My Christmas Spirit

by K. C. Wells

  Here? Have you taken a good look lately? My co-workers comprised middle-aged women, a couple of young things who looked like they were desperate to get out of there—well who wouldn’t? Selling insurance had to be the seventh layer of hell, right?—and a few guys who plainly wanted to go places. They were the ones who always made their quota, who spoke the loudest, and who I generally avoided at staff parties.

  The only parties I ever attended, and that was down to my overactive duty gland.

  Mike rubbed his beard. You’ve got a point. I wouldn’t do any of the guys.

  I hadn’t had time to retort before the door opened, and Adam Wainwright strolled in.

  Mike’s eyes widened. Well hello there. Who’s Mr Tall Dark and Handsome?

  I had to hand it to him. He’d picked the only decent-looking man in the place. Adam was also the boss. Mr Clean Shaven. Mr Single. And yes, in the last year or two since Adam had arrived on the scene, my thoughts might have strayed in his direction. Not that he was gay. That much was obvious.

  Now there’s a guy I wouldn’t mind getting stuck in an elevator with. Mike grinned. Why don’t you ask him out?

  I was glad I wasn’t drinking at the time. I am not asking my boss on a date.

  I was sure Mike’s grin widened. He’s the boss? Ooh nice.

  Plus, there’s the small detail that he’s straight.

  Mike’s eyes sparkled. Nothing a few whiskies couldn’t cure.

  I gaped, and Mike burst into a peal of laughter. How long since I’d heard that?

  Before either of us could say anything else, Adam approached my desk. “When you’ve got a minute, Andy, can you step into my office?”

  I gave him my efficient smile. “Sure, Adam. I can come now.”

  Oh, I’ll bet you can.

  How I forced myself not to react, I’ll never know. I got up from my seat and followed him into his corner office, aware that Mike was behind me. The last thing I saw as I gently but firmly closed the door, was the sight of him miming giving a blow job.

  Adam sat down behind his wide desk and peered at a memo in front of him. I didn’t take a seat.

  “I just want to say well done.” He looked up and smiled. “So far you’re at the top of the leader board for this month.”

  I gave a shrug. “Seeing as we’re only a week or so into December, I think there’s still a long way to go. You watch. Joyce will have overtaken me by Christmas Eve. She always does.” Joyce had to be the most competitive member of staff in the office. Both Adam and his predecessor gave a bonus to the top performing member of staff every Christmas, and for the past eight years, Joyce had bagged it. Not that anyone minded. Joyce was a single mom, raising three kids. She needed every penny she could get.

  Adam laughed. “Yes, well, I wanted to give you some encouragement. Besides, don’t you think it’s time somebody else got a chance at the bonus?”

  I smiled. “She works the hardest. She deserves it. And it’s those kids of hers who reap the benefits.”

  Adam nodded. “Well, in that case, I’ll let you get back to it. Keep up the good work.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” I walked out of his office and back to my desk, only to find Mike sitting in my swivel chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, his dick as erect as it had been the previous night. I came to a halt beside the chair, trying not to glare at him. Because let’s face it, glaring at an empty chair would have been weird, right?

  Doesn’t that thing ever go down?

  Mike pulled downward on his cock, only to have it slap back against his belly with a smack. Hey, don’t blame me for what’s in your head.

  He wasn’t laying the blame for his present state on me. Nothing to do with me. You said last night ‘they’ let you choose. This is all on you. I smirked. But then, you always were an exhibitionist. Let him deny that.

  He got up from the chair and gestured to it. All yours. I resumed my seat, and Mike leaned in close. My nostrils reacted to that familiar scent again, and the hairs on my arms stood to attention.

  So… How was the meeting with Adam? And are you going to ask him out?

  Give Mike his due, he was tenacious.

  One, it was fine. Two, no, I’m not, because, duh? Straight? Three, now please go and leave me alone. I have work to do. I glanced at his cock out of the corner of my eye. And take that out of my sight. It’s a distraction.

  Mike laughed and smacked his dick against his palm.

  And that’s another thing. Haven’t the last six years cured you of that?

  He waggled his eyebrows. Why break the habit of a lifetime? Besides, you used to like it.

  I pointed to the door. Go. Now. I have work to do.

  What I got was Mike waving goodbye with his cock, before walking toward the door, that firm ass jiggling.

  Having the same hallucination four times had to be a cause for worry, right? I mean, I probably had a tumour or something like that, causing me to see things, smell things. Because what was the alternative? My dead boyfriend has decided to pay me a visit?

  Then I reconsidered. I’d rather have a ghost than a tumour.

  I pushed all thoughts of Mike aside. I had work to do.

  Chapter Three

  At lunchtime, I sat in the staff canteen, eating spaghetti Bolognese, and doing my best not to drip the sauce on my tie. Around me, the talk was of Christmas: making plans to go Christmas shopping, to take kids to pantomimes, and to hold or attend parties.

  When was the last time I had gone to a party? Apart from the office variety, of course.

  I was just wondering that myself. I tried not to jump when Mike appeared next to me, gazing with interest at my lunch.

  Christ, I’d never been the jumpy sort, but this was ridiculous. Will you not do that? I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed my reaction. Fortunately, my co-workers were all engrossed in their conversations.

  Thank God. Because how in the hell would I explain what I was seeing?

  Instantly, Mike’s face fell. I’m sorry. I’ve not quite got the hang of making my entrance gently.

  I regretted my outburst. I didn’t mean to yell, even if it was inside my head. It’s just that… You have to admit, this is a strange situation.

  Mike nodded. I get that. And I promise, I’ll only be here until I’m finished.

  Yes, but until you’ve finished what? That’s the part that worries me. You’re obviously here for a reason, and you won’t tell me yet. Then you keep making remarks about cute guys. I couldn’t resist. As if I’d listen to you when it comes to men.

  Mike blinked and he gave me an indignant glance. What does that mean?

  I remember the guys you used to look at.

  Mike smirked. I looked at you, didn’t I?

  And I’m probably the most normal man you ever looked at.

  Mike’s eyebrows reached higher. Oh really? Give me an example of someone who wasn’t normal looking.

  I folded my arms, my lunch forgotten. Let’s see. What about that guy at the awards dinner you took me to? You remember the one. He wore a kilt.

  Mike frowned. And what’s wrong with a kilt? He grinned. Kilts are sexy.

  Nothing’s wrong with kilts. It was the way he couldn’t keep his hands out of his sporran that brings him to mind. I tried not to smile.

  Mike coughed. Okay, he was a little… self-obsessed.

  He was obsessed with something, all right. Then there was the guy who collected beer mats.

  There’s nothing wrong with collecting things. Mike set his jaw.

  I agree. But when he told you he’d covered every internal wall of his flat with beer mats, that should have set up a warning signal.

  Mike studied the table. Do you miss me?

  My stomach clenched. That’s not fair. Don’t ask me that. Besides, if you can see into my head, you already know the answer.

  Mike lifted his gaze and looked me in the eye. I didn’t expect you to give up on living when I went.

  I couldn’t do this. Not today.<
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  I got to my feet, picked up my tray, and headed to the drop-off point. I slotted it into a space, then walked out of the canteen. My heart sank as I approached my desk and Mike was already there, his expression sorrowful.

  I know what today is. That’s why I am here. Well, part of the reason why I’m here. He regarded me calmly. It’s time to let me go.

  I stared at him in amazement. I thought I already had.

  Mike shook his head. If that was true, then there’d be some sign of Christmas around the flat. I know you, Andy. I remember the big kid you always became as Christmas drew nearer. And I think that magic, that joy of Christmas is still inside you somewhere. You’ve let yourself push it away, someplace way down deep, out of sight.

  I blinked. So what does that make you—the ghost of Christmas present?

  Mike’s sad smile hadn’t altered. You need to let me go, and start living again. Because what I see isn’t a life—it’s existence.

  I couldn’t think of a single word to say in reply, because he’d nailed it.

  Mike gave a slow nod. You know I’m right. And I don’t expect you to jump in with both feet, not after this long. So why don’t you start small?

  There was that thought again, the one that said he had something particular in mind. What do you suggest?

  Mike didn’t hesitate. After work. There’s a coffee shop on the way to the Tube, isn’t there? They’re advertising Christmas drinks. You know, coffee with flavourings. Plus, they have mince pies and stollen. So why don’t you stop there on your way to the Tube and have a Christmas coffee? Sit in a warm space, with music playing, and do something… Christmassy?

  I gazed at him thoughtfully. And if I agree to do this, does that mean you leave me alone for the rest of today?

  Mike bit his lip. For the rest of your workday, yes.

  The implication was that he’d be around later, but right then I was happy with the thought of several hours without him. Trying to concentrate on my work, not knowing if he was suddenly about to appear…

  Yeah. I didn’t need the distraction.

  Okay. I’ll do it. What harm would one coffee do?

  Mike beamed. Thank you. And before I could utter another word, he did that slow fade again.

  I waited, convinced he would suddenly reappear without warning.

  Nothing.

  I took a deep calming breath and got on with my day.

  I stepped into the shop’s warm interior and was immediately hit by the aroma of coffee and spices. A rush of memories overtook me, and it was a good thing Mike wasn’t there, because they hit me hard. Memories of weekends spent Christmas shopping, and breaks taken in coffee shops just like this one, the two of us content to sit in the window and watch the world pass by.

  It was only then that I realized what lay behind my avoidance of coffee shops at this time of year. Self-preservation is a powerful force.

  The queue wasn’t huge and there were several empty tables. My first thought was to leave, but I’d promised Mike. I joined the queue and peered at the menu board behind the counter, trying to decide what I was going to drink. Eventually I chose a salted caramel latte. That would have been it, except the mince pies looked so delicious that I couldn’t resist. I took my tray containing the mince pie and the tall glass, and turned to find a seat.

  I almost dropped the tray. In the time it had taken me to reach the cash desk, every table in the coffee shop had become occupied. In fact, it looked like every seat was taken.

  How is that even possible?

  “Excuse me?”

  I glanced in the direction of the voice. The speaker was a guy dressed in a brown leather jacket, a cream scarf wrapped around his neck. He gestured to the empty chair facing him. “If you don’t mind sharing a table, you can sit here.”

  One last glance around the coffee shop revealed it to be the only empty chair in the place. I gave him a polite smile. “It’s okay. I’m sure there’ll be a space soon. But thank you.”

  He shrugged. “It’s no skin off my nose. But seeing as this place suddenly got really busy, you might have a wait. You’re not gonna bother me.”

  He had a point. And he was right about the speed with which the place had filled. I pulled back the chair and sat down, before placing my mince pie and latte on the table and leaning the tray against the table leg.

  The guy smiled. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna bug you and make small talk. I’m just here to enjoy my coffee.”

  And there was my silver lining. I said nothing but gave him a polite nod. The latte was too hot to drink, so I started with the mince pie. The flavour burst upon my tongue as I bit into the sweet pastry. I rolled my eyes. “God, that’s good.”

  The guy opposite me laughed. “And that’s the other reason I come here. Their mince pies are delicious.” He leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial tone, “I’ve already had two.”

  In spite of my decision not to chat, I had to smile. “I promise I won’t tell.”

  I relaxed into my chair and took a better look at my surroundings. A decorated tree stood in the corner of the coffee shop, covered in little white lights and gold tinsel. A gold star sparkled at its summit. The little white lights were repeated, around the door, the counter, and surrounding the menu board. “It certainly feels like Christmas in here,” I murmured.

  “I must admit, I can’t stand it when the Christmas decorations go up on the first of December. I always wait to put up mine.”

  I blinked. “Me too. My parents always used the rule of twelve days before Christmas, to be taken down twelve days after, on Epiphany. I guess some habits are hard to break.”

  The guy’s eyes widened. “My parents were like that too. I mean, it’s not like they’re going to run out of Christmas trees, right?” He laughed. “Although, there was this one year. I’d meant to buy a tree earlier, but my time kept being eaten up. Before I knew, it was Christmas Eve and I had no tree. I trudged up the hill to my local florists where I knew there’d been trees standing outside. He had one tree left. It was very tall and very thin, and even when I was looking at it, I had the feeling it would be too tall for my flat.”

  “And was it?”

  The guy snorted. “Put it this way. Before I chopped two feet off its base, it was scraping the ceiling.”

  I chuckled. “Now you know why no one wanted it.”

  The guy nodded. “That was also the year my cat decided to climb it. One minute the tree was standing, the next, there was tinsel and smashed baubles everywhere, and my cat doing her best impression of ‘who, me’?”

  I took a sip of my latte. “Hence why I don’t have a cat—or a dog.” Except that wasn’t quite true. Mike had never been keen on pets, and I went along with it.

  I just hadn’t gotten around to getting one since he’d gone.

  The guy gave a sad smile. “I don’t have a cat anymore.”

  There was something in that smile that touched me. “Did she run away?”

  “Remember that really bad snow a couple of years ago? When it lingered for three weeks or more, and we felt like it would never go? She’d gone out on early morning manoeuvres, and I guess she was moving a little slower, because a car hit her.”

  My heart went out to him. He’d clearly loved his pet. “I’m so sorry.”

  The guy shrugged. “It had been a bad time all round. Losing Miski was just one more blow.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, that’s enough. I promised to leave you alone, didn’t I?”

  “I liked your Christmas tree story,” I said truthfully. Then I caught my breath as a familiar figure faded into view. Mike gave me a cheerful wave, standing behind the guy’s chair.

  You made it then.

  Before I could think of a response, a sudden breeze from the open door caught the guy’s napkin, sending it fluttering to the floor. He bent down to retrieve it, and I couldn’t hold in my gasp as Mike moved in, his hand wrapped around his dick—and smacked it on top of the guy’s head.

  What the hell?


  Chapter Four

  The guy reared up, glancing around him frowning. “Who did that?”

  Oh my God.

  “Did what?” I asked, as innocently as I could.

  The guy rubbed the back of his skull. “Something hit me on the head. It wasn’t hard —”

  What do you mean, not hard? Mike grabbed his dick. Look at this thing!

  God, the effort it took not to laugh out loud.

  The guy gave me a hard stare. “Wait a minute. I heard you gasp. You must have seen something.”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t as if I could tell him the truth. Not unless I wanted him to call for the guys in the white suits to cart me off. “Didn’t see a thing. I did burn my mouth on my coffee though.” I paused. “Are you okay?”

  The guy chuckled. “Let’s see. Someone bops me on the head, then when I look around, there’s no one nearby who could have done it.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m as okay as I can be.”

  “What did it feel like?” Not that I needed to ask—I was well acquainted with that particular sensation—but I felt it was the right thing to say in the circumstances.

  He laughed. “It was like… being struck on the head with a small salami.”

  Behind him, Mike rolled his eyes. Oh, you don’t want this guy. He’s a size queen.

  Hey, you’re the one who bopped him on the head with your cock. This is nothing to do with me.

  This had to be the most surreal conversation ever.

  I don’t know what came over me, but I held out my hand to him across the table. “I’m Andy Taylor, by the way.”

  He regarded my hand for a moment, then shook it. “I’m Oliver Payton, but my friends call me Ollie.” He gazed at me thoughtfully. “You really didn’t see anything?”

  “Not a sausage.”

  Ollie snickered. “Hey, that’s good. I still can’t work out who could have done this.”

  I held up my hands. “You said it yourself. There was no one anywhere near you.”

  “True. So what’s the alternative? I imagined it?” Ollie brought his hand to the back of his head once more. “It certainly felt real enough.”