'Twas the Night Before Christmas

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Zandra was talking to him. "Don't cut yourself up over this," she was saying. "What happened only means as much as you decide to let it. She's probably as embarrassed as you are. Just give it time and you'll get this behind you."

He had taken her advice, and eventually, he and Cora were able to look at each other without turning red, and even to hold a conversation. That was during the day. It was as if he had become two different people. In daylight, he was able to look her in the face and talk normally with her. At night, alone in bed, he tried to keep from reliving that scene. At times, he succeeded; floor exercises sometimes worked; they were more effective than prayer. Other times, he gave up: put a dollop of lotion in his hand and let his imagination run wild. Sometimes the fantasy finished just as it had in real life; at other times he burst in, plucked the candle out of her hand and cast it aside and...at this point things got a little vague, but that didn't matter because by then he was coming like a volcano...

Outside, the sky darkened. Gene finished up with Harvey Beck's car, and Beck came and picked it up. Matt came out of his office and said, "Go home now, boys. Hope you all have a merry Christmas, and I'll see you day after tomorrow." To Gene, he said, "Let's shut this place down and go in to supper." Gene hauled down the big doors of the garage. They put away a few tools which the men had left out. The switch that governed the ceiling lamps was by the back door. Matt snapped it down and they left.

The house was warm and fragrant with the smell of roasted meat, potatoes, vegetables. "Supper's about ready," Clara Haller called from the kitchen. Gene went to his apartment, which seemed cold and dark compared to the rest of the house. He lathered up his hands with castile soap, going over his nails and the knuckles with a little brush to get as much grease out of his skin as possible. They were all fussy about their hands in his family. Some of the guys he knew laughed at him about that, but his folks had told him, "Take care of your hands and they will take care of you," and so far they had been right. He didn't let anybody know about the glycerin, though. He rubbed a little into his hands, and the stuff vanished almost immediately. That was what lotions did when it was winter.

The Hallers were all at the table when he came into the kitchen. The house had a real dining room, but except for holidays and other special occasions, they preferred to eat in the kitchen. It was warmer there, and it made things easier for the people doing the cooking. He sat down in the empty chair next to Cora, who was still dressed up; he wondered where she was going after supper. Matt said a short grace and they started eating.

"I know you're going home some time tomorrow for Christmas," Clara said to Gene. "Were you planning to go in the morning?"

"I pretty much have to," Gene said. "They expect me to be there when my brother brings in Christmas." Bringing in Christmas consisted of Adam getting up at dawn and singing Adeste Fideles in the original Latin, something he'd started on a whim when he was young enough to sing in the boys' choir. After that, presents could be opened. He might have become tired of the custom when he got older, but after he came back from the war, Marie begged him to start it up again, and he acquiesced. He didn't mind it; he had the best voice in the family.

Gene thought about the presents he'd gotten for everyone in his immediate family; they were all in his room, waiting to be loaded into the car the next day. The immediate family had expanded to include Zandra's husband; he hoped Dennis would like what he'd bought for him. He'd gotten presents for the Hallers, too. He guessed he'd give them when he came back later in the day. "Are you coming with us?" Clara asked. On Christmas Eve, the Hallers went there for the special Christmas Eve Mass, and to say extra prayers and light extra candles for the repose of Martin and Elise.

"I reckon I would," he said, "if we could come home before midnight. I need my beauty sleep." Clara gave him a look of gentle sorrow. It bothered her that Gene hadn't set foot in a church in two years. His siblings hadn't either, but that was their mother's lookout. Marie didn't like it, but Anton, who was as much a Freethinker as anything else, had said they didn't have to. So this was why Cora hadn't changed into a housedress. Gene's mood lifted at once, and he recognized that what he was feeling was relief. He had wondered if Cora was going out with someone.

Sure enough, when the supper things had been cleared away and the dishes washed, Cora and her aunt and uncle put on their coats and hats, and the three of them went out, leaving Gene alone in the house, feeling annoyed with himself. He'd allowed himself to be distracted by Cora's smile and the shadow of her cleavage in the deep vee of her dress when she'd asked him what his evening plans were; otherwise, he'd have remembered about Christmas Eve and gone to the farm, where the house would be full of people. He thought about just leaving that night, but this would entail either taking one of the Hallers' cars, which he didn't like to do when they weren't around to ask, or asking his dad to come out and get him. He decided to go to bed.

He stripped down to his underwear and got into bed. He thought it might take him a while to get to sleep, but he was out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He was awakened by weight on the edge of his bed; someone had sat down next to him. A small cool hand fell on his shoulder. He was reminded briefly of the way his mother would come and check him for fever during the few times he had been really ill, but this hand felt nothing like Marie's warm, slightly rough one. As soon as he became conscious, he recognized the cologne that Cora wore, and he was wide awake at once.

"Cora? Is everything all right? What're you doing here? I thought you'd gone to church with your aunt and uncle."

"Everything's fine," she said. Her breath smelt faintly of cloves. He turned on his bedside lamp. She was wearing her aqua satin robe. "They're still there. I told them I had a headache and walked back."

"Do you think you ought to be here?"

Cora gave him a look of impatience. "I could have sworn you wanted me," she said. "I'm going to feel like a right fool if I've made a mistake." She shifted her weight and made as if to get up.

"God, no, you haven't," Gene said. He put his hand on her arm to detain her. "I mean, of course I want—please, don't go away. It's just that I wasn't expecting...why?"

She smiled slightly. "I was at a loss what to give you for Christmas."

He was dumbfounded. "I—I gave you stationery. With your name on it."

"I'm sure I'll like it very much," she said softly. "Now can I come into bed? I'm cold." He slid over toward the middle of the bed and drew back the bedclothes. She must not have been too cold, because she stood up, untied the sash of her robe and let it drop to the floor, and then he was beholding a real live naked woman, not a picture or a photograph or a statue, only a couple of feet away. She stood beside the bed in an unself-conscious, at-ease posture, her hands at her sides, her legs a little apart. Her breasts, round and full, with nipples made spiky by the cold, were everything he had imagined The dark gold tangle of her pussy hair was nearly eye-level to him, and he looked for the many-petaled complication of flesh he'd seen that summer day, but it was hidden now. "Come on in," he said. "I don't want you to freeze." Now she was beside him; he could feel her warm smooth skin everywhere that they touched. "Your hands are cold," he added. She put one of them in his armpit, and he giggled reflexively, because it tickled.

She took her hand out of his armpit and put it on the back of his neck. "Don't you want to kiss me?"

That was all the invitation he needed; he pressed her down onto the bed, tangling his fingers in her hair, and took her mouth over for a long, long time, and she gave back as good as she got. Her hands were warming up as she caressed his back. When he finally stopped, out of breath, she said, "Wow." He lay half on top of her, his cock, as hard as a steel bar, trapped between them; she had to be aware of it. He wanted to touch and grab and explore her everywhere; he wanted to swarm aboard her like a pirate, but he lay still; he didn't want to do anything that would change her mind about being there.

"There's something you should know," he said. She looked at him inquiringly. "I, uh, haven't—this'll be the first time I—I mean, I've done a little of this and a little of that, but never..."

"That's all right," she said. "We'll do fine." She took his hand and placed it gently on one of her breasts, which was only a little flattened by her lying down. Hardly believing that he was at last doing the thing he had daydreamed about just that afternoon, he flexed his fingers gently around it. "So sweet, so polite," she said smiling. "I'm not made out of glass. If something you're doing doesn't feel good, I'll let you know."

Here was territory he was familiar with. He just couldn't help it, he was a tit man. And Cora had such nice ones, the best he'd ever had his hands on. Each was more than just a handful, and they were so luscious and dense. He nuzzled them, making sure neither one was neglected, and licked and sucked their nipples until they were a deep dusky rose color and hard as pebbles and she was breathing in gasps. He left her breasts and gave her another voracious kiss. She whimpered low in her throat and sucked in his invading tongue. Her pelvis, held down by his thigh, was making little involuntary thrusts. When he came up for air, she said, "I can't believe you haven't made it all the way to home plate before now. Your girlfriends must all have had a will of iron."

"The way I see it, it's a man's job to attack and a woman's job to defend. They all did their job better than I did mine."

Cora gave a little laugh. "I suppose that's one way of looking at things. Have you ever wondered why that is?"

"Not much," he said. "That's just the way it is, isn't it? Also—to answer your question—if I got anybody pregnant, if her father didn't drag us to the church, mine would."

"I see."

"I should have asked before—is now a good time for you to be here?" She nodded. "Good. Can I get out of these shorts? They're awfully uncomfortable."

He sat up and pulled the shorts off, tossing them to the floor to land alongside Cora's robe. His cock, which had sprung loose and bobbed like a diving board, slapped against his belly when he leaned back. Cora got up on one elbow and looked at him. "Well, here I am. Do you like what you see?"

"Oh yes," she said. "Let me look at you for a little bit. I s'pose once we get started, I won't see anything but the ceiling."

He felt self-conscious and vulnerable under her gaze. As far as he knew, no woman had seen him completely naked except for his mother and sister, and that was a long time ago. He supposed he looked all right. Nothing fancy, but he'd do. He was hard-bodied from years of farm work and now working in the garage. A line of dark hair ran from the patch on his chest to the thick growth that surrounded his cock and cloaked his balls, but he had no hair on his shoulders or back, thank God. Cora sat up and got closer to him. She touched his body with a curious and appreciative hand, tracing the line of hair down the center of his belly, to his cock. She had small hands, and her slender fingers curled around its shaft made it look thicker. A clear drop of liquid welled up in its tip; she spread it over the surface of the head with her thumb, while he worked to control himself.

"No covering," she observed.

"Yeah, Dad had both us boys done—he thought it was progressive, and said it made it easier to keep clean."

"Do you ever wish he hadn't?"

"I never thought much about it—you don't miss what you never had," he said.

"I guess you don't," she said. "It looks nice, though." She continued with her visual and tactile exploration of his body. The tip of her index finger barely grazed one of his nipples; it drew up into a hard point; the jolt of sensation from that touch rushed all the way down to his cock and made it twitch again. She smiled mischievously at him, and leaning forward, flicked the nipple with her tongue and then gave it a quick little sucking kiss that made him start back and say, "What the hell are you doing?"

She looked up. Her hair tickled his chest as she raised her head. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"I never heard of a woman doing that to a man."

She shrugged. "Man's got nerve endings in the same places a woman does. Besides, you have such cute ones, I couldn't help it. I won't do it again if you don't like it."

"I—I did like it. But it gets me too excited." She leaned forward again, and Gene thought she was going to kiss the other one, but she wanted his mouth again. They kissed languorously this time, and while they were doing that, he gently pushed her onto her back and then lay beside her, propped on one elbow. She had a little dimple by the corner of her mouth. He wondered how he could ever have thought she was anything but beautiful. There might be girls in Koenigsburg who were technically prettier than she, but none of them was naked in his bed. "Let me have you, Cora," he said. "Please. You don't know how much I've wanted—but no, you probably do..."

"Ah, yes," she said. "And things haven't been quite right between us since...let me explain." "All right, but don't take too long..." His cock was pressing against her hip; he was nudging it against her because it ached with its need to go in somewhere. Two could play that game, he thought, and circled his finger around her aureoles, watching her nipples getting hard again. Maybe she would get distracted enough to abandon talk.

"I was hungry that day," she said. "I missed lovemaking after Bob went overseas...and then, you know, he didn't come back...I wanted it—I didn't care where from...and then, when I went to the door and saw you...oh, the look on your face...!" She dimpled at him again. "The next time I—did that—I thought of how it would have been if I'd told you to come in."

"I did too. Let me come in now!"

"Yes. Oh, please put it in me, do it now!" He swarmed aboard her now. She opened her thighs and canted her hips; took hold of his cock to guide him into her, and there he was, sunk balls-deep in the hot slickness, the all-encompassing grip that he had dreamed about and fantasized about ever since he was old enough to experience desire. At the end of the fast glide that had taken him into her, she emitted a half-whispered "Oh!" of pleasure, wrapping her arms around his torso and her legs around his. The muscles of his back and ass and thighs told him what to do then, and he did it. Her body flexed and thrust back at him. Her face had that same look of inwardness, of concentration, that he had seen before. The sensation that he was riding to catch turned on him and seized him, and he knew he was moving too fast, but he couldn't help it. It was starting and he could no more halt it than he could take back an arrow once out of the bow. He closed his eyes as he flowed and pulsed into her, and the darkness behind his eyelids had spangles in it. It was the finest climax he'd ever had. His whole body tingled with it.

When he could think again, he opened his eyes. Cora was still moving under him, a little; her hands were laced lightly behind his neck. Her expression seemed remote.

"You...it didn't happen for you, did it? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to finish this soon..."

Cora stopped moving with a small sigh and opened her eyes. "Don't worry. I didn't expect it to. This was your time; I wanted you to enjoy yourself without worrying about me. But if you're that concerned..."

Gene pulled out of her and lay next to her. He needed cool air on it. "Give me twenty minutes," he said. "I'll be ready to go again. Maybe a quarter hour, even..."

"Here's what you can do in the meantime," she said. She grabbed his right hand and brought it down between her legs. His fingers skidded into slippery folds of flesh, amazingly hot and slick with her juice and his. Her clitoris felt like a hard little ridge. He wondered what he should do with it, but she did not require any action on his part at this time; she held his hand in place and tilted and rocked and rubbed against it. In a very short time she uttered a low, heartfelt "Ahhhhh..." and her body stiffened as he had seen it do before. He felt her vulva contract as she pressed his fingers against it. Her breathing was strong and heavy. Below her breasts, he could see her rapid pulse. When she was done, she took his hand and kissed the back of it, licked the fingers; then she pressed against him in a quick embrace, snuggling her head under his chin like a cat.

Gene pulled the covers over them both and sneaked a look over her head at the clock on the bedside table. It was only a little after 10:00. And so much had happened! He anticipated Cora sneaking back to her room before Matt and Clara came back, and determined to make the best of the time they had until then.

"Cora, that was great," he said. "I can't tell you...um, thank you."

"You're welcome," she said gravely, but there was merriment in her eyes. They looked at each other and laughed. They were now thoroughly warm and cozy in the little cave formed by the bedclothes. A humid and musky odor wafted out from under them at times. He thought it smelled wonderful. Nevertheless, he pushed down sheet and quilt halfway so that he could enjoy the sight of this unlooked-for gift that was lying next to him, marveling at how neatly and wonderfully she was put together—the slenderness of her neck, the triangular hollow of her throat where he could also see a pulse beating, the shadows made by her collarbones. Below them, her breasts stood as round and firm as perfect scoops of ice cream. Their aureoles had reverted to a pale pink. He could see the faint outline of her ribs, the delicate arch where they met her breastbone. Her belly was a slight concavity between the points of her hipbones, the skin perfect, without blemish. The child she had carried had slipped away before she would have started to show.

"Now I know," he said. "Now I know why people study anatomy."

"Nothing to do with studying to be a doctor?" Cora grinned at him.

"Not in my case," he said. Thinking: it was just so marvelous, the way she was made; she was as fine as a car. He wasn't going to say that, however. He was afraid she'd take it amiss.

Now she sat up and gave him the same minute regard he had given her, but she wanted to touch as well as look. She traced his eyebrows with a delicate finger, and the outline of his lips; she kissed the space between his eyes, and his mouth. She nibbled at his pectoral sinews. Her dangling hair tickled him. He had been lying with his head pillowed on his arms, but when she started nuzzling the rosettes of straight black hair in his armpits, he had to fend her off, because that was entirely too much tickling. "This isn't tickling you, I hope?" she said, as she swiped her tongue over his nipples.

"No," he said. In fact what it was doing was sending urgent telegrams to his cock; he could feel it coming back to life, stiffening and swelling. She straddled him and lay on top of him, and kissed him deeply and sensually. Her hair settled in a tent over their faces. When he got his hands between them so that he could play with her breasts, she moaned, but did not release his mouth. She'd somehow managed to align the cleft of her pussy and the underside of his cock; they fit like...well, two things that are supposed to fit together. She was wet from her own juices and what he had given her, and as slippery as oil. She slid back and forth, and it was almost like the real thing, but not quite; it was tantalizing and agonizing at the same time. She began sliding faster, and then the sudden liquid warmth on his cock, the change in her breathing, and her moans into his mouth told him that she had come. "Oh, God, Cora," he said. "You've got to let me fuck you now." He had not used this word since the time, well over a decade ago, that his mother had washed out his mouth with soap, but he was feeling wicked and wild. She ended their kiss and lifted up enough to surround him with her slippery heat and settled down on him again, full-length, her legs outside of his, her hands grasping his shoulders. It felt different from when he had been on top of her—shallower but somehow tighter, her movement on him a narrow ellipse. He let her do most of the work, keeping his movements at a minimum. He wanted to give her what he had not been able to give the first time.