A Wish for Christmas
By:
BJ Williams
(© 2013 by the author)
Edited by: Gerry Young
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
It was the week of Christmas and Sean Fitzgerald sat in his office that overlooked the city. It was evening and the lights below twinkled brightly as if they were a mixture of diamonds and rubies, and scattered amongst them … emeralds.
“I noticed that you haven’t put your name down for the Christmas party, Sean,” Max, his coworker, said as he took a seat on the edge of Sean’s desk.
“Bah; I’m not going and I don’t need you to tell me that it’ll put me in the holiday spirit, because there is but one thing that will do that and I won’t find it at some drunken party.”
“Wow, you could give old Ebenezer Scrooge a few lessons in how to be a grump,” Max said as he stood to his feet. “So tell me, buddy, just what is it that Santa can put in your stocking to make you happy?” he asked.
“What I want won’t fit in a stocking, and stop trying to whittle it out of me.”
“Suit yourself, Sean, but everyone who is anyone will be there, and you don’t want to miss an opportunity for a promotion.”
With that said, he gave Sean a wave and dashed away. It was true, Sean did hate Christmas — not so much the actual day and its meaning, but the general revelry of the season. He had always been alone on the holidays, first as a child who had spent the holiday with a nanny, while his parents traveled. And then when he was older and didn’t need a nanny, he was always alone and was never asked to join his parents as they toured the world.
“Parties! What a sick excuse for gathering together and acting as if you like each other,” he grumbled as he closed down his computer, pushed his chair back and walked away.
“Hey, sweetie, are you going to…”
“No, and I’m not getting into it,” he interrupted, and instead of waiting for the elevator, he decided to take the stairs down the seven flights to the ground level to avoid further questions.
As soon as he stepped out onto the street, a brisk wind attacked him, which caused Sean to pull the collar up on his overcoat and hold it closed around his neck. He walked the three blocks to O’Malley’s Bar and Grill to have a drink or two before going home … alone as usual.
“The usual, Sean?” Kevin O’Malley asked as Sean took his customary seat at the bar.
“Yes, and make it a double,” he called out. Kevin gave a wave over his shoulder to let him know that he had heard him.
“It’s going to be a bitter one tonight,” Kevin exclaimed as he set down the scotch on the rocks before Sean. “The weatherman calls for a low in the single digits with a wind chill around twenty below,” he added, which did nothing to cheer up Sean.
“Well, aren’t you just a bundle of good will?” he grumbled and swallowed the drink in one gulp. “The same, please,” he set the glass down hard on the bar, causing the man next to him to startle. “Sorry,” he grumbled to the man and turned his attention to the window. “Great, just what I need, to go with the fucking cold,” he grumbled when he noticed that it had begun to snow.
“What’s wrong Sean, I rarely see you like this,” Kevin asked as he wiped the bar.
“It’s Christmas and I hate it,” he confessed. “Everyone walking around smiling and acting like all’s well with the world, when it’s not,” he told him and took a sip of the drink.
“Now if you had a special someone to warm that ice-cold heart of yours, maybe you wouldn’t be so down about the holiday. Why don’t you do like I do whenever I’m in your kind of mood, Sean? I sit down and think about my blessings and what I have, and soon, whatever was bothering me … well it doesn’t seem important any longer.”
“Whatever,” he replied, and Kevin moved on, to customers with a more cheerful attitude.
Sure, I have money galore, a nice penthouse apartment, but that’s as far as it goes. What good is having it all when you haven’t a soul to share it with? There I admit it — I’m lonely.
“HO, HO, HO,” a man dressed as Santa shouted as he entered the bar.
He went around the room, pausing here and there, as he asked different people what they wanted for Christmas. Sean was about to leave, because the last thing he wanted was some dime store Santa hounding him.
“Here, Scrooge, this one’s on me,” Kevin announced softly, and set another double before him.
“I was about to leave,” he said and motioned towards the Santa with his head.
“Please don’t tell me that you’re afraid of Santa?” Kevin asked cheerfully.
“I’m not afraid of anything or anyone; I just don’t like all this revelry,” he grumbled back.
“HO, HO, HO, and what can Santa bring you, young man?” Santa asked when he had came up beside of Sean.
“Nothing … now go away and leave me alone,” he snapped at the jolly old man. “Besides, if I were to tell you, you’d laugh at me, and I don’t need you or anyone else calling me a fool. Now go away,” he said once again.
“Try me, Sean, write it down and I promise not to peak until I leave and reach the North Pole,” he promised and crossed his heart to ensure that it would be so.
“Fine,” he said and grabbed a cocktail napkin, pulled a pen from his coat pocket and hastily scratched out his request. “I’ll have you know that the only reason I am doing this is to get you off my back. And that reminds me, how did you know my name?”
“Santa knows everyone, Sean. I know that your name is Sean Fitzgerald and that you live at…”
“Alright already, anyone can figure that much out from a phonebook,” he told the jolly old man.
“Can you also get from the phonebook that you had a brother Michael, and he died when he was ten, as he tried to save a dog? Or can you get that your mother and father split up after that, because she couldn’t get past his death and turned to liquor. Can you…”
“Where did you find all this out, because I have never told a soul any of that?”
It was true; after his father left, Sean had cared for his mother until she committed suicide. He then left his home in St. Louis and moved to Boston, where he was determined to start over.
“I told you, Sean, Santa knows everything worth knowing about everyone,” he said with that sickening smile.
“Ok, if you are the real deal, and I’m not saying that you are, but if you are, make that happen for me by Christmas,” he said as he pointed to napkin in Santa’s hand.
“May I…?” Santa asked and waited for permission to open the napkin.
“Why the fuck not? Sure, go ahead; you might as well have a laugh at my expense,” he said as he finished the last of his drink.
Santa opened the napkin and read what Sean had written and then stuffed it into his red coat pocket for safekeeping.
“By this Christmas, huh,” he asked as he stroked his white beard.
“No, fifteen Christmases from now when I’m too old to enjoy the gift. Yes … this Christmas,” he sarcastically said and got up.
“You got it, Sean. But remember, with gifts such as this, ole’ Santa delivers in unusual ways,” he said, and Sean turned to grab his coat; Santa was gone when he turned back to where he’d been standing.
“Whatever!” he grumbled, pulled on his coat and lowered his head as he exited the bar.
Outside he looked left and then right, hoping to catch a cab, but all he saw was nothing. There wasn’t a single car on the roads, and the snow was falling harder as he made his way towards home. It was only ten blocks, he thought, but in this kind of weather, even two blocks could mean your death. He snuggled the collar up tighter and drudged on.
He’d gone about two or three blocks when he noticed someone or something huddled in a doorway. He was about to pass by, as if he hadn’t noticed when a young man looked up and their eyes met. He had seen many a pair of eyes before, but these two eyes, they mesmerized him.
“You do know that it’s supposed to be below zero tonight,” he yelled out over the roar of a fierce north wind.
“Huh … the wind, I didn’t hear you,” he asked and stood.
When he stood up, Sean had to look up at him and he got a chill that ran down his spine.
“Run and run fast, he’ll pulverize you,” his mind told him, but there was something about the man — maybe it had been his eyes that said he need not worry.
“Sorry, man, but the wind is so loud that I never caught what you were saying.”
It was the eyes, he determined, those damn mesmerizing eyes — they locked with Sean’s and he knew his heart was a goner.
“I said it’s supposed to be below zero tonight,” he repeated. “Haven’t you a place to go?” he asked, knowing that he shouldn’t because it would give this man the impression that he cared.
“Not anymore I don’t. I got mugged at the bus terminal by some dudes and what you see is all that they left me,” he confessed and Sean noticed that he had on nothing but jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.
“Did you call the police?” he asked.
“Sure, they came, took my statement and left. I had a return ticket home, but when they took my backpack, there went my ticket as well as my money.”
Grea t… just fucking great, Sean; you knew better then to stop, but no, you had to stop and play the caring good Samaritan, didn’t you?
“Well, come along, I’ll never get a moment’s rest now, knowing that you are out here freezing to death,” Sean grumbled and began walking.
He glanced to his side and noticed that the man was keeping up with him as he briskly walked. The time flew as well as the blocks and when he approached the building where he lived, he paused and looked at the man.
“Seeing how you are going to be spending the night with me, I might as well know your name,” he said. “I’m Sean, Sean Fitzgerald,” he said.
“Christopher Montgomery, but my family and friends call me Chris,” he said with a shiver that threatened to topple him over to the ground.
“Nice to meet you, Chris; now let’s get you inside before you freeze right where you’re standing,” he hurried to the door, and the doorman quickly held it open to allow Sean and Christopher to enter.
“Good evening, Mr. Fitzgerald; a cold one tonight, isn’t it?” the doorman asked and gave a quick glance at the young man with him. “You’ll freeze to death, young man, dressed like that,” he said to Christopher.
“Long story, but thanks for the concern,” Christopher said and followed Sean to the elevator.
They stepped in when it arrived and after Sean first inserted a key and then pushed the button for the twentieth floor, they both stood silent as church mice as the elevator ascended. The doors opened into Sean’s apartment and they nearly closed again with Christopher still standing inside and gawking at the lavishly furnished foyer.
“Well, are you coming in, or are you planning on spending the night in the elevator?” Sean indignantly asked, which caused Christopher to jump from the elevator just as the doors began to close.
But when he jumped, he hadn’t watched where he would land and crashed against Sean, which caused them both to fall to the floor.
“Ah … sorry Sean,” he stammered as he looked down at Sean from atop him.
“Apology accepted, but can we please get up?” Sean asked.
“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes glimmer in the light?”
“No, and why would you tell me that?” he asked.
“No reason, other then the fact that I love people’s eyes, and your eyes are by far the best that I have seen in quite a while.”
“Really?” he asked, forgetting the fact that he was on the floor beneath Christopher. “You know, it was your eyes that made me stop, earlier,” he confessed, and then he realized that not only was he still on the floor beneath this gorgeous creature of a man, but he had his arms wrapped around him.
Sean blushed.
“Wow, your eyes just went from a soft green to a deep forest green,” Christopher noted as his face lowered closer to Sean’s.
“Uhh … can we get up now?” he asked, and Christopher leapt to his feet and offered a hand down to Sean.
“Thanks,” he said as Christopher pulled him up so quickly to his feet that he fell into his arms. “Ah … we have to stop meeting like this or else people will talk,” Sean nervously said and blushed once again, but he made no effort to move.
Against Christopher’s body, Sean felt his heat, and his breath smelled minty fresh, which surprised him, seeing how he had been huddled in a doorway and freezing to death.
“How so … talk about us, I mean?” he asked huskily.
“You know, here we are, two men holding each other as if…”
“As if what, Sean?” he innocently asked and Sean guessed that he was anything but innocent.
“You know … as if we were lovers or something.”
“I see, and would it bother you what they say?”
“No, but I hardly know you and you could be some kind of serial killer about to strangle me,” he said. Again he blushed profusely.
“Do you know how hot you look when you blush like that?”
“No, and I hate it when I do that, and I do, do that, whenever I’m nervous.”
“Why are you nervous, Sean? And no, I am not a serial killer about to do you in,” he added with a smile as charming as those eyes.
“Why are you still holding me, then?” he asked.
“Do you want me to let you go?”
“I didn’t say that; I was just asking you why?”
“Why not, Sean?” he replied and abruptly let him go.
“Oh … I wasn’t expecting that,” Sean nearly stumbled backwards but once again, Christopher caught him and pulled him back into his arms.
“Maybe you would be better off in my arms, Sean … safer at least. You don’t seem to be too good on your feet alone,” he reasoned with him.
What is going on here, Sean? You’re never nervous with a man. But this is no ordinary man; he’s way too comfortable with me … and I with him.
“How about I hold you like this,” he asked as he placed an arm around Sean’s waist. “Lead on, my handsome one,” he said, and held tight to Sean as they walked from the foyer into a spacious living room.
“Wow, this is one bad-ass room you have here,” Christopher said as he stood beside Sean and took in the room.
The room was ultra modern, from the art on the walls to the leather furniture and the brass and glass tables that adorned the room. Opposite them, were double french doors that opened onto a balcony and Christopher eased them over to them so that he could see the view.
“Is that the Charles River down there?” he asked without looking to Sean.
“Yes, and that is why I pay so much for this apartment; I pay for the view,” he shared with him as he remained encircled in Christopher’s arm. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll make us a hot drink,” he said and disengaged himself from Christopher’s arm. “You might want to remove that drenched sweatshirt before you catch pneumonia.”
Without hesitation, Christopher pulled the wet sweatshirt up and over his head, which revealed to Sean, a rock hard, nicely muscled torso.
“I … I’ll pop it in the dryer,” he stammered and took the shirt.
“Thanks,” Christopher said as he took a seat on the white leather sofa and beyond the doors, he could see the Charles, Boston’s skyline, and a glimpse of the ocean in the distance.
“How long were you planning on staying in Boston?” Sean asked as he fussed with the hot chocolate.
“Oh, a while,” he answered.
“Well how long is a while?”
“Longer than a moment,” he replied with a smile.
Sean laughed suddenly. “Do you ever give a direct answer to a question?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Ok, ‘how long are you planning on being in Boston’, I asked, and you said, ‘a while’. A ‘while’ can mean many things, like a day on up to a week or more. Now if someone asked me that question, my reply would be clear and direct, and I would tell them.”
Sean shrugged, poured the hot chocolate into mugs, and came around the island to where Christopher was sitting and set the drinks down on the glass table.
“I had no agenda for being in Boston, other than doing a bit of Christmas shopping, which was ended before I even began,” he said.
Sean let out an exasperated sigh. “Then where is home? Somewhere here in Massachusetts?” he asked.
Even then, he thought that Christopher had hesitated. “Yes.”
“Do you have a house or family wherever it is you’re from?”
“Yes, both, so now … is that direct enough?”
“Where in Massachusetts?” he asked out of frustration.
“Western Massachusetts.”
“Does the city or town have a name,” he asked, and Christopher could tell that Sean was getting perturbed with his answers. “I’m sorry, Sean; I call Shelburne home, it’s in the Berkshires.”
“Now was that so hard to say?”
“You need to know, that I hate it when people nose about in my private life,” he quietly said.
“But how am I … or rather … we … to know one another, unless we ask questions?” he asked as he sat beside him.
“I understand that, but you don’t know my background. I come from a family that does nothing but ask me questions, constantly. My mother is always asking me if I have a beau yet, my father is constantly asking me when I’m going to get a real job. Those are but a few of the questions they torment me with.”
“Without being irritating, just what do you do for work?”
“I’m a high school English teacher, but at the moment, there’s a hiring freeze with most of the area cities, so finding a job as a teacher is next to zero.”
“I take it that your father doesn’t like your present job, which is…”
“McDonalds, I’m a manager there and although the pay pays my bills, it doesn’t leave much for extras. That’s why being mugged really pissed me off.”
“I can imagine it would, but then I am usually sour this time of year,” he confided. “I hate this time of year, what with everyone running around like all’s well with the world.”
“Why is that … you know; why do you hate it so?” he asked as he placed a hand gently on Sean’s upper leg.
It felt like he had placed a branding iron to his leg, it seemed to send a searing heat rush through Sean.
“I have always been alone this time of year, from the time of my earliest memory to…”
“To what, Sean?” he asked and gave the leg a gentle squeeze.
“To now,” he added, and when he previously would have stood and hurried back into the kitchen for more hot chocolate, he stayed.
“I don’t think you have a problem at all this year,” he told him very softly.
Run … get as far from him as possible before this escalates into something that will only leave you hurt again, Sean.
But he didn’t. Christopher moved his hand from Sean’s leg and eased him back, until Sean was laid out flat with Christopher atop him and staring into his eyes.
“Chris…”
“Shhhh,” he interrupted and then lowered his mouth to a breath away from Sean’s.
Christopher’s eyes had changed, and they looked as dark as ebony, as mysterious as an abyss, and they were studying Sean, long and intently. Once again Sean thought it time to back away, because Christopher would be like all the others, get what he wanted and leave, and he’d be alone again.
But he didn’t back away; he but looked intently at Christopher, until Christopher’s fingers slipped into Sean’s hair, cradling the base of his head. Then, at last, his lips touched Sean’s. At first it seemed like nothing more than a hot and teasing whisper of air; then the fullness of Christopher’s mouth pressed over Sean’s.
Sean wasn’t avoiding … wasn’t protesting; he was set adrift in a sea of fascination and discovery, his arms rising, hands resting on Christopher’s shoulders, fingertips awakened by the feel of skin. He kissed Sean hard and deep, and Sean felt an infusion of warmth and arousal.
It was Christopher who broke the kiss, easing away, and his voice was definitely husky when he spoke. “I think this is where you tell me to please leave.”
Sean nodded. “And you should be telling me that you’re sorry and didn’t mean to kiss me,” he replied.
“Oh … but I did mean to kiss you, Sean, and what worries me is that I want to do much more than kissing with you,” he said. “Remember, Sean, it was you who was afraid of me … something about me being a serial killer.”
Sean shook his head slowly as he studied his eyes. “I should be, but … I’m not afraid any longer. I mean, I am, but I’m not, also.”
“Then tell me to leave, Sean.”
Sean shook his head again, and slower than before. “I guess I’m not afraid enough to ask you to leave.”
“Still … we need to … not…”
“You’re right.”
But neither of them moved, and when he kissed Sean again, Sean let his fingers play down the length of Christopher’s back, and he felt Christopher’s hands on his. Then, he broke away again, his voice extremely deep as he said, “I really should stop this before…”
“If that’s what you want.”
“What you don’t want Sean, is to be involved with me,” he murmured.
“I don’t recall saying that I was involved.”
Christopher moved away. “Ah, you are far too decent, believe me, but you are afraid that I may be like all the others and leave you alone.”
“How … why … I never said that, so where did that come from?”
“See, you did not deny it, but used a question to divert the question.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered against Sean’s mouth.
“Absolutely not … but I want to … don’t you?”
“Was I not the one who began all this? So that, alone, should be your answer.” His lips were but a breath from Sean’s.
Sean’s eyes locked on his, he was barely aware that he had stood and was being lead to the bedroom. The bed was huge. Christopher managed to pull off the black and white duvet without losing hold of Sean, and when he laid him down, the sheets seemed cool against the heat of Sean’s flesh.
Christopher lay down beside him, with Sean’s clothes being a hindrance to them, as were what little was left of Christopher’s. The clothes were quickly eliminated, and Sean would forever remember the contrast between the coolness of the bedding and the warmth and vibrancy of Christopher’s flesh. They met in a passionate, exploratory kiss, lips melding, tongues sliding, mouths locked.
Christopher’s hands were every bit as powerful as Sean had imagined; his fingers were gentle, his touch … magnetic. His lips fell to Sean’s throat, to spots just below each ear, to the center of his throat once again, and lower, the tip of his tongue teasing up and down Sean’s collarbone; then lower still.
Sean’s fingers slid into Christopher’s hair, teasing its rich texture, blond and then ash, where it had been bleached by the sun of summer. He felt the pressure of Christopher’s body against his. With Christopher’s hips and legs pressed to Sean’s, Sean felt the swell of his arousal, taut against his own fullness. Then Christopher’s hands, adept at manipulation, lowered to Sean’s chest, followed by his lips, firm against his left chest, and his hands, caressing and squeezing the other. His lips teased after every touch, moving over his nipples and up the length of Sean’s throat again.
The frenzy of caresses, wet and hot, seemed to send streaks of liquid fire sailing through Sean’s bloodstream, and rushing with ardent precision into the very heat of his sexuality. Sean didn’t remember ever feeling so vital, so passionate, alive, tempestuous … ever before.
Christopher paused, his eyes on Sean’s; his smile, totally seductive, “This is insanity.”
“We agreed on that.”
“I should leave before…”
“We agreed on that, also.”
“You shouldn’t be involved with me, Sean.”
“I wouldn’t dream of being involved with you, Chris.”
“One might call this … involved.”
“One might, but the thing is — what do we call it?” he huskily asked.
Christopher shook his head and let his lips touch down … again. For a moment they teased a mere breath above Sean’s. Then the kiss deepened, and their limbs entwined as their bodies met and melded. The naked length of Christopher’s chest seemed glorious, the sound of his irregular breathing filled Sean’s senses, along with the thrum of their hearts. His flesh felt like the sun, smooth, slick and hot. He moved erotically against Sean; his chest crushed to Sean’s.
Sean clung to him, splaying his fingers down Christopher’s back, along his spine, down to his ass, and around to the front. Sean’s fingers weren’t as adept as Christopher’s, not quite as experienced. Christopher’s hands covered Sean’s, though he never broke their kiss. Sean was dimly aware when the naked length of Christopher’s body pressed against his. He felt Christopher’s fingers moving between them, which in itself seemed an exotic ecstasy.
Sean was pressed close to him again, and Christopher’s finger seduced a path down Sean’s spine, curved over his ass, and brought Sean flush against his arousal. His lips continued to caress and assail. Then he moved, sleek and agile, shifting atop Sean, lips pressing against the hollows of Sean’s collarbone, teasing his nipples. His hand glided down the curve of Sean’s form, pressed apart his thighs.
Sean felt the stroke of his touch first, and then the taunt of his tongue; felt as if he burned within, caught in a sudden, swift maelstrom of fire. Pure sensual ecstasy exalted Sean even as the rage of intimacy dismayed him, though for only a split second in the rush of sensation.
He’s an incredible lover, subtle and bold.
Then, teeth, tongue, lips, touch; they all meshed in a passionate dance of sensuality that left Sean breathless, thundering, and quivering somewhere between total vibrant ecstasy and simple delicious death. Sean arched, writhed, thrashed, cried out God-knew-what … as he felt Christopher’s mouth working his sex to the brink of climax, and then keeping it just at the brink, until he brought it once again to the edge.
Trembled … throbbed … begged.
Involved? Good God, yes; I am involved; any more involved and I would be living in Christopher’s skin.
More touched, elated, electrified, and then swept away … taken…
Sean’s fingers tore at Christopher’s hair; pulled, released and then pulled again; he shuddered with a new sense of sheer carnal elation as the force of Christopher’s body thrust into his.
The bed rocked … shook violently … the man knew how to coerce with the slowest, gentlest movements, and then to thunder and pulse with the force of a wicked gale in some sea. Sean knew there were moments when he literally forgot everything except the burning need to be with Christopher, one with him, feeling the shudder and quiver, strength and power, the slick wet heat, the movement … and yes, the hunger and thirst …
Sean must have shrieked, screamed … loud enough to wake the dead and half of those in the building. He knew Christopher must have felt the burst of the climax that violently seized Sean, so euphoric he thought he knew at last what they meant by a thousand little deaths.
Surely Christopher felt it … he knew … he hoped…
And waited, Christopher’s own climax erupted seconds later … or, ‘was it hours’, Sean wondered; he wasn’t at all sure; he lay in such a damp bath of steam that he wasn’t sure he was breathing as Christopher’s sex thrust and withdrew and thrust again as his climax took control of his body and all movements.
Sean calmed before Christopher did, and he thought that here was the time when his lover would get up, dress and leave, leaving him alone once again. Nothing good came without a price, and he had willingly paid that price to be one with this man whom he had known not.
He had told himself not to become involved … too late; he was involved … at last.
Easing to Sean’s side, Christopher held him, smoothed back his hair, and Sean wondered desperately what their pillow talk would be after such a sudden and volatile interlude. When he rolled Sean to face him, his eyes were dark and intense, and the slightest smile curved his lips. Again he touched Sean’s hair, and Sean had to wonder what Christopher was seeing in his eyes, how much he could read from his face…
God help me, I don’t know what to say or how to act. I’m so afraid I’ll start stuttering, as I try to explain that I never did things like this, randomly, and never, never, never with a complete stranger. Although, this has been unique somehow, and Christopher was so much more than I had imagined him to be, and again, so, so much more, or did I already say that?
Christopher noticed Sean’s look of dismay when he got up from the bed and ambled off to the living room, where some of his clothes were.
I guess it’s …’ thanks for the fuck and Merry Christmas’, but I got places to be and people to see and…
Sean gasped when he returned with a bottle of his best champagne and two glasses. He was speechless as Christopher popped the cork and poured them each a glass.
He raised his glass and with his eyes locked with Sean’s said, “I know I may be rushing you, but I think you are the answer to my Christmas wish,” he said and clinked his glass with Sean’s.
“Huh … what do you mean … Christmas wish?” Sean asked.
“I was shivering and feeling like I was about to freeze to death when this Santa dude appeared beside me. He asked me what he could get me for Christmas,” he said.
“He did … what did you ask for, something warmer to wear or maybe to have your things returned?” Christopher shook his head.
“None of those … I asked for you. Well … not you specifically, but a man who would accept me as I am and not want to make me into something I can’t be … I don’t want to be.”
Sean began to cry, and Christopher took his glass from him and with his, set them on the table beside the bed.
“Was it something that I said, because I knew I was pushing you, Sean,” but Sean wiped his eyes and shook his head.
“That same Santa had come up to me at O’Malley’s Bar and asked me what I wanted. After much to do, I reluctantly wrote my request for a boyfriend on a cocktail napkin. I have always been alone and I wanted a boyfriend, someone that was mine to love and be loved by, but I never got my wish.”
Christopher reached for the flutes of champagne and again, he lifted his in a toast. “Merry Christmas … my boyfriend,” he said.
“Merry, merry Christmas, darling,” and they clinked their glasses together and kissed. “Thank you Santa,” he added before Christopher crawled atop him once again, and they made love again … and again … and again.
Epilogue
Sean and Christopher were married a year later on Christmas Eve. They had their family and friends present as each said vows that reflected what each felt about the other. Christopher got a job teaching at a private school in Boston, and Sean — he dotes on the twin boys, Alexander Jackson and Jackson Alexander whom he and Christopher adopted shortly after they married. They live happily together outside Boston, in a quaint farmhouse that Sean and Christopher found on their way to Cape Cod.
The End
Author’s Note: I want to wish a very Merry Holiday season to you all, and yours, and I hope that you have someone special to spend it with. Bryan.
Editor’s Note: Oh, yes … and Santa did come down their chimney at each future Christmas Eve out at the quaint farmhouse … just for a little extra Christmas cheer, you see … but that’s another story. Gerry.
Posted: 12/20/13