Santa Baby

"It's okay. Really." Jack paused. "Alright, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Well, thanks for the invite."

"Sure. Bye."

Jack sighed. He could not bring himself to call Mike back about the tickets and see if anyone else wanted them. He would wait until tomorrow. He sat for a while in the fading light thinking about Suzanne, wishing he had thought of the party sooner. He also wished he would have taken the opportunity to ask her out for another time. He wondered who she had a date with, remembering how cozy she had been with that jerk, Dave Harris, on Christmas Eve. He'd always liked Dave, but the truth was that the guy was a womanizer. He was good looking, Jack had to admit, but surely Suzanne was smart enough not to get involved with him. He wondered if he should ask her. He couldn't he thought. Wouldn't. Not ever. After a while, he wandered back downstairs and joined the kids, who were watching The Polar Express.

Work the next day seemed endless and boring, the magic of the holidays having faded for Jack. He thought about asking someone else to the party, but it was really too late, and he didn't want to be with anyone else anyway. He wondered again who Suzanne was going out with. It had to be Dave, or maybe Chaz. God, what if it was Chaz? Jack tried to put it out of his mind. He knew he should call Mike back at the Chamber and see if somebody else wanted the tickets. In the end, he did nothing.

Later that night, Jack lay in bed thinking about Suzanne. He closed his eyes and pictured her standing on her front stoop, snowflakes sparkling on her hair, her eyes sparkling at him. He was imagining her lips pressed to his, remembering their softness and the feel of her hand in his, when the phone rang.

Jack's heart pounded as he answered. His first thought was that somebody had died.

"Jack?"

It was Suzanne, sounding breathless and sexy.

"Suzanne?"

Jack's heart slowed, but other parts of him felt electrified.

"I'm sorry to call so late," Suzanne said. "Were you asleep?"

"No. It's fine."

"Um, okay," she said. "I was calling to see if the invite for New Years is still good. I've had a change of plans."

Jack's heart skipped a beat. Don't ask, Jack, he thought.

Suzanne continued. "I'd love to go to the party with you. I mean, if you still want me to. Unless you've already asked someone else..."

Jack laughed.

"What?" Suzanne asked.

"I haven't asked anyone else. There's nobody else I'd rather be with."

"Really?" Suzanne said. "I'm so glad."

"Me too, honey."

They spent a few minutes discussing the party. Then Suzanne said, "Alright, well, I'll let you go back to sleep."

"I told you, I'm in bed, but I wasn't sleeping, just thinking," said Jack.

"What were you thinking about?"

"You."

"What?" Suzanne giggled. "You were not."

"Yeah, I was, actually," Jack said.

"What were you thinking about me?"

"You sure you want to know?"

"Yes," Suzanne purred.

"Hmmm. I was thinking about how pretty you are and those sexy eyes and how soft your skin is and how it feels to kiss you, and I was wishing you were here with me now, in my bed," Jack murmured.

Suzanne inhaled quickly through her teeth. "God, Jack. You just took my breath away."

"Good. I'll give it back to you tomorrow night. You have to stay breathless until then."

New Years Eve morning Jack pulled out both of his tuxedos. The newer one was midnight blue, but it reminded him of Maggie too much, and he didn't want to wear it. The other one was older and basic black but still in good shape. It had been tight a few years ago, which is why he had gotten a new one. However, when he tried it on, it fit fine—better than ever, in fact. He had apparently lost weight in the past year of so, with no one cooking for him. He went looking for his studs and cufflinks and then shined his black dress shoes.

Early in the afternoon after running a few errands, Jack stopped at a florist shop. He wasn't sure just what to get, but the lady in the shop, after asking a few pertinent questions, helped him choose. He left the shop carrying a bag and a single long-stemmed red rose.

On the way home, he turned on to a narrow, curving, tree-lined road. He hadn't driven this way in a long while, and the landscape looked a bit different wrapped in its snowy blanket. The black skeletons of trees waved their arms overhead, pointing the way.

Rounding a curve at a sedate pace, Jack drew near to his destination. As a small knoll bearing a naked lilac bush came into view, he pulled the car to the shoulder and parked.

Jack grabbed the rose, got out of the car, and trudged over the knoll, leaving a trail of footprints behind. Feeling around in the snow with the toe of his boot, he struck a smooth, solid surface, and crouched down to brush the snow away with his gloved hand.

He read the name: Margaret Rebecca McCullough 1959 -- 2004, Beloved Wife and Mother. Jack removed a glove and laid his hand flat on the cold stone. Tears stung his eyes, and he brushed them away with impatient fingers.

"Maggie," he whispered.

Jack thought of all the things he would say to her if she were there—the kids coming home and how sorry he was that he had neglected them, the wonderful late Christmas, how much he missed her—but he felt she knew all that. He felt that she had, in fact, been with them all along.

Holding the red velvet bud against his lips, he kissed it and gently laid it across the stone.

"I love you, babe," he said, "but I think it's time for me to let you go."

Later, the kids were busy with preparations for their own small, impromptu party with some old friends. They all stopped when Jack came downstairs wearing his tux, his cashmere overcoat folded over his arm.

"Wow," breathed Becky.

"Yeah, you look great, Dad." Jack, Jr. grinned.

They followed Jack into the kitchen, where he retrieved a clear plastic box from the fridge containing one perfect, creamy gardenia tied with a silver ribbon.

"Are you sure this corsage is okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's perfect, Daddy. She'll love it," said Becky.

"I just didn't know if it was appropriate for the occasion. I mean, do people do this anymore?"

Amy smiled up at him and squeezed his arm. "I think it's great, Dad. Very romantic and sweet. Don't worry."

Jack smiled back at the impish little face. Amy had really come out of her shell with him the past couple days which delighted him. He wrapped her in a one-armed hug.

Becky reached around and hugged them both, giggling, and shouted, "Group hug!"

Jack looked at Jack, Jr. over the girls' heads and said, "Learn from the master, Jackson," eliciting even more laughter from the girls.

A half hour later, he was standing at Suzanne's door, florist box in hand and butterflies in his stomach. When she opened the door, it was Jack's turn to lose his breath. She was wearing a silvery gray dress reminiscent of a 1950s movie star with a very full calf-length skirt, tight bodice, and a wide neckline that skimmed the edges of her shoulders and came to a V, front and back.

"Wow!" he said, holding his hand to his heart.

"Do you like it?" Suzanne asked, spinning in a circle on high black velvet heels, her skirt and black tulle petticoats swirling and rustling around her legs.

"You're beautiful," Jack declared, catching her around the waist and planting a kiss on her lips.

"Mmmm, you are too," Suzanne murmured, stepping back and pulling Jack's coat open to reveal his tuxedo and eyeing him appreciatively. "For me?" she asked, tilting her head toward the florist box.

Jack had forgotten he was holding it, so taken was he with the sight and sound and scent of Suzanne.

"You bet." He grinned.

Taking the box and opening it, she reached inside and carefully extracted the delicate bloom, holding it by the stem. She stepped over to the mirror in the entryway and held it up to her dress.

"It's perfect." She smiled at her reflection. "Almost as if you knew what I'd be wearing. Thank you, Jack. I love it."

"I'm glad," said Jack, his doubts about the corsage vanishing.

Suzanne returned it to the box, explaining she would put it on once they got to the party, so as not to crush the fragile petals. She then donned a long, black velvet cape. Grabbing the florist box and her small evening bag, she slipped her arm through Jack's, and they were off.

In the lobby of the hotel they checked their coats, and Suzanne swept into the ladies' room to pin on her corsage and give one last check to her makeup and hair. Jack stood waiting, rubbing his hands together as much in anticipation as from the cold outside.

The party was held in the genteel old ballroom of the Peyton Grand. Creamy white walls flaunted ornate carvings and moldings from a bygone era. Crystal chandeliers graced the ceilings, the lights reflecting off the polished pendants. Guests were seated at large round tables draped with snowy cloths and already set for dinner with gold charger plates and flatware. Napkins folded to resemble swans graced each place setting, and iced bottles of champagne stood guard in silver coolers. Sparkling floral arrangements were centered on each table, and large bouquets of silver and gold helium balloons were anchored around the room.

An orchestra set up at one end of the room was playing "Stardust" as Jack and Suzanne stepped through the big double doors into the room.

"Oh, Jack," Suzanne breathed, taking in the shimmering spectacle.

Jack watched her with delight, wanting nothing more at that moment than to gather her close and kiss those red satin lips. The thought that he might be falling in love squeezed his heart and set it hammering. Suzanne turned and smiled up at him, and the moment passed.

Afterward, Jack would remember the party as a blur of colors and faces, voices, music, champagne, and always Suzanne dancing in his arms. They almost seemed to be standing still as the evening swirled and glittered and rushed around them. Scarcely a moment went by when they weren't touching at least their fingers.

The band was playing "I Only Have Eyes for You," and Jack was holding Suzanne very close, the points of her breasts rubbing against his shirt front. He was dying to see what she had on underneath that dress, visions of corsets and garter belts, swimming through his brain. One of her hands was on the nape of his neck, her thumb whispering into the back of his hair now and then, her lips close to his ear.

"I can't wait to be alone with you," she said.

Jack pulled back and looked into Suzanne's eyes.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

"Where are we going," Suzanne asked.

Jack grinned down at her.

"It's a surprise," he said.

They walked out into the hotel lobby and took the elevator to an upper floor, breathlessly staring into each other's eyes. Jack removed an access card from the inside breast pocket of his jacket and put it into the reader. He pushed the door open and held it as Suzanne slipped past him into the room. Jack let the door click shut behind him and went to stand behind Suzanne.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he leaned close to her ear and in a low voice asked, "Is this okay?"

Suzanne leaned back against him, her head against his shoulder and nodded against his neck.

"It's perfect," she whispered, surveying the room in the golden glow of the lamps on either side of the king-size bed, the champagne chilling in a bucket on the dresser, the French doors leading to a balcony, the curtains open to the black night.

Suzanne covered Jack's arms around her waist with her own and held them there for a moment before clasping one of his hands between her own and pressing the palm to her chest just above her left breast.

Jack felt the trip hammer of her heart beating rapidly beneath her ribs.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Yeah," Suzanne replied. "Are you?"

"Maybe a little," Jack murmured, kissing the side of her neck. "Do you want to go back to the party until midnight?"

Suzanne turned in his arms to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"No," she said. "Do you?"

Jack shook his head and dipped to kiss Suzanne's lips, pulling her tight against him. His fingers played over her tight bodice, then caressed the satiny skin of her back above it. Their kisses deepened, mouths seeking and hungry, tongues grazing. Suzanne's hands trailed across Jack's chest and up under his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. Then she turned her attention to his bowtie.

"Mmmm. Very sexy," she said, pulling it loose.

"My tie?" Jack chuckled.

"Uh-huh," Suzanne replied releasing his collar button and pressing her lips to his throat.

Meanwhile, Jack had been fumbling around the back of Suzanne's dress looking for some type of closure.

"You got a zipper or something, honey?" he asked.

Suzanne stepped back, a teasing smile curving her lips, and very calmly removed the pin from her corsage and lifted the blossom to her nose, her eyes never leaving Jack's. She laid the bloom on the dresser, and lifted her hands to one armpit, found the tiny zipper pull and tugged it down to her waist. Then she raised her arms, apparently waiting for him to lift the dress over her head.

Jack was breathless as he grasped the hem of the dress and pulled it up, careful not to catch Suzanne's hair. She stood before him wearing a strapless black corset and a black petticoat, which she reached behind her to unfasten and let fall to the floor. Jack was hard as a rock and aching just from looking at her. The corset pushed her breasts up, forming creamy swells over the top of it. Garter straps held the lacy tops of her sheer black stockings.

Turning away from Jack, Suzanne stepped carefully out of the petticoat circle and bent to pick it up, showing off smooth, rounded buttocks tethered by a black lace g-string.

Jack groaned, "Such a tease."

Tossing her petticoat onto a chair, along with her dress, Suzanne smiled.

"You love it, don't you, Jack?"

"Yeah, I do," he said with a grin, grabbing her by her upper arms and pulling her against him. "I just hope you can take it as well as you give it."

He crushed Suzanne's mouth with his own, ravishing her, drinking in her scent. His hands traveled down her back to squeeze her buttocks, pulling her firmly against his hardness, delighting in the tiny whimper in her throat. Her body molded itself to his, one of her hands clutched in the back of his hair, the other bunched in the back of his shirt, pulling it from his pants.

As Suzanne's cool hands slipped under his shirt and up his bare back, Jack's arousal increased. He couldn't get enough of her. He wanted to possess her fully. Still clasping her luscious ass, he kneaded the flesh, feeling her muscles ripple under her skin. Pushing his hands lower along the crevasse, he curled his fingers around the lobes of flesh and found the slippery, wet heat at her core.

Suzanne sagged in his arms, her knees nearly buckling, and moaned into his mouth.

"Jack, I need to sit down."

Smiling, Jack bent over and wrapped his arms around Suzanne's thighs, forcing her body over his shoulder as he stood up, causing her to shriek. He carried her that way to the bed and flopped her over onto the mattress. She lay there, sprawled before him, arms flung above her head, smiling and watching him through heavy-lidded eyes.

It was Jack's turn to tease. He began by removing his cufflinks and then his shirt studs one at a time, leisurely laying each on the dresser beside Suzanne's corsage. He grinned at Suzanne, his eyes rarely leaving hers, as she raised herself up on her elbows, returning his gaze. Shrugging out of his shirt, he tossed it on a chair.

The slow journey of Suzanne's eyes from Jack's face to his chest, down his abdomen, to linger on the obvious tent in his pants, made his breath catch in his throat.

Raising one hand, Suzanne crooked her pointer finger toward herself and murmured, "C'mere."

"Hm-mm," Jack shook his head. "Not so fast," he said, unbuckling his belt and unfastening the button on his pants.

He turned to the bottle of champagne to open it, while still watching Suzanne in the mirror above the dresser. Raising her eyebrows, she sat up and tossed her hair back, running her fingers through it then down the sides of her neck and chest to the top of her corset. She released three or four of the small hook and eyes, holding Jack's gaze in the mirror. Jack could barely tear his eyes away as Suzanne released two more hooks and the valley between her breasts came into view. She toed off one shoe and then the other, letting them thump to the floor.

Jack popped the cork and splashed champagne into one of the flutes. He took a sip, then set the glass on the dresser and turned back to Suzanne. Unzipping his pants, he let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them. He stood before her wearing only boxers and socks, his erection even more pronounced than it had been before.

His breathing became ragged as he watched Suzanne undo the rest of the hooks. The corset fell open, revealing her gorgeous breasts, the dark pink nipples standing erect and proud. She leaned back on her hands, her stockinged legs crossed.

"Thirsty?" Jack asked, carrying the flute of champagne to her.

He held the glass against her lips and tipped it much too quickly for Suzanne to swallow, and the golden liquid overflowed in two thin streams from either side of her mouth. It ran down her chin, then her neck and onto her breasts. She gasped as the coolness assaulted her warm skin.

"Oops," said Jack.

Settling himself on the edge of the bed, he leaned forward and licked the wetness from one side of her chin and then the other. He kissed her lips briefly before slicking his tongue down the side of her neck, tasting her champagne skin, lingering at the swell of a breast, licking and sucking a hot trail.

"Oh, God, Jack," Suzanne gasped.

Her back arched, and she moaned softly as Jack's hot mouth found the other side of her neck and traced the damp line down to her other breast. His tongue moved in lazy circles, around the outer edge of her areola, making a slow spiral in to the nipple itself. He absently placed the glass on the bedside table and slipped his arms around Suzanne's waist, laying her back on the bed. Opening his mouth wide, Jack took as much flesh into his mouth as possible, drawing it in with his lips and tongue, gorging himself, feeling Suzanne shudder as he swallowed. Still sucking in, he drew his head backward in a slow, constant line, his teeth scraping lightly along the skin, then closing around the turgid nipple.

Suzanne moaned and writhed beneath him, holding his head, her fingers twined in his hair. She arched against him as his name escaped her lips. He looked up at her and was taken by the aroused beauty of her flushed face. Jack leaned over her, letting one leg, then the other, slip between hers. He rested his body against hers, framed her face with his hands, and kissed her lips.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

She gazed into his eyes for a long moment, unblinking, and murmured, "I love you, Jack," and closed her eyes.

Jack stayed very still, his breath caught, heart pounding, and breathed her name. He placed a gentle kiss on each eyelid and whispered her name again. He kissed her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her chin, whispering her name in between kisses, each murmur a prayer of gratitude, of wonder, of love.

Her hands fluttered along his bare back, seemingly unsure of where to land. Her breath came in short gasps at the soft, sibilant shush of her name against her skin. Finally, she flung her arms back with abandon, being carried along on the waves of Jack's passion. A soft whimper escaped her lips, as his lips met the side of her neck.