Christmas in the Woods

I felt extremely sorry for the ones who remarried. They usually ended up having to eat a lot of shit just to keep a man who was never as good as their first husband. The only reason they did it was because it was better than being alone.

The ones who never remarried were the worst though. They ended up pathetic, lonely old women with a house full of cats, who dreamed of spending a night babysitting their grand kids.

And even if I did divorce Clint, besides misery, what was in it for me? Kyle? Shit, I'm not that stupid. First off, I didn't love Kyle. I just loved the attention he spent on me. Kyle even at twenty-seven years old, he wasn't fit to carry my husband's jock strap.

Kyle had no job, no prospects and had never gone to college. There was no way he would ever be able to support me. Kyle had aspirations of being the next successful white rapper. I had heard him rap, and he was terrible. I don't know shit about hip hop music, but I know that he sucked. If I was pressed, I could probably beat Kyle in a rap battle.

The second thing to consider is the fact that I'm not stupid. I know that despite his protests, the main reason Kyle is with me is for the money I give him. Sure pussy is pussy, and he takes it, since I give it to him. But Kyle no more loves me than I love him.

I'd been lost in my thoughts for so long that I didn't notice the passing of time. So it came as a surprise when my mother in law mentioned how late it was getting.

"We'd better get you home, so you can be there when Clint calls you, Honey," she said. My mother agreed. Actually, Clint could have and should have called me on my cell phone by then. Even if it was just a quick call to let me know that he'd arrived.

By the time I got home, he still hadn't called me. I began to worry. I went over everything in my mind. We hadn't been arguing. And he had kissed me as if he hadn't wanted us to be apart that morning. He'd even asked me again to go with him.

As far as I knew he wasn't angry with me, so why hadn't he called?

My cell phone rang at that moment, and I answered it quickly.

"Honey, why did it take so long for you to call me? I was worried sick!" I said into the phone.

"You told me not to call you," said Kyle stupidly. "I'm outside freezing my ass off. Can I come back in?"

Clint had never gone this long without talking to me. Especially not if he was out of town. I tried to think of reasons for him not calling me. But I couldn't come up with any. It wasn't like Canada was a third world country without phone service. Had he perhaps found out about Kyle?

I didn't think that was it. Clint was a straight shooter. If he had found out about Kyle, he'd have been destroyed. He would have confronted me, and all hell would have broken loose. He simply loved me too much to play games. The only thing I could think of was that he had immediately gone to meetings with the new client, and they were wining and dining the shit out of him, and he had lost track of time.

I opened the door and called out to Kyle, who was hiding in the bushes outside, shivering and cold. Just as he slipped inside of the door, I noticed my next-door neighbor, Ethel, watching me like a hawk. I would have to think up a good excuse for what she had seen before Clint got back.

Kyle came right into the house and started taking off his clothes. I decided to put away my worries about Clint until the following day. However, somehow, I couldn't manage to enjoy sex with Kyle. In the back of my mind, I knew that something was wrong.

After a while, Kyle gave up and started talking. "So did your husband think that you were upset about him leaving?" he laughed.

"Yep," I said, trying to keep the conversation to a minimum.

"What a sucker," said Kyle.

"Yeah," I echoed. "What a sucker. To think that idiot loves me so much that he hates leaving me. He even begged me to go with him. How stupid does he have to be to love someone like me?"

"Pretty stupid," agreed Kyle, not recognizing the fact that I'd been sarcastic. "He doesn't even realize that you love me, not him. I laugh every time I think of him busting his ass, working all of those hours to buy you stuff and give you money, just so you can give it to me. It's like he pays me to fuck you."

I was so quiet after he said that, that even Kyle knew he had fucked up. "Of course, I'd fuck you for free," he said, trying and failing miserably to fix his screw up.

"Uhm. I'd even pay money to fuck you," he blurted out. "If I had any."

I think both of us knew that was a lie.

"So let me get this straight," I said. "You think; I'm the kind of woman who would take money for having sex? So you think I'm a whore?"

"No, baby. That is not where I was going," he sputtered.

"So where were you going, Kyle?" I asked with the growing realization that I was a fool.

"As soon as I get a record deal, I'm gonna take you away from all of this," he said. "It'll be you and me against the world, baby."

I think it was then that I realized how big a fool we both were. I knew for a fact that if Kyle ever got more than ten dollars to his name, he would immediately spend it on some twenty-year-old black girl without a second to spare. He was a fool for not realizing that I knew him better than he knew himself. At the same time, I was a fool too. I had everything I had ever dreamed of, yet I risked it all every time I let that fool between my legs. In that second, there in the darkness, with this emotionally stunted, permanent man-child in my husband's bed, I finally realized how broken I was.

I finally realized why there was a Kyle. Kyle was only a means for me to get revenge on Clint for not putting me first in his life.

I was too much of a coward to actually confront Clint about it. I didn't want him to quit his job and take another one that would give him more time to spend with me. Especially since it might not pay as well and might end up with me having to get a job myself to help out. Nope, it was far less courageous, but much easier to simply vent my frustration by letting someone else have what Clint thought was his alone.

* * * * * *

Delilah

As the plane took off, fear grabbed me. I had never been on a plane this small before. I usually preferred to drive. I hate flying. And when I absolutely have to fly, it's usually on a large commercial airliner. However, this time it couldn't be helped. I had gone home to visit my last remaining relative, my Aunt Alice. I spent Thanksgiving with her in her retirement home. She didn't look very good. Perhaps I should consider moving her back to Michigan.

My Aunt Alice was also the only one of my relatives who hadn't looked down on me when she found out what I do for a living. My job or career or whatever you want to call it was what had gotten my ass on this tiny plane. I was headed for Toronto for a side gig. For me side gigs were very rare.

I pretty much catered to what I considered a niche market. No one was more shocked than I was that I was able to make a living at it. I guess there's just no accounting for taste, especially in the modern era. Twenty years ago, I'd have had no shot. However, today everyone seemed to not only permit, but to indulge their inner freak.

The plane seemed to shudder and vibrate as it left the ground. There was also a not so subtle metallic clanking sound as we tried to gain altitude. Was that normal? I didn't think so but no one else seemed to notice it. It reminded me of a sound my car made just before it died on me. As my fear ramped up, I grabbed for a life preserver.

I was used to the reaction my body got. It was one of the reasons that I tried very hard not to call attention to myself.

They say that we live in an enlightened age. Women have far more rights than ever. Women can own businesses. And we are very close to making equal pay with men in most industries. In some, we actually make more.

If a woman works for a company and is exposed to leering or any lewd behavior ... Really anything that makes her feel uncomfortable, she can make a report to human resources and charge the company or an individual with sexual harassment.

The funny thing though is that although a woman is safer in the workplace, she can still be accosted and insulted walking down the street in public.

The second I had gotten on the plane, I was under scrutiny. Most of the men there and even a few of the women, stared openly at me. I was used to it from the men, but the women made my skin crawl.

It's been said that women have a sort of radar about their bodies and which parts are being ogled. It seemed like there was at least a dozen small insects crawling over my boobs.

And off to the left, I could feel it. I turned my head and looked into the eyes of a predator. I had met lots of men like him during my lifetime. He was clearly the kind of man who would try to use me like a piece of meat and nothing more. I looked around and found just the opposite.

Directly ahead of me, I looked into the softest, kindest brown eyes I had ever seen. He was staring at me too. But his stare was different. Although it was obvious that he appreciated my body, he felt guilty about it. And there was something else in that stare. It actually felt not only warm, but caring. He was clearly not the kind of man to force himself on me or anyone else.

Even as the predator leapt to his feet, headed in my direction, I moved towards safety and dropped down next to him. Up close, his eyes were even more welcoming. And what he did next couldn't have been better if I'd written the script myself.

He offered me the window seat and put his own body between me and the wolf. I felt as if I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and protection.

However, as quickly as it began, it ended. It almost seemed as if he was engaged in some sort of inner turmoil. Or maybe he was just shy and didn't want to invade my privacy. I wonder if that was just his style, the errant knight doing drive by rescues and then fleeing. I did have things to think about though, so I let it go.

That lasted all of four seconds before the plane took off, and I heard that clank. I grabbed for his arm, for all I was worth. I wrapped my arm around his. It trapped my arm between his muscular arm and his very toned chest. Unfortunately, it was a ... Tit for tat situation, because his muscular arm was trapped between my soft, fleshy upper arm and my even softer breast.

He realized instantly where his arm was and went stock still. I almost thought his eyes were going to roll back in his head. I was also pretty sure that he got a hard on, and I am somewhat of an expert on that subject.

"I'm scared," I said through chattering teeth. What he did then was amazing. He un-entwined our arms but he took a hold of my hand. His grip was gentle but firm.

"You don't have to be afraid," he said. He had the biggest smile. I was sure that if given the chance, I could get lost in those eyes. But what the hell do I know. At forty-seven years old, I had only been in love once. And he had two left feet.

"Flying is the safest way to travel," he said.

"If that's true, then why is it that when a car crashes, only one or two vehicles are damaged, and most of the people walk away from it?" I asked. "But when a plane crashes everyone on board looks like their bodies went through a coffee grinder, and the damage is spread over three counties!"

"You're exaggerating," he smiled. "Besides we're not going to crash. I think we just hit a few air pockets. It's usually only rough during take-offs and landings. The rest of the flight will be so smooth you won't even realize that ..."

"That we're moving through the air at over three hundred miles per hour in a beer can with wings!" I spat. "This thing is made of aluminum. Remember twenty years ago when beer cans were made of steel? Back then you had to be a very strong man to crush a can. Now even little girls can crush one. Why the fuck would they make airplanes out of something that fragile?"

I was so worked up that as I spoke I was allowing my arms to move all over the place. That started my boobs to jiggling and within a few moments every guy around us, especially the wolf and his cubs were staring at me.

"I'm Clint," he said softly. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

"Delilah," I said returning his smile. "I'm gonna hold you to that promise."

He told me about his trip and what he was doing on the flight. He talked about his business and unfortunately ... his wife. As we sat there holding hands while the plane cut through the air like an aluminum missile, all of my fears evaporated. I was no longer afraid, but there was also no way I was about to let go of his hand.

I was living in the moment and there was no way I was going to let him go. Despite what I did for a living, I had always been a really good girl. However, I was prepared to chuck all of that aside. If this man asked me to join the mile high club, I was ready. I didn't care about him being married or anything else.

For more than an hour, I was content just to listen to him talk. He made me laugh, and he made me feel special. But more than anything else, for the first time that I could remember, a man made me feel like more than just a pair of big tits.

The surprising thing was that after we started talking, his eyes never left mine. He mentioned my blue-green eyes several times during the conversation and every time he did I felt a tingle between my legs. I was almost pissed when the stewardess or whatever she called herself, interrupted us to tell us that we were on schedule and should be landing in about another hour.

She told us that there was a storm moving in and even though the plane was flying fast enough to stay ahead of the storm, we'd probably need cold-weather gear during our time in Canada.

I noticed that during the whole time that she spoke to us, her eyes were constantly flitting back and forth between my breasts and his eyes. The whore obviously didn't know whether she wanted to fuck him or me. Shit, maybe she wanted us both.

I dismissed her with one of those rude little hand gestures. It wasn't something that I would normally have done, but I wanted to savor every moment with Clint. Even the air seemed sparkly. It was one of those perfect moments that fate only gives us one or two of in a lifetime. I didn't want to waste it on a flying skank.

And just as she stepped away angrily, the wolf came back.

"Hey, babe, you should check out the view from the other side of the plane," he said.

"Why?" I asked. "Isn't this side of the plane flying over the same ground?"

"Well, uhm, yeah," he said. "But maybe the company would be better."

"I doubt it," I said. "Did you know that my eyes are up here ...? I'm built kind of funny. My eyes are above my neck on my face ... Go figure! Or better yet. Just go back to your seat!"

"She must be a fuckin' lesbian," he spat, to no one on particular.

"Oh good," chirped the stewardess, happily. She winked at me. Before I could express my disgust, there was another one of those clanks that I had heard before. Only this time it was loud enough that everyone heard it. Suddenly, the plane veered radically to the left and dropped a long way before righting itself. But even as the plane struggled to regain its correct attitude and altitude, we heard more pops and bangs, and we noticed out the window that flames were engulfing the jet engine attached to the left wing.

Everything went haywire then. I could barely concentrate on my own thoughts because some silly bitch was screaming at the top of her lungs. It took Clint putting his hands over my mouth for me to realize that it was me, screaming. I climbed over the armrest that separated us until I was in his lap, pressing myself against him for all I was worth. I couldn't help noticing how good he felt.

The plane started to pitch one way and then another and it was clear that we were going down and going down quickly.

I was still screaming my head off, and Clint had stopped listening to me. He was staring at everything around us. He grabbed my hand in what felt like an iron grip and dragged me forward two rows.

"Please sir, sit down," yelled the air skank.

Clint pushed us into the row of seats that he had been staring at. He snatched a couple of pillows from somewhere and bent me forward. "Keep your head down, Delilah," he said calmly. He squeezed my hand and smiled at me. I was terrified. I was about to start screaming again, but he did something that shocked me even more than the fact that I was about to die. He kissed me, and somehow, amid all of the turmoil of rapidly approaching death, my mind locked on that kiss.

Before I could process it though, he threw my head down violently and threw his body on top of mine. The plane hit something and there was a sound like a thousand explosions all wrapped into one. There was also the sound of metal tearing or being ripped apart. The world around us tilted on its axis and the floor was suddenly the ceiling, and then it was the floor again. The seats in front of us were crushed both from the pressure of the impact, and from the pressure of the seats behind us being propelled forward by inertia.

Between the flight crew, the flight attendants and the passengers there were probably twenty people aboard the plane. They all seemed to be screaming at the same time. The final impact was so big that it knocked the breath out of me. And then everything went black.

* * * * * *

Katie

I woke up in the middle of the night. The room was completely dark. There was a loud noise in the room. It was coming from right next to me. As I threw off the sluggishness and mental fog of sleep, I realized that it was Kyle. He was snoring louder than a lawn mower.

His snoring would have been funny if I didn't have to try to sleep through it. I also realized something else. It has been said that body language is everything. Our involuntary habits and movements are the windows to our true feelings. They are supposedly a better barometer of what we think and feel than what we say and sometimes even more accurate than what we think.

While asleep, Kyle had rolled as far away from me as possible, and I had turned my back to him as well. Clint always seemed to end up with his arms wrapped around me. Even when we were arguing or not speaking to each other, we somehow ended up sleeping in each other's arms. I always felt so safe and so warm when we slept together. No matter what we argued about, it never seemed to be as important after a night of sleeping together.

At that moment, I realized that I felt alone, and worried. Why the hell should I feel like I was alone with this six-foot tall lump of beef beside me? Maybe it was a message from my subconscious that Kyle meant nothing to me.

I sat there in the darkness trying to figure out what I wanted and where my life had gone wrong.

When Clint and I got married, I was sure that I was in love with him. And I think that, deep down inside; I still am. I just hate playing second fiddle to that God Damned job of his. I know that he thinks that he has to work as hard as he does, so we can have all of the things we want. He also has to make sure that we have enough money and resources to retire comfortably on. However, to be truthful, I'd rather have him work less or take a job that gives him more free time, so we'd have more time together. If he could do that there'd be no more Kyles.

Another thing that I had to consider was the fact that truthfully, I had been less than fair to Clint. I had no trouble telling him when I wanted him to buy me something or take me somewhere, but I had never once told him how I feel about his job.

I guess it was because, to a certain extent, men seem to identify with their jobs. A man's job has a lot to do with how he sees himself. Women tend to identify more with their marriages and families. So maybe I was afraid that if I told Clint, he had to choose between me and Frank, I might not like the answer.