We leaned back on the big couch at last, to rest and admire our handiwork. The tip of the Douglas fir almost touched the high ceiling, and the scent of the warming, fresh-cut tree was heady and delicious.

 

Cole and I had applied nothing but the six strands of tiny lights. Still, in the hastening dusk, they were decoration enough. They twinkled cheerfully, a miniature galaxy of pastel stars which cast evanescent shadows within the room and did their best to brighten the snowy clearing outside the picture window. With luck, a passing motorist might look up and catch a glimpse of their sparkle as he made his way down the curving byway below our home.

 

Boxes filled with ornaments - glass globes meant for higher limbs, and plastic child-proof ones for the lower - littered the floor. Both of us had eyed the decorations, even taken out one or two to admire and exclaim over, but we put them all carefully back. Those were for the kids to hang up, tomorrow morning. Letting the twins do everything but the lights was part of the bargain that left us alone today.

 

We had dropped the three of them off early this morning, the baby waving bye-bye cheerfully from Cousin Tom’s arms, while his brother and sister ran off in search of Tom’s kids without a backward glance. There was a big difference between less-than-two and almost teen-agers.

 

The drifts were deep as we drove into the forest, but the road was well plowed and sanded. In four-wheel-drive we had no worries. Out in the Colorado sunshine, surrounded by glittering snow that demanded sunglasses, and sitting next to the most wonderful man in the world as well, my spirits soared.  The smile almost cracked my face as I stole a quick glance at him before turning back to the job of driving.

 

He always looked so damned good, even bundled for the cold in his sweater and parka, topped by a jaunty knitted cap. I kept my eyes dutifully on the road, but my inner sight played back my favorite video clip. Golden hair touched his shoulders, complimenting his gentle blue eyes. His well-trimmed beard made perfect sense in this weather, but not so much (I teased him) in the heat of summer. He wanted me to grow a mustache, at least. I was afraid to tell him that my sparse facial hair would resemble a plucked chicken more than his beautiful, luxuriant growth.

 

My hand wanted to cross the car’s console and touch him. What’s the use of having an automatic transmission if you can’t use one hand for such important things? But, the morning was just beginning, and we were on a mission. My self-control was rewarded, in only a minute or two, by feeling his warm hand squeeze my thigh and then just rest there, a quiet reassurance of his presence and his love in my life.

 

The snowy world seemed brand new this morning – every morning when I woke up next to Cole. I guided the Land Rover down the increasingly narrow back roads, following Cole’s precise directions. As we progressed, huge, snow-laden evergreens and slim leafless aspens drew close and loomed over us. I felt as though we were traveling back in time, when the vehicle we rode in might well have been a one-horse open sleigh.

 

Cole must have agreed because he began a hearty rendition of “Jingle Bells.” I was happy to join in. Other carols followed, and it didn’t seem long before we saw signs for the tree cutting area. Every year the forestry service opened a few select spots where, for a reasonable fee, you had the chance to slog through hip deep drifts, risk falls over hidden stumps, and – if you persevered – find and harvest your very own perfect Christmas tree. They marked the trees it was OK to take, so the cutting would help to thin the area for a more healthy future growth.

 

We pulled into the rutted, makeshift parking area, between a Dodge Ram SUV and a Ford F-250 truck with oversized tires and a double cab. I smiled at the contrast between these monsters and the quiet grace of my ‘Rover. She wouldn’t haul huge loads or win a testosterone-laced battle in mud, but she got us where we wanted to go in style – even if she was ten years old.

 

I turned off the engine and we stared in wonder at the noisy chaos of a dozen families, dogs happily included, bounding bravely through muddy drifts. The adults were in search of trees, the kids and dogs obviously just enjoying any excuse for an outing. Exchanging bemused smiles, Cole and I got out of the car and armed ourselves with saw and hatchet. I gave silent and slightly guilty thanks that, for once, we were not accompanied by eleven-year-old twins and a snowsuited toddler.

 

Some enterprising individuals were selling hot cider and popcorn from the back of a forestry service van. The smells were delicious, but the trees beckoned and we turned to follow a foot trail that led away from the parking area. We tried holding hands when we were beyond the crowd, but the path was narrow and soon I walked ahead, my high boots crunching a smoother path for Cole to follow.

 

The farther we walked, the fewer people we saw, and the quieter it became. Trees of all sizes surrounded us, from tiny seedlings barely peeping through the snow, to great-grandfathers, their girths impossibly broad and their heights seeming to brush the blue of the sky. Those monsters didn’t bear the red plastic strip that meant you could take them, of course, but even if they had it would have been impossible. I could imagine their deep green laughter at the puny tools we carried.

 

It wasn’t long before we spotted a marked tree that was just the right size, about ten feet tall. It seemed nice enough overall, but we soon saw that it lacked a branch in one critical area. Reject. Shaking our heads, we pushed on.

 

There were quite a few trees of the right height. They came in all varieties - ponderosa pines with long needles that grew in clumps, Douglas firs with short, soft, bristles and even a few representatives of the Colorado state tree, the blue spruce. Each specimen we encountered had its good and bad points, but there was always something lacking. After consultation and discussion we kept walking farther into our little private part of the forest. Surely the next tree would be the one.

 

After a time, I heard rustlings overhead, and then the distinctive “chick-a-dee-dee” call of those perky little winter birds. I turned to share the experience with Cole but, as far as I could see, the path behind me was empty. My joy and serenity vanished between one heartbeat and the next. Cole was gone. Adrenaline flushed through me. How long had it been since I had spoken to him? Only a minute or two, surely.

 

I spun in place, almost losing my footing on the slushy ground. Trees, there were nothing but trees, and nothing to distinguish one tree from the next. I couldn’t even hear the voices from the parking lot anymore. There was only my heart, pounding too fast and too hard inside my ears.

 

All my life, I’d never been able to tell which direction I was facing, even though I lived next to the Rocky Mountains, which any fool knew were always west. I had been a fair Boy Scout in many ways but, as a pathfinder, I definitely sucked.

 

Closing my eyes, I leaned against the nearest tree for support and took a deep breath. ‘Jack, my friend,’ I scolded myself, ‘its Cole who’s lost - not you.’ Now, if only I believed that.

 

Sending a prayer to the gods of logic, if there were such gods, I turned back the way I had come. At least I hoped it was the right way. Turning in a circle probably hadn’t been the best idea. But the snow held impressions of my boots, and they seemed to be coming from that direction. I began backtracking. Ten feet along, another much-trod path crossed mine. Which way now?

 

I could see the headlines, ‘Hapless Tree Cutter Found Frozen Ten Feet From His Car.’ Only it would be a lot more than ten feet. We’d walked for - I consulted my watch - almost an hour. Was I still even in the same area where we had started? Had I entered the wild and trackless land of the National Forest? Was I even now being stalked by a bear?

 

Something lightly touched my shoulder. I let out a very unmanly shriek, almost falling face first into a snowbank until I was steadied by Cole’s strong arms. Then I grabbed him in a hug that would have been envied by the aforementioned bear.

 

“Where did you go, buddy?” he asked, in that velvet voice of his, slightly muffled by his face being smashed against my parka. He pushed me back a little, looking into my eyes. “Are you alright?”

 

I laughed, aware how shaky it sounded. “Yeah, fine. I was just going to look for you. Where were you?”

 

He shook his head, obviously not sure if he should believe me or not. “I was looking for our tree, of course. I turned around and you had wandered off. Then I went to look for you.”

 

Wandered off? Me? Well… maybe. I could feel my face reddening. I was the one who had grown up in these mountains and here he was acting like Daniel Boone. 

 

He waited politely for me to say something more, and then took my mittened hand in his. “Would you like to see it?”

 

“A tree… you found a tree?” I smiled. Suddenly everything was fun again.

 

I followed him, this time keeping hold of his hand as he led me into a small clearing that couldn’t have been more than 20 yards from where he had found me. And there, almost in the middle of the space, was a tree… tall and straight and perfect!

 

Together, we walked around it. It was beautiful, every branch even and balanced. I worried for a second, but the red plastic tape was there, firmly attached near the base. Yes! I reached out to hug Cole again, not so frantically this time. This tree was ours!

 

“You like it, then?” Cole said, a little breathless from me squashing him.

 

I smiled into those soft blue eyes. “I love it, Cole… almost as much as I love you.”

 

His lips, pink between his mustache and beard, stretched in a smile. All at once the sun seemed brighter and the woods far more friendly. He pulled me to him, both of us bulky in our layers, but not minding that very much at all. His lips were soft and warm and sweet. I closed my eyes, lost in those feelings and more when his tongue found mine. I sucked it in, biting gently.

 

Cole growled, holding me tighter. I could feel my erect nipples pushing against my undershirt. I wanted to feel his mouth on them, in spite of the cold.

 

I rubbed my cheek against his beard, then bit the lobe of the ear that peeked out below his hat. He gasped, then pulled away and looked me in the eyes. “Here?” he asked. “Now?”

 

I took a moment to run my hand over the bulge in the front of his jeans. “Oh, yes,” I whispered. “Right now.”

 

The cold didn’t worry me then - nothing did. I desperately wanted to feel him touching me, loving me, and I knew I couldn’t wait, not even for the relatively greater comfort of the car. I’d been with a lot of guys in my life but, Cole… I loved him so much I couldn’t always control myself. I hoped I didn’t embarrass him too much, or too often, but he seemed to be bearing up well, so far.

 

The sun had climbed higher and its light touched the tops of the taller trees. I unzipped my parka and loosened the shirt under my sweater. Cole used his teeth to tug off a mitten, tucking it carefully inside his pocket for later. Then he slipped his warm hand inside my clothes, rubbing over my nipples. The tiny draft of cold air that seeped in only served to harden them more. I moaned. The sound was answered by the call of a gray jay, perched somewhere high above. If the bird’s eyes were the only ones to watch us, I didn’t mind.

 

Removing both my mittens, I unzipped Cole’s parka and cuddled in close to him, sweater covered chests together, kissing and nipping his lips and neck. His arms held me tight and he returned my kisses with enthusiasm.

 

I could have gone on just kissing him forever, but the sun was high and we had a tree to harvest. I pushed Cole’s sweater up and carefully unbuttoned his jeans to free his erection. I caressed his warm length with both my hands and pulled his sweater back down to keep it warm.

 

His smile was lovely as he helped me unfasten my pants, pushed them off my hips until I shivered a little, exposed in the chill air. Cole moved quickly, bent to kiss the tip of my shaft, then covered it again with my sweater.

 

I turned to the nearest tree trunk, embraced it, and moved my legs apart. Since being with Cole, I had made a habit of keeping lube on my person at all times, just in case I got lucky. He extracted the small tube from my pocket and quickly applied some to my hole, gently massaging for a moment, then slipping a finger inside. I pressed back, all thoughts of cold forgotten. His hand felt so good. It wasn’t long before he moved closer, his parka closing around me and his hot shaft sliding along my crack.

 

I was quivering - with anticipation now, not cold. He positioned himself, then grasped my hips and pushed in hard. Whimpering, I pushed back, my cheek pressed against the bark of the pine. With a groan, I felt him enter me fully.

 

And that was all I knew, for a while. He moved out a little and then I welcomed him back, his cockhead rubbing my sweet spot with each stroke and wringing a little cry from my throat. The energy between us built quickly. All too soon he cried out my name, filling me with his seed. I felt my balls drawing up and barely remembered to move my sweater aside so my own juices could spurt against the tree trunk, over and over.

 

Panting, the weight of Cole’s body pressed me against the tree. The rough bark was less than comfortable, now that I was conscious of such things again. I moved a little and he stood up, pulling out of me as he did. I shivered – it had felt so good.

 

I turned toward him and he kissed me, tenderly and soft. Then we laughed, looking down at the rumpled state of our clothing. He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to clean us both, then rolled it into an untidy ball. His eyes dancing mischievously, he held the cloth to his nose and inhaled deeply. I grinned and continued tucking and buttoning until I was somewhat presentable.

 

It didn’t take long to cut the tree. I let (encouraged) Cole to lead the way back to the parking area, where we paid the nice rangers and collected a free cup of hot cider. I let Cole drive home too, our prize tied securely atop the Land Rover.

 

Looking up at our tree now, firmly set in its stand, I could still see in my mind the clearing where we had cut it. I might never be able to find the place again, but it would always remain special - sacred - to me.

 

I reached out for Cole’s hand. He returned my grip with a squeeze. Little by little I leaned over until my head rested on his shoulder. He put an arm around me, gathering me close.

 

Tomorrow we would collect the children, and the house would be filled with laughter and excited pre-Christmas revelry. On Saturday, everyone would turn up, bringing presents and food. This would be the first Christmas for our blended family, and I intended to see that it was perfect. I’d spent an unbelievable amount on mistletoe alone.

 

Smiling to myself, I directed Cole’s gaze toward the ceiling. Hanging that one little piece of beribboned greenery had required the tall stepladder, but I was well repaid by the touch of Cole’s warm lips on mine.

 

Yes, tomorrow would be a joyous family time – but tonight belonged only to us.

The End.
 

Posted: 12/18/09