Of Mistletoe and Holly

I had loved a woman. Loved her and lost her. Loss doesn't sit well on my soul, so I did what I do best. I fled the scene of agonizing memories in the hope that relief would follow. Thus, I found myself on a lonely road at the crack of midnight, fighting to keep my jeep on an icy road.

Cold wind swirled across the lonely asphalt, spinning jets of fine-chipped slush. The sharp bite of ice on metal struck a discordant cadence as shards nipped at the jeep. The sound was oddly at variance with the 'swick-thump' of windshield wipers beating out a forlorn tempo. It was better than music and all I could bear to hear. The relationship I had nurtured for five wonderful years had suddenly and inexplicably shattered with the words, "I don't love you anymore." My ears still rang with the desolation of those syllables.

I was driving solo toward what I hoped would be a cozy cabin in an isolated locale, the better to lick my wounds in private. Alone by choice on this Christmas Eve, I wanted nothing more than to fling myself into whiskey and forgetfulness. My intent was to be as far removed from the false cheer of the holiday season as I could reasonable get on two bills and a tank of gas. Fortunately, I had a friend with a cabin and a magnanimous spirit. He slapped me on the back and passed the key as he spoke his words of wisdom, "Time heals all wounds, Roland." And then, "She was a bitch, anyway. You just couldn't see it."

Indeed.

Headlights picked out the bareness of the surrounding landscape, barely illumined in the swirling turbulence; a hollow, empty nothingness bearing a strange resemblance to the state of my heart. I wasn't angry. I wasn't bitter. I sure as hell wasn't in denial. I merely existed in a vacuum created when she walked out the door and I was left with merely me.

I touched a piece of mistletoe bound with string left hanging on the rearview mirror. She had placed it there just days before. Laughingly, she told me I'd have many kisses in the days to come, plus wealth, happiness, and protection, too. I told her I didn't need a clump of greenery when I had her. She'd given me a strange look and spoke no more until we got home. She sat in the drive and told me how unhappy she was, that she was moving out and moving on. She told me she didn't love me anymore, had maybe never loved me. She was ready for a new life with a new someone. Within the hour, she was packed and gone.

"Why didn't she tell me sooner that she was unhappy?" I muttered crazily to the hanging leaves and berries. "I would have done anything to keep her. I would do anything now to have her here. I feel so empty, so alone. I don't want to be alone, dammit!" I touched the leaves again with wistful, angry fingers.

It wasn't fair. I didn't deserve this. I'd given my all to love, and love had let me down. I stared bitterly ahead, my emotions in tatters. Wild, senseless thoughts invaded my mind. I would track her down, get on my knees and beg her to come back. I would whip his ass, whoever he was. I would find the bitch and destroy her. I would make her love me again.

"Enough!" I slammed my hand on the steering wheel in frustration. "Get a grip, Roland. Face it, she's gone and she's not coming back. And you couldn't hurt her, even if you wanted to, you dumb-ass."

My eyes caught sight of the mistletoe swinging gently. I touched it again, almost reverently, as I whispered. "She wasn't the One, was she?" I felt so utterly small and insignificant, so hesitant and helpless. It was like being a little boy again, wishing and waiting for something special on Christmas, not knowing if Santa had heard me or not.

A wave of longing washed over me, strong and violent. I had stopped believing in Santa a long time ago, but at that moment it didn't matter. I didn't believe in myself either. I glanced again at the small bunch of greenery. "If there is a Santa Claus, please send me someone. Let her be the one, the perfect one for me. I don't ever want to feel this lonely again."

Those painful ruminations almost caused me to miss the hog-trail that served as a driveway. I just barely caught sight of the sign as it emerged through the frosty mist. Swerving to the right at the last minute, I missed a tree and sideswiped a bush, flattening half of it in the process. Glancing in the rearview mirror to access the damage, I saw a shape hovering beside it. Feminine curves swelled and quivered, then disappeared in a film of icy slurry.

Passing my hand over my eyes, I shook the vision away. Loss of sleep and appetite can cause a man to see things that aren't there and miss things that are. I concentrated on the task at hand, navigating the twists and turns of a narrow gravel drive in an ice storm. It suddenly widened and I wheeled my jeep into the yard.

My friend's cabin had the requisite seclusion, well off the road and sheltered by trees. It was a long, low ranch with a full porch across the front, twin gabled windows, and a massive rock chimney at one end. With any luck, I'd soon be sitting in an easy chair before a fire with a drink in my hand. I had two handles of Bird Dog and a fifth of Jack stashed in my luggage. I also had some prime homegrown. I fully intended on doing justice to them all.

I slogged to the door of the cabin, bent and buffeted by the wind and ice. Setting my cases on the porch, I rummaged in my pocket for the key. I drew it out, fumbling with cold fingers and dropping it on the wooden porch floor.

"Shit!" I muttered, struggling to grasp the frozen metal with stiffened appendages. They had no feeling in them. There was no picking the damn thing up. Raking the key into my other hand, I straightened, pushed the hair out of my eyes, and almost dropped it again. To my right, floating just outside my reach, was the frosty apparition that had hovered near the bush I had flattened.

It was a feminine form, to be sure, with lush curves and long limbs and thick flowing hair. I could see every part of her, naked and lovely to behold. Her eyes were large and wide apart, staring at me in wonder. A soft parting of her lips welcomed me with a smile. She reached a graceful hand toward me. The effort caused her breasts to quiver and shimmer in heavy loveliness, the nipples sharp and tight. Sweet hips flared gently, then faded into legs that went on forever. My gaze settled between the secret valley of her thighs and I stared at her pussy. I couldn't help myself. The precious cleft glistened like the rest of her- shades of silver, white and palest azure. The colors shifted and shimmered along with the frost-tinged particles making up her unnatural body.

I could see through her, and yet I couldn't. What was she? A spirit? A specter? A manifestation from the past? Did it matter? Should I care? I reflected on my lost lover and what was forever gone from my life. I thought of empty days and lonely nights stretching out before me. I considered the kisses I would never have, pleasures no longer experienced, and desires forever denied. "Like hell," I thought savagely. "She left me; I didn't leave her."

Shaking the cobwebs from my mind, I reached for the apparition, intending to take her hand. Our fingers touched, a bare caress. A touch so cold, it felt like fire. The sensation was immediate and electrifying. Flames of frost licked up my arm and spread across my chest. It burned and scorched with pale blue fire; it threatened to encompass my entire body. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. I inhaled deep, painful gulps of the coldest air. It was not enough. My mind began to grow hazy and I felt myself fall. I vaguely heard a gasp as everything blacked out and I went down.

I awoke to the sound of coyotes howling in the distance. I was shaking from the cold. How long I had been out, I didn't know. The moon glowed high and bright in the indigo sky and revealed what I feared most. I was alone again. I stayed on my back for a few minutes, letting my mind clear and my body recover. I tried to rise. I failed, then tried again.

Stumbling to my feet, I looked around. There was no sign of my ice maiden. Probably a good thing. I wasn't sure if I'd survive another encounter. In confusion, I felt something in my hand. A key. I had clutched it fervently as I fell. Relief flooded through me. I hadn't lost my entry into shelter and warmth. I quickly opened the door.

Flipping on the light switch, I inspected the cabin. It was a little more rustic than I had expected, but comfortably furnished in overstuffed sofas and heavy wooden furniture. I dropped my cases in the spare bedroom and hurried back to the living area, intent on inspecting the huge fireplace dominating the room. I was so ready for the warmth of a roaring fire. My friend, good man that he is, had stocked the nearby bin with all of the requirements. I had a healthy blaze going in no time. In my half-frozen state, it was pure bliss.

Having thawed to a reasonable temperature, I set about taking care of the necessities. A bottle of Bird Dog whiskey in one hand and a smoke in the other, I settled into a big recliner. Alternating between draughts from the bottle and pulls of homegrown, I was well on my way to mindless nirvana. No women of flesh or ice to tempt me there.

The fire was blazing heartily, the flames licking along the logs with joyous abandon. The crackle pop of the logs, the smell of wood smoke mixed with weed, the warmth, the booze... I felt relaxed for the first time since she said goodbye. This was it. The sweet escape I had been needing.

Gazing sleepily at the burning coals, I began to notice something strange. The smoke, as it swirled up and around the firebox, had begun to take on the shape of a woman. Tiny sparks coalesced along with smoke and ash to form a face. Beautiful and frightening, it was the image of the icy specter that had almost been my end. I stared in horror.

Her lips moved. "Roland." My name was a crackling hiss as sparks flew out and landed on my jeans. I jumped up and backed away, now wide awake and not sleepy at all.

"Who... who are you?" I demanded shakily. I tossed the weed in the fireplace and set the whiskey down with a thump. I had no idea what was going on. I could be hallucinating from the combination of fatigue, pot, and alcohol on an empty stomach, or I might even be tottering on the brink of derangement. I decided to be careful, in any case.

"Roland." The sharp hiss called me again with another hail of sparks and crackles. The flames flared higher. Smoke and ash flowed out of the fireplace and formed a complete woman.

To say I wasn't frightened would be a damned lie. But fear has a weird way with me. I get angry, real angry. I grabbed the bottle of Bird Dog and brandished it with menace. It was ludicrous, I know. Looking back, I don't know what I thought I was going to do with it. Douse her? Hell, that would probably have made it worse. Still, it was the only weapon at hand. "Don't come any closer."

A soft, sibilant laugh shimmied her body, causing exquisite ripples in all the right places. She ignored my threat and swirled closer. The scent of thick, acrid smoke, tinged with pine and oak, wrapped around me and sent my senses reeling.

I could see her so much better in the lighted cabin. Her ripe body was aflame with reds, oranges, and brilliant yellow, tossed about with misty gray and hazy black. Long. thick hair of smoky darkness fell below her waist and curled in ember waves. I cast an appreciative glance at her glowing breasts and glimmering pussy. She was magnificent and frightening and I instantly wanted to fuck her.

In spite of my anger and fear, my cock had swollen to the size of a juggernaut and it was reporting for duty. But if the mere touch from a woman of ice could knock a man unconscious, what would happen in the grasp of one made of flame?

It was as though she read my mind. "I won't hurt you." Tiny sparks flew from her lips and landed all around me. I watched in fatal fascination as a few of them smoldered on the floor.

"Right," I nodded, thinking I might manage to survive with my dick intact if I could make it out the door and to my jeep. "You won't hurt me, but you knocked me out cold earlier. Pun intended. And now it seems you mean to burn my pecker off. I don't know what world you come from, darling, but around here that's a hurt of the most excruciating kind."

Her eyes flashed a dazzling orange and she sidled a little closer. "Don't be ridiculous, Roland."

"That's another thing. How do you know my name? Did my ex send you? Did she conjure you up from some deep, dark demented place? I mean, some of my friends said she was a bitch and some said she was a witch. A few even called her a bitchy witch, though I never believed it." It's true. They had and I didn't, but I was starting to believe them now.

"You, Roland," she whispered gently, sparking and sizzling like a lighted firecracker. "You called and I came. Don't you remember? You asked the good Saint Nicholas for love. Here I am."

She lightly touched my neck with her long, elegant fingers. White-hot heat speared my neck to my belly. The odor of singed flesh assailed my nostrils. My cock jerked in response and my balls almost exploded from the ignition. My knees turned to jelly. Almost collapsing again, I grabbed the chair and held on with a death grip, letting the liquor go with a thud and a splatter. I meant to stay upright this time, even if it killed me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shook my head wildly. "I didn't call anyone, anytime, anywhere. I don't even believe in the Santa bullshit. It's a fairy tale for kids."

"Not just for children, my love. And it doesn't matter if you believe in Santa Claus. He believes in you," the vision of fire and loveliness assured me.

Her fingers grazed the waistband of my jeans. The denim crackled and smoked and turned to ash. I watched in amazement while she demolished the rest of the fabric with a few bold tugs. My jeans became cinders at my feet. I glanced down at my naked dick. Yep, it was still there, swollen and throbbing.

I was a little unsteady on my feet as I released the chair and stepped toward her. "Who are you? What are you? And what are you going to do with me?"

She didn't reply, just touched my arm. I cried out as my cock exploded, jizz spewing everywhere like a rogue fountain. I tumbled into the chair, clutching my bicep. It burned like a son of a bitch and I lost all feeling in my legs.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I grabbed the armrests and tried to struggle out. I stopped when I thought she would touch me again. Another tap like that, and I might go up in flames.

"I told you. I'm here to love you. Relax."

That was easy for her to say. She wasn't the one sitting in a chair with an exposed willie, waiting certain disfigurement by fire or ice.

"I'll be with you always, Roland. You'll never be alone again. I promise. I'm the gift you asked for and I'm yours forever."

She slipped to her knees and bent her head toward my cock. I could feel the heat roiling off of her tongue six inches away. The traitorous snake sprang to life again in spite of certain torching.

"Look," I said, beginning to shake and sweat like a druggie in rehab. "Can't we do this another way? I mean, maybe I did call you, uh, somehow. And maybe you did, uh, hear me or something. But, just between us, I kinda like my dick and would like to keep it, if you don't mind."

The fiery apparition appeared to consider my plea. She slowly nodded, raining tiny sparks on my tender flesh. "I can take other forms, if you wish."

I did wish, fervently. Nodding in agreement, I scooted further into the chair and tried to regain composure. "Yeah, something less... painful would be great."

With a faint hiss, she collapsed in a wisp of smoke, leaving a glowing pile of ash between my feet. I sat in the recliner, waiting with bated breath. What form would she take on next?

Sober as a judge, too scared to imbibe, I remained in the big chair until morning. I'd waited all night and nothing had materialized. Now, I was exhausted, hungry, and irritated. I was beginning to think that I'd imagined it all. I could even explain the burns on my neck and my arm. I could have injured myself trying to stoke the fire. I was too damned zombied by the booze and weed to know what the hell I was doing. And what the fuck was wrong with me, a grown assed man, thinking Santa Claus had heard me and granted my wish?

Feeling like an idiot for sitting sober all night in a chair waiting for a fantasy, when I could have been halfway to a hangover, I lurched to the bathroom and the comfort of a hot shower. The water was as scalding and stinging as I could make it. I stood under the stream with arms folded, letting the warmth work its magic on my sore, tense muscles.

It took a minute for my dead brain to reanimate and realize that something was happening. The spray had taken on the form of my mystery woman. She was kneeling before me, her hot watery hands stroking my cock and bringing it to life. I groaned and clutched the shower stall, steadying myself for the assault. Her hands slipped up and down, a hot gliding goodness, sending my senses awhirl. I could feel the tightening of my balls, the deep clinching of my belly. I was coming. I was coming. I was...The sensation changed and I looked down in surprise. Her head began to rhythmically bob.

"Oh shit," I groaned aloud. She had taken me in her mouth.

How do I describe it? Dear gods! There can be no words to aptly express what it felt like for her warm mouth to suckle my dick. Imagine sticking your cock into a small whirlpool and that whirlpool was so tight, so hot, and so incredibly wet. The sucking, pulling, drawing sensation had my body throbbing with a fevered pulse. I could feel her hands, her hot slick hands, clutching my ass and pulling me to her. She kneaded my butt cheeks, then slid a long slim finger into my asshole. It glided it, no pain and all gain, filling the empty space with insane pleasure. I exploded into a hailstorm of cum, grabbing the shower rod for support and clinging on for dear life.

I gasped and gazed through bleary eyes as she slithered to her feet. "Was that better? Did I please you?"

It took all the effort I could muster to weakly nod. I could see the smile on her face. The water had coalesced into the requisite curves and valleys of her womanly form. She glistened and glimmered with hues of palest aqua, turquoise, and blue. I touched her nipple and a lone droplet adorned my fingertip. I placed it on my tongue. It was sweet, like honey.

In response, she slithered closer, wrapping her smooth arms around my neck and pulling my head toward her. I opened my mouth for her kiss. Her tongue was a gush of pure pleasure, a drenching, drowning engulfment. I submerged myself in her sensual bath, releasing the shower rod and grasping her firmly. To my surprise, she had more mass than I'd expected. She felt like a real woman, albeit a very wet and slippery one.

My tongue dove into her mouth, tasting the sweetness and letting a bit of her dribble down my throat. It was intoxicating, so much better than whiskey or smoke. I pulled the slippery tresses of her hair to gain better access to her mouth, her throat, her lovely breasts. I buried my head between the luscious mounds and almost drowned. It was a celestial submersion.

Her body shifted and I gasped, feeling a sudden warm tightening on my renewed erection. She had wriggled up and slipped her pussy onto me. Her long legs flowed around my waist. I leaned into the wall, pinning her against it, as I struggled to ram and jam my way to another orgasm. It wasn't easy. Her hole was a taut, wet suction, pulling the very essence from my being. Each stroke was an act of divine redemption, simultaneously freeing and shackling my soul.