It’s a Wonderful Sexy Christmas Carol! (L) – Sneak-Peek Ignite Premium Story

(Inspired by Marriage Heat, Charles Dickens and Philip Van Doren Stern)

 

Part One

It was Christmas Eve.  I was bummed that the kids weren’t home yet. The house was not decorated, and Tom and I were on each other’s nerves. This was shaping up to be an awful Christmas.

To top it off, Tom and I got in a huge fight on the way home from a party that neither of us wanted to attend. The details of the argument are not important. Suffice to say that I was completely right and he was totally wrong. So the last thing he was getting from me for Christmas was an apology.

I stormed into the house, went straight to the bedroom, and slammed and locked the door.

“I wish we had never met!” I screamed. I put on my granny gown and my old pink bathrobe and climbed into bed and turned on the TV.

I heard Tom stomp up the stairs to sleep in the guest room.

About 2 am, tired of the rota of worn-out Christmas movies, I fell into a fitful sleep.

I was awakened by a cold draft. Had I left a window open? Not possible. It was snowing outside. But the curtains in our bedroom were billowing, and the temperature seemed to have dropped by 20 degrees. I pulled the blanket up around my chin, when I got a very odd and frightening feeling.

Someone – or something – was in our bedroom.
I saw a glimmer of light coming from my dressing table mirror. The light grew bigger, until the image of a girl  in her twenties, in a white wedding gown, was standing at the foot of my bed.
I tried to scream out for Tom, but my voice failed.
“Silence!” the apparition commanded, and pointed a ghostly finger at me. “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. You must do as I command.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, finding my courage. “I was just watching all this on TV. You’re a dream. A very scary dream, but a dream nonetheless.”
I decided to put on a bold face and just wake myself up.
“You are NOT asleep!” the Ghost yelled. “I have been SENT for YOU. Take my hand.”
“No way, Sister.”
“TAKE IT.”
“Nope. I’ve seen the movie. Eight times in fact.”
She plopped down in a dejected heap onto the floor.
“I knew this would happen. I’m a terrible Ghost of Christmas Past. I’m much better as the Max, the Grinch’s dog.”
“I love that dog!” I admitted. I started to feel a bit sorry for her.
“Yep, everybody does. Look, I do a great Max. Would you prefer that?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“Okay, give me a second. I have to change your profile.”
She pulled a cell phone out of her gown. “What are the last four digits of your social?”
“2425.”

“Okay, all good. Be right back.” She crawled back into the mirror. And as she did, suddenly there was Max, reindeer horns tied to his head with string, tail wagging. He put his paws up on the bed, and I just couldn’t resist him.

“You’re so cute.” Against my better judgment, I reached out and scratched behind his ears. “Good dog.”

Ooops.

 

Part Two

In an instant I was transported into the back seat of a car. It was uncomfortably warm. The windows were steamed, and I couldn’t tell where I was.  But it all seemed familiar, though not in a good way.

Then I recognized the setting. I was at the lake in the town where I had grown up, at a frequented make-out spot. Jake Marley, the quarterback of the high school football team, was all over me. We had been kissing so long that my lips were numb. My sweater was off, and my skirt was up around my waist.

“Come on, Annie. Stop being such a tease. You know you want it.”

I did want it, sort of, but not from Jake Marley. And not like this, in the back seat of a car.

“Jake. No.  I want to wait until I’m married.” I tried to push him off me.

“Married? Are you kidding me?” He tried to push my panties aside.

Big mistake.

I jerked my knee up into his crotch as hard as I could. I grabbed my sweater, opened the car door and started running.

He was chasing me, but in his condition he wasn’t about to catch the anchor of the girl’s 400 meter relay team. The last I saw, he had tripped and fallen in some mud, and Max was barking at him.

“You prick-tease!” I heard him yell. “I’m gonna leave your ass out here. And your stupid dog too. Walk home! See if I care!” His tires sprayed gravel as he peeled out.

What a jerk! If I could only find a nice boy.

I was safe, temporarily. Then I realized Max and I were alone.  “Come on boy. Goooood dog.” He ran ahead of me and I followed.

I began to hear voices. Were they singing? A faint light shone up ahead of me; a campfire, maybe. I walked toward it. Beside the fire sat a child in a Girl Scout uniform, toasting a marshmallow and drinking what looked like a glass of white wine.

“Care for a s’more?” the girl asked.

“No thanks.”

“Glass of Pinot Grigio?”

“Since when do the Girl Scouts take wine on camping trips?” I asked.

“A lot has changed since you were a Girl Scout. Besides, I only look like I’m 9. I’m actually 175 years old.”

“You look great for 175.” Maybe I could flatter my way out of this.

“Thanks. But I’m not here to sell you skin care products. I’m here to help.  Follow me.”

She lead Max and me to a cabin in the woods beside a lake.

“This was our old cabin,” I told the Girl Scout. But she was nowhere to be seen. Max was gone too.  I was standing alone, wearing the pink bathrobe that Tom hates.

Two small children were fishing from the dock. They looked just like our children, Charlie and Sadie, when they were 9 and 5. The girl spoke.

“Look Mommie, Charlie caught a fish!”

From behind me I felt the embrace of strong, familiar arms. A cup of coffee appeared before me and a kiss was planted on the back of my neck. It was Tom.

“I made you another cup of coffee. Figured you could use it. We didn’t get much sleep last night, did we?” His smile melted me.

“Where are we? I mean, when are we?”

“What are you talking about, babe?” Tom patted my bottom as he passed me to walk down to the dock.

“Let’s go, guys! We promised Mom some break time.” He smiled at me over his shoulder. “See you in a couple of hours.”

I watched my family walk down the leaf covered road. They were laughing and talking about the fish. I waved until they disappeared around a bend into a sudden fog.

I turned to walk back to the porch, overlooking the cove. It was so beautiful here. How could we have ever sold this place? We stopped coming here when the kids got older. How foolish we were.

I sat down in an old chair and pulled a hand made quilt up over me. A nap would be so nice. I closed my eyes and thought about Tom making love to me the night before, while our two precious angels were asleep in their bunk beds in the loft above us.

“Shhhhh,” Tom whispered. “Orgasmic cries are not the best way to wake up sleeping kids.”

How I adored this man, I thought, as he moved up from beneath the blanket and entered me, probably for the thousandth time. So why did this one feel so different? After we made love, I fell asleep in his arms.

 

Part Three

When I woke up, I wasn’t in a chair or a bed. I was walking down a city street with a vaguely familiar woman, elegantly dressed, around 70 years old. We entered a charming restaurant, sat down and ordered a two glasses of wine.

“Look at all you have accomplished,” she said. “Your own magazine. A clothing label. Your own brand of diet Vodka. A penthouse apartment in the city. Your choice of sophisticated, wealthy men.”

It was my mother. Of course. She had warned me about Tom. Got to hand it to her. She was spot on.

“The divorce was hard on everyone,” she said. “But you came out the winner.”

Divorce? Am I divorced?  I felt for my wedding ring. It was missing.

“Look, forget the affairs. Affairs happen to busy successful people. It was a symptom. He hurt you. You hurt him. Truth is Tom just wasn’t right for you. He was holding you back.”

“Speaking of Tom, here he comes. Don’t look! He is with someone. Oh my God, she’s a TEENAGER. Chill out. Remember, living well is the best revenge.”

“Hello Eve, hello Anne.” He bent down and brushed my cheek with his lips, a social kiss.  And yet I felt my chest flutter. Why does he still do that to me?

“I had no idea you knew about this place. Isn’t it cozy?”

What? You brought me here 15 years ago, I thought.

“The kids will be home in a day or two. Sadie is spending Christmas with you, right?”

“With me? Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting …all this. I’m a bit…surprised.”

Mom jumped in. “Tom, dear, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“I’m sorry, Eve, this is Violet. Vi, this is Anne, my ex-wife. And her mom, Mrs. Potter.”

“Do you have a last name, child? Or are you one of those super-models who doesn’t really need one?”

“It’s Bick. Violet Bick,” the young woman responded, still trying to be pleasant. She held out her hand. Mom ignored it.

I let my mother continue to annoy Tom. She had never forgiven him. Neither had I. But you had to admire the man. 55 years old. Handsome. Still fit. Still adorable. I envied him and his child paramour.

Not surprisingly, Tom’s date was stunning. About 30 years old, I’d guess. Blonde hair. Dark eyes. Her cocktail dress hugged her firm, lithe body. She looked like a dancer. Tom’s type.

She offered me her hand.

“Anne, it’s so nice to meet you, finally. Tom speaks so highly of you! I adore your magazine. ‘The Sexy Divorcee.’ So you!”

“I’m sorry, but who in the hell is this?” I asked Tom.

“Anne, for God’s sake, be civil. This is my fiancé, of course. I’m sure Sadie and Charles told you.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “It’s so hard to keep all of Tom’s girlfriends straight. Lovely to meet you, Miss Dick.”

Tom broke the awkward silence. “Well, I hate to rush off, but we have tickets to the ballet.”

The ballet? Tom hates ballet. I thought about warning her, but realized it was no longer my job.

I couldn’t help but notice that she had a large oval diamond engagement ring on her left hand, exactly the same as mine. No wonder mine was missing.

I grabbed her arm. “Did you give her my ring? Why, you cheap…!”

Everyone in the restaurant was looking at us now.

Tom intervened. “Anne, are you drunk? I don’t have your ring! You stopped wearing it ten years ago. You probably gave it to your assistant. The one who calls me every month to ask about your check, Bob Cratchit.”

The supermodel spoke up. “I hate to be the only adult in the room, seeing as how I am so much younger than all of you, but Tom? The Nutcracker? The ballet, not your ex. Can we go please?”

I couldn’t let her have the last insult.

“I’m so sorry, dear. It seems we once had similar tastes in both jewelry and men. A bit small…”

“Okay ladies, that’s it. Nice to see your sense of humor is still intact, Anne. Take care of yourself, alright? And Merry Christmas.”

We watched them walk arm in arm out of the restaurant. I turned to my mom. She was gone. In her place was the Girl Scout.

“Wow, nice place. Waiter, another glass of vino over here, s’il vous plait.”

“You are a nine year old. No one is going to serve you a glass of vino.”

“Okay, fine. What are you? Nearly 70 by now?”

“Don’t remind me. Here. You can have the rest of mine. Say, can I ask you a question. Are we stuck in some kind of confused Christmas movie?”

“That’s up to you, Anne. This is what you wished for. A wonderful life,” the child explained.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“All this must have been what you were thinking about when you fell asleep. How different things would be without Tom in your life?” My eyes went wide and she nodded with a smirk. “Yeah. Every year they pick a couple of former princesses like you who don’t know how good they’ve got it and teach them a lesson about honoring Christmas.” She shrugged a slight shoulder. “It’s one of the better assignments.”

“I just want to go home. If it’s still there.”

“It is. Sort of. But you’re not gonna like what you find,” the child cautioned.

“I want to see Tom. I have to talk to him. It’s not too late to change direction. I can be nicer.”

“But that is not the life you wished for. Look, I’m just doing my job. Come on. My shift is about up.” She headed toward the exit and tossed behind her, “You have the check, by the way.  Kids don’t carry credit cards.”

We walked through the revolving door and into the street. It was snowing hard. The only cab in sight on the dark street drove slowly forward, and the back door opened by itself.

“This is where I say adieu. The rest of this story is too grown up for me. And it’s way past my bedtime.”

She handed me a slip of paper with an address on it.

I ducked into the cab and handed the driver the address. His fingers were as cold as ice. Because of the  hooded sweatshirt he wore, I couldn’t see his face.

“Cold night,” he said. “This blizzard has knocked out the power in half the city.”

I was beginning to dread the next stop. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but are you a human being?”

He laughed. “I think I was, once. Not anymore.”

“So what’s your story?”

“Oh, nothing special. Rich parents. My dad was a doctor. My mom was a writer. Things were awesome for a while. Then they weren’t. They got divorced. I dropped out of college, bummed around. Got into some things I shouldn’t have. I think I died a few years ago from a heroin overdose. Got stuck here somehow.

“Then I saw an ad on Craig’s list for a zombie cab driver. Name’s Ernie. Doncha know me?” He held out a bony hand. I tried a fist bump instead. More sanitary.

“I was afraid you would say that. Drive on, Ernie.”

We arrived at a posh high rise overlooking the park. As we glided to a stop, the doorman opened the door of the cab and offered his hand. The name on his badge was Bert. Of course it was.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bailey. The auxiliary power is on, but just for the security. Your apartment is going to be cold and dark. You can use this candle.” Bert escorted me to the door.

A candle?

“Ugh.” 12 floors. In heels! Come on Anne. You used to do this on a stair stepper three times a week.

Exhausted and gasping for breath, I opened the door into my cold, austere apartment. Glass and chrome, white leather, gray walls. Modern art. So tasteful. No toys. No dog. No stack of half read books piled beside by an old chair. No clutter. No dishes in the sink. No laundry on the closet floor.  The only photos were of me, in black and white, in sterling silver frames.

I walked to the large window and looked out over the dark and silent city. So this was my world.

Someone had decorated an artificial Christmas tree for me. Silver and gold. Everything matched. No tacky homemade ornaments.

I poured myself a brandy and switched on the fire logs. Nothing. I forgot. Power is out. So I grabbed a blanket, kicked off my heels, and curled up on my expensive, uncomfortable couch.

Alone. Some Christmas wish. What a fool I had been. I wanted my life back. But the spirit said it was too late. I sobbed myself to sleep.

 

Part Four

5 am. I awoke alone. Where was I now?

Our bed! Our room! What a crazy dream!

What is today, I asked myself? It’s Christmas!

I jumped up. I was in my long flannel granny gown, the one Tom hates!

Tom! Where is he? It’s not too late?

I tore off the gown, put on my sexiest nightshirt, and ran upstairs into our guest room. Tom was asleep in a big lump. My bear! I jumped on him and began kissing whatever part of him I could get to first.

“Oh, thank God! You’re here! You didn’t leave me! We aren’t divorced!”

What?

“My ring! I’m wearing my ring! That skinny bitch didn’t get it after all!”

“That what?”

“The kids! Where are they?” I jumped up and ran to their rooms.

“They’ll be here by noon,” Tom said, now up and following me groggily. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No, I’ve found it! And my heart, too.” I threw my arms around his neck and covered his face with kisses. “I have some things I need to tell you.”

“First. I’m so sorry about last night. I was wrong. Second, I will never lock you out of our bedroom again. You belong with me. Third, we can fight in the daytime, but before we go to sleep, we say I love you and I forgive you.”

“Fourth, the granny gown and the pink bathrobe are in a trash bag headed to Good Will.”

“I’m down with all that,” Tom said. “What’s five?”

“Five is no more Christmas wishes,” I announced, much to Toms puzzlement.

“Huh?”

“It sounds completely nuts, I know, but I had the craziest dream last night,” I explained. “There were these three ghosts, a bossy chick who does a great Max the Grinch dog, a Girl Scout with a drinking problem, my mother, and a zombie cab driver, and you just have to believe me, they grant you wishes you wish you had never made, and next thing you know you’re trapped on the 24-7 Hallmark Christmas channel.

“But they showed me how wrong I was and how much I adore you!”

“Whoa, Babe, you gotta quit watching late night TV! It’s seeping into your brain. But I like the results!”

“Our kids will be here in a few hours. Let’s jump in the shower and give each other a Christmas present we will never tire of,” I suggested.

“But no more Christmas wishes?” Tom asked.

Well, one, maybe.

I closed my eyes and made another wish.

“What did you wish for?” Tom asked.

“I can’t tell you, it might not come true.”

The next thing we knew, the  doorbell rang. Since when does Santa come to the front door?

I went to the door and opened it, but no one was there. Then a tiny voice said, “Hey! Down here, lady.” I looked down and saw a little elf-man, about a foot tall, dressed in a tuxedo.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“The agency sent me,” the elf explained. He checked his tiny cell phone.  “Says here you ordered a 9-inch pianist. Well here I am. Beats heck out of sitting on a shelf spying on children for a month.”

“Please come in. I hope you know some Christmas songs?”

“Not a problem!”

 

Merry Christmas, MH! And God bless us, every one!

Click on a heart to thank the author of this story!

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8 replies
  1. Faith says:

    From the announcement of premium stories, I have been excited. And here is the first story! Very well written; I enjoyed reading this! From the dreams to the conclusion, loved it! Great!

    Merry Christmas!

  2. hornyGG says:

    NaughtyWife58,
    I simply loved this! I love your modern day romantic take on " The Christmas Carol ". It was very entertaining and very well written.
    Is there going to be more parts? I am very interested to know what happened later. 😁😉
    God bless and have a very happy New year. Stay Horny!

  3. HeSaid-SheSaid says:

    I laughed out loud when I read, "The details of the argument are not important. Suffice to say that I was completely right and he was totally wrong." Should be an entertaining story I thought. Thanks.

    • Cuddles says:

      HeSaid-SheSaid
      I read the story first time just now and did the same as you 😂

      An entertaining story, thanks.

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