A Christmas Carol

"I wasn't joking, when I spoke to Bobbi. You should come to my party. It'll be fun."

"I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yes, stuff."

"It's not like you even have Jake to pal around with these days."

"I'll be fine."

"Okay, suit yourself."

Ben busied himself, or at least tried to look like he was busying himself. Freddy - her given name was Freda - but she'd been known as Freddy or even Fred, since she was a baby - sat in silence for a few moments, her legs swinging back and forth below the table, before she suddenly piped up.

"Hey, I've got a new tattoo. Do you want to see it?"

"Not especially, you know I don't approve of them."

Up until she was about fifteen, Freddy had been the very epitome of femininity and girlishness. She was like a little princess, always wearing flowery dresses, with her naturally red curls tied up in ribbons. But then one day she came home as a goth. She dyed her hair, she pierced her body and she started getting tattoos. Lots and lots of tattoos. Her right arm was completely covered in a sleeve, and she had designs on her legs, her shoulders, and her back. Ben hated them. But they kind of fascinated him too.

"Oh, you'll love this one."

She jumped down off the desk and unbuckled her belt. Then she pulled down the top of her skirt, revealing even more of her body. There, on the soft, smooth skin of her lower abdomen, was the image of a butterfly. Ben glanced over, suddenly aware of how exposed she was to him. If she was wearing any panties, they were very low-riding or even nonexistent.

"What do you think?" She asked him.

"It's fine, if you like that sort of thing," he replied.

"It was a little sore, when I first had it done, but it's okay now."

She reached out, grabbing hold of his hand and pulling it towards her body. His fingers traced a pattern across the new tattoo. He could feel the softness of her skin and the heat of her flesh. He knew his hand was only inches away from her cunt. She held him in place for a few seconds, then let him go. After a few more seconds he pulled his hand back.

There was always this strange tension between them, or at least there had been in recent years. Ben could see how Freddy had become a woman now, and he couldn't help but find her attractive. There was an energy to her, a vivacity. She exuded charisma and sensual charm. He wanted her. He knew he shouldn't, but he did.

"Did you fuck her on this desk?" She asked him, suddenly and without warning.

"What the hell? No! I did not! Jesus Christ, Freddy..."

"What? Why are you being so coy? I bet you have had her on this desk. Maybe not tonight, but at some point."

"Why are you asking me this?"

"It's funny, watching you blush. Watching you squirm."

She stood there for a moment, then, with the graceful elegance of a gymnast, she swung her leg over him and straddled him in his chair. She knelt on top of him, her thighs pinned between the arms of the chair and his legs. She brought her face close to his, he could smell the sweetness of her breath, combined with tobacco and the vague scent of marijuana.

"You have fucked her on this desk, haven't you?" She whispered, "Her, or someone like her. Her naked body spread out in front of you, her legs wide open, her cunt enflamed and glistening. Her nipples hard and tender."

Freddy's skirt had ridden up even further, as she straddled him, revealing her own cunt, already a little enflamed itself. As he had suspected, she wasn't wearing any panties, and her smooth, hairless snatch captured his attention. She swayed her hips, grinding herself against him, against his hardness.

"Or maybe she was bent over," she continued, still dry humping him as she spoke, "bent double, with her tits pressed flat on the surface. Bobbi's got a big ass for a white girl. Almost as big as mine. Have you tapped that ass, big brother? Stuck your cock in her dirty shithole?"

She grabbed hold of his hands and brought them to her butt cheeks. Despite himself, he sank his fingers into her sumptuous flesh.

"It's so intense getting fucked in the ass," she said, softly, "it hurts, but in a good way. You're so full up, but it feels incredible. Naked dick sliding against naked butt. I like to suck a guy's cock after he's fucked my ass. I love the taste of myself. The dirtiness. The sweetness."

Freddy continued the swaying and rolling and gyrating, as she rubbed herself against him. He still had big handfuls of her rear, squeezing and fondling her buttocks.

"I could bend over that desk right now, and you could fuck me in the ass," she said, "it would be nice. I would bend over like a good little girl and I would pull up my skirt. I'd pull my ass cheeks apart for you. Maybe I should suck you off a little, if you don't have any lube? Your obedient little sister."

"Don't be stupid, Freddy. Stop this."

"Why? Why should I stop? It feels like you're enjoying yourself."

"It's wrong. This is wrong."

"No, it's not, it's fun."

With that, she leant forward and kissed him. Her lips met his and both mouths immediately opened, tongues snaking together. This wasn't the first time they had made out. Freddy had started coming on to him nearly a year earlier, playing her crazy games, and he had never been able to resist her. He hadn't fucked her, not yet, but they had kissed more than a few times.

It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to make love to her. Not to throw her onto the desk, as she had suggested, and bang her Goddamn brains out. But he was the older one. The mature one. He had to do the right thing.

"Stop, stop, stop," he stammered, bringing his hands up to her wrists and pulling her body away from his, "we shouldn't be doing this."

"Oh, Benjy, you say that every time."

"And I mean it. This is a mistake."

"Your cock seems to be saying something quite different."

She tried to unzip his pants, but Ben lifted her up and threw her down on to the floor.

"I said stop!"

Freddy sat in front of him, sprawled out on the carpet, her arms stretched out behind her, her legs wide apart. Her skirt was round her waist and her pussy was completely exposed to him. She looked down at it, then she looked up at him. Then, without saying a word, she started to masturbate. She brought her fingers to her mouth and licked them. Then she started rubbing her clit. Ben groaned, stood up and picked her up off the floor, and dropped her on to one of the long leather couches. The one he had fucked Bobbi on ten minutes earlier.

"This shit has to end!" He bellowed, "you can't keep doing this! I'm your fucking fa...I'm your fucking brother! It's incest, for Christ's sake."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? It's illegal, apart from anything else!"

"Who cares? If we want to have fun with each other, what harm is it doing?"

"There are consequences to things in life, Freddy. If you do bad things, they have a way of catching up with you. And this is a bad thing. As bad as it gets."

She stared at him intently, her fingers still rubbing at her smooth slit. But then she stopped, sighing gently.

"Ok, fine, suit yourself. It was just a joke, anyway."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I've got things to do and people to see."

She stood up, straightened her skirt and started to make for the door. She seemed determined to affect a demeanour of complete normality and indifference, as if the last few moments had never even happened. Then she stopped and turned back to him.

"Can I borrow some money?" She asked.

"What?" He replied, somewhat incredulously, bearing in mind what they had just been doing.

"Money. You know, some scratch, some payola, some greenbacks."

"What do you need it for?"

"Christmas shopping."

"It's pretty late, where are you going to get presents at this hour?"

"It's New York, big brother, the city that never sleeps. Somewhere's always open."

"How much do you need?"

"I don't know, a grand?"

"For Christmas shopping?"

"Yeah."

"Not other things?"

"Other things?"

"You know what I mean, Freddy."

"I've stopped doing that shit. I promise. Nothing more than a little weed."

"Okay."

"Who knows, maybe I'm getting you a present? Are you going to give me the money?"

"Okay, I guess."

He walked over to the far wall of the office. Behind a painting on the wall was a safe. He entered the code and the door of the safe popped open. He took out a roll of cash and handed it over.

"Thanks, Benjy. You're the best."

She kissed him again, and this time it was demure and entirely fraternal. Then she skipped out of the room. He watched her disappear, his eyes drawn to the cheeks of her ass. He sighed to himself and fell back on the couch, not quite sure what to make of the last ten minutes.

"She's crazy. Just like her mother," he muttered to himself.

Then he poured another drink.

2

After another hour or so of trying to do some work, Ben decided to head home. He pulled on his jacket and took the elevator down to the first floor. His driver was waiting for him and they made the short journey to his midtown apartment. Ben could have taken a cab or used the Subway, but he liked knowing he had a chauffeur. He wasn't ostentatious with his wealth, but he was always aware of it.

He had a personal chef, a cleaner and even a butler, but they were all absent when he got home. Off work for the Holidays, he assumed. He made himself an omelette, and tried eating it, but after a few half-hearted mouthfuls, he threw the rest of it away. He poured himself a Scotch and sat down in his living room. His mood was somber and contemplative.

What the fuck would he do about Freddy? That was the main subject for internal debate. She had gone completely nuts in the last couple of years. The hair-dye, the piercings, the tattoos were bad enough; she messed up at High School and now she said she didn't want to go to college. There had been booze, drugs and plenty of men. And women too, he now imagined.

And then there was the way she kept making passes at him. What the fuck was she doing? It was insane. Was she just trying to be provocative? Get a rise out of him? Or was there something more to it? It disturbed him, obviously, but it frightened him a little too. There was good reason for that. He had a dark secret, something he hadn't confessed to anyone but his own conscience.

He wanted her too.

Freddy was gorgeous, despite the goth trappings, and he wanted to fuck her so much it hurt. But he kept himself in check. He restrained himself. He did the right thing. It was so hard though. She was so tempting, so alluring, so seductive. He sat there, pondering this unusual and unsavoury problem, and slowly slipped into unconsciousness, the only sounds he could hear were the honking of horns outside and the tick, tick, tick of a clock on the wall.

...and then Ben suddenly woke up.

With a start, he made the leap from a bleak, dreamless void to the land of the living. He was woozy, uncertain, not completely aware of his surroundings. That unfamiliar feeling you get when you wake up too quickly. He looked around, trying to make out reassuring sights. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but it felt like a long time. There was complete silence surrounding him, which was very unusual for any part of Manhattan. He looked at his watch, but it seemed to have stopped. He cursed silently, resenting the amount of money he had spent on the damn thing.

He was cold. Icy cold. Had someone turned the air-con up to max before they left the house? If so, he would fire their ass. His breath was visible in front of his face, so low was the temperature in the room. He sat there, shivering, his teeth beginning to chatter. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was completely dead. Ben got up to look for a charger, rifling through draws in what seemed to be the pitch black of night.

It was while he was looking for a damn charger, that he heard the buzzer of the front door. He cursed to himself and walked towards the intercom but before he was halfway there, the phone buzzed again and he heard the front door clicking open.

"Hello! Hello!" He barked, picking up the receiver. There was no reply.

Ben walked to the top of the stairs and he heard a shuffling sound from the floor below.

"Who's there? Get the fuck out of my home! I will protect myself! I will defend myself!"

The shuffling continued, and there was a clunking metallic sound, rattling and thumping, rhythmic and insistent. Ben ran to his bedroom and started rifling through a closet. He was looking for a baseball bat that he kept there for home security reasons. He cursed himself, wishing he had bought a gun, like so many of his friends had recommended.

You can't be too careful, they had told him. Well, that was certainly true.

He found the bat and wrapped his hands round the handle. Then he gingerly walked back towards the living room, his knuckles white, as they gripped the smooth wood of the baseball bat. He reached the door and peered round it. In the distance, the shuffling, rattling sound continued.

"I'm warning you, man, get the fuck out of here! I've called the cops; they'll be here any minute."

Ben could feel his heart racing, as if the organ was about to explode or climb out of his throat and jump on to the floor in front of him. Terror had gripped his soul, and he stood there, shaking and quivering.

The door at the other end of the living room began to open slowly, creaking and groaning as it did so. Ben prepared himself, adrenaline pumping, skin sweating, chest bursting, ready for anything.

And then his old friend Jake walked into the room.

This, in of itself, should not have been that unusual a sight. After all, Jake had spent plenty of time at Ben's apartment. He had been a familiar and regular visitor. But there was one slight issue that made this situation at least a little unusual.

Jake had been dead for more than a year.

Ben stood there, not moving. His body frozen. His eyes wide. He stared at the apparition in front of him. Jake, if it was really him, looked dreadful. His skin was white, his eyes sunken. His body was wrapped in chains, and he shuffled forward towards him.

"Yo, Benjy boy, how the fuck are you?" Jake muttered, amiably enough.

"Jake? Is that you? Is it really you?"

"Sure seems that way, pal."

"But you're...you're..."

"Dead?"

"Yeah."

"Well, yeah, I suppose so. But here I am, buddy, here I am."

And this was the moment when Ben fainted, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

*

Once more, Ben didn't know how long he'd been out, but eventually his eyes fluttered open, and he was back in the land of living.

Up to a point.

He lifted himself up on to his elbows, and he looked around the room. A room that now appeared to be empty.

"Okay, it was a dream," he told himself, "there was nothing there. You just imagined it."

"I wish it were true, but I am still here," Jake said, suddenly reappearing next to him.

"Jesus Fuck!" Ben screamed, backing up on the floor, trying to get away from his unwanted guest.

"Sorry, pal. I would've slapped you around a bit to wake you up, but I don't have corporeal form. My hands would've just floated through your head, which would be weird for the both of us."

Ben looked at the other man for a few moments. He stared and blinked and twitched, uncertain of what he was witnessing. His mouth dropping open, closing, then dropping open again.

"You're really here? I'm not imagining this?" He muttered.

"'Fraid so, buddy."

"You're a ghost?"

"I suppose so. That's as good a term for it as any other. We don't get an instruction booklet, you know. It's all a bit more improvisational than you might expect."

"But you're dead?"

"So you keep reminding me. Look, I know this is a bit of a shock to you, but time is of the essence, and I have certain instructions I need to carry out."

Jake Marley was - and had been - Ben's closest friend. The two of them had known each other since college. They had been quite the pair in their time, charming their way round town. Ben was the sweet, earnest one, who tried to ingratiate himself with everyone he met. Jake was more of a rogue. A charming rogue, but a rogue nonetheless.

Jake had also been an early investor in Ben's company. He came from money and he was happy to help out a friend. It had been quite a lucrative move, any cash he had contributed had been amply rewarded many times over in the years that followed. He had been the perfect silent partner, but a year earlier his somewhat debauched lifestyle caught up with him.

Jake had booked himself into a hotel room, with a couple of very expensive sex workers. Unfortunately, about twenty minutes after the evening's festivities had begun, Jake took one last snort of coke - the type of coke that didn't come in red cans - and suffered a huge heart attack. He was dead before he hit the carpeted floor of the hotel room.

Although, that setback didn't seem to be cramping his style too much at this particular moment in time. Ben was sat on a chair, and Jake was stood in front of him. Now that he had a chance to have a proper look at him, Ben could once again see that his former friend and investor didn't look his best. His skin was pale and pallid, and seemed sprinkled with what appeared to be dust. It occurred to Ben that it might in fact be rotting skin. And if he looked closely, it was almost as if Jake's body was semi-transparent, the lights of the room seemed to shine through him.

"What kind of instructions?" He asked him, "what's this all about?"

"You, Ben. It's all about you. Saving your immortal soul, in fact."

"What?"

"Saving your immortal soul. What we do in this life, lives on in the life yet to come."

"Huh?"

"Look at me. I'm a walking corpse, wrapped up in chains."

Ben glanced at the other man, and for the first time he noticed he was indeed wrapped up in what seemed to be metal chains. They snaked round his body, wrapping round his arms and legs and neck. That explained the clunking, metallic sound he had noticed when Jake first arrived.

"You see these chains? They represent my wrongdoings. Each link is a sin I committed. A lie I told. A girl I mistreated. Those sins bind you down, weigh you down, they take a toll."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Have you always been a good boy, buddy?"

"Well, not always, no. But I'm hardly the world's greatest villain."

"Not yet, but it's your future you need to worry about. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow. Or some shit like that. You start doing bad stuff, soon you're doing lots of bad stuff. You're heading in the wrong direction."

"Bullshit!"

"Okay, believe me or don't believe me. I've been told to warn you. But I'm not the only visitor you're getting this evening."

"You"re not?"

"No, I'm not. Three spirits are going to pay you a visit. Three ghosts. The ghost of Christmas past. The ghost of Christmas present. The ghost of Christmas still to come."

"What? You're crazy."

"No, I'm dead. And one day you will be too. Don't make the same mistakes I did, buddy. You might have a second chance. If you're lucky. Seize it."

"This is nuts. I'm nuts."

"Don't blow it."

Suddenly, Jake's voice ebbed away. Ben looked up and his friend was gone. He was now sat alone.

3

It was still cold, and it was still dark. Ben sat shivering, his teeth chattering, his skin covered in goosebumps. What had just happened, Ben asked himself? He looked at the glass of whisky sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

"I just drank too much, that was it," he said, "I got drunk and I just imagined some crazy shit. That's all. Jake is dead."