An Erotic Christmas Carol

==========
Stave 1: Marle's Frustration
==========

Marle, pronounced Marr-lay in a particularly horrid French accent if at all possible, was dead.

Now, due to the wonders of modern medicine, a reader might think 'There's dead, and then there's DEAD.' Be assured though, doctors making that much money to delay the inevitable do not allow a somewhat dead patient to be buried. He must be irrevocably dead before they will allow such a wonderful, kind, and generous man to escape their acquisitive hands.

Eben knew Marle was dead. They were full partners for five years, and worked together for a couple of years before that. Eben was Marle's CEO, the hand-picked heir to Marle' business, even if truth be told it was Eben who made the business what it was at the time of Marle's medically lamented passing. Eben made all the funeral arrangements and was one of the few mourners at the appropriately cloudy day. The doctors who stopped by could not be counted as mourners since their tears were for the loss of income. Eben was curious about an attractive middle-aged woman in black, who seemed genuinely sad, but thought she must have been a distant relative of Marle's.

So my dear internet porn afficianado, this is not an Elvis was seen at a 7-Eleven in Kelowan, Kansas type of thing. If the fact that Marle and his false French airs had truly left the mortal coil is not something that you can accept, well then... read this anyway, there are a couple of scenes worthy of staining a paper towel or wetting a pair of fingers.

Eben did not rename his company, though everyone said he should. It stood as it was even after Eben moved it to a modern office building, Marle Security Specialties, better know as Marle's. Sometimes his company's high profile customers called Eben by his name; others called him Marle. He did not mind either, probably preferred Marlem, truth be told.

Oh, but Eben was a workaholic! Working, shaping, molding, digging new niches for his firm, traveling to ensure every detail was taken care off when many of his staff could have accomplished the job as well; hard and sharp, that no competitor would find merciful, nor could they get ahead of him and his firm; secretive, unyielding to any challenge business or personal, an island habitant who bred sharks in the nearby waters. The cold inside hardened his features; his lips were an unmoving line; and he spoke commandingly in a voice echoing a lion's roar. Snow prematurely touched demon black hair, and ice-blue eyes showed no warmth to the world.

He ignored the elements. The sun could not force the suit-jacket from his shoulders, and the cold could not make him grimace. No winter wind could cool a room like his implacable stare; no fire more heartless in its purpose; no tide less caring of the drowned. Foul weather did not know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet could boast only one advantage over him. If you were caught in one of them, the warm confines of your home would protect you.

Eben followed you in.

Nobody ever looked at him across a conference table and with smiling looks said "Mr. Razz, wonderful to see you. When will you stop by to see the family?" No charity came to his door without a financial report of the deductions he would receive for signing a check; no babies crawled to be taken into his lap. Stray dogs avoided his path having no profit to offer for a scrap.

And when Christmas cheer dusted the air, he was worse.

But what did Eben care. It was the very thing he wanted. To tread his way through the crowded path of life warning all human warmth to stand to the left, or right, or be mowed down.

Warmth, love, happiness, joy, friendship; none of these things did Eben desire, even the darkest loneliness of the midnight hour.

Once upon a time of all days not to be, Christmas Eve, Eben sat busy in his corporate office planning the move of his company into providing Internet security and anonymity to some very rich clients. The windows at his back were battered by the cold, biting weather. Through the open door of his office he could hear the muted enjoyment of his employees at the necessary, if foolish, annual office Christmas party. The black clock on the wall chimed three, but outside the dark struggled to douse the light shining from the building. From the windows could be seen the valiant battle the lights of other offices fought to bring the gaiety of Christmas parties to the darkening city. The night fought back with fathomless dark that obscured sight outlining other buildings with a touch of fey. To see the black clouds lurking above, hiding the stars, one would have thought that Nature birthed something darker still.

Eben could hear the swelling and ebbing of the party; he was somewhat distracted by having to make sure his personal assistant stayed at her desk, in case she was needed. Eben worked day and night, and his assistant had to follow at his pace. She could not slow down for her boss never did, and the stare Eben gave when he had to wait was as close to real anger as she ever wanted to see from him. Wherefore, she squared her shoulders and tromped along in a race she could not win or even compete in; she was the closest Eben had ever found to achieving the mark so he made due.

"Mr. Razz, I'm sorry. She..." came over the intercom seconds before a bright, if well-covered tornado, exploded into the room.

"A Merry Christmas, Eb. God keep you safe," cried a muffled cheery voice, a voice that was the torment of Eben's soul.

Brenda, his foster sister, born after her parents gave him a home.

"Yeah," said Eben softly. "Right."

She had so covered herself that it took a comical struggle to unwind the lengthy scarf from her face. Her clean complexion came into view as she defeated her adversary. The heat of battle flamed her pretty face, and sparked in her dark blue eyes.

"Come on, Eben," she said as she threw her defeated opponent down. "Stay in character, be proud of who you are and shout from the rafters 'Bah! Humbug!'"

She laughed warmly taking in how he watched her. It was the slight softening in his eyes when he looked at her that gave Brenda hope.

"Yeah... right," said Eben. "Merry Christmas. You have as little reason as I do to be merry on that day, less actually."

"Come, then," said Brenda Rollins shaking off the deep sadness that swallowed the fire in her eyes for a long moment. "What reason do you have to be so dismal? What reason do you have to be so morose? I really like that vocabulary book you got me for my birthday; dismal, morose, they really are wonderfully descriptive, don't you think. Anyway, you said it; your reasons are significantly less than mine. After all, you're so rich most of my friends want your number."

Eben, having no better answer and not wanting to see the sadness again, said "Yeah," and followed it with "Right."

"Not even one 'Bah! Humbug!'?" she said amidst a giggle; almost the ghost of a smile touched Eben's face. "Can't you try? Just for me, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"No, Brenda."

The ghost fled.

"I won't celebrate in remembrance of your parents. Maybe there are reasons for someone else to overindulge, or overcharge credit cards. I won't stop you, or anyone else. I'll even let them throw a Christmas Party and give them bonuses if they earned them. I'll think hard about your Christmas gift because... Don't ask more, Bren."

"But, Eben," she pleaded as she had done for many years.

"No!" The voice cooled the room. "Have your Christmas, sister, but leave me to the memories of your parents."

"They were your parents, too."

He nodded solemnly.

"But I'm not your sister," she said firmly and then smiling mischievously. "Not where it would count, anyway."

"Leave it, Bren," Eben growled, "That was a mistake. It never did you any good."

"Bah! Humbug!" she said in a strong voice. "That was no mistake. Maybe you're right, and I should be sad on the anniversary of someone killing my parents but it's also the anniversary of my best memories. My first bicycle and how you taught me to ride it in two feet of snow. I remember watching you from the living room window shovel for three hours to clear enough space. Sitting between Mom and Dad in church learning that Christmas wasn't about gifts. That memory got me through their deaths, Eben. Believing like a child and not the teenager I was that they were in Heaven waiting for us. Yeah! I spend too much, and so do a lot of people, but you're the only one who doesn't give me the smile that makes it all worth it. You know what? That's okay too, Eben. No Christmas memory is ever going to compare to the one we made together. So okay, our parents died on Christmas day, but EVERY other memory is happy so, 'Thank You, God!'"

Eben's assistant, standing at the door, gasped in wide-eyed wonder. Gasped again, realizing Eben would not appreciate an audience and fled back to the minor protection of her desk.

Eben stared at his foster sister on the edge of showing emotion that only she had ever raised in him. The muscles in his jaw moved as he struggled to hold everything inside.

She smiled innocently at him.

"Come on," she said. "Don't be mad! I'm here to invite you to my Christmas get-together. You're going to say no, but I have to ask, right?"

She bent down to pick up the scarf, bravely moved to his side, grabbed his arm tugging him toward the party.

He stood up and let her drag him towards the noise.

"No, Brenda. I don't think so."

"But why not?" she said as she passed the assistant's desk and winked at the typing woman. She moved circling the party to get to the elevators.

"Why? Why do you date that empty-headed blonde woman?"

"Because it annoys the shit out of the only man I ever wanted. Maybe he'll try to save me from her inane conversation. Plus, she is great in bed."

Brenda froze as what she had glimpsed through an almost closed door registered. She took a step back and in front of Eben to see through the crack. He looked over her head into the office of his new head of the computer security section. The man had the office manager pinned against his desk with his lower body. His hands were underneath her skirt pushing it up so that he could caress her thighs. The woman had her head back exposing a wealth of skin at her neck for him to nibble, or lick, or suckle. He was taking full advantage and the occasional moan from her accentuated an especially pleasurable touch of his mouth. He was not what one expected from a computer geek, looking more like a beach-volleyball pro than anything else.

Eben tried to move Brenda past the door, but she backed into him and planted herself in place. He reached around her to close the door. She put a death grip on the knob and fighting her would have gotten the couple's attention.

The man inside was technically sound, but even better at getting and keeping the best computer security people. It was an irreplaceable talent that Eben needed, so he allowed the man his liberties, even at the office.

The woman pulled herself on top of the desk. When the man pushed her skirt high enough, she wrapped a long leg around him, pinning him and the skirt. She used him as a living rubbing post. The man did not fight the motion but mirrored it. His hands pushed the skirt higher. They kissed frantically; the pressure had been building for some time. Eben knew they had an active flirtation that was the titter of office gossip, but no one knew if it had gone any farther. The pace they were using to drive themselves had all the impatience of new lovers desperately wanting the wonder of a first completion together.

The office manager brought her hands around to grab him by the hair and used her grip to pull his head back so she could bite into the juncture of neck, shoulder, and shirt. The man reacted as she meant him to. He tried to shove her skirt out of the way, needing madly to be inside the core of her heat.

Eben felt himself get hard from viewing the scene. He heard Brenda's breathing deepen and briefly struggled for control of the door. Brenda's grip had not softened and when the door squeaked, Eben stopped.

The office manager had enough. She put her hands on the desk and lifted herself up. The man immediately grasped the elevated seriousness of the situation. He pushed her skirt past her hips and onto her waist; reversing the motion, he stripped her pantyhose down.

She let herself down, and watched him continue slowly down the incredible length of her legs. Eben could hear her ragged breathing as the man's obvious enjoyment heightened hers. The head of the computer section kept the pantyhose moving downward slowly, enjoying the unwrapping and taking longer than necessary to regain control.

Eben recognized the deliberateness of the motion; the man wanted this woman satisfied completely. Finally, he pushed her shoes off and took the pantyhose completely off her body. As he straightened, she held his eyes with her own. She reached out and pulled him between her legs. They shared a slow grinding kiss that promised an end to a lot of waiting. She pushed him away and started working the buttons of his dress shirt. The man had taken off his jacket and tie before Eben and Brenda started their voyeur's adventure.

The woman ran her nails on his upper body taking the same slow pleasure that the man had while removing her pantyhose. The head of the computer section reached between them and did something out of the view of the watchers that propelled the office manager to the next step of anticipation. He continued to work furiously between her legs as she worked on his belt and slacks. His pants dropped suddenly, and her hands dove into silk boxers. He joined her on the next step of anticipation. She reached to his waist and lowered the boxers to gain free access. He reached down to take another one of those slow grinding kisses. They stopped for a second as she whispered something to him. He smiled beatifically and reached for an upside down coffee cup on his desk. He lifted the cup to expose a threesome of condoms. She stared at them for a second and dug a hand's worth of nails into his chest. He smiled down at her and extended himself far enough to place a bite between shoulder and neck. She reached over to the condom with one hand and tore it open with her teeth.

Eben decided that was enough. He put his arms around Brenda, lifted, and pulled her back. Her grip on the door worked to close the door. She started kicking but stopped and dropped her head back onto his shoulder. He put her down slowly, stepping back quickly when she made a slow caressing motion with her hips into his.

"But that was fun!" she complained sexily.

"They deserve a little privacy," Eben said, purposefully misinterpreting what she meant.

"Spoilsport!" she said pouting her lips and walking towards the elevators. He sighed and followed.

She pressed the button and waited pensively. The elevator arrived and she stepped inside. She turned around and pressed a button. He stood outside the elevator watching her.

As the doors were closing, her face broke into a smile.

"By the way, I didn't take my Christmas present from your desk so you're going to have to bring it to me tomorrow."

He watched the elevator doors close and stared at the numbers as they descended. He shook his head and turned to walk back to his office. He considered reprimanding his computer section head, but both sexbirds were valuable members of his team. A relationship, as long as it did not sour, would tie them to the company more firmly for a couple of years.

He stopped at his assistant's desk.

"Are the charity people still here, Ms. Cratch?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. They're eating some of the party food."

"Ask them to come in," he told her as he walked into his office.

A couple of minutes later, a man and a woman walked into his office. The two took a moment to study the man behind the desk as he stared out into the darkness catching him in a rare moment of introspection.

Eben turned the chair around and nodded for them to sit.

The woman gave one meaningful look to her partner that said quite clearly that she would handle this. The man nodded; they came to talk to Eben twice a year.

The very first meeting had been nearly disastrous, especially because Marle had been a part of it. It was only the fact that the woman had come to understand very quickly that for Marle Security Specialties charity was strictly a business transaction that had saved them from having their potentially largest contributor find another organization. The man thought to appeal to Eben and Marle's softer side; and when rebuked, he attempted an eloquent speech that did nothing more than try to shame his listeners into giving charitably for the 'right' reasons.

Eben and Marle sat through the entire speech watching the man carefully. Afterwards Marle gave the man advice about how he should control the raising and lowering of pitch to manipulate an audience better. The man did not take that well, but took Eben's asking for the name of some other institution that would not need those 'right' reasons to accompany a healthy check even worse.

The woman who had been the junior partner when the two came in immediately intercepted any possible reply. She started to discuss whether the company wanted the publicity from the charitable contributions to be aimed towards the owners or towards the company. The man was ignored for the rest of the meeting while Marle discussed with the woman exactly how he wanted things to be. By the end of that first meeting, they established that the focus of any media attention would be on Marle's Security Specialties, and that the woman would be the one to deal with them for the length of her relationship with the charity.

The man came to the meetings as window dressing.

The meeting went smoothly, and the pair walked out with a very generous payment for publicity rendered during the Christmas holidays.

Eben remained in his office even after the party died down, and everyone except his assistant and he had gone home.

Outside the windows, the clouds waited with even more menace.

Ms. Cratch finally gave up trying to outlast her boss. She walked into the office with the paperwork he had wanted done for the day. He looked up from his work. She put the work down on his desk and stood back.

He nodded.

"Will you need me tomorrow, sir?" she asked trying to keep the hope that he would say no out of her eyes.

He sighed to himself. He turned the chair and tried to cut through the darkness with a cold stare, but it ignored him.

"No, Ms. Cratch. I'll get whatever I need done myself."

She grimaced to his back as she realized that meant she would have not only the 26th's worth of work to get done, but also whatever he managed to produce on the 25th.

"Thank you, sir," she said squeakily polite.

He nodded in dismissal.

He sat still staring out the window after she left. He was trying to find a way to avoid visiting Brenda the next day. He knew he would not be able to control his disapproval of her present lover. It was not that she was female; he cared too little about what the rest of the world thought for that to matter. It was the woman's petty maliciousness.

Petty malice was a waste of effort by Eben's standards.

He packed several things into his briefcase and walked past the janitorial staff on the way out of the building without acknowledging their existence. They, on the other hand, watched him carefully enough to be sure they were not in his way.

It was bitterly cold outside and he made a quick decision on the way to his car.

He drove to a small restaurant he frequented. None of the staff was surprised to see him. They sat him at his usual table, and the waiter took a quick order. Everyone at the restaurant knew only a select set of waiters were allowed to serve Eben. It did not have to do with any preference on his part, but he tipped well over what would be considered magnificently generous as long he was served efficiently with no problems beyond the normal human control. He held many of his business dinners in the restaurant and thought of tipping as buying future stock in good service. The owner of the restaurant let only people he trusted wait on Eben or work his business dinners.