. 

Later that evening Scott said, "I'd like to go to a Christmas Eve candle light service. I have a lot to thank God for. Katelin, will you please come with me."

Scott led the way as they returned to the Anderson's home, and a house full of guests that included Katelin's father, Andrea and her family as well as aunts and uncles, for a Christmas Eve celebration. As they walked into the room where everyone was assembled, Scott said. "I have an something that I need to say."

Holding both of Katelin's hands he knelt on one knee and looking up at her he said. "Katelin O'Hara. I love you with all my heart. I want to live the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" 

"Scott Anderson. I fell in love with you from the first day we met. I can think of nothing better than spending the rest of my life loving you. Yes! I'll marry you."

With that Scott produced his grandmother's ring and slipped it on her finger.

"Oh! It's beautiful." Katelin exclaimed. 

After the congratulations, kissing and hugging had subsided Patricia Anderson asked. "Have you thought about a date for the wedding? Do you want it in the Spring?"

"No." Katelin replied.

"Do you want to be a June bride?" She asked.

"No, I don't want to be a June bride. I have always wanted to be married on New Year's Eve. You know, start a new life in a new year," Katelin replied.

"Wonderful. That will give us an entire year to plan for a grand wedding," Patricia and Robin both said in unison.

"I don't want to wait for a year. I was thinking of next week. I don't need an expensive dress or an fancy reception. All I want is to be married to your son." Looking at her father she said, "Daddy, can you fix this . . can you make this happen for me?"

Thomas O'Hara hugged his daughter and kissing her on her forehead replied, "A very wise man told me once that fathers only existed to make their daughter's dreams come true."

New Year's Eve - December 31st

Katelin's dream did come true. Her father, with some help from Andrea, Patricia and Robin arranged a wedding suitable for a princess. Katelin found a beautiful wedding dress and looked absolutely stunning in it. The wedding ceremony was held in the Catholic Church and Father Patrick O'Hara, Thomas's older brother, conducted the service. The reception was in an upscale restaurant which was closed to the public for the evening and a thirty-two piece band provided music. Those friends and family who lived out of state were flown in on Thomas O'Hara's private jet. 

The band leader invited Scott and Katelin to the dance floor for the traditional first dance as the band began playing 'I Believe'. After they had been dancing for a few minutes the rest of the guests joined them on the floor and Todd, dancing with his wife, moved close enough for Scott to hear him say.

"Told you I'd have you dancing by New Year's Eve."



I Believed in Her. Did I?



There are things you remember and wish they had never happened. Like being stood up by a girl. Or being clever with a bigger guy and having your ass whipped in front of friends. Things like that.

There are also things you'd cough up all your money for to make them un-happen. 

I am Walter Braun, 39, copywriter, famous in the tiny confines of my profession. But what happened had nothing to do with that. I could have been a milkman or an accountant. Might even have been better that way.

I was supervising the recording of a bunch of radio commercials. They involved two grown men talking like five year old morons. Yes, they were very funny too.

I had to pee and excused myself. When I found the toilets, I thought I'd skip the urinals and sit for a while in one of the stalls, just to be alone. I sometimes do that, don't ask me why.

I don't know who the men were who entered the restroom as I sat there. They obviously used the urinals. I heard the sounds of zippers, the usual groan before the splatter of piss inside the ceramic bowls.

"She sure is something," one of the guys said. His voice sounded familiar, but I wasn't sure.

"You can say that again," a second voice answered, not ringing a bell as to who he might be.

"Never had a throat take me down that easy." The first guy.

"Goddamn, her ass is tight, man," the second one said. "And she loves it all up her hole, she even begged for it."

By that time there were only telltale last drops tingling. I heard them close their zippers again and to my surprise they even went to wash their hands.

Over the noise of the running faucets I thought hearing one of them say "...belle...he knows?... poor bastard." The other one laughed loudly. Right before they shut the door he chuckled and said: "His fault. Never marry what you can't handle."

The door closed and I was alone again.

************

Now you must know that my wife of seven years bears the lovely name of Isabelle, Belle for intimates. You also have to know that one of the voices belonged to an ex-colleague of mine. An almost-friend who dines at our table with his loving wife at least four times a year. And we return the favour about as many times.

I wasn't prepared to put my hand into a fire where the voice was concerned. I also could not be sure of the name they mentioned through the noise of the water. But my stomach did not seem to need extra information. It clenched like a fist inside my belly, sending nauseating waves of bile up my throat.

Belle is a wild thing, always has been. I'd like to say we met at college, but that might confuse you into thinking that we had something going there. No one had anything going with Belle in those days. She loved diversity. And when she dated, she didn't waste time.

Belle was incredibly popular with every male student (and teacher). She was also hated by most of the girls. Funny thing is that Belle was not at all the cliché hot looking college girl. She was and is not tall, blonde or even slim. She is a petite brunette with a lot of curves, wide hips, generous boobs. She oozes sex, though, very much in the way film stars did when they were called Betty Boop or Marilyn Monroe. Let's say she was a sex goddess from before the Great Famine.

Belle and I fucked a few times, back then. Twice at the back of my car, two more times in the tiny secret room under the roof of the old library. Belle had a mattress there. All those times were near the end of college. I had deep feelings for Belle by then. But I knew they were ridiculous. Telling her about it would have been utterly un-cool. So I nursed my pain and after graduation we lost all contact, as far as there had been any to begin with.

A few years later I had found my way up in the labyrinth of Manhattan's advertising world. One Friday night I was between dates and for potluck went to a club in Chelsea. It was one of those short-lived places where the in set had to gather. The place was insanely packed, that night, so it wasn't totally unexpected that an arm would hit mine and spill the two beers I carried all over the scantily clad girl in front of me. She screamed and turned. It was Belle.

Her eyes looked furious. She was gasping with indignity. A darkish nipple shone through her soaked little top.

After she lashed out and hit me in the face, she saw who I was and apologized. I offered her a tissue, but she grabbed my hand and dragged me from the crowd to the toilets and then on to a small closet-like room in the back. She pulled me down to her face and started kissing me hard, all wet and tonguey. Before long her tits were bare and her hand was inside my pants, stroking a rapidly rising cock. Not a minute later my throbbing meat slid over the curl of her tongue, finding the entrance of her throat.

All memories flooded back. Even my cock seemed to have a memory of its own as it happily nudged the long forgotten niches. Belle is the best ever cocksucker and soon she pulled me over the top, not spilling a drop.

She looked up, smiling radiantly into my panting face. "Hi, Walter," she said. "Long time no see."

I fucked her against the closed door after she had sucked me back to rigidity. And yes, it felt like entering heaven. She moaned and begged me to do it harder, deeper. We maybe stood there five minutes. Belle got louder, my cock almost scorched her wet, weak flesh. Then the door opened and both of us fell forward into the arms of a guard. It was right then that I came and Belle orgasmed. We had no time to feel embarrassed. We just lay on the floor, shaking and twisting.

It took me fifty dollars and a lot of excuses, but in the end we stood outside in the drizzling Manhattan rain. Belle never stopped giggling and grinning. We went into a Starbucks, marvelling at the inverse route the renewal of our acquaintance had taken. Fuck first, hello later. Belle told me how she had come to the Big Apple two months before, having been transferred by the Midwestern company she worked for. I told her my story and remarked on the fact that she hadn't changed a bit. Which she took with a deep throaty laugh.

"I love you, Walter. I really do, always have," she said, suddenly. 

I choked on my cappuccino.

"I loved you madly in college, you know," she went on.

I grinned, uneasily.

"You sure had a way to hide it, honey," I said.

But she did not smile.

"Yes," she said, dead sober. "I was a fool. I am a slut, you know. I love fucking guys all the time. As many and as often as I can. My heart said that I loved you. My body protested. My body won. I am a junkie for sex, you see."

To my amazement I saw tears in her eyes. I took her hands over the table. They trembled.

"Sit with me," I said, pulling her over to my bench. I put my arm around her. Her face rested on my shoulder.

"You were my third fuck tonight," she said, choking on the words. "And that would just have been for starters." Then her voice rose, making half the people look up. "Damn!! How I hate this body!!!"

We went to my place and fucked for two hours straight. And whenever we had to catch our breath, she told me about her predicament.

"Other girls envy me, you know. And guys don't see what the problem is."

"I can see why they wouldn't," I said. But she didn't smile.

"When we met, tonight," she went on, "it all came back. The confusion, the pain. The urge to have you. Not just for the sex, but for myself, my heart and soul. I only felt that once, back with you at college. Those last months were hell. I kept following you, watching you, dreaming of you, but you never saw it."

No, I never did. Who would have?

She rose on her elbow, looking down on me, sweat shining on her face.

"I love you, Walter. What am I going to do?"

Well, yes. Call me stupid. Call me blind. A year later we were married. Bella had been into therapy right after the night of our reunion. I went with her and even after we decided to marry, things were hard for her. She loved me madly, I loved her madly. But the urge was there. It would never leave her, as the good doctor assured us. But it could be managed.

I don't know if she was faithful, that first year. I don't want to know. But I believed she would fight for it. I believed Bella. A year later Julie was born, two years later Lizzie. I never went looking if they were mine. Having the children did her a world of good. I never would have believed Wild Bella could be such a perfect mother.

Our sex life changed too. We often made love, even at stolen moments and peculiar places. But the wild, irrational sex was a thing of the past. Sometimes I thought we had closed it behind bars, securely putting it away not to tempt us ever again. To be precise: not to tempt her ever again.

***********

Fourteen years had passed. Had there been changes? The damn cliché changes they always talk about? Change in habits? Change in attention? Staying away late? 

Of course there was the big change of Belle getting back to work, four years ago. And yes, that caused her to be away more often, after work too. But hadn't that been the entire point of going back to work to begin with? To see adults, be with people, save her from getting crazy? She had found a job at another big advertising agency. Yes, the agency where my ex-colleague works.

Judge me. Was I rushing things when I added all this up? And was I unfair when I drew a conclusion that made me feel the saddest man on the island? Maybe I was. But, you know, why should women have the sole right to intuition?

I rose from the toilet. I must have been sitting there for ages. It was a bit embarrassing to return to the sound studio, where they had been waiting for me to proceed. But I hardly noticed. Other things occupied my mind. I don't know if the commercials added up to something at all. I left after another hour and took a cab home, which was by now a roomy and appallingly expensive apartment on the Upper Eastside. 

That night I tried to be myself at the table, but after I had taken the girls to bed, Belle stopped me. "What is going on, Walter?," she asked. And her eyes told me she wouldn't take bullshit. But I could not tell her. "Nothing," I said. " Just the damn Kellogg's account. Bloody assholes."

Belle didn't buy it, I knew. But it was what she was going to get. I wasn't ready for more. Sex was a disaster too, that night. I came after ten seconds and then resisted all her wonderful trials to get me up again. I apologized, we slept. Well, she did, I suppose.

The following days I played ostrich, my head burrowed deep into the earth. I proved a rather clumsy ostrich, though. After asking three times what the matter was (and getting just more bullshit in return) Belle retired into an awkward silence. Lucky thing was that we had the children, but when they were in bed I had no way to avoid her graciously. So I did it ungraciously. 

The third night we sat propped up in bed, reading. That is, I stared at a page and I guess Belle did the same. Then she started sobbing. A very small sound, but the sadness of it cut through my soul, or whatever it is where sadness cuts. I looked up and got caught by her hazel eyes. They swam with unshed tears.

"Why can't you trust me with your problems?," she asked.

Outside a police siren wailed.

I was stunned by her words. I had been so pre-occupied with her possible faithlessness and my pain that I had never considered how it must feel for her. Suddenly I had made her share the house with a zombie. Suddenly the laughter had gone, the easy touching.

I stared at her. Then I reached for her face to wipe away a tear.

"I...," I said.

"I don't know how to begin." 

She curled into my arms. My first reaction was to recoil. My second was to wrap myself around her. There was about a nano second between the two, but I know she noticed.

"Must be something," she purred.

I was at a loss. My body reacted as it had always done with her. But my mind was in turmoil.

"I heard horrible things about you," I whispered.

She stiffened in my arms. Then she looked up, wide-eyed.

"What things?," she gasped.

I stared at her. She shrugged free and sat straight.

"Let me guess," she said. Her voice was cold. "People saw me fucking around. You know, the whore is at it again. Seen Walter's wife? Ah yes, the easy slut, what a piece of ass!"

Her voice was ice, but tears ran down her cheeks.

I felt awful. All I feared that might happen, happened.

I grabbed her hands, held them against my face. She stared me down, I had to flee her gaze.

"And you...," she said, trembling. "You believe it, don't you?"

She took back her hands, punched my shoulder hard and turned away, sobbing into her pillow.

Haltingly I started my story. The bragging. The resembling voice. The half heard name. The laughter about the poor husband. And the more I told her, the more improbable the story sounded to me. At last it petered out. There was only silence and her sobbing.

I half-heartedly caressed her shoulder, but she shook my hand off. Then she slid out of bed, grabbed her pillow and started for the door.

"Belle, don't...," I cried. "I'm sorry."

At that she whirled around, her eyes ablaze.

"Sorry??," she shouted. "Sorry??"

She took two steps towards me and threw the pillow into my face.

"Sorry?? Who is sorry here? Oh yes, you are one sorry bastard! I fought for us. I fight for you, for me, for the children."

She crinched, hugging her own body.

"For years I fought for my dignity and this is what I get for it? Sometimes my body turned inside out with desire, with need. But I fought for you, damn Walter! Not a day passes and I fight. I fight, damn you...."

She sank to her knees, tears flooding her face.

"Thank you, Walter," she now whispered. "Thank you for being there with me, for believing me."

She grabbed the pillow, stood and walked out of the bedroom. The door slammed shut like the most definite sound I ever heard.

A stunned minute later I followed her to the spare bedroom. The door was locked. I knocked. I begged. She did not answer.

It was the third night in a row that I did not sleep.

***********

The next morning she wasn't up to wake the children while I made breakfast. The bedroom was still locked. So I prepared some breakfast and got the children started.

After they had gone, I waited with a cup of coffee, but she never came out. I got my things to leave for work. I knocked on her door, calling her name. Nothing. I left a note, only a few lines adding up telling I was very sorry for not believing her. And telling her I really did, always would.

I sighed and left for work.

Around 10 a.m. I phoned home. It rang until the voice-mail came up. Then I tried her cell phone. It was disconnected. I phoned her at work. They said she had called in sick. Before lunch I tried again. No answer. At lunch I could not eat. Around 3 p.m. I called once more with the same result. I decided to leave and go home. My hands trembled. I worried. I worried a lot.

The house was empty. Somehow it felt more than just empty, it even sounded hollow. With heavy feet I went to the bedroom and bathroom, but all her things were there. It gave me a short relief that lasted for about half an hour.

The children came home and left again for sports and friends. The silence returned. For the first time ever I heard we had a clock.

I thought about calling the police, just to know that I did something. The silence and the waiting killed me. But I knew they would tell me to wait another day. I called her cell phone again. It was as dead as before. In sheer frustration I threw my phone through the room.

I tried to call two of her girl friends, but could not find their numbers. I once more phoned her agency to hear if she had maybe called again. The secretary of her department was surprised, as she had already told me Belle had called in sick.

I felt sick with guilt. I had driven her away with my lack of confidence. I should have known better. I should have known how fragile she was. How easy to hurt right at the heart of her weakness. 

I poured a tall whisky and sat down.

Had I pushed her back to the edge, maybe even pushed her over it? Well done, Walter! Yes, my clumsy, heartless accusation had done exactly that. I had turned it into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Oh God, I saw what I'd done. Damn stupid idiot.

I groaned, swallowed the whisky and started to cry.

We went to a Friday's, the children and I. They asked where mom was and I told them about working late and things. Julie asked me if I had cried and I sniffed to conjure up a cold.

When they were asleep, I was alone again with the clock, the whisky and a dead phone. I went to bed and tried to read. I got up again and walked the floor. It was 4.15 a.m. when the phone rang. The sound slammed a hole in the night. It made my heart jump. I grabbed the cell and pushed the button.

The phone flushed my head with loud noises, like a big hall, a disco maybe. A guy's deep voice asked me for my name.

"There is a woman here," he said. "She doesn't feel too well, it seems. As a matter of fact, she passed out. We found your number at the top of her cell phone list. You her husband?"

My heart was in my throat. I had to clear it twice to get words out. I said I was her husband. Where was she? She was in a big club in Tribeca. I said I'd come and get her at once.

She was a mess. There were bruises and hickeys all over her throat and chest. I also saw them on her bare thigh, where the dress was torn. She wore no bra and I supposed no panties either. Her hair seemed plastered to her face and white powder caked at her nostrils. Her skin was flaking with dried come. I gathered her into a huge blanket one of the bouncers gave me and carried her to the waiting cab. 

*********** 

On the way home she slowly woke up. Her eyes were bloodshot and out of focus. She groaned. I hugged her and caressed her pale face, wiping wet strands of hair from her eyes. When she tried to talk I lay a finger on her swollen lips and told her shhhhhh. 

At home she could barely walk. I now saw she had only one high heeled shoe left. I kicked it in the gutter and carried her inside and to the elevator. I tried not to make a sound that might wake up the children. Then I ran a hot bath and started to undress her.

Her body was a labyrinth of bruises and bites. Her nipples were an angry red. The flesh around them had black and blue traces from aggressive mauling and cruel teeth. But the real battlefield was between her legs. Her pussy lips were almost purple and they were incredibly loose. A constant dribble of sickly white semen ran out of the hole between them to mingle with the come that oozed from her ass hole. There were pinkish streaks of blood in it.

I carefully helped her sink down in the hot water, holding up her lolling head. She sighed. A long, trembling sigh that ended in a sob. I took a wet cloth and started cleaning her face. She winced when I touched her lips. They were caked with blood and must have been abused endlessly. 

Then I lowered my hand under water and started to clean the inside of her thighs. When I reached for her mound and pussy, she gave of a high-pitched wail of pain, so I stopped. I leant in to kiss her eyes. Her voice came in a hoarse whisper.

"S-s-sorry...so sorry..."

I once again said "Sssssshhhh," and started to shampoo her hair. Only after a while I realized that I was humming. It was the same song I used to hum when I bathed our girls when they were babies.

Morning was only an hour away when I at last tucked her in. I watched until she slept and sneaked to the kitchen to make me a cup of coffee. I was exhausted, but strangely elated. I knew what she had done and it had stabbed my heart. I also knew why she had done it and that made me feel deeply guilty. But mostly I felt relieved and immensely happy that I had found her and that she would be save.




I Believed in Her. Did I?



After coffee I took a shower and woke up the children. I told them mommy was home, but sick. She slept and could not be disturbed. After school she would be better, no doubt. And she would be very happy to see them again.

I called in sick. It didn't sit well with my boss, as we were in the middle of a new business pitch. But I did not care. I stretched out on the sofa and slept a few hours.

Close to noon I went to see Belle. She was awake. I smiled at her. She tried to smile back.

"Tea?," I asked. She nodded.

I brought two cups and a plate of biscuits. I helped her sit up and sat on the bed next to her.

She avoided my eyes. I cupped her chin with a hand and forced her to look at me. "Don't feel guilty," I said. "It was my fault. I should have known what my stupid remarks would do to you. Please forgive me."

Tears ran down her cheeks. She shook her head vigorously.

"My fault!," she croaked and coughed. "You were right. I am a slut. Always been. Always will be."

She put down the cup and started to cry. I held her. She soaked my shirt.

Holding her like that we fell asleep, waking up when the girls came into the apartment, screaming. They ran into the bedroom and danced around Belle, hugging her, kissing her, talking about all they had to tell her.

I saw the first shimmer of light return to her eyes.

*********** 

Belle was as good as new. At least her body was. The doctor had examined her the next day. I saw that the woman looked a bit funny at me after the examination. I just smiled. There had been no serious injuries and the first tests were all negative. Belle stayed home for another week before returning to work. I returned after three days.

The atmosphere was odd. Although we were quite uneasy around each other, there was no chill in the air. The children were a great help. The house rang with their excited voices and laughter. It was impossible not to be infected by it. But in bed things were more difficult. Of course it was not physically possible to be intimate with each other the first days, but we cuddled and hugged. We touched a lot and kissed.

But we could not talk.

Belle repeated over and over how sorry she was for what she had done. And I kept answering that it was my fault. But that was it. When we were together we were never able to find the light tone back, the way we used to joke and talk. Whenever we tried, a dark cloud drifted in.

After two weeks, on a Friday night, I sat next to Belle on the couch. We were alone, the girls were staying over at friends. I put my arm around her and she leant into me. I nudged her neck with my nose, kissing the soft skin. She loved that. But when I slipped a hand inside her blouse to fondle her breasts, she stiffened and withdrew. I tried to catch her eyes, but she stood and walked to the kitchen. After a minute I followed her and found her weeping.

"We need help, Belle," I said. "Shall I call Agnes?"

Agnes was the psychiatrist Belle and I had been seeing for years at the start of our marriage.

Belle shook her head.

"No," she said with a muffled voice.

"Why not, Belle?," I asked. "She has helped us so well."

Belle kept staring at the tabletop.

Then she looked up. Her eyes were hard and bitter.

"She helped us?," she cried out. "Look at me! Look at the mess I am. Help?!"

I went to her, but she pushed me away.

"Don't touch me, Walter. I am a slut and a whore. I am a sick nymphomaniac. Let me go, Walter! Throw me out!"

At that she totally lost it. She screamed and stomped the table with her fists. A stream of obscenities left her mouth. Then she climbed on the chair and on the table. She tore the blouse off her chest. She wriggled out of her skirt and tore her pantyhose to shards. Then she started gyrating her hips and shook her tits like a stripper. She licked her lips and moaned in a deep and throaty way. "Hello, guy," she crooned and crooked her finger to invite me closer. She unhooked her bra and presented her full tits to me. "Want them, honey?," she breathed, swaying them close to my face. "Take 'em, lover. If you have a cock (here she groaned and licked her lips once more), a sweet hard big cock, honey...they are all yours. Suck them, darling...BITE THEM!" She laughed out loud and made the hard nipples point at me. Then she pushed them up and sucked on them herself.

She started dancing now on the shining surface, tweaking the nipples and caressing the curves of her body. The powder blue cotton panties got dark over her soaked pussy. She tore them off, then spread her cunt lips to show me their pink, sparkling insides.

I was stunned by the vehemence and the sudden change in Belle. In fact, although what she did was incredibly erotic, I felt no sexual stirrings at all. The only thing I felt was sorrow. Her obscenities washed over me, but I only could clasp my hands over my ears. She almost pushed her pussy into my face, but I turned away.

She laughed at that and started to masturbate herself, two fingers rubbing the clit at the top of her dripping slit.

"Can't you do it, lover?," she cried. "Aaaah, yessss, of course...you are disgusted. I am a whore and I disgust you. Well, fuck you Walter! FUCK YOU!!!"

I could see that her muscles spasmed around her probing fingers. She threw her head back and climaxed hard. It brought her down to her knees, breathing raggedly.

Then she collapsed on the table, sobbing. She mewled like a little kitten and once more banged the surface with her fist. I picked her up and took her to bed. I held her for a while until her breathing indicated that she slept. Then I went to the bar, poured a stiff drink and phoned the psychiatrist. It was late and weekend. But she had told us to call her anytime if necessary.

I thought it was.

That Monday afternoon found us in the office of doctor Agnes Bergstain. She is a woman in her fifties, not afraid to show the gray in her hair and the wrinkles around her eyes.

It had been hard to convince Belle to accompany me. Even now she did not look the doctor in the eyes. She seemed ashamed and that surprised me. We had always talked quite frankly and intimately with the psychiatrist in the past.

Agnes took a lot of time to reassure Belle. I doubted that she succeeded.

"Could you tell what happened, Belle?," the doctor asked.

"You already know," Belle answered. Her voice was flat and hostile.

"I'd love to hear it from you, Belle. Please?"

There was a silence.

Then Belle dashed her eyes in my direction.

"Stop this, Walter. There is no use."

She seemed to plead with me. But then she sat up straight. Her eyes turned to Agnes and her voice became a whine.

"Walter came and said I fucked around on him. And to prove him right I went out and fucked 24 hours in a row. I fucked and fucked a hundred men. In my cunt and my mouth and my ass. It is what I do. I am good! I am the best fucking cunt slut around!"

She slumped back and ended her outburst with a sob.

"But you know that," she continued with a very small voice. "You know. Walter knows. He told me, didn't he? He told me I cheated on him. Well...now he is right."

It took doctor Bergstain the rest of our meeting to reassure Belle that she was wrong. That no one accused her of anything. She also repeated over and over how important it was to keep coming to the sessions and talk. But the next meeting, on a Thursday, Belle refused to go. It was planned around four in the afternoon. When I came to pick her up at work, she had left. She had not felt well, her boss told me. I phoned home and got the teenage sitter. Belle wasn't there.

I went home to feed the children and help them to bed. Then all I could do was wait again. Her cell phone lay on the kitchen table. No way to reach her.

Around midnight she phoned. Her voice was slurred and behind her a party was going on. "Hi, lover," she purred. "There is a big fat black cock up my ass. And I just slipped my mouth of another, so you could understand me better." She chuckled.

"Don't wait up for me, lover," she continued after a short pause full of wet slurping noises.

The connection went. I sat staring as the beeps made their mocking little sounds in my ear.

Belle never came home that night. She also stayed away the next day and the days after.

The police brought her in after a week. I took her straight to the hospital.

************* 

Belle recovered rather quickly. They found a few minor STD's that were easily cured. It would take a while to be sure that she wasn't HIV-positive.

After a week she was back home. But she wasn't Belle. She was quiet and subdued, even with the girls. She had taken leave from the agency. They had told her that she could take her time to get better. I phoned her boss to tell him how much we appreciated it. He said it was nothing.

Belle got nervous after a few days home. I tried to be around as much as I could. We went out a lot. We dined and saw shows, plays, movies. We ate with friends, everything to keep her mind distracted. But I had my work.

Two weeks after Belle had returned from hospital I had to go up to Canada to do a series of commercials. The shooting would be in Vancouver and would take a full week. I tried to find someone else to do it for me, but I knew that was silly. They were my ideas. I sold them myself and the client would not accept it if I sent someone else to supervise the shoot. Another option was to take Belle with me. My mother was willing to come over and be with the girls. Belle agreed reluctantly and we flew to Vancouver one day before the shooting started.

The directors, producers, actors and the entire crew would stay in the same hotel. I was glad we had this first night and day alone. But it did not work out the way I planned. At dinner Belle hardly ate anything. She would not drink at the bar, nor dance in the lounge where a wonderful jazz ensemble played some of our favourite music. We went up to our rooms early. Belle excused herself the moment we got there. She went to the bathroom and returned dressed in an ankle long cotton nightie. She slipped into bed and turned to sleep.

The next day we met with the people who would produce and shoot the commercials. Belle was like a changed person. She radiated charm and happiness, talking with everybody. I was glad, it took a heavy stone off my heart to see her retrieving everything I loved her for.

The shoot went smoothly. The evenings were wonderful. After wining and dining we turned in early as every day would have an early start. The second night was a surprise. I was already in bed when Belle came out of the bathroom in a very sexy sheer black nightie. She smiled seductively and went straight for my already hard cock. Her mouth is glorious and it took just a few minutes for me to blast into her throat. After that we made love twice. I think she came at least four times before it was evident that I would not rise to any occasion again. Hugging her we fell asleep. I knew the worst was over. I thought I knew.

Belle told me the next morning she would sleep in and stay at the hotel. Maybe she would do some sight seeing and shopping. I kissed her and went to look for breakfast and start another busy day.

When I returned that evening, Belle waited for me in the room. She was naked and very horny. We made wild love and skipped dinner in favour of room service.

The week went on like that, Belle staying back and being all hot and horny when I returned. I counted my blessings and congratulated myself for having found this splendid solution.

The last day we wrapped up early and instead of staying, I took a cab to the hotel. It was only 3 p.m. and I anticipated a long, long afternoon with my sweet born again lover.

Yes, I know what you think. And yes, of course you are right. I found out the moment I swiped the key card through the lock. Through the door came the voice of Belle. It was loud and high pitched. And it screamed: "Yesssss!! Yessss ooooh yesss...fuck me...FUCK ME HAAAARDD!!!"

She was on hands and knees in the middle of the bed. Her ass was filled with the black cock of a young, well-muscled guy. Her mouth closed around the hard meat of a guy who still wore his hotel uniform. A third guy stood by, pumping his cock and cheering his buddies.

It took them a while to see me enter. When they grabbed their belongings and ran off, I sagged down on the bed, next to Belle. She never spoke a word, but took the sheet and pulled it around her. Then she just sat there, knees pulled up, rocking slowly.

I watched her. She avoided me.

"I can't do it, Walter. I lost it," she said. Her voice was hoarse. There were no tears.

I saw that the door was still open. I walked over to close it. It gave me time to think, time to slow down my heart.

"Did you think of the girls, Belle?," I asked after returning.

Her eyes opened wide, they caught mine at last.

"No," she said, looking puzzled. "When I am like this, Walter, I can't think of anything but how hard I need to be fucked. I can't think of you or the girls or of anything we have. I am so sorry, Walter. It is who I am."

Only then her first tears appeared.

We flew back to New York early. I informed the producer that Belle did not feel well and I succeeded in changing the flights.

Belle disappeared the night after we returned. I have not seen her again. The last thing I got was a letter and a bulky envelope. It contained polaroids and digital pictures. It also contained an old fashioned videotape. I won't bother you with the obvious. The pictures showed Belle fucking men and women in all variations known to man. They had been taken over a long period of time. I saw dresses and underwear I remembered her buying years ago. Some of the men I knew. There were colleagues. One of them, yes, was the owner of the voice I heard on the toilet. Another was her boss. The one I thanked for giving her leave of work.

The videotape I had to watch at work. At home I only had dvd. It showed an hour of gangbanging. I counted at least ten guys waiting for their turn. At one moment Belle had herself plugged in all three holes while she was jerking off two guys with her hands. The tape ended with Belle lying on a slippery rubber mattress, covered with come. She was on her knees, her gaping ass high up, her tits crushed under her. White goo ran from both her holes and from her drooling mouth.

"Next...," she croaked.

I never read the letter. I never went looking for her. I never called the police. All I could do was tell the children that mommy loved them very much, but had to leave. I could not give them a reason, I did not want to tell the truth, nor did I want to lie to them. After a month they stopped asking.

Belle may well be dead by now. 

In dark nights I hope she is. The alternatives are maybe even more horrible. Aren't they?