47 comments/ 49475 views/ 41 favorites St. Nicole's Christmas Miracle By: MrKitty I was ten minutes away from ending it all the first time, after my wife and I divorced. I came home from work during lunch. I never did that—it's a half-hour each way. I forgot a CD that I promised a co-worker. On a whim, I took a long lunch and thought I'd drop by the house to pick it up. I didn't bother calling first. Why should I? I figured I'd just say "Hi" to Lisa, grab the CD, and head out the door. I caught Lisa in bed with another man. Our bed. I had no clue—I was too shocked to react, to do anything except stare at my wife straddling a stranger, cowgirl style, bucking her beautiful bare back up and down in rhythm while stabilizing herself with her arms on his bare chest. That was no rape. He saw me first, gasped in surprise and Lisa turned around, saw me and jumped off. There was a great deal of shouting, mostly the man and Lisa shouting at me and to each other. He grabbed his clothes and dashed off as I stood there in a daze, disconnected from reality. That was the beginning of the end. Counseling didn't reconcile us: far from it. I had pushed for counseling, but she reacted by becoming even further distant. At dinner she was so far away, we might as well have been living in other countries. I could see her body, but the window to her soul was permanently boarded up. Ironically, she divorced me. Although she brought up the divorce, demanded it actually, I easily acquiesced. Lisa had been my whole life, my reason for working each day and night. I was too blind to see her disappearing before it was too late. But there was no point in pretending any further. She aggressively went after our possessions—and I didn't care. We sold our beautiful house in Northville so we could split the proceeds. I didn't want it anymore. In the depressed Detroit market, it didn't fetch much. Less than what we bought it for: about ten grand less what we'd paid down on the mortgage was about all we could get back out. Minus broker fees and lawyer fees. She took the majority of our joint belongings. All in all, she ended up with about 70% of everything. I let her. I was broke, and broken. I moved into a low-rent apartment in Redford. Redford used to be a clean, neat little suburban town until the riots. Over the last forty years, white flight had left it a vestige of itself. Some artist-types were struggling trying to keep a run-down theater that had once been a gilded beauty from falling in on itself. That was about it for culture—the rest had slowly become a ghetto. I could care less about the shabby walls, the run-down appliances, and the decaying furniture. It was cheap, and I didn't want to look for anything better. A pawn store was four doors down from my apartment, past an ethnic hair and nail salon and a dingy little party store. I walked in and bought a gun. I knew little about guns, but I knew a .357 would be plenty to take care of the job. I held it to my head, chamber empty, trying to see if I would have the nerve. I didn't—I chickened out. Just like I did with Lisa. That was the first time. I decided I wanted to live—I needed time to regroup, and thankfully I wasn't spending any money doing it. The rent was the right price, and although a dump, the place was close to work. Then, along with all the bad news in the auto market, GM reorganized. I was offered a severance package, thank God, but I was now unemployed. I started looking for another engineering job. I sent out tons of resumes, posted on Monster, Dice, you name it. After a long silence from the recruiters, and the rest of the world, my gusto changed to a half-hearted effort. Then I just gave up. Being laid off was bad, because of the money of course, but also because I didn't have a place to go each day. I had a feeling of not belonging: not seeing my work friends or even my rivals. Just sitting in my little dump every day. I played with the gun more and more, loading the clip, unloading it, holding it in my hand. It had been four months since Lisa left me, but I was as depressed as the day I caught her in bed. I remembered back to that fateful day, standing there dumbstruck, watching her for several seconds before they caught on, her beautiful heart-shaped ass bouncing up and down on some other guy's cock. Close enough to see his cock slick with her moisture. Christ, let it end. I finally did accidentally get a job. As a Santa. Almost ridiculous in its irony. The Santa job posted in the News was one of the last ditch before I finally gave up. I decided to take it—it would give me something to do, and something to just try to feel good about myself just a little before I went out. I didn't expect that I'd get it. I just applied like all the others. I had no experience, and not even any kids of my own, so my hopes weren't high. Maybe it was a little bit of karma—a chance to let me give back before I permanently left this hell on earth. I didn't care about the pay—why would I? I had two weeks to go until Christmas, and I needed to have something, anything, to prevent me sitting in the apartment all day. I had already made up my mind that I would give myself a nice Christmas by killing myself. Accepting the job seemed symbolic: what could be more perfect than a Santa killing himself on Christmas? My first day on the job started out loathsome. The job was downtown in the Ren Cen. I wasn't fat, so I had to wear a big baggy pillow around my waist, which was big, uncomfortable, and sweaty. I had to psyche myself up to be cheery around all those excited kids. I did the best I could, plastering over my decayed little husk of a soul with Christmas cheer, washing it down with a tall spiked Egg Nog a little after 1PM. The line of kids was endless. Someone's little precious bundle of joy sitting on my lap, while the parents, almost always the mom, stood to the side. Each kid whispered toy after inane toy in my ear. I followed up each with a "Make sure you're a good little boy" or "Now Susie, remember to leave me cookies!" Always a great hearty "Ho, Ho, Ho!" shouted out beneath my massive fake white beard. I could play a pretty good Santa to the kids despite being dead inside—they didn't deserve to see the hollowness inside me. I tried to only pay attention to the kids, glancing up at a mother here or there. Some were pretty milfy, but I didn't spend any more than the briefest glance at them. Lisa's betrayal hadn't made me hate women; I honestly just didn't care. Why should I get interested when in less than a month I wouldn't be around? Somewhere around five o'clock, something rather amazing happened. Two beautiful little black girls, about four and six years old I guessed, came up to me as the next in line. "What do you want for Christmas, little girl?" I asked the little one sitting on my knee. "I want a Barbie play house!" she exclaimed. Standard fare. I turned to the older girl, sitting on my other knee. "And what do you want?" "I want my Daddy back," she said, quietly but deadly serious. She was the first child to have said anything to me except spouting the newest fashion in toys. It tore me up inside. I'm not a crier, but her reserved sincerity made my eyes start to water. I looked up at the mother, and my heart leapt. She was an amazingly beautiful woman, with big doe-like eyes and a perfect feminine face. She wasn't wearing makeup, but her skin was smooth and light chocolate brown. She wore an ivory quilted coat, slimmed at the waist, and with fake fur ruffs around the neck and hands. Her curly black hair was topped by a little white beret. I had been ignoring any other woman I saw, trying to keep my mind on the kids and the job, trying to be a good Santa, trying not to let my depression leak out. I couldn't ignore her. A lump formed in my throat. I looked at the mother much longer than I had meant to—I was staring. I couldn't believe how amazingly gorgeous she was. I finally pulled myself back together, but not before I noticed that she looked back at me with a smile. Her smile burned into me. I turned to face the little girl with a heavy heart, and whispered in her ear. "Santa will see what he can do for you sweetheart." What a complete lie. They popped off my lap, their supermodel of mother collecting them up and marching off. I don't think I listened to another thing any other kid said until closing time. I just sat there, thinking about that little girl's daddy—maybe ran off with another woman, maybe killed in Iraq, maybe just left his family for no good reason, who knew. Whatever it was, the man was a complete idiot. Just like the guy who left Halle Berry. To me, the mystery woman was even more beautiful. I couldn't believe I felt like this—I didn't believe in love at first sight. I didn't know her name, but I was sad at the thought that I'd never see her again. The day ended, the line shut down, and I needed to pack up. I started thinking about moving up my suicide schedule. I was cleaning up the presents around the Santa chair, readying for closing when she came back. The gorgeous black woman in her white coat and beret was standing behind me, softly clearing her throat to get my attention. I turned around, completely shocked to see her. It was hours later, and the girls weren't there. "Hi… Santa?" she said with a smile. "Hi." I extended my hand. "It's Rick." She shook my hand. I melted touching her, not wanting to let her soft hand go. "Hi Rick. I was wondering—do you do any private parties?" "Huh?" "I'm organizing a neighborhood Christmas party, and I saw how good you are with the kids. I'm having a hell of a time finding a Santa who's not busy. I was wondering if we could hire you?" I was shocked. Good with kids? She wants to hire me? I fumbled and mumbled. "Um, yeah, sure! Well, I mean I've never done it before, but I can, yes." I would do almost anything to see her again. "Great! We can't pay a lot, though." "That's okay." What difference did money make? "Sixty-five?" She looked at me with those wide brown eyes, batting her long lashes. "That'd be just fine." To see her again, I wouldn't care even if she paid. I'd have to borrow the suit from the mall, but I'm sure I could arrange it. "Next Saturday? Two o'clock?" "I don't have current plans." "Great!" she beamed, her radiant smile warmed me up inside. She handed me a piece of paper. "Here's my address and my number just in case." I turned the little mint-colored post-it in my hand. Nicole. Her name was Nicole. "Okay, great—I'll be there!" I gave her a confident smile. "One more thing," she added, handing me a folded yellow legal sheet. I opened it. It was a list of children's names and gifts. "The mothers already bought all the presents. But this is so you can be a real 'Santa' if you want. You'll know which kids asked for what." "Very thoughtful," I said, honestly. "See you on Saturday," she said. I swear she had a twinkle in her eye as she turned away. I gazed at her from the back, my eyes lingering on her shapely behind that even her coat couldn't hide. "Wait!" I called after her, and she turned. "What are your girl's names?" "Wow—I can't believe you remembered them after all the kids you see in a day! There're the top two on the list!" she cried back as she strode off. Marcy and Kayle. I hadn't felt like this since I was a teenager. She was a young beautiful black woman, and I was a used-up old white man with about a week to live. She was probably ten years my junior, a young mother with a Dad missing in action. I don't know what came over me. But the miracle of Nicole's Christmas party gave me another week to live for. The rest of the week went by quickly. I couldn't stop thinking of her. Nicole. Kids bounced on and off my knee all day long, and I played the good Santa. Instead with a fake twinkle in my eye, thinking of suicide, I had a real twinkle in my eye thinking about an impossible girl. How improbable. Nothing would happen, I knew it. Saturday would come and go, and I'd never see that beautiful creature again. And I could stop daydreaming and get back to my plans for shortening my lifespan, just in time for Christmas. I borrowed the Santa suit from the store. Saturday morning, I showered and shaved, slowly dragging the razor across my face, wiping off the shaving cream. I ran my hand along my jaw, and it still felt rough. Too rough. I pulled out my electric razor and shaved again. Maybe I'd pay the price with an ingrown hair or two. So what. I doused myself with cologne. Probably too much. I washed off my wrists to dull the scent, then reapplied it more gingerly. I pulled up to her place. She lived in a rather poor section of town, down off Cass Avenue. The houses were once wonderful old 1920's houses, prim and proper: red brick, green awnings, and white trim. Now they were mostly sad shadows of themselves, shabby, lived in, relics of the past. I knocked at the door already in my full St. Nicolas get-up, beard and all. Nicole answered. She was wearing makeup today, her lips a delicious coral-red, her eyes shaded a deep dark brown, several shades darker than her beautiful mocha brown skin. My heart stopped, started up again by her smile. "Hello Saint Nick! You're right on time." "Hi," I replied weakly. I hadn't thought about it until just then—her name was the feminine form of St. Nicolas. She was a saint, that was certain. Yet another irony in my sad life. She let me in, and I scanned the house. It was clean but well-worn, with sun-faded curtains and the walls wearing paint with slight chips and dings. The older furnishings hid a toy or two behind them, discretely stashed away for the party. The corner sported a plastic Christmas tree, festooned with brightly colored ornaments and a string of big blue lights. A family lived here, and despite the obvious budget constraints, it was comfortable and welcoming, unlike my utilitarian apartment. Shortly the guests arrived, and the party was hectic with kids running around everywhere. A few of the mothers stayed at the party, but most had dropped their kids off. The mothers gathered in the corner, chatting while I played Santa, handing out the presents to the hordes of children. It was easy now, the Santa game. I talked about the North Pole and my workshop, my eyes twinkling like a jolly right elf. The reason they twinkled was because I could catch glances of that ethereal beauty Nicole, milling around with the other mothers. Marcy, the older of Nicole's girls waited patiently in line with the rest. When it was her turn, the precious little thing leaned in close. "Did you bring my present? The one I asked for the other day?" she whispered in my ear. "I'm sorry sweetheart, Santa needs a little more time." I knew what she wanted, but all I could give her was another cold lie. On the gift list, Marcy's name had "Bratz doll" next to it, and that's what she'd gotten. I had guessed that she couldn't ask her mother for what she really wanted. She was comfortable asking Santa, and only Santa could provide a miracle. The kids zipped around like gumballs in one of those child's popping popcorn pushers. Once the children had opened their gifts, they didn't pay too much attention to Santa. But it was all in slow motion to me. All I could see was Nicole, a vision in her green dress with little red ornament earrings. I was a white man playing Santa in the ghetto, in a run-down little house, surrounded by a sea of little black kids and their moms. And Nicole. I wasn't racist—far from it. I'd voted for Obama with no qualms or reservations, voting for the man not his race. But I normally would never have hung out in this area of town. I just wouldn't have felt comfortable. Too out of place. Here, now—nothing felt more at home. Marcy and Kayle ran up with one of their little friends. "Mama, can we go home with Susie?" "Sure sweetie." Susie and her mom lead the girls out, walking down the sidewalk to their house. After the excitement died down, the rest of the mothers had collected up their children and drifted off. I hung around until they had all gone, waiting for my supposed payment. Nicole waited, making small talk with them all until they had all finished. Until it was just the two of us. "Thanks so much Rick. It was a huge success!" Nicole beamed. "The girls loved it!" "You're very welcome; it was my pleasure." "Here you go, sixty-five bucks. I wish it was more, but I've got to get that rust-bucket outside fixed." She pointed out the window to the car parked on the street, a decayed old Mercury Marquis. I held my hand up. "Please keep it. You need it more than I do." She blushed. "I'm too proud to not pay you." I knew how it felt to take hand-outs. "Thank you," I said humbly, and accepted the money. I turned to go, my heart breaking, knowing I would never again see this magnificent woman. "Rick?" Nicole asked quietly. "Yes?" "Do you want to stay and have coffee?" I didn't think about it for a second. "I'd love to." Saint Nicole and I talked for a long time. We sat at her kitchen table, sipping coffee and nibbling on leftover party cookies. She told me her life story. She was lonely. Her husband had been killed in a car accident almost a year ago. Some eighty-five year old woman had just gotten her license the month before, and ran a red light, slamming into the driver side. She didn't see the light had turned red, and she was going a full 45 miles and hour when she hit. He was pronounced dead on the spot. And to think that I had guessed he was a deadbeat dad. What a judgmental asshole I'd been. It was my turn to share, and I told her about Lisa, my layoff, and my miserable life. About my attempt at finding a job that had turned into playing Mr. Clause. That I was lonely too. I left out the part about the gun, and my current Christmas plans. It turned out that we had a lot in common—both of us had had a pretty goddamn terrible year. The longer we talked, the more she smiled, her big beautiful eyes melting my heart. She seemed to be flirting with me, a man a decade older than her, and the wrong race. I probably misread her signals, being so long out of practice. I missed human companionship, and her lovely company was the brightest spot of my year. She smelled lightly of gardenias, I would catch it every so often wafting over the mix of coffee and cookies: an old-fashioned scent for a young woman. I caught myself just absorbed by her face, her mouth move as she talked, her eyelashes when she blinked, the curls of her hair bouncing against her ears as she twisted her head. She told me that she was waitressing at a strip club off Michigan. It was more money than she could make as a legal secretary, and she'd taken the job to stay in the house after her husband was gone. There wasn't enough life insurance to make her life comfortable—barely made a dent in the bills. She didn't dance—her self-respect wouldn't let her. She told me she wore skimpy outfits and collected huge tips. My mind wandered with the possibility of it, and I felt myself shift in my pants imagining her in her night job. We had shared a lot. I finally had the courage to ask what I'd wanted to ask her all afternoon. "Nicole?" "Yes?" "Marcy asked Santa if I could bring her Daddy back." She got suddenly sad, every scrap of joy draining out of her face. Tears burst out of her, a year's worth of built-up sobbing released like a dam. I instantly regretted telling her. I hadn't meant to upset her. I was just looking for advice. I didn't know what to do, but she kept loudly crying, so I bolted up from my chair and placed my hands on her shoulders. I didn't think about it, I just did it. St. Nicole's Christmas Miracle Nicole pushed herself away from the table and stood facing me. "Would you please hug me?" she asked plaintively through her tears. I wrapped my arms around her, and hugged her tight. She kept crying, more softly now. I felt so bad for her, but I knew what her life must be like now, and I felt her pain. I started crying, without making a sound, the tears rolled off my face and dropped into her curly black hair. We held each other as if the world depended on it, and in a way it did. She felt so good in my arms, warm and soft. We held on to each other for a long time, not saying anything. Brrrrrrrring. Brrrrrrrrring. The phone interrupted us, and she broke away to answer. "Hi. Um, sure, if they want. They're having dinner too? Yup. Let me bring over their pajamas and toothbrushes. Okay. Say Bets, thanks so much. Unh huh. Bye." She looked at me. "The girls are staying at their friends' house. I've got to pack some things for them. I'm really having a good time talking with you. Can you stay a little longer?" I felt guilty for wasting her time. "No, I've really got to go. Thanks for everything Nicole." I didn't want to leave, but she didn't need me. She needed a husband, a father for her children, and I wasn't a fit candidate. But I saw it in her eyes. I'd fanned out the little light that was there, and I could hear the sorrow in her voice. "Oh, okay." Neither she nor I was in a mood to argue. So I left. I was still wearing the Santa suit on the way home, and it felt ridiculous. I punched the steering wheel. I called myself every name in the book. I felt the fool—why did I leave? What was I trying to prove? I never had dated a black woman before, maybe she never dated a white man, who even cared? Was it just that I already had my perfect suicide plan worked out, and I didn't want to spoil it? My heart and mind were racing, and I was starting to lose control of the car, unable to see through my blurry eyes. I was only about ten minutes from my dingy little apartment when I pulled over. I tried to take deep breaths, tried to calm my beating heart. I needed her, desperately. Maybe, just maybe, she needed me too. I knew that we didn't really know each other. But we both needed a life raft. I needed to find out. I pulled the crumpled green post-it with her number out of my pocket and dialed. I held my breath as it rang. "Hello?" "Nicole, it's Rick. You know, Santa." "Of course I know—you were just here!" she said. "I think I changed my mind. Would it be okay if I came back?" "Yes it would! I was having such a nice time, and I was wondering what I'd done to scare you off. I'm sorry if I was too depressing." "Oh Christ, no! That wasn't it at all! So it's really okay?" "Rick, please come back. And thanks for calling back—I really needed it." "Okay, I'll see you soon." "Bye." I hit End and tossed the phone on the passenger seat. Thank you for calling back, she said. Maybe she did need me as much as I needed her. Joy flooded through me for the first time in ages. I roared back onto the road and raced back to her house. She must have been waiting at the door, because she opened it right when I pulled up. I practically raced inside. I started blubbering an apology, but I was having a hard time talking. "Nicole, I'm, it's just, sorry—let me slow down." She looked at me with concern. "What?" "I left because, well, I think I'm… I'm kind of falling for you. Hard." She looked back silently. I pushed through. "Since the first time I saw you at the mall, I couldn't believe how beautiful you are. And at the party and us talking and everything, well, you're—you're just really an amazing woman. And as you might have heard tonight, I'm sort of a wreck. I didn't want to burden you with the embarrassment, well, of asking you out and you having to turn me down." "What if I didn't?" she said. "What?" "What if I didn't turn you down?" "Really?" I couldn't believe it. "But I'm not in your league!" "I think you're cute," she said. "And you're nice, and you're good with kids. Look, you're asking for a date, not a marriage, right?" "Well, right!" "I already took the girls' things over, so nobody will be back here. How about tonight, right here?" "That's sort of what we were doing before, huh?" Listening to a pretty girl cry wasn't exactly the best first date, but it was better than others I'd had—at least she wasn't crying because of me. "Rick, I really need someone to talk to. And I really like you. I need company. I want to be with you tonight. Would you please stay here?" "Well sure, I came back." "No, I mean, stay the night." "Oh! I would love too—I don't have anything to go back to." "Then why did you leave?" "Can I be honest?" She smiled. "Look, if we're going to get to know each other, that would be the best place to start, don't you think?" "I guess. Well, I'm too old for you and I don't have kids. And… well, I'm white." There, I said it. She looked at me as if I was retarded. "No shit. That's why I picked you." "What do you mean?" "How many black Santas do you see around? Not many, right? With TV and movies and everything, even black kids think Santa is white. I wanted a white Santa for our party. So… I was pretty sure that you were white when I saw you the other day." "I know it's obvious, but wouldn't that be a problem?" "Not for me." She was brutally honest. "Well, I guess it's not for me either. But what about the girls? Or your family?" "What about them? The girls are adaptable. And if you and I would become an item, which I'm not saying that we are, but if we did, my family would just have to get used to it. Besides, haven't you heard since the election, racism is dead?" She gave a coy smile. I really liked her, so I figured that I might as well cover all the territory, and moved on to the next issue. "I'm probably ten years older than you." "I'm 34. How old are you?" "41. You're 34? God, you look so much younger!" I really was surprised. "Thanks, I guess! Look, even if it was more than seven years, again, why should anyone care?" "Well, I suppose it shouldn't matter. I don't know, I guess I just thought you were younger. Okay, last thing—I don't have kids, I was never a dad." "So you said. You seem pretty good with Marcy and Kayle." "They're adorable. They're like the girls I never had." "So. Guess that's settled." "I guess. Look, I didn't bring anything except this Santa costume, and it's kind of itchy. Maybe I'll just go home for a little bit and get some real clothes." "I'm not letting you leave again." Nicole looked thoughtful. "I've still got some of Duane's clothes in the closet. I couldn't get rid of them. They may be a little big on you, but let's see." "Okay, okay. That wasn't an excuse to escape again, I promise." She walked us into the bedroom. I was eager to get rid of the suit, and I started pulling it off without really thinking about it. She was sitting on the bed watching me and she laughed. "Oh, you didn't tell me that you weren't really fat—now that's a deal-breaker!" I was standing in my underwear holding the belly pillow in my hand, and I playfully whacked her with it. She in turn grabbed a pillow off the bed and whacked me back. We battered each other back and forth, until I lunged at her, knocking her backwards and falling on top of her. We stopped, breathing heavily, our mouths dangerously close. I leaned in, and she stretched upward, our lips barely grazing each other. That little spark set off the explosion. We pressed our lips together, kissing furiously while I struggled to remove my undershirt. She reached under to help, trying to pull it over my head while we still were attached at the mouth, finally succeeding and tossing it to the floor. We were orbs of raw passion, months of pent up desire and loneliness, finally finding an unlikely soul mate in each other. She frantically pulled her dress up, trying to pull it over her shoulders, and I helped, kissing each part of her exposed body that the dress revealed. We struggled briefly with underwear, bra, and panties until we were naked. Now both nude, we slowed our pace, each wanting a chance to examine our new lover. Nicole's body had produced two children, yet she was amazing. I ran my hands all over her soft cinnamon skin, the slight imperfections and stretch marks a thing of beauty, relishing the feel of a woman underneath my hands once again. Her breasts were small, but proportional, with large dark areolas. Her mound had a little curly black patch of fur, trimmed neatly at the sides. She touched me back, running her delicate fingertips over my body, through my chest hair, touching me everywhere. We went back to kissing, laying side-by-side, holding each other, softly exploring each other's mouths. I was rock hard now, and I pressed myself against her. She responded by lifting her leg, and I lifted my body to let her slide her bottom leg underneath me. I let myself sit at her opening, and then gently pushed inside. She felt amazing—a fresh drink of water after a long drought. I pushed myself in, feeling her wetness. She moaned as I entered her at full depth, and I held myself deep inside her, not wanting to leave. I stayed still inside Nicole while we kissed, our arms keeping us bound tightly together. Her breasts were flattened up against my chest, and I moved back and forth just to feel them pressed against me. We lay side-by-side, and I started leisurely moving inside her. I held her head to me, devouring her kisses, while I held her ass to thrust against. Nicole loved the motion, moaning through her closed mouth into mine. We rocked together, thrusting slowly, and I took breaks from her delicious mouth to nuzzle her breasts, licking and sucking at her hard nipples like little chocolate kisses. I was slow with her, petting her waist and belly, her hips and thighs, relishing her smooth skin. I could see her getting close, the look of pleasurable desperation in her deep brown eyes. I kept her close to orgasm for as long as I dared, as long as I could hold out, maintaining a steady pace, gradually increasing the force of each thrust. Finally she climaxed for me, pulling herself close to maximize my depth in her. Hearing her cries brought me over the edge, and I came in her, my cock pulsing with release. We lay intertwined, breathing softly in unison. She was soft, warm, and safe. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I missed having a man." "Me too," I said without thinking, then after a pause "I mean, having a woman!" "I knew what you meant." "Nicole?" "Yes?" "I'm sorry I asked about Marcy. I wasn't sure what to do." "It's okay," Nicole said, stroking my chest. "Would have had me even though you thought the belly was real?" Nicole laughed. "Don't worry. I think you're cute enough, but it was really the person I fell in, I mean… Rick, I really like you. You're just what I need right now." "Me too, Nicole. You're like a saint to me." She curled up next to me and we fell asleep. I woke in the middle of the night in a strange room in a strange bed. It was very early in the morning, and I could see tiny drifting snowflakes falling outside the window. The bed I was in smelled like a woman's bed. I heard Nicole sleeping next to me, felt her warmth, and then the night's passions all came rushing back to me. I couldn't believe what had happened. I reached out to her while she slept, petting her pretty face with the back of my hand. Her eyes opened, and she smiled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I said. "That's okay." She rested her head against my chest. I pulled her away gently, pushing her flat, and she looked at me quizzically. I slowly bent over, ducked under the covers and started kissing her belly. "Again, Tiger?" she said. I lifted my head from her stomach. "Again." I went back to kissing her, peppering little chains of kisses from hip to hip, right above her pubic hair. She rested her hand on my head and sighed, gently encouraging me to continue. I slid down further, kissing the tops of her thighs. She slightly spread her legs. I took the invitation, kissing her curly patch of fur, with moist light parted lips. I kissed her labia fully, with deep nuzzling kisses. It was hot under the covers, and I tried to pull them down so I wouldn't roast. Nicole helped me, tossing the covers aside so I could cool off, exposing her body to the cool night air. Her body was dimly illuminated by the pink street light filtering through the snow beyond the window. I spread her pinkness open, pressing my lips to her lower ones. I took her clitoris into my mouth, my nose touching her wet vagina, drawing in her scent. "It feels so good—Duane didn't like to do this," she revealed with a husky whisper. I lifted my head. "Well I do." I took her back into my mouth, sucking her deep into my mouth, licking her clit while I sucked on it. I reached my hand down between her legs, and Nicole spread herself wider in anticipation. I eased my finger inside her, stroking her G-spot while I sucked on her. I nursed at her, cupping her ass with my hand to pull her closer. She was wet and plump; she tasted wonderful. I cautiously waggled my tongue across her silky flesh, tasting her crevices and squeezing her engorged clit side-to-side under the pressure of my tongue. I worked her unhurriedly for quite a while, savoring the taste of her pussy, slowly eating her orgasm from her. Her orgasm overtook her suddenly, and as she crested the wave, I kept my face pressed tight against her, enjoying the scent of her lubricant while her legs trembled around me. She held my head against her, the clutching of her fingers in my hair synchronized to her cries. I lay my face against her, resting my mouth against her throbbing wet pussy while she came down. I stretched back up, pulling the covers over us, making no obvious additional overtures. "Didn't you want to…?" Nicole asked. "I just felt the sudden urge to make you happy. Let's go back to bed," I said. She curled up, and I spooned her from behind, pulling her body close, letting my hardness rest in the crack of her ass. She purred and clasped her hand around mine, pulling my arm around her body as we fell back asleep. "Rick! Get dressed—the girls are home!" Nicole roused me with a loud whisper. I leapt out of bed, grabbing her husband's clothes she had set out and that I had intended on wearing last night, but never got the chance. "Just a second dear," she shouted at the door, while racing to put on her bra. I was struggling to put on the pants, but I still watched her in a trace, watching her graceful slender body as she was in the process of covering it. We were dressed in short order, and Nicole left the room, closing the door behind her. I gathered up my Santa suit, discarded to the side, and balled it inside her man's shirt, tying the sleeves and shirttails up to hide the bright red contents. I walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen. Nicole faced me, and slightly exaggeratedly introduced us as if for the first time. "Marcy and Kayle, this is Rick. Rick, Marcy. Kayle." I squatted down to their level. "Hello there girls, very pleased to meet you." Marcy was a smart one—at the sound of my voice she looked at me with a sudden look of surprised recognition, then damped it immediately. The girls came over to hug me, and Marcy whispered in my ear, "I know it's you." I guess removing the Santa suit wasn't enough of a disguise. I gave them a hug back, and stood up. "Nicole, I've got to run some errands. Would it be okay if I came back tomorrow?" "That'd be nice." I gave her a peck on the cheek, and grabbed my bundle with the hidden suit, and rushed outside to my car. I went back to my cold, lifeless apartment. Although I didn't get a lot from the divorce settlement, between that and the severance, I had more than Nicole did. Now I had something to look forward to. I took the gun out from under the mattress, turning it over in my hand, feeling the cold steel for one last time. I marched outside, and back to the pawn shop. It was Sunday and they were closed, so I brought it back upstairs, and stuffed it back under the mattress. I went on a shopping spree. I bought a big turkey at the supermarket and it sat in the car, keeping frozen with the cold outside. I went to Toys R' Us, and asked what the most popular girls' toys were this season, splurging about $250 on each girl with the clerk helping me with recommendations. I brought it all home, and wrapped it to a background of WNIC, the local station that played Christmas music every day past Thanksgiving. My wrapping job was clumsy since I wasn't too much in practice, but my heart was brimming with joy. Now it was time for the big gift. What did I need money for anyway? Better to spend it on someone else. I felt crazy for doing all this, like one of those stalkers who was infatuated after meeting someone for a minute, but at least I now had something to live for. The dealer didn't often have people who didn't need financing, and the salivating look on his face was almost pathetic. In the tough economic times, they were happy to see any customer, let alone one who had cash. I got the little white car for a steal. I was almost shocked at how easy it was to do, the paperwork being trivial, and after another hour I was the proud owner of a brand-new Vibe, a temporary tag hanging in the window. I asked the dealer if they had big bows like you see in the commercials, and as it turned out they did. An extra 50 bucks, and I got a huge red bow, which I stuffed in the back seat. I went back to my place, and loaded up the car with the presents for the girls, and headed back to Nicole's. I pulled up to the curb, right behind her rusty old Mercury Marquis. I was surprised it was still running, but glad that she wouldn't have to care much longer. I walked up to the door, with just the turkey in my arms. Nicole answered. "Hi there, St. Rick," she smiled. "Hi yourself, St. Nicole!" I handed her the heavy frozen bird. "This is for Christmas dinner." "Oh my god, you didn't have to do that!" "No, I didn't. But take that inside, and come out here and help me." She took the turkey inside, and came back out, wearing that quilted cream coat that I'd first seen her in. She was a vision. "You are so amazingly beautiful," I said honestly. "Thank you," she said, blushing coyly. I took her to the car, and started handing her presents. "These are for the girls." "Please don't tell me you spent all day buying this stuff!" "I did." "I don't know what to say," she said, as I stacked her arms high. "Don't say anything, then." We marched inside, arms piled high with gifts. Marcy and Kayle were at the window watching us with a good deal of interest. "These go under the tree until Christmas," I said to them as they opened the door for us. The girls squealed with excitement, and started running around as we stacked the gifts under and around the tree. "Rick, I can't believe this, you're way too generous." Nicole looked like tears were forming in her eyes. "Please don't cry. You're the best thing that's happened to me, and I need to have someone to be nice to. You don't know how close…" I stopped. She looked at me. "What?" "Nothing. Just enjoy it." She knew I was hiding something, but she let it drop. "Will you stay for dinner?" "I thought you'd never ask." Nicole still had to work, and I still did my Santa act during the days. Each time she started that piece of crap car, and it sputtered and coughed as she drove away I would smile to myself, bursting with the secret. She was happy to have me around, and I worked on helping her fix up the place, buying new paint and painting the rooms, fixing a little broken knob on the stove, replacing curtains, repairing molding. St. Nicole's Christmas Miracle She invited me to stay each night, and after the girls were put down we made passionate love, as quietly as we could. Each night we shared intimate tender sex, communicating through our bodies. We spent long hours up at night talking afterwards, really getting to know each other. It was a whirlwind romance, spawned out of desperation and loneliness, created by a random chance meeting. As it turned out, we really enjoyed each other's company, and we had more in common than I would have thought. I was genuinely happy for the first time in a long time this holiday season, and so was Nicole. The girls were a treat, and they had instantly warmed to me. Once I caught Marcy having a serious talk with Kayle: they hadn't seen me approach, so I stood just out of sight. "No, that's not it," the older girl said. "You mean…?" Kayle looked, wide-eyed. "Yes! Rick is Santa Claus! You can't tell anyone—promise me!" I smiled a huge shit-eating grin: the innocence of children was so precious. Marcy continued. "He's staying here in disguise because he promised to bring back Daddy. Daddy's gone for good I guess, so he had to keep his promise by staying himself." I ducked away, tears springing to my eyes, as I hid in the bedroom. I closed the door gently so they wouldn't hear me, and I started openly crying. Nicole had been in the bathroom unable to hear the girls, when she walked in on me. "What's wrong?" she asked with concern. I repeated what I'd heard Marcy telling her sister, and Nicole started bawling too, so we held each other until the sorrow had passed. I managed to keep the car a secret until Christmas: four long days. It was hard to believe that I'd first seen Nicole less than two weeks ago. I was staying at Nicole's every night now, the dingy Redford apartment a distant memory. Christmas morning arrived, and I snuck out of bed, outside to the little white car to put on the ribbon. It took a while, and I was shivering in the cold without my jacket, but I finally got it arranged and through both doors without slamming them, the big bow centered on the roof. I gave the crappy puke-green Marquis a kick on the way back in, and a chunk of rusted metal fell off. I came inside, quiet because I thought nobody was yet up. Marcy had been watching me from the front window, and she turned to me as I came in, rubbing my hands from the cold. She ran up to me, and I scooped her up in my arms. "Good morning sweetheart," I said softly. "Good morning—Santa!" she conspiratorially whispered. "You can't tell anyone." "I know—I didn't. Well…" "I know you told your sister, but that's okay." She looked at me wide-eyed, and I smiled. "Santa knows things, you know?" She nodded, understanding. "Did you get Mommy a car?" "Yes I did." She hugged me tight. "Thank you Santa—she really needs one!" She hesitated, then added earnestly with a touch of sadness, "I know you tried your hardest with Daddy. You don't have to stay here if you have to get back to the North Pole." I hugged her to me tight so she couldn't see my face starting to water. "It's okay Marcy. I got someone else to help the elves, so I can stay here a while longer." I held her tight, and wiped my eyes with my sleeve, putting her back down. "That's good. We all really like you here." She ran off, and woke up Kayle for the morning's revelry. I snuck back into the bedroom, and Nicole was awake. "Where were you off too?" she asked, pulling back the covers, exposing her bare breasts. "Mmmmm," I said, bending down to give them each a big kiss. "I was getting your present ready." "I thought the turkey was my present." "Not even close. The kids are up, starting into their presents." She slid out of bed, and I watched her nude body as she strode across the room and put on her robe. We walked out into the family room, where Marcy and Kayle had already started ripping open their gifts, squealing with delight as each new treasure was revealed. Nicole put her hands on her hips, and in a mocking tone to me said "Well where's my gift then?" Marcy shouted, "It's outside Momma!" Nicole went to the window and saw the car. She put her hands to her face and started crying. "Oh you shouldn't have!" I helped her put on her coat, and she walked outside in disbelief. "Let's go see Mommy's present," I said to the girls. I helped them put on their coats, and their little hats, gloves, and boots, the whole ordeal. I threw on my coat, ushering them outside. Nicole was still standing there, crying. "I thought it was yours! This is too expensive. My God, I can't believe it!" she said. "It was a deal. Do you like it?" "Of course—I love it!" She ran into my arms, and I held her. She kissed me. "Thank you so much—you have no idea how much I hate that piece of…" She mouthed the word "shit," so the girls wouldn't see. "You're welcome—it really was my pleasure." We went inside and I played with the girls while Nicole got dressed and started preparing Christmas dinner. Dinner was fabulous—turkey and stuffing, yams, potatoes, green beans, and a salad. We all ate too much, and after a spot of TV the girls went to bed, finally tired after a long day of excitement. I was washing the dishes when Nicole came up to me after having put down the girls for the night. She slid her arms around my waist, turning her head to press against my back as I scrubbed the pots. "Just leave those for tomorrow. I've got to give you my present." I turned off the water and dried off my hands on the dishtowel as she led me into the bedroom and closed the door after us. She sat me down on the bed, and started stripping, removing each article of clothing until she was down to a sexy red teddy. She knelt before me, unbuttoning my jeans, unzipping my fly, and started trying to shrug off my pants. I stood up to help her, and she pulled my pants and underwear down. She pushed me back, and knelt before me again. She started kissing my thighs and belly, and instantly I was at attention. She kissed the head, and started kissing me down my shaft. She took my balls in her hand, fondling them as she took just the tip of my cock into her mouth. She sucked hard on my head, then pushed more of me into her mouth. It felt so good having her warm wet mouth on my cock, and I moaned. Nicole made a yummy sound, and slurped me in as far as she could manage. Holding my shaft with one hand, and my balls with the other, she started pumping and sucking my cock. She tugged at my balls, milking them with her thumbs as she sucked, and it felt fantastic. Nicole didn't leave me hanging; before too long I was ready to come, and she could sense it. She grabbed both balls tight in her hand, and took me deep into her mouth, sucking like mad. I came, and with each pulse I could feel myself emptying into her mouth. I grabbed her shoulders and held on tight as my orgasm raged, filling her mouth with my cum. She smiled and moaned appreciatively, accepting my sperm and swallowing it. After I was finished, she asked me to scoot up on the bed, then pulled off her teddy, exposing her beautiful cinnamon body. I was still hard, so she took advantage of it, straddling me, and reaching underneath herself to guide me in. I was still sensitive from the orgasm, but it felt great to penetrate her. "Can you feel how wet I am for you?" She was wet, and I went in easily. She rode me, rotating her hips and her ass, stirring me around inside her. She sat on top of me, fucking me, and got to admire the view, her beautiful face, and her sexy breasts. I reached up and grabbed her breasts in my hands, holding her with them, feeling her bounce up and down on me. She came, gasping and panting, grinding her ass against me to feel my cock deep inside her. I didn't think I could come again, but when she came I was very close, and I kept pumping, bucking up my hips to meet her, forcing her body up and down on me with my hands on her breasts as she rode out her orgasm. Her orgasm was protracted, and I was making it almost intolerably long for her by continuing to fuck her wildly and not letting her relax. Finally, I could feel myself coming too, and for the second time I came, pulling her body on top of me, and wrapping my arms around her, pressing her ass hard onto me. We lay silently for a while, her body covering mine. We shifted positions so we could get under the sheets, remaining connected all the while. "Thanks so much for the car. I still can't believe it," she finally said into my chest. "Thank you for saving my life." She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at me. She shifted slightly, my now soft damp cock barely staying inside her, as she struggled to keep it there. I explained. "I didn't have much to live for. I told you that I was bad off, but I didn't tell you just how bad. Today was going to be the day. My last day. You and the girls are the best Christmas present I've ever had. You saved my life. You're my St. Nick." She laid her head back down on me. "I love you," she said. "I love you too. Merry Christmas," I said. "Merry Christmas, yourself," she purred back, as we drifted off to sleep.