Anna's Taboo Christmas Gift

And his sister was confusing him in other ways as well. After that incredible night, when they had slept together without actually sleeping together, she had spent each night in her own bed. But that didn't mean the sexual teasing had ceased. If anything, it had actually increased. Despite her disapproval of Jimmy's half-hearted cleaning efforts, aided by the acid sting of her tongue, Anna used every opportunity to lavish affection on him, and only seemed to consider it her due that he return the favor. Even the most casual conversation might end with a casual squeeze of his ass, or a long, sweet make-out session, though nothing approached the sexual frenzy that had caught them both up on Monday night. Still, Jimmy went to bed every night hoping Anna would join him, and woke every morning with a boner that could split steel. His habit of sleeping in the raw, picked up during his first year in his own apartment, hadn't helped either. The combination of cool sheets, warm blankets, and almost constant teasing by his sexy little sister had him waking up in a state of ferocious arousal. Only the fear that Anna might walk in on him at any time had kept him from jacking off every morning. Which meant his pent-up sexual frustration had reached nuclear-meltdown levels.

But it was Christmas Eve at last, and it seemed he had finally managed to get the house into a state his sister deemed acceptable. At least, after she had forced him, forced him, he insisted, on cleaning the windows when it was so cold outside that the cleaner damn near froze on the glass, she hadn't made him do anything else.

"Remember when we were kids?" she said, setting her slippered feet close to his on the coffee table, as they watched the start of a Christmas movie marathon. "We would want the sun to go down so bad we nearly got sick. Because when the sun went down it was almost officially Christmas."

"Yeah. All we had to do was eat supper, go to church, and then come home. And then we could finally start to open presents." He looked at the tree. Deliveries had been arriving in a slow but steady stream over the last few days. The pile under the tree was now more than presentable, if nothing like it had been when their parents had been alive. Still, he didn't think either he or Anna would be disappointed tomorrow morning.

"Church, yeah." Anna snorted. "When was the last time you went?"

"Voluntarily? The Sunday before I left for freshman year. That was more Dad's thing than Mom's. And definitely not mine." He shrugged and leaned forward, plucking a brownie off the tray. Delicious. His sister was definitely a better baker than he was. "I think Mom only went to church to keep him happy. You know what Grandma Mitchell was like. Best thing that ever happened to Dad was getting out of Jacksonville and going to college and meeting Mom." He shook his head. "That fucking town. It's stuck in 1972."

Anna dimpled, looking up at him. "Jimmy! Don't tell me you don't miss Christmas Eve service at Mount Zion Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod. I might just pass right out!" She mimed a faint, the back of her wrist pressed to her forehead.

"Brat," he grinned.

Anna glanced outside. Already the short winter day was drawing to a close. The promised snow had arrived, fat, fluffy flakes spiraling down from the pewter-gray sky. "What say we take a drive," she suggested. "Like we used to do after church when we were kids, and take a look at all the holiday lights?"

"That would be nice," he agreed. The one thing Anna hadn't made him do was put up Christmas lights. Though he bet she would have, if she had remembered in time. But even his little sister wasn't going to make him put up lights when there was more than half a foot of snow on the ground and the wind-chill was hovering around zero

The neighborhood was lit up like something out of a movie. Jimmy took it slow, both in deference to the cold, snowy weather, and to the fact that this was something they were doing for pleasure. Anna pointed out familiar homes as they glided past, snow crunching under their tires, recalling who had lived (or still lived) in a particular house, which ones gave out good candy on Halloween, and which ones were criminally negligent in putting out decorations and should probably be forced to sell and move to somewhere suitably awful. North Korea, for example.

"You realize we don't have anything up at our place, right?" he asked, amused by her invective.

Anna tossed her head and sniffed, golden hair shining in the dashlight. "We don't live there. Next year we'll be ready." Unspoken was the assumption, built up over the last week, that they would both be moving back into their childhood home. "Oh, look at that!" she exclaimed, pointing. "An entire sleigh, with the reindeer and Santa Claus, too!"

Jimmy chuckled as they rolled past. It was a heck of a setup, he couldn't deny it. The nine reindeer, with Rudolph leading the team, his red nose shining like a drunk at last call, rose in staggered pairs, with a resplendently fat and jolly Saint Nick sitting in the sleigh. It seemed it would only take a whisper for them to break the bounds of earth and soar into the sky. And that was only the start. An inflatable Frosty waved one hand at them, his broomstick in the other. Elves climbed candy canes, and the trees outside were decorated more thoroughly than the one inside their house. And that wasn't even taking into account a house that was so strung with holiday lights it was probably visible from low Earth orbit. There was even a manger scene.

"I'd hate to get their electric bill," he said. He took his sister's hand. "I'm really glad you had this idea, Anna," he said. "It beats the hell out of being at my apartment." He closed his eyes briefly at the thought of trying to celebrate the holiday in that cramped, joyless space. "That would have sucked."

Anna squeezed his hand. "All you have to remember, Jimmy, is that I'm always right. As soon as you accept that, things will be so much simpler for you."

"Uh-huh. Should I even bring up the Blackberry Jelly Incident?"

"That was your fault!"

"How? I wasn't even there!" The incident in question had occurred when Anna was four, and a pre-school classmate had convinced her that the oil leaking out of the construction equipment repaving their street had actually been jelly. Their mother's realization of what was going on had come too late for Anna to avoid being violently sick that night.

"Exactly!" Anna settled back in her seat, confident of the triumph of logic. "If you had been, you wouldn't have let me do something so dumb."

"Maybe," Jimmy admitted, carefully negotiating a corner. A car in front of them skidded, the back tires throwing up rooster-tails of snow as it swerved in an s-shaped curve. He let up on the gas, waiting until the driver ahead got his vehicle under control. "Or maybe I would have sat back and laughed while you scraped black gunk off the side of some fossilized piece of machinery, thinking it would actually taste good."

"No, you wouldn't," Anna said with supreme confidence. "You promised Mom and Dad you would take care of me." Another squeeze of his hand, which somehow hadn't left hers. "And you always have."

"Hmmph." He turned the corner onto their street, moving at barely more than a walking pace. The side streets crawled by. McMaster, Butcher, Carey, Kay.

And then there they were, two houses north of the intersection of Taft and Charles. The van hulked at the curb, but he pulled in behind Anna's Toyota. "Well, here we are. Ready to open your present?"

Jimmy was forced to admit his sister had been right. When he opened the front door of the house, memory hit him like a wave, triggered by nothing more than the familiar scents. Somehow the lingering smell of baking combined with the faint hint of pine, underlaid with furniture polish and scented candles, to create a nostalgic aroma that had him half-expecting his mother to appear from around a corner. Even the tree was a weapon, looming in the shadows, wrapped in light, with highlights gleaming from wrapped packages at its feet.

"God." He wiped roughly at his cheeks. "I miss them, Anna. I miss them so much."

"I know." His sister's eyes were wet. "I do, too, Jimmy." She unzipped her heavy jacket. "But they wouldn't have wanted us to mourn forever. Remember what Dad used to say, whenever something sad happened? Like when our grandparents died?"

He nodded. Hs parents had both been only children. And their parents had gone down like dominoes, all four of them in three years. "Memory is the greatest of gifts."

"Yes. Mom and Dad aren't gone, Jimmy. Not as long as we remember them. Now," she said, suddenly merry again. "Let's do this thing. You sit down," she commanded, "and I'll get us something to eat. And we can do things properly."

Put in his place, Jimmy sat down on the couch. Anna soon joined him, with a plate of sweet things and a matched pair of wine glasses. She put a book in his lap. "Read it. And then we'll open presents. One present each."

"Good grief." Jimmy helped himself to a Russian tea cookie, dusted with powdered sugar. As he bit in, the front of his shirt acquired a faint white coating, and he sighed. "You're not going to miss a trick, are you?"

"You better believe it." Anna pressed the thin book, worn with years and love, into his hands. "Now read."

"It's going to take forever," he warned.

Anna wriggled impatiently. "Just do it!"

"Marley was dead, to begin with," he read, "There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was good upon change as anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was dead as a doornail."

It had been a tradition, taken up soon after their grandparents had passed away, and Christmas Day at their houses was no longer an option. On Christmas Eve his father would read "A Christmas Carol." And then they would be allowed to open one (and only one) present. And then it would be off to bed, and a parental command to not wake them up to open presents until the sun was fully up.

A command that was rarely obeyed, to be honest, though Jimmy had to admit Anna had tried.

He worked his way through the story, doing his best to emulate the way his father switched voices as the speakers changed - a basso, cheery voice for the Ghost of Christmas Present, Marley's gloomy, spectral tones, and Scrooge's raspy, sneering arrogance slowly supplanted by an almost manic glee as he realized that it was not too late, that he still had a chance to mend his ways.

"That was nice," Anna said, as he closed the book and laid it aside. "Now it's time for a present!" She hopped up, peering over the assembled gifts. Jimmy smiled to himself, as she shifted back and forth, obviously trying to figure out which one to choose.

"This one," she declared at last, and came back to the couch. She plucked the bow off, setting it firmly on his head as wrapping paper flew. "Oh, neat!" she exclaimed, holding up the box. "Wireless speakers! I can use these!"

Jimmy smiled. "They should work for just about anything," he said, pleased that Anna liked the gift. "Laptop, cell phone, even your TV in your dorm."

"Sweet." Nothing would stop Anna from trying them out. Jimmy helped, and in a few minutes a peppy dance tune was playing.

Anna turned off the music. "Now you."

"Hmmm." Jimmy stood, eying the pile. One large box had been niggling at his attention for days. He lifted it, shaking it back and forth, as he raised his eyebrows at his sister. "Pretty heavy."

"You're not going to find out what's inside until you open it," she said.

"True enough." He sat and pulled off the wrapping paper, and then opened the large cardboard box. "A...comforter?"

"A good comforter," Anna said, plumping down beside him. "Feel how thick and heavy it is?" Her fingers stroked the nap. "And this is quality. Not some piece of crap that falls apart after you wash it a couple of time because you only did five minutes of research online. This will last for years."

Jimmy lifted it out of the box and let it unfold. "It's certainly heavy enough," he said with a smile. "I don't think I'll have to worry about waking up cold in the winter, not with this on my bed."

"Exactly." Anna looked around the room and heaved a sigh. "I wish we could open everything now."

Jimmy agreed, but somehow opening up everything on Christmas Eve seemed like a cheat. "Maybe next year we can make a new tradition," he suggested, as he put the comforter back in the box and placed it under the tree.

"I guess." Anna's agreement was half-hearted. She yawned hugely. "I'm going up to bed. You?"

He waved a hand. "I'm going to clean up a bit. See you in the morning."

"No good-night kiss?" Anna walked up to him, a small smile on her lips. "You're not getting away that easy, Jimmy." She put a finger across his mouth, keeping him silent. "I know we're only supposed to get one present on Christmas Eve. But I think I deserve another one."

She flowed up his body, her hands sinking into his hair as she opened her mouth. As their lips touched, a tiny mewl of need escaped her. And then they were kissing, lips rubbing, tongues tangling, bodies catching fire like a heap of oily rags. It seemed he was falling into her. Or maybe she was falling up, into him.

Long before he'd had enough, Anna pulled away. "Merry Christmas, Jimmy," she whispered, then went up the stairs, not looking back.

Chapter 8

Christmas Day dawned clear and bright. When Anna woke up in her own room, it was to a bright blue sky, with the sun gleaming off a landscape of new-fallen snow, so pure and unadorned it seemed like she was the first person to set eyes on it.

Christmas Day! She jumped out of bed and looked at her phone. How late was it? Was her brother up?

Luckily, her phone told her it was just after six. And a long, tense moment spent listening at the door of her parents' old bedroom revealed nothing more than some light snoring coming from inside.

Anna breathed a sigh of relief. She had one last present to wrap, and she wanted to get it done before her brother woke.

Bother, she snarled to herself, some minutes later. I should have practiced first. These damn ribbons are harder than they look. Try as she might, she could not get the dratted knot to stay tied. As soon as she took her fingers away, it slithered away and fell to the floor.

God damn it. Time was against her. Jimmy would wake up soon, if he wasn't already. And she wanted everything to be perfect. Reining in her temper, she did up the ribbon again, forcing her fingers to move slowly.

And miracle of miracles, this time the knot stayed tight. Anna tested it once, twice, and then smiled.

Moving on cat-feet, she padded downstairs. A few minutes had everything arranged to her satisfaction. The tree was lit, a plate of snacks set out, the gas fire burned in the fireplace. A three-wick candle, more for the scent of cedar and cinnamon than the light, flickered merrily on a side table.

Yes. Everything was perfect.

All Anna needed was her brother.

Eventually, she got tired of waiting.

A persistent buzzing woke Jimmy. He rolled over, picked up his phone, and squinted at it.

Five text messages? This better not be from work. It's fucking Christmas, for fuck's sake.

But instead of some panicked missive from his corporate masters, instead he was treated to a series of increasingly-irritated texts from his sister, reminding him that it was Christmas morning and asking if he intended to sleep the entire day away.

I'm up, he typed, scowling at the screen. Good grief, she was as bad now as she had been when she was six. Couldn't she be patient? I'll be down in a couple of minutes.

Grumbling to himself, he used the bathroom, shaved, and dressed in a loose pair of sweats and an old bathrobe he had found hanging in his closet. He didn't know what had ever possessed him to buy a robe in such an eye-watering plaid color, but it was heavy and warm and felt good on his skin, and that was what mattered.

"Ho ho ho!" he said, descending the stairs. "Merry...

"Christmas," he finished in a whisper.

What the unholy fuck?

If Jimmy thought he had lost the ability to be shocked by his sister, he was wrong. Anna was sprawled near the Christmas tree, her young, teenage body almost glowing in the winter sunlight, in a nest made from blankets and pillows. She was dressed (if it could even be called dressed) in practically nothing. A pair of pink bows sat on her lovely breasts, hiding her nipples. And a confection of ribbons, white and red, wound around her belly and groin and ass, keeping her female cleft from his staring eyes. The ribbons came to a knot just below her navel, and his fingers twitched, wanting to pull them loose. Another series of ribbons, red and green, wound through her honey-blond hair.

All in all, it was as if the sexiest, sluttiest elf in Santa's workshop had decided to pay him a visit.

"Merry Christmas, Jimmy," his sister said, her words a throaty murmur. A glance flicked to the fireplace, where a fire was burning. "Do you want to see what's in your stocking? I think Santa left something for you."

"Anna..."

"Just check the stocking, Jimmy. And then we can talk." She looked down, a blush touching her cheeks. "If you still want to."

He pressed his lips together. "Fine."

He took three strides, trying to hide the shaking in his fingers as he plucked the stocking off the hook. It felt empty, but his reaching fingers found a single folded sheet of paper.

Dear Jimmy, he read.

Merry Christmas. I won't pretend that I am Santa, or that I'm Mom and Dad, speaking to you from Heaven.

I love you. I've loved you forever. I've always loved you.

But I want more than what we have. I want it all. I want you. Not just the love you give me as my brother, but the love you can give me as a man.

I love you. I love how you protect me, and take care of me, and always want the best for me. And I love how you look at me, the desire you feel for me as a woman fighting with what you think is right. When I am around you, all I want is to see what you look like naked, how your skin would feel against mine, how you would taste, what it would be like to finally make love together.

I love you. It's Christmas morning. I am your present, your gift, your reward.

Will you unwrap me?

Anna watched, her heart in her throat, as Jimmy read her letter. It had taken her eleven tries to get right, and the rejected attempts, including the awful parody of "Twas the Night Before Christmas," sat in a shredded heap in her trash can upstairs. She had written and tore and written and tore, until well after midnight, with the house silent around her, she finally said what came to her heart. She had considered loading up his stocking with sexy paraphernalia, to make things even more explicitly clear - lube and a vibrator, maybe her smallest butt-plug, if the thought of his sister using one of those wasn't guaranteed to make Jimmy freak right the fuck out. But in the end, she kept it simple. Just a letter. If this failed, at least she hadn't humiliated herself and embarrassed her brother by making Christmas morning look like the after-party at the Playboy mansion.

Jimmy looked up from the letter and cleared his throat. Then he read the letter again, more slowly. Anna watched, trying to convince herself his silence was a good sign. At least he hadn't fallen into some overprotective 'older brother knows best' mood and demanded she go upstairs to change.