He Came in a Manger

She looked out upon the porch and saw them all coming, there torches flickering in the wind, blinking rapidly, as her heartbeat began to rise. This winter's eve was chilling the marrow in her bones as the wind whipped at her eyelashes peeking out, just a touch, from her leopard skin scarf. Tonight, she had expected someone, but not an entire crowd. She had even taken the trouble to adorn her Russian Sable fur coat. With a pair of black Gucci leather boots, she glared in the wind, at the strangers coming down on her; her heels poised so sharply through the balcony that they seemed to hang over the front entrance of her New England cottage like obsidian stalactites. Those boots went as far up her creamy auburn thighs as any man had ever managed to get on Ms. Gizelle, for she would not let that wretched sex get the best of her.

She stood still, still shivering, in the moonlight; the sky growing brighter with the coming cadre of vivacious men, each with a candle fluttering under their freehand and a red rose tucked, neatly, into their breast pockets. Despite some of the candles having not survived the harshening winds, a cheerful expression remained upon their burning red faces. Their composure was curious as the temperature had to be knocking on the door of freezing, she thought. How could they maintain such a pleasant presence in such wicked weather?

It was twenty or thirty of them, marching up her steep driveway into the salty wind, which blew in from the ocean, across the rocky peninsula, upon where her royal blue cottage stood.

It was once the caretaker's house, owned by a wealthy New England family, who manned a light house, on that jutting expanse of rock, for over a hundred years. She looked back at the ocean and saw how viciously the waves were slamming into the cliffs below.

She felt sorry for these men who were dressed up for the occasion, mostly, because she hadn't expected them, as of yet, there was not a pot of steaming hot chocolate on the stove, nor any miniature marshmallows to be doled out with a petite sterling spoon, which she kept cloistered in the china cabinet, along with other delicate pieces of the house's heritage, untarnished by antiquity. Breaking into the celebratory cabinet had always awakened her senses to the season and purified her thoughts for the coming holiday. When the historic sterling and crystal were out, she knew that the holidays were here.

This year she was determined to quell some of the impulses that beckoned her salacious desires. She was determined to be a good girl this year, to not let naughtiness get the best of her convulsing thoughts, and sensual nightmares.

She was told by Jean Defabre, that is Dr. Defabre, her holistic psychiatrist, that if she could suppress some of her erotic urges this season, she would gather an inner strength, allowing her to live the life she'd always wanted. A life that was free from these hidden desires, which had haunted her subconscious since adolescence.

A resounding knock upon the old oak door from below interrupted her dreaming and she hollered, "I'll be coming right down!" She ran back into her bedroom, grabbing a blouse and a shirt from the closet, because beneath her fur coat, she was wearing nothing, save her midnight blue bra, which was slightly pressed, against her cold hard nipples. She ran down the spiral staircase across the marble foyer and flung the front door open.

The men stood there smiling in Santa hats, arranged so the tallest of them was in the back row, and the shortest in the front, Gizelle recognized some of them from a church she attended occasionally. Simultaneously, they began to sing "We wish you a merry Christmas" and following that tune, they proclaimed, "Hark the harold angels sing." They sung a few more tunes in perfect harmony as she stood in the threshold, smiling, in her sable coat, wishing, she had something more to offer them.

It occurred to Gizelle that her mother had dropped off a tin of homemade cookies yesterday, which she had yet to open. After they had stopped singing, she invited them in and turned on the espresso machine, but not before putting the cookies into a more presentable dish, one she acquired from her china cabinet.

They graciously accepted a chance to retreat from the blistering wind. The gentlemen snuffed out there candles and told her that they were a local barbershop group that was working with charities to spread a bit of holiday cheer.

Jared, one of the young men from her church pulled Ms. Gezelle aside from the chattering group of carolers and asked her if she would be interested in participating in a holiday nativity scene. Jared Akers was a solid young man; tall and lean, with chestnut hair and eager blue eyes. He worked on the Davidson's dairy farm and had moved his way up to coordinating milk trucks and doing most of the marketing for the entire Davidson Dairy Company. Jared mentioned to Gizelle that over at church they were in need of a couple of angels for the nativity scene on Christmas Eve. He doted on her beauty and said that she would be a perfect fit for the part. Gizelle at first declined Jared's offer, saying that she was far from perfect and that Jesus himself, would make a deal with the devil before letting her be an angel, come Christmas time at the church.

"Not at all," Jared said confidently, "Jesus was forgiving, and whatever wrongs you may have done you could surely make them up by helping reenact his birth."

Gizelle thought for a moment about this possibility and a wave of guilt rushed through her as she realized she had not been to church in a while. This might be the precise way to prove to herself and others, that she was indeed a good person, who could focus her inner strengths, and do something charitable, out of the kindness of her heart. "Well, Jared to be honest, I haven't been to church since April for the Easter Service."

"That's not a problem Ms. Gizelle, the congregation would be glad to see you," He said, glancing down beneath her fur coat. "It only takes a few rehearsals and I know you'd make such a lovely angel."

"Oh you've got a bouquet full of sweet talk don't you," Gizelle said coquettishly, shifting her curves with those poignant heals.

"Well what can I say; we'd be honored to have your angelic presence in our nativity scene," Jared contested.

Suddenly, one of the senior ushers from the church, that Gizelle remembered being so kind, in Sunday's past, came sauntering over. "Well hello Ms. Gizelle", Arthur said, after giving her a warm embrace. "How have you been? Is Jared here soliciting your services?"

"Not quite, yet." Gizelle replied. "He wants me to be an angel in the nativity scene on Christmas Eve."

"Oh, well he knows exactly where to look. Yes, there are only so many women available for the part, as you know; it is mostly an older congregation down at St. Martin's." Arthur said earnestly.

"Yes I do remember, so I'll tell you boys what. I'll take the night to think it over and then call you tomorrow."

Jared and Arthur agreed that presently that was as much as they could hope for, so after exchanging numbers with Gizelle and thanking her for the hospitality, the carolers headed out into the perilous cold, as they still had a couple more houses to visit before their night was through. "Thanks again, I hope you can make it." Jared turned and shouted as they departed from her stoop.

"I'll definitely let you know," she called back, smiling as she closed the door. She wondered where her friend Monica was, looking at the Grandfather clock, as it neared nine. She had told Gizelle to expect her around eight. The following morning she tossed and turned as the blinds in her master bedroom were pulled open allowing just a glint of daylight to come pouring through.

"Rise and shine sexy." Monica stood there scantily, in her lacy, green and red, panties, her azure eyes sparkling, as she watched Gizelle grab a pillow and pull it over her head.

"It's too early," she moaned, "come back to bed; I'll have Rigoberto serve us breakfast up here." She tossed and turned in the silk sheets.

"But you promised me last night," Monica whined.

"What did I promise you?" Gizelle groaned from the king size bed.

"You promised me that we could watch the sunrise from the lighthouse and it's just coming up over the horizon now. We've got to hurry." Monica urged.

"Monica, I don't think we are going to make it seeing how it takes about ten minutes to drive over there and walk up the three hundred and thirty three steps to the top. The sun will be up long before we get there."

"Oh come on, let's go anyway," Monica continued pleading. "No, not today, I promise we will set the alarm next time and not miss a moment of it. But to make it up to you I'll tell Rigoberto to bring you you're favorite breakfast."

"You mean banana and chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries, whip cream, and cinnamon on them," Monica said jumping off the ground and back into bed with Gizelle.

"Yup, and I've got nothing to do today until my appointment with Jean this afternoon. Let's just lay awhile; we can watch the sunrise, right here." She kissed the back of Monica's neck as they spooned. Then Monica slowly turned around and slid her tongue between Gizelle's voluptuous lips, tasting her in the morning when she was so raw and unkempt made her shiver with felicity, as their hands caressed one another's shaven bodies. Monica paused as they shared warmth beneath the sheets, lying in a dreamy trance, half-awake with their consciousness on the verge of sleep. They still managed to speak.

"Why is it that you've never been with a man?" Monica proposed.

"I dunno, I have never been turned on by one." Gizelle answered.

"How come? You're telling that you've never been in a situation at least once, where things with a man were bound to happen?"

"Nope, not yet, at least." Gizelle said. "They are all too horny and conceited for me to take a physical interest in them."

Monica laughed, "too horny huh, speak for yourself girl, I know your pussy is always purring." After she said this she drew her fingers underneath Gizelle's panties, and began to rub her soft pink button. Gizelle started to open her legs for more as Monica slid a finger inside of her. Then abruptly, she grabbed her hand, and gently lifted it out of her, saying "remember what I told you about the holidays this year. I'm trying to be good girl and show more control over these types of situations."

"Why, is there something wrong with our sensual love?" Monica inquired, playfully licking her wet finger. "Because it tastes wonderful to me!"

"No it's not simply that." Gizelle spoke frankly. "I just know that I can accomplish greater things in my life if I can focus myself and become virtuous about when and where, and how much I decide to engage in sexual play."

"Well I hope you don't turn into a scrooge this holiday, because when you give, it only makes me want to give even more." Monica asserted.

"I won't scrooge you over completely." Gizelle said. "I will still let you have your annual twelve days of me. After all, I love you Monica."

"I know that sexy. Now where is Rigoberto with those banana and chocolate chip pancakes?"

"I dunno let's ring him up." They enjoyed breakfast in bed together and then parted ways after midday. Gizelle got into her Landrover and headed into town to see Dr. Defabre. She sat on his leather sofa, in a low cut, orange dress. She leaned back and daintily removed the red heals on her feet, sliding them off, one whisper at a time, attempting not to interrupt Dr. Defabre's conclusions about how she could better her life. She had mentioned to him that she was asked to be one of the angels in a nativity scene at her church. She expressed her feelings of guilt, having not responded to the invites, which her church had sent her, in regards to the special events they held over the course of the summer.

Dr. Defabre told Gizelle that this might be a good way of making up for her past absences and that he would personally attend if she needed further support. "Thanks Jean, but I think I can manage, although it would be great to have a friend there with me. Maybe I can convince Monica to be one of the angels with me,"Gizelle said.

"That might be good for both of you; to prove to each other that you can enjoy time together, outside of the bedroom," the Doctor concluded, smiling at his own suggestion.

Gizelle then remembered that for the last half hour of today's session he had planned on combining introspective discussion with a little acupuncture. He had wanted to pinpoint areas of the body that relieve stress, as he thought that was the reason for her overly erotic tendencies. Dr. Defabre was certain that some sort of stress inside Gizelle was causing her regrettable, sexual outbursts. This was the reason that she sought treatment from him and he found that her predicament challenged his holistic and theoretical knowledge for she was the other snowflake, which he had never observed before.

"So are we still planning on doing some acupuncture?" Gizelle asked excitedly.

"Sure, said the doctor I'll meet you in my study and we'll begin, but first let me file today's discussion."

When the time came, Gizelle unfastened her top, and then lay face down on the massage table in Defabre's study. The pinpoints felt uncomfortable at first, but as the doctor persisted, the needles pricked her nerves, opening a passageway between her outer shell and the woman she was within. She felt a pleasurable sensation as a cooling pulse coursed through her veins and swept over her mind. She began to lose the ability to concentrate on specific plans and felt as though she might never arise from the massage table again. She was lost in her own existence, feeling utterly free, under the pressuring pinpoints that relieved her trepidation. Despite the tranquility of the acupuncture before she knew it, she was writing a check to the doctor, confirming next week's appointment, and was hurriedly, ushered, out the door, as another patient sat waiting quietly in the intimate lobby.

Despite the doctor's impudence at the end of their session together, Gizelle left feeling confident and sure that she would give the Christmas Eve nativity scene a try, but not before asking Monica if she wouldn't mind tagging along. After an endless discussion with her lover that evening, Gizelle persuaded Monica to participate in role play as one of the angels in the nativity scene. "So long as they really need another angel", Monica had said. "I don't want to crash the birth of Christ."

It was determined by both of them to be one of Monica's early Christmas gifts to Gizelle, and the next morning they sat in bed together while Gizelle called Jared to see if there was a need for another angel, besides herself, for the Christmas Eve service.

"Of course there is room for one more." Jared said. "In fact we need another one as we were hoping to have two angels besides my youngest nephew, Dylan, who is going to play Gabriel this year. I think he just likes the sensation of being hoisted above the congregation on a cable wire."

"Okay then, count us in." Gizelle said happily. "When is the first rehearsal?"

"Well it's good to hear you'll be joining us." Jared said. "Oh rehearsal, yup, it'll be next week. We'll meet in the basement of the church and discuss our parts, outfits, and the arrangement of the scene. We'll give everyone some lines to memorize. Don't worry though, this isn't Shakespeare and I think the angels have only a few lines to remember."He said.

"Sounds good," the girls said in unison,

Then Monica blurted out,"well he sounds hot."

They began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Alright, I'll let you two girls get back to it. Have a good day." Jared said, chuckling a little, just before hanging up.

"You too." Gizelle said laughingly as Monica tackled her onto her back causing her to lose the phone to the velvet comforter. As Gizelle and Monica played together, the phone lay in the sheets repeating, "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again, if you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again, if you'd like to..." They spent their energy up in Gizelle's king-size bed that day and didn't leave it until the next morning.

The first day of rehearsal was planned for that Saturday and Monica and Gizelle were twenty minutes late, having stopped to get there hair and nails done.

"Well hello," Jared greeted them as they entered, causing every head in the rehearsal room to turn towards their direction. "Don't these angels look amazing," Jared commented, offering both hands up, making Monica blush.

"Jared, this is Monica, "Gizzelle said plaintively. "Jared Akers, or Joseph for the purpose of the play. It's nice to meet you Monica. I'm glad you two decided to come out and lend your support. The birth of Christ wouldn't be complete without two visually stunning angels." "Oh I dunno about that, but it's certainly nice to meet you," Monica said in a heavy breathed, soft pitched voice. "Where should we sit?" Gizelle asked. "Oh anywhere, for now, is fine, once we get to working on our costumes and parts we'll get more specific about where we need you." The rehearsal went well that day and afterwards, Jared asked Gizelle and Monica, if they would join him for some drinks at Mcswiggins, an Irish pub, down the street from the church. They met him there and talked and drank for a good two hours. Monica was warming up quickly to Jared and Gizelle was curious as to what she found so appealing in him. In fact she got a little jealous at the bar when they shut her out of a conversation they were having and continued to talk by themselves for the last half hour. Although Gizelle didn't admit it, she had fun, turning down every straight guy in the bar that approached her, while the new acquaintances talked the night away.

Later that night Gizelle asked Monica. "What is it that you see in Jared? Don't tell me he is not one of those rare guys that you're attracted too?" "Gizelle are you jealous?" Monica inquired.

"I didn't say that, I just want to know how come you two hit it off so well." She said genuinely.

"Well Gizelle, you have to realize that the thing with guys is, that although there are a lot of attractive men out there that try their best to be physically appealing; there are only so many attractive men that are worth getting to know, you know, like there are only so many that are trustworthy and kind enough for me to take an interest in. Don't worry sexy, I still love you and we are on another level, but Jared's one of those hot, nice guys, which makes him even more attractive. Besides we share some of the same interests, including, you?"

"What?" Gizelle said in astonishment.

"What do you mean by that? What's been running through your head? What has the church done with my beautiful angel, have they corrupted you?"

"Very funny Gizelle and no, they have done the opposite, look, just keep an open mind, and I'll work it out?" Monica snickered mischievously.

"Work what out?" Gizelle asked.

"Oh nothing...It's the holidays remember, a time when miracles are bound to happen." Monica said as they stood on the balcony of the cottage watching the butler, Rigoberto, and some friends he had hired, string Christmas lights up around the old lighthouse.

The next rehearsal was the dress rehearsal and both women were nervous, realizing that they now had to seriously memorize the four lines they had been instructed to learn for the scene. Monica and Gizelle missed their cues at first, but with a little instruction from Jared and some other members of the church, they left feeling confident and thrilled about playing the angels in this year's nativity scene. Once again after rehearsal they went with Jared to Mcswiggin's and stayed there for three hours sipping the last drops out of daylight and predicting hilarious scenarios of how the scene could go horribly wrong.