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Message-ID: <45869asstr$1071601810@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Ann Douglas" <ann_douglas@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} AnnD"Mrs. Claus's Cookies" FF -  (1/1)
Date: Tue, 16 Dec 2003 14:10:10 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

	Mrs. Claus's Cookies
          by Ann Douglas
         (ann_douglas@hotmail.com)

	Phoebe Grant had to laugh as she looked at herself in the
small bathroom mirror as she finished getting dressed.  The
reflection that greeted her was one that had become quite
familiar over the last few weeks, but still filled her with a certain
amusement all the same.  What would her co-workers at the bank
think if they could see her now?  She was an Elf, right down to the
pointed ears and the equally pointed bright green shoes.

	"Well it's not the worst job I've ever had," the twenty-two
year old blonde thought.  She pinned up her long hair to better
hide it beneath the floppy red cap, remembering the varied
assortment of things she had done to make ends meet back in her
school days.  "Still, I don't think this is going to be a high point on
my resume."

	Phoebe didn't need to remind herself just how lucky she'd
been to even get this part time job as she stepped out of the
make-shift dressing room and headed out to the front of the store
to begin her shift.  As holiday jobs went, the pay wasn't bad, the
hours were flexible, and the people fun to work with.  A lot more
than most of the employees at First National Trust where she had
been employed for the last two years.  Yes, it certainly was her
lucky day when she happened to be passing by in front of the
bakery shop just as they'd put the "Help Wanted" sign in the
window.

	For most of the year, the C & B Bakery was no different
than a hundred other similar shops around the city.  A place to buy
both traditional and trendy desserts.  But, for the short span
between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it stood out as a little piece
of the North Pole transplanted to midtown Manhattan.  The home
of Mrs. Claus's Cookies, it had, over the last ten years, become as
much of a holiday tradition as the tree in Rockefeller Center or
the Christmas show at Radio City.  A winter wonderland with
decorations that rivaled the best Fifth Avenue stores, it truly was
a marvel to behold.

	Despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve, or perhaps
because of it, Phoebe found the public area of the small store even
more crowded than usual.  Working her way behind the counter,
she took note that all three of her fellow Elves were also in today.
Normally, only two of them worked at a time since they all also had
other jobs.  She flashed a quick smile to Sandra Kingston, the
short redhead that looked like she was born to wear the costume
they all shared.  Sandra took a moment to acknowledge her, then
went right back to wrapping the box of two dozen cookies she had
just filled.

	The other two Elves, Mary Pitt and Kendra Brown, were even
busier and didn't even notice the new arrival until she squeezed in
between them.  Her fellow blonde Elf and her taller, dark skinned
counterpart, looked more than relieved to have help dealing with
the crush of last minute shoppers.  As Phoebe took her first order
of the afternoon, she noticed that Mrs. Claus herself, known the
other eleven months of the year as Emma Burke had been pressed
into service behind the counter as well.  Normally, the owner and
chief baker liked to work the crowds on the other side of the long
tabletop, spreading her infectious brand of Christmas cheer.

	A decade before, the idea to specialize only in Christmas
cookies for one month of the year had been a risky venture for the
then struggling shop.  But it was one that quickly turned into a
veritable gold mine for the two owners.  The bakery did almost a
third of its yearly business during that short span, and the good
will they spread during the holiday season continued across the
rest of the year.  It wasn't just the cookies, good as they were,
that kept bringing the crowds back year after year, it was the
entire Yuletide experience.  Right down to the helpful Elves and of
course Mrs. Claus herself.

	The next few hours passed in a pleasant blue of smiling
faces, Christmas Carols echoing from the wall mounted speakers
and an assortment of wondrous smells wafting from the kitchen.
Still, by the time eight o'clock rolled around and the last customer
had been served, Phoebe was glad the long day was finally over.

	"In a way, I'm almost sorry to see the season end,"  Mrs.
Claus said as she locked the door behind the last customer and put
up the "Closed For Business" sign.  "I wish it could go on another
month."

	The comment brought a friendly groan from Sandra and
Mary, who had each put in more hours in the last week than the
other two girls combined.  Mrs. Claus laughed and assured them she
was only kidding.

	"I said almost,"  she broadly smiled.  "Seriously, I don't know
what I'd do without you girls."

	The smiles now on all her helper's faces were just as warm
and genuine.  Their gratitude and affection toward their employer
was the result of far more than the salary they received, which
was worth noting, was higher than the minimum wage Phoebe had
originally expected.  Mrs. Claus was a lot more than just the person
signing the checks.  She was a friend who took a deep interest in
the people who worked for her, even if just part time.  All three of
the other girls had worked for her the previous season, with
Kendra having even worked the one before that.  Kelly George,
whom Phoebe had replaced when she had to quit two days into the
season to take advantage of an opportunity on her regular job, had
been there for three years.

	Since she'd been there only a few weeks, and her short
hours left her limited time for socializing, Phoebe understandably
hadn't had that many chances to get to know the woman behind
the "Mrs. Claus" persona.  Still, in those moments when she did
have the chance to talk to her, she found the white haired woman
to be a kindred spirit.  Some of the blanks were also filled in by
her chats with the other girls.  Sandra told her that she'd heard
that Emma had been a widow for about five years, and Kendra
confided that she'd been told by Kelly that it was because she
couldn't have kids of her own that Emma loved the holidays so.
Since it was all second-hand, Phoebe didn't know how accurate it
all was, but it made her a little sad to think that this nice woman
who gave so much of herself to others had no one to share her life
with.

	Having someone to share with, or even just someone to talk
to, was something Phoebe really missed these days.  Unfortunately,
as nice as Mrs. Claus and the other girls were, she doubted they'd
really understand her situation.  Well, maybe they'd understand
the situation, since it wasn't all that unique, but it was the
particulars that might give them pause.

				-=-=-=-

	A little over a year before, soon after she'd gone to work at
the bank, Phoebe had met the love of her life.  Or at least the
person she thought would be.  Barbara Ann Phillips had been
twenty-three, pretty and intelligent, and worked at the pharmacy
down the street from the bank.  More importantly, the short
haired brunette had, like Phoebe, realized at an early age that her
interest in her own sex far outweighed any interest in the opposite
one.

	A casual friendship, started awkwardly, had turned to
romance soon enough.  Six months after they began dating, they
found a small apartment in Brooklyn and set up house together.
For the slightly younger blonde, it was like a dream come true.
Each day seemed better than the last, each tomorrow full of
promise.  That was, Phoebe sadly remembered, until the phone call
eight weeks ago.

	The call had been from Barbara's mother, whom Phoebe
couldn't remember her lover ever even mentioning before, except
to acknowledge that she was still alive and living with the rest of
her family back in Connecticut.  The news had been bad, one of
Barbara's closest friends had died in an auto accident and her
mother wanted to know if she planned to come home for the
funeral.

	Of course Barbara would go, Phoebe had no doubt of that.
Just as certainly, she offered to go as well, to offer moral support
in what she knew was a time of personal anguish for her love.  They
were still of an age where death was a distant concern, and even
more devastating when it visited one of their contemporaries.

	To her surprise, Barbara declined the office, saying that it
would be better if she went alone.  Phoebe knew the woman who
shared her bed well enough to note a look of concern at the
prospect of her coming along.  Not wanting to pry at such a painful
time, she instead used her own experience to fathom a reason.

	Ever since the day she had informed her own parents that
they could stop trying to fix her up with what they considered
suitable young men, and the reason why, Phoebe's relationship with
her family had been strained to say the least.  It was possible, she
considered, that Barbara's parents had a similar reaction, and she
didn't want to flaunt a lover in their face.  Or, it also suddenly
occurred to her, Barbara's parents might not even know of their
daughter's sexual preference.  It wasn't something that had ever
come up before, and Phoebe certainly wasn't going to bring up the
subject now.

	So she'd settled for helping Barbara pack, and going with
her to Grand Central Station to see her on her way.  It was hard to
see her go off alone, but she had made it clear that she would go
with her if asked, even up to the point they were standing on the
platform.  The request had never come.

	The four days that Barbara said she would be gone seemed
longer than any Phoebe could remember.  Sitting in the empty
apartment, waiting for her lover to return, she felt even emptier
than when she had been alone before meeting Barbara.  How could
she not be, when before, she didn't know what she'd been missing.
She wasn't a virgin when they'd met, neither of them had been,
but it was the first time she had ever been in love.

	Finally, on the night that Barbara was supposed to come
home, there came instead a phone call saying that she'd be staying
at her parent's house until the end of the week.  Phoebe was
disappointed of course, but said she understood.  If her lover was
mending broken fences with her family, what was her temporary
loneliness compared to that?

	The few more days turned into a second week, and Phoebe
began to become more concerned.  A concern that also held the
emerging elements of fear.  Fear that something was wrong.

	Finally, three weeks after Barbara had gone home for the
funeral, Phoebe decided that enough was enough.  Phone calls to
her parents' house brought only vague promises from her love that
she would be home soon.  Taking a half-day on Friday, Phoebe
headed home with the intention of just grabbing her overnight bag
and then heading for Grand Central Station to catch an early
evening train.  If there wasn't anything wrong, then let Barbara
tell her to her face.

	To her surprise and relief, she opened the door to their
small three-room apartment to find Barbara standing there.  She
started to rush into her arms but was stopped by the sudden
awareness that Barbara wasn't alone. That, and the realization
that the look on her lover's face was that of shock and not
happiness to see her.

	A look that was reflected on Phoebe's face as she expanded
her view of the room and saw a sight that sent a devastating chill
through her.   If she'd discovered the two women flagrante
delicto, it wouldn't have hurt half as much as the sight of four
suitcases lined up next to the front door.  The same four that she
had helped Barbara carry when they had first moved in together.

	"I wanted to be gone before you got home,"  Barbara said,
her voice cracking as a tear ran down her face.

	Phoebe had listened, totally stunned, as her once true love
explained how, at the funeral, she had been reunited with Diane,
the first love of her life.  Phoebe remembered Barbara casually
mentioning Diane as the girl in high school who had taken her
virginity.  At the time, that was all the information she had cared
to share, but now the blonde haired woman learned that the
relationship between the two had gone much further than she
might have imagined.  In fact, up until a month before she and
Barbara had met, the two of them had still been lovers.  They had
broken up for reasons that the brunette didn't care to elaborate,
but she did confess that when they'd seen each other at the
funeral, the reasons no longer seemed important.

	"I never wanted to hurt you,"  Barbara concluded,  "but as
much as I love you, I realize now that I love Diane more."

	Phoebe didn't know what to say.  Her eyes turned from
Barbara to the woman standing across from her that she now knew
was Diane.  Taller then the two of them, with jet-black hair tied
back in a bun, the slightly older woman had an almost masculine
quality about her.  Not the type that she ever imagined Barbara
going for, it was obvious that her lover had spent the last three
weeks in her company, if not her bed.  Diane returned her stare
with equal intensity.  Additionally, she had no trouble finding her
own voice.

	"It's best we just go, Babe,"  Diane said, her tone almost a
slap in Phoebe's face as she moved forward and picked up two of
the suitcases,  "especially if we want to catch the 3:40 home."

	"Home,"  Phoebe couldn't help but think. "Until an hour ago,
this was home for the two of us."

	"I'm sorry,"  Barbara repeated as she stepped past Phoebe
and picked up the remaining bags.

	With that, they were gone and Phoebe's perfect little life
was destroyed.

				-=-=-=-

	"I already let the kitchen help take off,"  Mrs. Claus said,
having shut down the kitchen early so they could clean up,  "so I
just wanted to take the time to wish you all a Merry Christmas and
to give you a little something for all your extra effort."

	With that, the portly woman produced four small, wrapped
packages from beneath the counter and handed them out to each
of her helpers.  For a moment, Phoebe was worried that she
might've been expected to get a gift for Mrs. Claus as well, but
Kendra saw her concern and quickly whispered that wasn't the
case.  They'd tried in previous years but she always insisted that
she could easily afford to spend the money, they couldn't.  If they
really wanted to give her something, she always said, then just
spread a little more Christmas cheer in her name.

	One by one the girls opened their gifts, to discover that
each was something that they really loved.  When Phoebe ripped
the paper off hers, she found the latest model Walkman, one that
would even play MP3 files.  Her own unit, had been on its last legs
for months.

	"Thank you,"  she said to the older woman and joined the
rest of the Elves in giving her a Christmas kiss on the cheek.

	"Now off to your families with the lot of you,"  Mrs. Claus
laughed, sounding like one of the characters from 'A Christmas
Carol.'

	One by one, the other three girls headed into the back room
to quickly change clothes.  In no time at all, they were back and
reaching for their coats on the row of wall hooks.  With a final
Merry Christmas, they passed through the door onto the now dark
streets.

	"Don't you have someone waiting for you too?"  Mrs. Claus
asked when she noticed that Phoebe hadn't even changed yet but
was straightening a few last minute things on the counter.

	"Not really, I ..."  she started to reply, pausing for a second.
"I broke up with someone just before Thanksgiving."

	"No family?"  the older woman inquired further.

	"We really don't see eye to eye on some things,"  Phoebe
answered, thinking that was an understatement if ever there was
one.  "It would only ruin their Christmas if I was there."

	"Parents and kids,"  Mrs. Claus said as she undid her apron
and laid it across the counter,  "some things never change."

	"I guess not,"  Phoebe smiled, then realized that she might
be keeping her now former boss, since this was her last day, from
heading out to meet her own family.

	"Actually,"  the white haired woman replied when Phoebe
apologized for not considering the idea,  "my own plans for the
evening sort of fell through.  My younger brother was supposed to
come to dinner tonight with his family, but his youngest came down
with chicken pox yesterday. So it looks like I'm on my own too."

	Phoebe wondered how much younger her brother must've
been to have a kid with chicken pox.  Maybe, she concluded, he
married someone a lot younger.  Her own cousin married a man
twenty-five years her senior.

	"Phoebe,"  Mrs. Claus interrupted the younger woman's
musings,  "I know we haven't had the chance to get to know each
other like I do some of the other girls, but I was wondering if
you'd like to have a late Christmas Eve dinner with me.  I mean I
already have most of the food prepared, it just needs to be heated
up, and it would be a shame to let it all go to waste.  Besides, no
one should be alone on Christmas Eve."

	It was obvious that the offer took Phoebe by surprise.

	"But please don't feel obligated to say yes if you'd rather
not,"  the bakery owner quickly added. "I just wanted to make the
offer in case you might enjoy some company."

	Thinking that all she had waiting for her back at the empty
apartment were some leftovers in the fridge and a place in front
of the television, Phoebe decided why not.  After all, only a few
hours ago she was saying she wished she had someone she could
just sit and talk to.  Even if she had to confine herself to
non-controversial topics.

	"Excellent,"  Mrs. Claus smiled as Phoebe said yes.  "Why
don't you change clothes while I finish up a few last minute things
in my office.  I'll be with you in say, ten minutes?"

	It took Phoebe only eight of those minutes to change into
her street clothes, which consisted of a pair of jeans, a simple
white blouse and a pull over sweater.  Laying out her costume and
the slip on ears next to the others, she suddenly wished she had
gotten a picture taken of her in the outfit.  All in all, it had been a
lot of fun, even if she had taken the job in the first place to help
cover the loss in rent that Barbara's sudden departure had caused.

	"Maybe I'll get hired again next year,"  she thought as she
turned off the light.  After all, the girl she replaced wouldn't be
coming back.

	The light was still on behind the closed office door, so
Phoebe retrieved her coat and just waited in the now empty store.
A minute later, the door swung open.

	"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,"  the familiar
voice said as a figure emerged from inside.

	Phoebe did a double take.  The voice was indeed familiar, but
the person behind it wasn't - at least not totally.  Only now did it
occur to the daytime bank clerk that in all the weeks she had
worked in the bakery, she had never seen the owner out of
costume.  Naturally, she just assumed that aside from the
traditional accouterments, that was what she looked like.  Boy was
she ever wrong.

	First of all, Mrs. Claus might've had snow-white hair, but
Emma Burke had short, curly dark brown locks.  Any trace of gray
had long been banished.  Her face was also free of both the wire
frame glasses and what Phoebe now realized was stage makeup
designed to make the wearer look older.  The woman standing
before her was twenty years younger than she might've guessed.
In fact, Emma was two years younger than Phoebe's mother, who
had celebrated her forty-seventh birthday two months before.  It
was also obvious that the Mrs. Clause outfit had been padded to
give a more traditional appearance.  The bright blue dress, cut just
low enough to accent an ample bust, was about as far as the Mrs.
Claus costume as you could get and still appear to be a respectable
businesswoman.

	"You didn't really think I looked like that, did you?"  Emma
asked when she saw the look on the younger woman's face.

	Phoebe reluctantly admitted that she had, quickly pointing
out however that she had never seen Emma out of character
before.

	"I guess I should take that as a compliment to the
costumers over at Dave's World of Make Believe,"  Emma smiled,
showing that she hadn't taken any offense at Phoebe's mistake.
"Although I think some of my padding is all too real these days."

	With an objective eye, Phoebe followed Emma's hand as it
patted her backside and hips.  True, they might be fuller than they
probably had been when Emma was Phoebe's age, but they were
still nothing to be ashamed of.  Not when you took in the whole
package.  By any standard, Emma Burke was still an attractive
woman.

	"Shall we go?"  Emma asked as she put on her own coat.

	Phoebe exited first as Emma stayed behind just long enough
to set the alarm and turn off the lights.  Before running her hand
across the switches, she paused for a moment to take a long last
look at her winter wonderland.  By the time she returned to work
on Monday, since she had already planned to close for the rest of
the week, the workers would've restored the shop to it's normal
decor.  Then, with a sigh, she closed the door and joined Phoebe
out on the sidewalk.

	The temperature had dropped considerably since they had
started work hours before and they found themselves huddling
together for warmth.   Arm in arm, they walked two blocks to a
main street, taking in some of the window displays along the way.
Flagging down a cab, she gave the driver the address of her West
Village apartment.  During the ride, Emma assured her guest that a
feast of culinary delights waited.  If the deserts she had sampled
over the last month were any indication, Phoebe had no doubt of
that.

				-=-=-=-

	With most people having taken off early for the holiday, the
main streets were mostly empty and it was a quick ride downtown
to the apartment house Emma called home.  A six story pre-war
building, Emma had lived on the second floor for the last thirteen
years.

	"Make yourself at home,"  Emma said as she closed the
apartment door behind Phoebe.  "It'll only take me a minute to put
everything in the oven."

	Phoebe thanked her as she took off her coat, hanging it on a
wooden rack near the door.  The first thing you noticed when you
walked into the apartment was the tall, six foot Christmas tree
sitting in the corner.  The lights were already on, having been set
on a timer.

	"Beautiful tree,"  Phoebe called out as she admired the
varied collection of ornaments.  No two were alike and many of
them had dates on them, a collection that stretched back to
before the young blonde had even been born.

	"Thank you,"  Emma said with a smile as she came out of the
kitchen, a tray with two cups of hot cider in her hands. "A couple
of those ornaments belong to my parents and grandparents, the
rest are things I've picked up over the years.  I'm especially proud
of the one I found for this year."

	It only took Phoebe a moment to locate the one Emma was
referring to, as it was right in the center of the tree.  The younger
woman had to smile when she saw that it was a miniature Mrs.
Claus.  One that bore an amazing likeness to her hostess.  At least
when she was in costume.

	"I hope you don't think it's too egotistical or anything like
that,"  Emma said as she put down the tray on a nearby table and
lifted the two glasses in her hands, handing one to Phoebe.  "I saw
it in this little shop when I was down in the Poconos this summer
and just couldn't resist it."

	"Not at all,"  Phoebe smiled as she took the warm glass,  "I
love it."

	"To Happy Holidays and new friends,"  Emma toasted as she
raised her mug.

	"To new friends,"  Phoebe echoed as she took a tentative
taste of the warm beverage.

	Emma followed suit, watching carefully for her guest's
reaction to the cider.

	"Oh that is really good,"  the young blonde said, both in
appreciation and surprise.  "I don't think I've ever tasted anything
quite like it.  What's in it?"

	"That's a family secret, I'm afraid,"  Emma laughed, "one
which I'm sworn to keep lest I suffer a visit from the Ghost of
Christmas Past, or at least my late Aunt Edna."

	"Well if Aunt Edna shows up, give her my compliments,"
Phoebe grinned as she took a second, larger taste of the drink.

	"I'll remember to do that,"  Emma said as she also took a
second drink.  "Hopefully it'll absolve me of the blasphemy of
heating it up in a microwave instead of over an open hearth.

	"Either way, that really warmed me up,"  Phoebe said after
draining the last of her mug.

	"Would you like another?"

	"Yes, I would, Thank you."

	Emma took both cups back to the kitchen, leaving her guest
with second chance to take in the various items that filled the
living room.  A small collection of framed photographs on the
mantle over the fireplace caught her attention and she walked over
to get a better look at them.

	One was a nice picture of a couple with three children that
Phoebe took to be the younger brother that Emma had originally
been expecting tonight.  A second photo held only the two boys and
their sister.

	A second pair of photographs occupied the center of the
mantle.  In the first was an obviously younger Emma standing
outside the bakery.  A sign on the window read "Grand Opening".
Standing next to her, her arm resting over Emma's shoulder, was a
quite attractive blonde haired woman.  She looked to be a few
years older than her hostess, and Phoebe wondered who she was.
Especially since the second picture showed the same two women,
both older, sitting in front of a Christmas tree in this very room.

	The mystery answered itself when Phoebe looked just up
from the mantle and realized that the 8x10 on the wall wasn't a
photograph, but a laminated copy of a newspaper article.  The
stamp on the side of the page identified it as having come from a
local neighborhood weekly that the twenty-two year old had seen
on the table at the bakery.  The date put its age at twelve years.

	It was a brief article, heralding the opening of a new bakery
in the area, run by Emma Burke and her partner, Cassandra Caine.
A typical fluff piece, it was the sort of thing that would only be
remembered by the people who had appeared in it.

	"Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes,"  Emma
said as she appeared with refilled mugs.

	"I was just reading about when you opened the bakery,"
Phoebe said as Emma walked over and handed her the mug.

	"A silly little piece of sentimental rubbish,"  Emma said in
reference to the article.  "Still, I don't think there's anything else
I own that I value so much."

	"It said you used to have a partner?"  Phoebe asked out of
curiosity as she took another sip of the wonderful cider.

	"Yes, C.C. and I started it all together,"  Emma replied, her
eyes seeming to look away for a brief moment.  "It seems like a
lifetime ago, and in a way I guess it was.  God, we were so young
then."

	"C.C.?"

	"Well only I really called her that,"  Emma went on.
"Everyone else just called her Candy because she really hated the
name her parents stuck her with.  It was her great-grandmother's
name and they thought it would flatter the old lady into leaving
them some of her money in her will.  It didn't and C.C. was stuck
with it."

	"I don't think it's such a bad name,"  Phoebe commented,
"I've heard wor..."  She paused for a second as a funny realization
came to her.  "Wait a moment, her name was Candy Caine?"

	"Funny isn't it?"  Emma smiled.  "Still, if it wasn't for that
name we might've closed up the shop after the first year or so.
Things were that bad.  But C.C. really loved Christmas, partly she
used to say, because her name gave her a sort of connection with
it.  It was her idea to totally concentrate on Christmas cookies our
second year in business.  I figured we had nothing to lose so I went
along with it.  I can't describe how silly I felt that first day as
Mrs. Claus, or how C.C. managed to talk me into the costume.  The
rest as they say is history and we didn't close up shop."

	"Did she leave for some reason after that?"  Phoebe asked,
thinking that was why no one had ever mentioned a partner.

	"I'm afraid C.C. passed away five years ago,"  Emma replied,
a touch of sadness in her words.  "That picture there on the mantle
was the last one of us together.  She died two days after it was
taken."

	"Oh God, I'm sorry,"  Phoebe quickly apologized, fearful she
had committed a faux pas.

	"It's all right,"  Emma assured her.  "You had no way of
knowing.  Besides, you have to remember the bad as well as the
good that comes with a person's life, and I gladly suffer the
sadness if it lets me remember the happier times as well."

	Phoebe wanted to apologize further nevertheless, but held
her words when she saw that same far away look return to the
older woman's eyes for a moment.

	"That's one of the reasons why Christmas is so special to
me,"  Emma added as that look faded away.  "There are times when
I can almost feel C.C.'s spirit standing next to me.  My imagination
probably, but even so it makes me feel very happy."

	With that, Emma excused herself to check on dinner.
Looking again at that last photograph, Phoebe considered the
emotion in Emma's voice when she said her business partner's
name.  Of course they had to have been the best of friends, that
much was obvious.  Could they have been in love as well?

	The blonde's speculation, based she was sure on her own
desire to know that true love could indeed exist between two
women, was interrupted a moment later by an announcement from
the kitchen that dinner was ready.  Leaving behind her musings,
Phoebe headed to the kitchen to offer her help in setting the
table.

				-=-=-=-

	An hour later, after an unforgettable meal, Phoebe
concluded that Emma's promise in the cab on the way home had
been more than redeemed.  She couldn't remember the last time
she'd had such a delicious holiday dinner, and that included those
at her own family functions where up to four generations of
Grant's lent their culinary skills.

	"I can't remember the last time I ate so much,"  she told
Emma as they cleared the dishes.  "But it all tasted so good."

	"I'm glad I had someone to share it with,"  Emma smiled as
she transferred some of the leftovers from a serving disk into a
plastic container.  "Just pile the dishes in the washer, I'll run it
later."

	Between the two of them, it look no time at all to clear away
their little feast.  All except the glasses of wine that Emma
suggested they take back to the living room with them.

	"There's nothing better after a nice dinner than sitting
back on the couch and relaxing in front of the fire,"  Emma said as
she picked up her glass and the still half filled bottle.

	"That sounds nice."

	Since the fireplace was gas fired, it only took a minute for
Emma to get it going.  Then, refilling both of their glasses to the
brim, she sat opposite Phoebe on the couch.

	"You mentioned earlier that you had just broken up with
someone,"  Emma said, changing the subject from the more
conventional conversation they had shared over their meal.  "What
happened with that?"

	Phoebe wasn't sure she wanted to really answer that
question.  An uncertainty that must've appeared on her face
because Emma immediately picked up on it.

	"Maybe we should pick another topic,"  Emma offered.

	"No, it's okay, I'm just not sure how to explain it."

	"Just take your time,"  Emma said as she sipped her wine and
looked into the bright flames.  "I've nowhere to go at the moment."

	"Well,"  Phoebe said after a deep breath, "you remember I
also said that I took the job at the bakery because my roommate
took off unexpectedly and I was left with her half of the rent to
make up?"

	Emma nodded her head in acknowledgment.

	"Barbara was the one that I broke up with."

	There, she had said it, Phoebe told herself.  Before Emma
could comment on what the younger woman hoped wasn't a shocking
revelation, the blonde took a quick gulp of wine and then proceeded
to tell her entire tale.  From the day she had first realized she was
attracted to girls, to telling her parents about it after high school,
to meeting Barbara and finally coming home that day to find she
and Diane in the apartment.

	As Phoebe paused to catch her breath, silence filled the
room, broken only by the crackle of the fire.  Emma seemed to
have some trouble taking it all in, or at least that was what it
seemed like to the woman on the other side of the couch.  In
actuality, the older woman was now wondering how best to explain
a quandary of her own.

	A long heartbeat passed, then a second and a third.  Phoebe
was certain she had make a mistake in making her admission, a
conviction made more certain as Emma abruptly burst out laughing.

	"Please," she managed to get out as she motioned with her
hands for Phoebe to not react until she could explain her unseemly
laughter,  "I'm not laughing at you, just the situation."

	Now Phoebe was confused.

	"So much for that silly idea that we're all supposed to have
some sort of gaydar that we can recognize each other,"  Emma said
as she managed to get her laughter under control.

	"You mean you're ..."

	"Since I was thirteen,"  Emma quickly confirmed.

	"And you and C.C.?"  Phoebe asked, realizing now that her
speculation had been more on the money than she realized.

	That was a question that didn't need words to answer.  The
look on Emma's face said it all.

	Another long pause ensued as each woman found herself
unsure what to say next.  Finally it was Emma who broke the
silence.

	"I hope you realize that I had no idea that you were a
lesbian when I invited you to dinner,"  Emma said, leaving Phoebe
wondering why that made a difference.

	Seeing that her dinner guest didn't understand what she
was getting at, Emma put down her wine glass and explained it for
her.

	"What I'm trying to say is that I hope you don't think that
I asked you up here with the idea that something might happen
between the two of us?"

	"You don't find me attractive?"  Phoebe asked in an almost
automatic defensive response.

	"Of course I find you attractive,"  Emma responded without
thinking, then realized that what she had just said only weakened
the point she was trying to make.  "But what I mean is that I'd
hate to have you think that I'm the type of woman, twice your age
I might add, who would invite you to her home in hopes that she
might be able to seduce you?"

	"You wouldn't want to seduce me?"  Phoebe asked, this time
her response more deliberately thought out.

	"If I was twenty years younger, of course I would,"  Emma
admitted.  "But I'm realistic enough to know that I'm not twenty
years younger and .... damn I'm making a fool of myself, aren't I?
It's a good thing I didn't hang mistletoe over the archway or I
might've made an even bigger ass of myself."

	"You wouldn't need the mistletoe,"  Phoebe said with a smile,
leading Emma to think that she had already made more of a fool
out of herself than she'd realized.

	So it was a shock a heartbeat later to realize that was
hardly the point that Phoebe was trying to make.  A point she
expressed much more articulately as she leaned over and closed
the distance between them on the couch, stopping only when her
lips made contact with Emma's,  The kiss they shared could never
have been mistaken for a mere expression of Christmas cheer.  Not
after Phoebe slipped her tongue into Emma's mouth and, after a
moment's hesitation, Emma returned the passion of the kiss, their
tongues intertwining.

				-=-=-=-

	"Oh my goodness!"  Emma gasped as Phoebe finally withdrew
her tongue and allowed the older woman to catch her breath.

	"I don't think goodness had very much to do with it,"
Phoebe grinned.  "I hope you enjoyed it."

	"I'm not sure enjoyed it is really the right phrase,"  Emma
replied, her mouth still tingling from the press of Phoebe's lips.
"It certainly was unexpected."

	Unexpected was a word that Phoebe would certainly have
agreed with.  Up until two seconds before she had done it, kissing
Emma never entered her mind.  She was still trying to sort out
exactly why she'd done it.  No, that wasn't exactly true, she did
know why she'd done it.  The question she was really asking herself
was, did she want more than just a kiss?

	A question that occurred to Emma as well.  While she had
hardly been celebrate the last five years since C.C.'s death, all of
her intimacies had been with women near her own age.  She
wouldn't have been human, she admitted to herself, if she hadn't
had fantasies from time to time about younger women, including
some of those who had worked for her over the years.  But that
was all they'd been, fantasies.  The prospect of it being real was
daunting to say the least.

	"Phoebe ... I,"  Emma started to say, then hesitated.

	"I think we have what most people would say is an awkward
situation,"  Phoebe remarked.

	"We could definitely call it that,"  Emma agreed.

	"So do we go forward or back off?"  Phoebe asked, cutting
to the heart of the matter.

	"I'm not sure,"  Emma confessed, part of her cried yes, but
another urged caution.  "What do you want to do?"

	"Well....,"  Phoebe said, her course suddenly becoming quite
clear to her, "you did say that no one should really be alone on
Christmas Eve."

	True, she had said that, the bakery owner reminded herself.
But sleeping with a girl half her age wasn't exactly what she had
meant when she'd voiced that thought.  Then again, wasn't sharing
what Christmas was all about?

	Emma glanced past Phoebe to the mantle and C.C.'s
photograph, asking herself what would her love tell her to do.  The
answer came in a moment of crystal clarity.  A decision reflected
on the broad smile that filled her face.

				-=-=-=-

	This time, it was Emma who leaned forward and took Phoebe
in her arms, their mouths coming together in a joining of mutual
desire.  Their lips met softly at first, then with more passion as
the bakery owner's tongue pressed past her dinner guest's lips and
deep into her mouth, exploring the sweet riches within.  A warm
flush ran through the two of them as Phoebe accepted the
offering, pulling it deeper as she caressed it with her own.

	As they kissed, Phoebe brought her hands up and placed
them on the exposed portions of Emma's ample breasts.  The
radiant warmth of her flesh added to her excitement.  Spreading
her fingers, she sought out the cloth covered nipples, feeling them
grow hard at her touch.  The gentle massage brought a soft moan
from Emma's lips, one that was quickly swallowed in the passion of
yet another kiss.

	"Take off your sweater,"  Emma whispered as her hands
rubbed up and down Phoebe's back.

	Almost reluctantly, Phoebe broke their embrace and took
hold of the heavy top, pulling it up and over her head, dropping it
to the floor beside the couch.  As Emma watched appreciatively,
the younger woman's fingers closed around the uppermost button
of her blouse, slowly undoing it with careful deliberation.  The one
below it followed in turn, and then the one below that.  As each
exposed just a little more of the soft flesh beneath, Emma could
feel her heart skip a beat.  As the last one came loose and the
white blouse hung open, Phoebe arched her back just enough to let
the shirt fall to the floor of it's own accord.

	Emma reached out with outstretched hands, her index
fingers rubbing against the areola visible through the thin cloth of
Phoebe's bra.  The heat of the flesh beneath could be felt through
the translucent material, as well as the hardness of Phoebe's
nipples as they responded to her caress.

	"Now you,"  Phoebe implored as she took hold of Emma's
hands for a moment, releasing them only after she had kissed the
palm of each.

	Emma turned just enough so that Phoebe could undo the
zipper of her dress.  As it grew slack around her, the dark haired
woman took hold of the sleeves and slid her arms out of them.
Then she pulled the blue dress down until it was wrapped around
her waist.  Turning her attention to the matching blue bra, Emma
slipped a hand inside each heavy cup and lifted her large mounds
free of them.

	"You are beautiful,"  Phoebe said as her eyes came to rest on
the half naked woman sitting across from her.

	"Liar,"  Emma grinned.

	"If you don't believe me, then I guess I'll just have to show
you,"  Phoebe softly laughed as she again sought out Emma's willing
mouth, even as her hands reached for the twin prizes that had just
been exposed.

	Soft moans from both of them could be heard as the caress
of their mouths and tongues matched those of two sets of hands.
Each searching for those sensitive spots on the other that brought
the most pleasure.

	Tongues darted back and forth as they explored the soft
recesses of each other's mouth.  Just as roving hands slipped
beneath still clothed areas to explore hidden flesh.  As the level of
feverish excitement in their bodies continued to grow, so did their
desire to bring the other the pleasure they craved.

	"I want you so much right now,"  Phoebe heard herself say
after an intensely passionate kiss that left them both gasping for
air.

	Emma looked deep into the eyes of the woman in her arms,
to find that the words that she spoke were true.  For this moment
at least, all the pains of Phoebe's recent past were far from her
mind.  That, Emma decided as she brushed the side of her hand
against Phoebe's cheek, was something she could easily live with.

	Phoebe kissed Emma once more, first on her lips, then along
her neck, finally moving down to the softness above her breasts.
Her kisses were slow and deliberate, allowing her to savor every
delicious inch along the way.

	At the same time, her hands worked their way up from the
other direction, cupping the underside of Emma's mounds.  The
weight and fullness of her flesh more than filled the palm of the
younger woman as she rubbed her fingers against them.

	"Mmmmm,"  Emma moaned quietly as she enjoyed the touch
of Phoebe's mouth and hands on her chest.

	Hands and mouth met in the center as Phoebe lifted one
breast to her lips and reached out to tickle the dark circle with
her tongue.  At first, she drew slow, concentric circles around the
edge of the areola, drawing closer with each repetition.  Then a
darting tip brushed against the underside of the rigid nipple,
finally washing over its entirety before guiding it between her open
lips.

	Emma moaned even louder as Phoebe began to suck her
breast in earnest, sending tiny eruptions of pain and pleasure
through her body with a combination of soft grazes and not so soft
bites.  Even as the blonde's oral ministration continued, her hand
massaged Emma's other mound with equal zeal, adding to her
pleasures.  Then, without missing a beat, hand and mouth switched
places.  A flawless maneuver to be repeated several more times as
Phoebe moved back and forth between Emma's bounties.

	Slender fingers ran through Phoebe's long hair, continuing
downward as Emma stroked the soft skin of her back.  With a
touch sharpened by years of practice, the older woman expertly
unhooked the clasp of Phoebe's bra, freeing the small rounded
globes within.  The positions of their bodies prevented her from
bringing them into view, but the press of her fingers against them
made up for some of that minor disappointment.

	Locked in an erotic embrace, the shared heat of their bodies
neared a point to rival that emanating from the fire in the hearth.
The confines of the couch, expansive as they were, suddenly
seemed too limited.  The idea to move to the broader expanse of
the bedroom came almost simultaneously to both women.

				-=-=-=-

	The adjacent bedroom proved to be as tastefully decorated
as the rest of the apartment.  The centerpiece was a large queen
sized four-posted bed.  Emma took a moment to pull off the large
quilt that covered the bed, leaving Phoebe that time to take in the
rest of the room.  What caught her eye immediately was a large
portrait of C.C. on the nearby bureau.

	It bothered her a little to think that this had been their
room, that the two of them had made love in that bed.  It was a
concern that Phoebe quickly realized was foolish.  Unlike her own
love, C.C. had loved Emma to the very end and would no doubt have
wanted her to be happy.  A desire that, if only for tonight, Phoebe
most wholeheartedly shared.

	"I can move the picture if it bothers you", Emma said as she
stepped up behind Phoebe and laid a hand on her bare shoulder.

	"No, it's okay,"  Phoebe replied as she tilted her head back
to give Emma a soft kiss.  "She's a part of you and I wouldn't take
that away."

	"I really think C.C. would have liked you,"  Emma responded
after the kiss as she brought her hands to rest over Phoebe's
smaller breasts.  She grasped Phoebe's nipples with her fingers,
massaging them to full hardness.  A touch that sent a surge of
pleasure through the younger woman's chest.

	"I think I would've liked her too,"  Phoebe said as she closed
her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Emma's fingers playing with
her nipples and the adjoining flesh.

	With those few words, all thoughts of the past, or of the
future, was banished from both their minds.  Only the here and
now remained.

	Phoebe felt the belt of her pants give way as Emma first
unbuttoned and then unzipped her pants, slipping her hand inside.
A sigh spilled from her lips as Emma's hand slid beneath the
waistband of her panties, the tips of her fingers brushing against
the shaven and highly sensitive mound within.

	"Ooooooo,"  Phoebe moaned as an index finger traced the
length of her already wet pussy.

	A moan began that grew in volume and frequency as Emma
applied just a little more pressure and pushed past the outer walls
of Phoebe's sex.  Her body shivered with delight as two fingers
found her clitoris, pushing back the hood and freeing the excited
nub beneath.  That pleasing shudder was but a portent of the
delights to come.  A third finger joined the first two, adding to
the pressure and speed of her touch.

	With one hand still massaging her breasts, moving back and
forth between them, and the other inside Phoebe's panties, Emma
took control of the younger woman's body.  An experienced touch
caused an immediate reaction, as previously tiny ripples began to
cascade into forceful waves.  The delightful sensations washed
over Phoebe, starting between her legs and continuing outward
until they reached her very soul.

	Manipulating first two and then three fingers into Phoebe's
core,  Emma teased the excited, wet flesh until she could feel the
woman in her arms quaking with anticipation.  Quickening her pace,
Emma kept time with the matching erotic symphony she played
across Phoebe's breasts.  Squeezing the small mounds, she worked
the bright pink centers as the sparks spreading from them merged
with those from between Phoebe's legs.

	Phoebe cried out in ecstasy, only to be muffled by the press
of Emma's mouth on hers once more.  The press of flesh  around
Emma's fingers tightened, signaling the nearness of a climax.  With
their bodies pressed tightly together, the heat of Phoebe's form
helped stoke the fires also burning in the older woman.

	Phoebe had never felt so under the control of another
person before, not even on her best nights with Barbara.  It was as
if her body was a musical instrument and it was now in the hands of
a skilled artisan rather than a talented amateur.

	Her legs felt weak beneath her and Phoebe had to partially
lean against the dresser for support.  The forces building within
her were familiar and she knew, just as Emma had, that an orgasm
wasn't far away.  Concentrating on that, she was caught totally off
guard when Emma abruptly withdrew both her hands and spun her
around.

	In a further quick move, Emma pulled Phoebe's jeans and
panties all the way down to her ankles.  Just as rapidly, her
attention returned to the smooth mound between her legs, this
time probing its depths with her tongue rather than her fingers.

	Emma could feel the shivering excitement that filled
Phoebe, the desire to feel her body explode.  She pressed deep
with her agile tongue, swirling it in a clockwise motion, pleasingly
dancing up and down the length of Phoebe's pussy, brushing against
her throbbing clitoris with each pass.  The taste and smell were
intoxicating.

	"Aaaaaa!"  Phoebe cried as she felt the wetness strike her
clit with a force that nearly sent her over the edge right there
and then.

	As it was, she teetered on the brink for what seemed like an
eternity, but was in reality only a minute.  Sixty short seconds
during which Emma carried her across fields of ecstasy she had
only glimpsed before.  Incoherent moans replaced words, and the
only encouragement she could give was to hold tight against the
back of Emma's head to urge her on.

	An urging that was all but redundant as Emma pressed deep
within her one last time, a match dropping into a pool of gasoline
that ignited an inferno.  A conflagration that caused Phoebe to
shudder and quake with an uncontrolled intensity.  The orgasm
crashing through her brought, if only for a brief, almost elusive
moment, pure rapture.

	"Oh God...,"  Phoebe stuttered as the tremors that had
shattered her self-control subsided,  "that was ... was ..., I don't
know how to describe it."

	"Good?" Emma suggested with a smile as, rising back to her
full height, she reached out and brushed a sweat soaked stand of
hair away from Phoebe's face.

	"Good,"  Phoebe repeated, even thought she knew that
simple description was far from adequate.

				-=-=-=-

	A  long minute passed, during which Phoebe's racing heart
finally returned to normal.  Or at last as normal as it was going to
be right now.  To her surprise, rather than drained, she felt
energized.  Full of an overpowering desire to bring to Emma the
pure joy she had just brought to her.

	"My turn,"  she simply said as she softly kissed Emma before
leading her to the edge of the turned down bed.

	In a slow, leisurely pace, they finished undressing each
other, taking the time to explore those parts of their bodies that
had, until now, been hidden.  Finally, they stood there with only
that with which they had come into the world.  Neither could
resist taking a moment to appreciate the body of the other.

	Phoebe was an inch or two taller than Emma, with a small
frame that matched her b-cup mounds.  Emma, while not quite as
stocky as the younger woman had taken her to be in the Mrs.
Clause costume, was indeed a full figured woman.  Unlike many
women her age, however, she wore it well.  In fact, the only thing
that really reflected her age, at least in Phoebe's mind, was the
bushy multi-colored mound of hair between Emma's legs.  Yet, for
some inexplicable reason, the mix of brown, white and gray seemed
highly erotic to the twenty-two year old.  An observation that had
never occurred to her when she'd seen a similar combination on her
mother.

	"I'll say it again,"  Phoebe smiled,  "you're beautiful."

	"And I'll say you're lying again,"  Emma also smiled,  "but I'm
willing to give you another chance to prove me wrong."

	Both women laughed as they collapsed on the bed, rolling
back and forth until they wound up with Emma on the bottom and
Phoebe spread out on top of her.

	"Now you're mine,"  she laughed as she softly ran her hands
across Emma's stomach, reaching up to cup her breasts, her
fingers stroking the hard nipples.

	"Oh baby,"  Emma purred softly as she felt Phoebe's fingers
caress her nipples,  "that feels nice."

	Phoebe closed her lips around Emma's thick nipples, drawing
as much of her into her mouth as she could.  She wanted to please
this woman like no other had done before.  Her hands took hold of
the undersides of Emma's mounds, massaging them, squeezing the
soft flesh over and over.

	Back and forth she moved between the two large mounds,
covering them with her kisses, caressing them with her tongue.
There wasn't an inch of skin left uncovered.  All the while, she was
spurred on by repeated and loud encouragement from Emma.

	"That's it, baby,"  Emma called out as she ran her fingers
though Phoebe's hair,  "Use your tongue right there."

	She played with them for a minute more, then shifted one
hand down to between the shorter woman's legs.  Just as gently,
she worked her fingers past the heavy bush to stroke the wet and
warm prize below.

	A trail of kisses advanced down across Emma's stomach,
continuing across her waistline to join the hand between her legs.
Emma lifted her legs and spread them far apart, giving Phoebe all
the room she needed.

	Her eyes focused on the tangled mass of tri-color hair that
she'd found so fascinating before.  Taking a moment to savor the
anticipation, Phoebe took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of the
forty-five year old's arousal.  It was an intoxicating scent, causing
her to feel a little light-headed.

	But not so light-headed as to cause more that a heartbeat's
pause in her desire.  Closing her eyes to concentrate on nothing
else but the task at hand, or more specifically, at tongue, Phoebe
reached out and tasted the exquisite fruit.

	"Oh yes,"  Emma purred in satisfaction as she felt the wet
softness move up and down the length of her pussy, surging deep
into her inner reaches.

	Phoebe moved her mouth closer as she sought out Emma's
clit, flicking her tongue against it.  A touch that felt electric to
both women.

	After playing a while, she pressed her index finger against
the excited nub.  Alternating between the two, Phoebe sent
cascading waves of delight across the brunette's prone form.
Waves that resounded upon themselves and increased in intensity
with each stroke.  The rhythm she quickly developed was as natural
to her as the simple act of breathing.

	"Oh God, yes,"  Emma yelled as she stretched out and
enjoyed the erotic rush passing through her.  "Lick my pussy, lick it
deeper!"

	In rapid succession, Phoebe guided her fingers in and out of
Emma, alternating them with her tongue and producing even more
sounds of delights.  She might not have Emma's three decades of
experience, but she almost made up for it in youthful exuberance.
There was nothing she loved more than the taste of another
woman.

	Two months after her sixteenth birthday, while on an
overnight trip with her high school's debate society, Phoebe had
her first opportunity to taste another girl.  Her name had been
Marsha and she'd come to the National Championships in Atlantic
City representing her school in Los Angeles.  It had been the
organizers idea to pair up students from all over the country when
doling out hotel rooms.  At first, Phoebe thought she'd had little in
common with the perpetually perky girl other than they both had
long blonde hair.  After all, Phoebe was an only child, while
her roommate was one of six, even if it was the result of her
widowed mother having married a man with three sons.

	Then, in the middle of the night, Marsha had caught Phoebe
masturbating in an attempt to ease some of her nervousness about
the next day's competition.  The architect's daughter suggested a
much better way to take off the edge.  By the time the chaperones
had come around knocking on the doors to wake everyone up for
breakfast, Phoebe had decided that nothing on the menu was ever
going to taste better than the fruit she'd been feasting on for the
last three hours.  It was a conviction that she still held to this day.

	Phoebe's ran her tongue back and forth across the now
matted hairs, cleaning them of the honeyed dewdrops that covered
Emma's mound.  Working her way between the soft barriers,
Phoebe besieged the highly stimulated clit with a ferocity she
hadn't felt since her last night with Barbara.

	Emma closed her eyes, enjoying the rising tides Phoebe's
efforts had begun to produce. Efforts that increased with each
passing heartbeat.  The brunette whispered soft words of
encouragement as she lifted her legs, draping them over Phoebe's
shoulders and brought her hands around the back of her lover's
head to stroke her long hair.

	It was obvious that Phoebe wasn't the most accomplished
lover who had ever shared her bed, but Emma had no desire to
complain.  She had learned long ago that there was more to sex
than just technical skill.  What her little Elf lacked in technique,
she more than made up for in other ways.  Still, there was nothing
wrong with giving her a little help.

	"Why don't I get on top?"  she suggested.

	Phoebe had a good idea what Emma had in mind and to be
honest, it sort of excited her. As good as sex between Barbara and
her had been, she had always had to be the aggressor.  It was nice
to let someone else take the lead for a change.

	Sure enough, Phoebe quickly found herself between Emma's
thighs, her face only inches from her bushy mound.  A distance
that shrank to nothing as the heavier woman lowered herself and
pressed her wet sex right against her mouth.  Emma braced
herself against the headboard and one of the bedposts, slowly
gyrating her body back and forth, spreading her wetness across
Phoebe's face.  Her nectar served as an aphrodisiac, spurring the
younger woman into action, her tongue penetrating up and inside
Emma's mound.  Quickly returning to where she left off, she went
back to work with all the fervor she could manage.

	Phoebe's tongue darted back and forth, following the path
Emma had marked with her movements.  Sweet honey filled her
mouth, a reward for her efforts.  As she had learned the second
time she'd performed cunnilingus, each woman had her own
particular taste, some sweet, some bitter.  She was delighted to
discover that Emma's was the former.

	"Faster,"  Emma yelled as she felt herself getting closer to
the pinnacle,  "lick me harder!  Fuck me with that wonderful
tongue!"

	After beginning slowly to better to savor her lover, Phoebe
quickened her pace until she reached a rhythm that doubled the
ripples surging throughout Emma's body.  As they grew in
intensity, both knew an orgasm was not far away.

	An orgasm that Emma enjoyed immensely as the breakers
that had been washing over her broke against her shores with an
intensity she hadn't felt in months.  The cascading waves blended
into one soul-shattering climax.

	"Ohhhhh yessssss!"  Emma moaned, her body shaking and
shuddering with abandon as her orgasm took hold, shutting out the
world around her.  All that existed was the soft, wet touch against
her core.  That and the pleasures it had unleashed.

	A climax that flooded Phoebe's mouth with the sweetest of
nectars.  A bursting dam that made the younger woman think there
was no end to it.  Never had she made another woman climax quite
like this.  It was indeed a moment to forever remember.

	When it was all finally done, and Emma's trembling body
finally calmed,  Phoebe lifted herself from between her legs and
climbed up alongside Emma on the bed.  Softly she kissed her,
pleased to discover that the hundredth kiss was just as sweet as
the first.

	"Now that was good!"  Phoebe grinned.

	Emma smiled back at her and was about to make a remark
when the chimes of the living room clock stuck the midnight hour.
Putting aside the comeback she'd planned, she instead wished the
young woman in her bed a Merry Christmas.

	"Merry Christmas,"  Phoebe echoed, thinking that it was
that indeed.

	She closed her eyes and laid her head to rest against
Emma's chest, enjoying the fading heat of their lovemaking as she
snuggled up against her.  Then, in a low, almost imperceptible  voice
she knew was neither hers or Emma's, she thought she heard a
third holiday greeting.

	"Do you hear that?"  she asked Emma as she suddenly jerked
her head upward.

	"Hear what?"  Emma asked as she reached out to guide
Phoebe back to her bosom.

	"Nothing I guess,"  Phoebe replied, thinking it had to have
been her imagination.

	A conclusion that would've been easier to accept if she
hadn't heard the voice a second time.  This time it had been much
clearer, and had simply said:

	"Thank you for making her happy."

	Phoebe had never before believed in ghosts, but Christmas
spirits?  Well they were another matter entirely.

END

_____________________________________

Ann Douglas Web Page

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