What A Christmas, Carol - Sex Stories

What A Christmas, Carol

The snow tumbled from the sky like a curtain in big, wet flakes that glittered in the porch light and added layer after layer to the smooth, edgeless blanket that tried to swallow the world. From time to time, trees capitulated under the weight and threw their branches to the ground with a final, resonating gun shot, or faltered altogether with a cannon blast. The startled jerks and hammering heartbeat were the only things that broke Carol’s miserable monotony while she stared out of the blurred window into the white-gray nothingness and watched through red-rimmed eyes as the snow climbed above the window sill. Her mood was just like the snow - gray, heavy and cold. It should have been the best Christmas ever. Now she sat there, alone, the ambers of the fire in the hearth behind her dead, and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself, unable to dispel the chill from her heart. “ Going to be a day late. Missed flight. Driving up there by myself. ” Was that the message you wrote your fiancée when you needed to tell her that you’d be late for your first real, romantic holiday together -- for the long-awaited, cozy Christmas week in a remote mountain cabin? Of course it wasn’t. How he could not have expected her to call him after that, she had no clue. Or perhaps he had, subconsciously. Perhaps this had been his way to tell her that sorry, it just didn’t work for him. The giggling, female voice that had answered her on his fixed phone had been like a punch into her face and ...

... guts. But when she had asked for Fernando and Miss Giggles had called out for loverboy, she had felt her heart freeze and shatter, piece by piece, with agonizing pain. “Don’t bother coming.” It had been a single wave of wounded rage that had kept her voice steady enough to say the words -- before the tsunami of misery following in its wake tore apart her world. She had hung up the phone, and there had been nothing. No frantic call back. No message begging her to talk. Just silence, a broken heart and tears streaming in rivers down her face. * * * * The snow was halfway up the windows. Candles flickered and made the room look far warmer than it felt. Carol’s stomach grumbled, but she couldn’t find the energy to get up. A knock sounded. She should go to the door. But there couldn’t be anybody outside, not on Christmas Eve with the snow already four feet high and still falling. Her fantasy was playing games; loneliness was no doubt making her imagine things. Another series of knocks broke the silence, loud, insistent. She turned her head around and looked at the door. “Wha…” Her voice was inaudible, raw from crying. The knocking turned into a pounding. “Hello?” a muffled male voice asked from outside. “Is there anybody inside? Hello?” * * * * A deep trench, almost a canyon, wound its way through the snow, and the older couple standing in front of Carol’s door, clad in thick down jackets and with their cheeks reddened by the exertion in the cold, looked relieved. They were both ...