Spirit, Yet to Come

Chapter One

This night was his moment of truth each year. His body, close to solidifying now, trembled a bit at his daunting task at hand. Each year on Christmas Eve as families slept with the expectations of the most joyous day of the year, he was charged with becoming the physical representation of death. His work was to show one chosen soul the empty future their current life would grant them. The visions he created were persuasions for change, to seek out their potential to diligently transform others lives. His visit was a gift. It was his contribution to the betterment of the world.

A chill went down his back as he stood but a foot away watching her, his current assignment. She gave a hasty yank to pull aside one panel of the rich rose-colored window covering. He cringed in anticipation of the rod and curtains falling to the wooden floor, while she continued on incognizant of the possibility to the couch. Throwing her body down haphazardly, her head rolled toward the small portion of window revealing to her the outside world. Following her gaze, he looked out at the stunning array of elaborately decorated homes. A stray tear weaved its way over her cheek glimmering with the light of only the TV. Her own living room remained barren of Christmas lights even on December twenty-fourth.

He had chosen to send away the other two spirits who were to visit her tonight, claiming there was no need for them. Janie's problem was not that she had forgotten her past. To the contrary, the memories of being made fun of as a poor man's child spurred her on to create the false persona she hid behind today. It was her past that had gotten her here. He also felt reminding her of her present, which held no true happiness, would only further her depression, her descent into apathy. The three spirits had agreed there could be nothing to gain from revisiting either time period. Only the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come could reveal to her how her current state of living could ruin her remaining days. Only what he had to show her could possibly persuade her to change her ways. Yet, the truth behind his suggestion that the Ghost of Christmases Past and the Ghost of Christmas Present leave had more to do with his desire to have her all to himself all for the time he had.

Prior to his one night gig, he would roam the earth unseen until a soul called to him. It would be that one person he would follow similar to a guardian angel. Only he didn't guard them or even intervene, he just observed their actions. Learning about his charge would be his only task for the remainder of the year up until Christmas Eve.

Over the decades he had performed this job, most of his subjects had been barely worth anyone's time. They were self-absorbed, driven only by their own gratifications, without an empathetic dedication to the welfare of mankind. Their actions were too often hard to watch being distasteful or upsetting. These undeserving souls had been granted three visits on Christmas Eve like three gifts that could lead to reformation and therefore redemption. His existence was proof that the Great Creator wept for the loss of any of his children. All of this boiled down to one night, with a star shining brightly down on the earth and carols of glad tidings whispered by the wind, one chance to change or eventually die having left nothing of value to this world.

Yet, this year, this charge, had been different. Having conferred throughout the year with the other two assigned spirits charged with reviewing her past and understanding her present, he had seen glimpses of her two possible futures. She had within her the potential to do great things as all of the others before her. Only, her self-indulgence came not from a desire to gain money or some all-consuming need for power, but from trying to prove to society she was someone worthy of its approval. Over the years, she had more than obtained her original goal, but she still lacked the self-worth that would ease her struggles. Therefore, she spent her days still climbing the ladder of success without the true relationships she secretly longed for. With her reputation as her only focus and false friends with their own selfish ambitions, her true self had eluded her.

She was a damaged soul who had tried desperately to change her life against all the unbearable odds. Only, in her desperation for change, she had compromised who she was. She had become an over-worked success who found that envy did not fulfill her or keep her warm at night.

The painful memories of childhood never allowed her to let her guard down in order to care for others or to be cared for. At home, when she was completely alone, he had seen her true sorrow, and she had broken his ethereal heart. She secretly hated the wealthy woman she had become as much as the destitute girl she had left behind.

With her he had become negligent somehow this year. He had gotten too close, too often and even inappropriately at times. He had spent days upon days distracted by her instead of studying her. Even on her overpriced couch in worn-out jeans, her contradictions of person proved enticing. Physical longings had been a continuous problem for him given he was of the spirit world. Being among the living, but not being of them had been torture for the first time since he had died over four hundred years ago.

There were many times he had lingered too long in respects to her privacy. There were lines of decency not to be crossed even in the spirit world, though he knew of many ghosts who crossed them. Because of his calling, he had always held himself to the highest of standards. Then came the night when she had started to remove her clothing, and he neglected to remove himself. Just that momentary glimpse of her breast had made him loose his sense of place, and he had touched her. At first her shrieks in response to his cold, invisible touches had rallied him to his senses. Unfortunately or fortunately, he was still unsure of which, she had stopped being shocked at his presence. He wondered what price he would have to pay come tomorrow morning for overstepping his bounds and lusting after his charge.

He appeared as usual, cloaked in the darkest of black like the angel of death. His said purpose was to shock or scare someone into making the necessary changes mankind needed from them. The feeling of his semi-earthly feet hitting the floor always sent uncomfortable sensations similar to one's feet having fallen asleep through him. Only, this year as he stood before her body splayed upon the couch there were the knots throughout his abdomen and other sensations just below. That part of his anatomy he had thought dead long ago. Now as he braced for her reaction to his physical manifestation, he glanced down to see if it was lifting up his robe.

He used every ounce of his energy to just restrain his hands from touching the few inches of bare skin revealed by the bunching up of her t-shirt. Her body jumped when he became solid before her. Having been momentarily preoccupied, he jumped as well.

*

Chapter 2

She laid still peering up at him hoping if she looked long enough he would disappear in the same way he had appeared. It had only taken seconds before the blurring colors descending like fog converged into a solid form under the shroud of black cloth. A scream bubbled within her, but no sound emanated forth. Her body was lifeless overshadowed by the dark figure. Initially, she had felt a jolt through each of her limbs, and then they became weighted. Keeping her eyes on the figure, veiled like the specter of death, she concentrated on the familiar voice of Clarence the Angel from It's A Wonderful Life on TV. The blinks of light from the television shimmered about the fabric, making it appear as if the figure within was trembling. When the specter didn't disappear, but just stood there silent and still, she fought with herself about weather to scream or try to run.

He pointed and moved slowly toward the window. Her eyes had followed him with furrowed brows when he hadn't glided like she would have imagined him to. She scoffed to herself that even her hallucination didn't act appropriately. Then, he reached out an arm towards her, and again pointed with his other out the window. Janie closed her eyes and shook her head in a last ditch effort to clear the apparition away. When her eyes opened again, he was still there. A sickness rolled in her stomach as he gestured more aggressively toward the window. On the loneliest night of the entire year, she was either hallucinating the angel of death or death had truly come for her. A flood of tears came with a sorrow so profound she closed her eyes to the shrouded figure again.

Sensing movement, she saw him approaching her through the haziness of her tear-covered lashes. When he finally knelt on the floor so close to her body that she could feel the heat of him, he brushed away the trail of tears on her cheek with a human hand. Her breath caught with the life-like, gentle caress that radiated tiny shocks to her flesh. His hand rubbed over her cheek lovingly, and she instantaneously missed the touch the moment it was gone.

Without warning, he laid his hooded head on her stomach. Her heart beat wildly as a necessary gasp for air burned her lungs. Her whole body strained wanting the contact of the image she feared. He wrapped his arms around her pulling her midsection to him hard enough that she thought momentarily he might hurt her. The physical ramifications of his touch stopped the mental battle of real verses unreal as she gave into the sensations he created within her. For so long she had yearned to be touched like this that it didn't even matter that death himself might be the one doing it. Then her hands landed on his shoulders, and his lungs stopped pushing repeatedly against hers. All she could fell was his trembling. Indecision haloed with fear left her overwhelmed body quivering in tandem.

She remained braced against him. The figure lifted his head. She didn't stop him when he moved his cloaked face inches above her breasts before placing his lips upon hers. He pushed into the kiss swiping his tongue inside her mouth. Instead of recoiling at the concrete evidence of the humanness of the stranger, her whole body warmed. When she started to kiss him back, she didn't even care that his hood had bunched up over her eyes like a blindfold. He smelled like forest and water; he felt real and virile. Her hands went around his neck, and she pulled her body harshly up against his. Then, just as quickly she let go and pushed him away.

Behind her on the TV that man ran through the black and white streets of Bedford Falls as he did each year yelling his love for the old Savings and Loan. She finally sat up to confront the kneeling man before her.

"What do you want? Who are you? What are you? You appeared from out of nothing, and yet you feel human under that black shroud. You kissed me!" She shook from stopping herself from yelling anything further.

In response he hung his cloaked head and shook it back and forth slightly.

"I deserve some words here!"

"Pardon me," he said in a hoarse voice. "Please forgive my inappropriate behavior. I am the Spirit of the Christmases that are yet to come. I come not to bring you death. I came to show you what the future could be if you continue on in the manner to which you have become accustomed."

"Spirit...of Christmas? Right! You mean like the Dickens thing. I am losing it! So why didn't the other two, you know past and present, visit me first? Oh yeah, and what about that Marley guy? I didn't even know him." She paused as the idiocracy of her own words registered. "What is going on here? What kind of trick are you trying to pull?" She scooted away from him to the arm of the couch. Sliding her hand to the end table without moving any other part of her, she produced a gun from the drawer where she hid it. "You have to be kidding me. I can't even be left alone on Christmas Eve?"

When she readied the gun, he disappeared again. As she jumped off the couch, the gun hit the coffee table and was knocked from her hand to the floor. Then, she collapsed to the floor as well. Somehow the loss of her crazy hallucination devastated her.

"Even a figment of my imagination doesn't want to be with me."

"I am sorry Janie. I have messed things up." She looked up in the direction of the words but still saw nothing. "I get to use my old body once a year to complete my mission. You were not supposed to touch me. No, I was not supposed to touch you. It is my fault. I should never have touched you. I have been following you for so long that... even though I thought after four hundred years of being dead that I... I should have... I mean I never have before..."

"You have never...what?" The tears started to flow again fueling the beginnings of a headache.

"I have never before touched one of my charges. I have been watching you for most of this year. Somehow over that period of time I fell in love with you. Pardon my honesty, it is easy to tell the truth when my time here is limited to only a few more hours. I didn't even know it was possible to feel as I do in the state I am in. I am sorry for all of the times this year that my ghost invaded your privacy and touched you. I have never done that before either, I swear it. I swear I won't hurt you..." He materialized again at the edge of her couch having left a distance between them.

"It was you? You are the ghost in this apartment. I had wondered if I had finally gone crazy when I felt your cold touches. No, this can't be..." she stopped speaking and blinked her eyes twice before they narrowed.

"You are not crazy. I touched you several times this year. I couldn't help myself. The first time I didn't leave the room when I should have and you took off your clothes for a shower, I touched your breast. You screamed. Only, you eventually stopped screaming when I touched you. The last time I touched you was two nights ago. You were wearing only that purple robe of yours, and I touched your face and then your neck before you fell asleep."

She didn't say anything this time. How he could know all of that was the question occupying her mind. Her moments of insanity were being told to her by a hallucination. She had been so desperately alone she had imagined her own intimate ghost who provided her with phantom caresses. She walked to him and touched his hood. When she made contact with physical matter, her hands froze. He groaned under her fingers.

She gave into her insanity because it sure beat reality and confessed, "I had come to welcome your touches, even if I thought I might just be imagining them. I have for so long wanted to be touched and loved that way."

When she moved her body up against his again, the night seemed to stop except for the voice of the small girl from Miracle on 34th Street talking about not believing in Santa. Time was being marked by the only true illumination in the room. He wrapped his arms around her rubbing them down her back, quickly over the soft roll of her ass, around to her stomach and up upon her breasts. Her skin tingled where he had touched. Their connection was savage and needy for a few seconds, until he pushed her away.

"I don't think I should be doing this. I don't want to jeopardize your future."

"What future?"

"That is what I have come here to show you. You could have a wonderful future, if you will just change your ways. Let the world see the real Janie, the one who only reveals herself when she is alone in this apartment."

"I don't want to think now. I want you to touch me. I had hoped in my crazy mind for the ghostly touches to continue. Now they can."

"No," he said abruptly putting his hand out to stop her and having it land between her breasts. "I will not jeopardize your future for needs that I shouldn't even have."

"I want you to touch me, please."

"We have to go so I can show you your possible future. That is supposed to be my only purpose for being here."

"You mean leap out the window like in the movies. Then, all my neighbors will find is the splatter of my body on the ground because I committed suicide following some hallucination. No, I want to stay here and be touched by you now. I don't care what you are or even if you are real or imagined. Just make me feel loved."

Her instincts told her to remove the cloak but she feared what she would find underneath. She was not going to mess up this chance, whatever it was.

The unnatural sound that came from him spurred her courage. She untied the belt around his waist and let the robe fall open. In the faint glow of the TV, she could see in the mere one inch it had fallen open the shadows of abdominal muscles and a thick erection. Reaching out she pet the hard dark protrusion of his body liking the feel of his satin skin along with the cool fabric that caressed her hand on both sides.

His head fell back, but the cloak remained over his face. In the dark she knelt before him to take him into her mouth. Generously sized hands gripped her hair. He was hard enough to work without the need of her hands, so she let them move under his robe to trail up his stomach. They went over muscles that created dips and strong curves. When she thought she had him staying, she stood back up before him.

Coyly, turning her back to him, she let her imaginings come to life as she boldly began to remove her clothes. Although the hood shrouded his face, she felt his eyes on her. She pulled her shirt up over her head and let it fall. Then she undid her bra, turned only her head to him and dropped it at his feet. Her jeans and panties she shimmed down over her hips and seductively bending over to give him a nice view, she pulled the pants off of her ankles.

He stepped towards her and for a moment hesitantly placed his hands on her hips. His strong member poked at the small of her back. Then, he pushed her two steps forward to the TV that sat close to waist height on a small cart and lifted her slightly to her tiptoes to bend her over it. The static pulled at the tuft of hair on her mound sending tiny vibrations over her skin. When she heard Santa make a disgusted noise at the owner of Macys, she silently giggled.

His massive hands rubbed her ass. He ran a single finger through her two cheeks with a considerable enough amount of force to have it dip in slightly when it reached her puckered hole. At the same time, his other hand found its way between her thighs. He tickled her lips with light rubbing before he wiggled a finger in-between them spreading the wetness he had created.

The edges of the TV pushed into her flesh, but she didn't care. She loved the forceful nature her spirit had. He grabbed his cock, and she could feel his knuckles against her as he began to move it in small circles around her hole. She moaned out her impatience. The light foreplay lasted a minute before a groan shot from him, and he thrust up inside of her. Her vaginal walls were forced open around him as a shot of contractions moved through her stomach.

Santa chuckling a 'Ho Ho Ho' sent the absurdly amusing thought that she had Santa between her legs and the Spirit of Christmas inside her. His movements were not patient; they were dominating and came in erratic spurts. Both of his hands found their way around to her stomach and traveled down to her mons. With his chest pressed up against her back his cloak fell around her. His hood tickled her neck as he came in to kiss her neck. All eight of his fingers spread her open and he put the broad tip of a finger on her clit. It took little for her to begin spasming and for her pussy to weep around him.

*

Chapter 3

The contracting muscles massaging his erection brought him to the point of no return. Seed spilled forth from him into her. A moment of clarity had him wondering the ramifications, before he lost his senses again and his body jerked forward with another wave of pleasure. Noticing they were both covered by his robe, the stray thought came to him that he had shrouded her symbolically like she hid her true self in life. Connected to her, he chose to be grateful for what had just occurred between them.