Champagne for Christmas

by Joachim Jean

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, almost paralyzed by the need building in her. She slid her hand down his hip and closed her fingers around him.

  His eyes popped open. “Oh, baby!” He eased two fingertips into her in response.

  She gasped, her hips instinctively arching toward him, wanting more. He pumped in and out of her slowly, making her body rise and fall with him. Her hand tightened on him, moving along with his rhythm.

  “Ready?” he whispered.

  “God,” she muttered, her eyes closed.

  “I wanna take you…to the moon, babe…” He mounted her and was inside quickly. Nina wound her legs around him as he thrust into her hard and fast. Clint buried his face in her shoulder and groaned.

  Nina dug her fingers into his thick back muscles, gripping tighter with each plunge, her fingernails raking his skin. The intensity growing in her wiped every other thought from her mind.

  “Nina,” he grunted.

  Their skin fused, chest to chest, as sweat trickled between them. He raised his head to take her mouth roughly. Nina gave herself up to his demanding body, pounding into her. Her passion spiraled up and up. She gripped his arms tighter and tighter until her nerve endings exploded and pleasure sped through every inch. A groan escaped her then a long sigh.

  After her release, Clint drove into her several times, hard, then stopped as he uttered a drawn out moan. Nina embraced him as he came.

  The lovers lay in each other’s arms, quiet and still for a few moments.

  “I’ve missed you.” She lowered her legs until her feet were flat on the mattress.

  “You’re amazing,” he said, planting several small kisses on her shoulder before straightening his elbows, raising his body up.

  Her fingers combed his hair, smoothing it, and then continuing down to rest on his cheek.

  Clint eased himself out of her slowly and sat back on his calves. “You’re the most beautiful woman.” His gazed roamed over her from head to toe.

  “When I’ve been loved by you.”

  He smiled at her compliment, but argued, “All the time.”

  She sat up and stretched, placing her hands on his chest before lying down again.

  “I need water. You?” he asked, rising from the bed, pulling up his boxers and padding toward the door.

  “Yes.”

  He disappeared through the doorway, and Nina took her time leaving the bed, savoring the satisfaction and happiness that washed over her. She plucked a soft, pink terry robe off the hook on the back of the door and wrapped it around her.

  Clint returned with two big glasses to find Nina holding a dark blue man’s robe out for him. “What’s this?”

  “I bought this for you, for when you stay over.”

  “You think of everything,” he said, putting the waters down on the nightstand and slipping the robe over his shoulders.

  Then, Nina took Clint’s hand and moved toward the door. “Work.”

  Grabbing the play, Nina settled on the sofa, but Clint wandered over to the window. Although it was now November, there were still brilliantly colored leaves on the trees. Fall came late in New York City. The view out of the French doors, beyond the terrace, was spectacular, a riot of red, gold, and orange. “You overlook the route for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Every year I have a breakfast party for some of my friends so we can watch it. A different crew, my old theater friends, who are not early risers, come for Thanksgiving dinner. Otherwise, I don’t know what I’d do on the holiday.”

  “Two meals?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “I cook Thanksgiving. A chef stops serve the brunch.”

  “A chef stops by?” Clint stared at Nina.

  “We—I mean, I contribute to a culinary school. They send someone as a ‘thank you’.”

  “Must be some contribution!”

  “It is.”

  “Did I tell you Cory is going to be with me for Thanksgiving?”

  “You didn’t,” Nina said, rising to join him at the window. “Let’s celebrate it together.”

  “We’ve done the two of us. We end up at a restaurant, and it’s pretty dismal.”

  “Oh, do come here! You’ll love my crew. They’re a little wacky, but good-hearted.” Nina clasped her hands together in front of her chest.

  “An invitation I can’t refuse.”

  “I have so much to do! You must bring Cory early for the parade. Let’s see.” She sucked her lip over her bottom teeth, put the envelope containing the play back on the coffee table, and then went over to the small desk in the corner of the living room. She pulled out a pad and pen. “I’ve got to make a list.” She curled up, one leg underneath her on the sofa, and started to write.

  “I thought we were working?”

  “We will. But Thanksgiving with you and Cory? I’m so excited. Tell me—do you two have any favorite foods?”

  Clint took the pen from her hand and put it down on the coffee table. Then, he picked up the envelope and ripped it open. “Work, remember? You have two weeks to plan dinner.”

  Nina smacked her forehead. “The play!”

  “Right, the play! Make your list later.” He chuckled.

  Two hours later, they took a break over tea and chocolate éclair cupcakes. Nina indulged her curiosity and steered the conversation around to Clint’s son.

  “Tell me about Cory.”

  “He’s never met a girlfriend of mine before. He asked me if I’m dating, and I told him I was. He worries about me being alone. He’ll be okay with this…with us.”

  “Didn’t he notice I’m older than you?”

  “You’re sexy and beautiful. He’ll see exactly what I see.”

  “A dumb brunette, eh?” she joked.

  “A brilliant brunette.”

  “Love you, sweet man,” Nina said as she planted a kiss on his lips.

  Clint stuffed the last of his cupcake in his mouth then announced, “Back to work.” “Okay. Do you want to start by revising the daughter’s opening speech, or creating a new character, a grandmother, as a foil for the girl?” Nina put the play in her lap and raised her pen, poised to begin writing.

  Chapter Seven

  The weeks flew by, and before he knew it, Clint was rushing from school to the Port Authority bus station. He was meeting Cory, who was due to arrive on a five-fifteen bus to spend his Thanksgiving break with his dad.

  On the subway, Clint tried to think of ways to tell his son about Nina. Cory’s thirteen. Time to talk about the facts of life. He’ll understand. He’s smart. Clint switched trains, rode the few remaining stops, and arrived at the station with five minutes to spare.

  His heart lurched when he saw his son appear, lugging a full backpack. They stopped for a quick hug. Clint kept his arm around Cory’s shoulders while they threaded their way through the crowds on the way to the subway.

  Cory’s smile fell to a frown. “Are we going to a restaurant again this year?”

  “For Thanksgiving?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Nope. I’ve got a great surprise for you instead.”

  The boy’s eyes lit up as he turned to face his dad. The screech of brakes called their attention to the arriving car. They got in the rush hour train with barely enough room, squeezed together like sardines. Conversation was impossible.

  Looks like he’s grown at least an inch in two weeks. Clint cast a glance at where Cory’s head was in relation to his own. The boy was catching up. The subway finally pulled into 116th Street, and they eased their way out and headed for the stairs.

  “So, what’s the surprise?”

  “We’re having Thanksgiving dinner with…” Clint paused, looking at his son.

  “Yeah? With who?”

  “With a friend of mine.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Female.”

  “Really?” Cory’s head turned to the side. His glance fell on Clint’s face.

  Clint could feel the heat
of embarrassment creep up his neck.

  Cory snickered at his dad. “What are you so uptight about?”

  “Well, this is the first time…I mean…you haven’t met any other…friends of mine.”

  “Dad, is she your girlfriend?”

  Clint moved his gaze to the sidewalk as he gave a curt nod.

  “It’s about time. I was beginning to wonder if you were gay.”

  Clint’s head jerked up, frowning, until he saw the laughter in his son’s eyes.

  “Gotcha!”

  By now, they had reached the apartment. They climbed the two flights to Clint’s small, but neat flat with twin beds in the bedroom–one for him and one for his son. The young man dumped his backpack on the sofa and headed for the kitchen.

  “What do you have to eat?” he asked, opening the first cabinet he came to.

  “I bought a few of your favorites.”

  “Like what?”

  “Check the fridge.”

  Cory took an apple and a small bottle of grape juice from the refrigerator and a bag of pretzels from the cabinet into the living room. He plopped down on the sofa.

  Clint stared out the window, wondering how he was going to broach the next subject. He joined his son. “Cory, has your mother spoken to you about…the uh…birds and the bees?”

  The young teen started to choke on a pretzel. Clint pounded on his back until the boy’s throat cleared and the red started to leave his face.

  “Well?” Clint asked, facing his son.

  “They covered that stuff in school a couple of years ago, Dad. Where have you been?”

  “A couple of years ago? So, you know…everything? Nothing left for me to cover?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about dating advice?” Sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

  “No offense, Dad, but you haven’t done much more dating than I have.”

  “You haven’t…uh…experienced everything yet though, have you?”

  “What?”

  “Uh, you know…gotten that close to a girl that you’ve uh…”

  “You mean am I still a virgin? That’s my business.”

  “I’m your father. Do you have any…uh questions about…the…uh, process.”

  “Process?”

  “How to have sex.”

  Cory snickered. “Has it changed since I took that class?”

  “Stop playing with me. If a son has questions about sex, he asks his dad. You don’t? That’s fine. But if you ever change your mind. I’m here. You don’t need any condoms, do you?”

  “Dad! I’m only thirteen.”

  Clint let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, okay, backing off.”

  “Are you sleeping with her?” Cory took a bite of his apple.

  “Who?”

  “Your girlfriend.”

  “That’s personal.”

  “You said if I had any questions. I do. That one.”

  Clint looked at the smirk on Cory’s face and suppressed the urge to slap it off. He could feel anger rising in his chest. Still, he knew he had to answer. “I am, if that’s any business of yours. In fact, we’re spending the night at her place tonight, so you can see the parade in the morning.”

  “That stupid parade? Who cares? I’d rather stay here.” Cory shifted position on the sofa.

  “Okay, wise guy. She lives eight floors above Central Park West, with a terrace facing the street so the parade will come right by you, but if you don’t care, I’ll call her and cancel,” Clint said, reaching for his cell phone.

  Cory quickly put his hand on his dad’s arm. “Wait! She lives there?”

  “In a fantastic apartment with a grand piano in the living room. You’ll have the guest room all to yourself. There’s a computer and a great view. We’re going to help her cook and have our Thanksgiving dinner there…oh, there’ll be a brunch party in the morning for her friends. They come to watch the parade every year.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Nina. Her name is Nina. You met her briefly last summer.”

  “The woman who lived next door?”

  Clint nodded. “By the way, her friends are theater people. A little weird, different, you know. So, don’t get uncomfortable or anything. They’re nice…she’s an actress.”

  “Theater people? Cool, Dad. She’s an actress, huh? Have I seen her on TV?”

  “She was on the stage.”

  “Is she hot?”

  “Beautiful.”

  Cory smiled. “Way to go, Dad. About time.” He pulled out his phone and finished his apple while he checked messages.

  “You have a girlfriend?” his father asked him.

  “Nah. Chicks don’t get me.”

  “They will.”

  Clint smiled at Cory and ruffled his hair as the boy propped his feet up on the coffee table and focused on his cell.

  After a moment, Cory glanced up. “When do we leave?”

  “Dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant, just you and me, then we head to Nina’s.”

  “Cool.”

  Cory returned to his game, and Clint headed for the shower. His pulse returned to normal as the hot water beating on his back relaxed him. That went okay. Who’d’ve thought he’d be asking me if I was sleeping with Nina? He chuckled to himself after turning off the spray. If I blink, he’ll be off to college.

  Clint stopped Cory at the door before they left the house. He gave the boy the once over before handing him a comb.

  “I never had to comb my hair for mom.”

  “Nina isn’t your mother.”

  “Does she have kids?”

  “One son. But he’s married and lives in Seattle, so he won’t be there. Pick up your backpack. It’s dragging on the ground.”

  “Married son? How old is she?”

  “I don’t know and don’t ask.” Clint shook his finger in Cory’s face.

  “Huh, she must be more than a girlfriend. You never cared about my hair or my questions before.”

  “She’s special.”

  Cory finished with his hair and returned the comb to his father. They walked down the street in silence. Clint wondered what Cory thought about Nina, but he couldn’t guess. Not knowing made him nervous.

  ****

  Clint grabbed Cory’s arm when he tried to walk past the doorman. “We have to be announced,” he whispered to the boy.

  “Mr. Hayworth, go right up. Mrs. Wells is expecting you.”

  “Thanks, Max.”

  Cory turned to his dad. “Mrs.? Is she married?”

  “A widow.”

  “Oh.”

  Clint planted his hands on Cory’s shoulders to steer his son through the posh gold and white lobby to the first bank of elevators. Cory looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I know, fancy,” Clint said as he pushed the button for the eighth floor.

  When the doors opened, Clint stepped out and turned to the right. The door at the end of the hall opened and Nina, sporting a dazzling smile, stood in the doorway. Clint bent down and kissed her before introducing Cory again. Nina extended her hand. Cory shook it and followed his father without a word.

  “You can certainly tell you two are father and son,” Nina said, her gaze skipping back and forth between the two.

  “You live here all by yourself?” Cory asked, his wide-eyed gaze sweeping the room.

  “Now, it’s just me, but it didn’t used to be. When my husband was alive, he lived here and so did my son. At one time, this quiet apartment was so noisy I had to take walks in the park to find some peace and quiet.”

  Color crept up Clint’s neck at Cory’s direct question. He worried Cory would offend Nina, but her easy response relaxed him. Responding with frank answers was her style. He smiled, half in relief.

  “You ate, right?”

  “We did. Our favorite—Chinese.”

  “Good. Want to put your stuff away, Cory?” Nina asked. Your father keeps some of his things here so as not to have to schlepp stuf
f back and forth.”

  “TMI, Nina,” Clint said out of the side of his mouth.

  She blushed. “Did I say something wrong?” Her eyes widened.

  “Don’t sweat it. Dad already told me you’re…about your…”

  “Yeah, we went over that already, so I guess it’s okay. Come on, Cory, this way.” Clint grasped the boy’s shoulders and steered him toward the guest room.

  Nina put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

  ****

  After Cory dropped his bag in the guest room, he and his dad joined Nina in the kitchen.

  “We need to make the stuffing, the creamed onions, the cranberry relish, and the sweet potatoes tonight.” Nina counted off a finger for each dish.

  “How many coming tomorrow?” Clint asked, rolling up his sleeves.

  “Ten, maybe twelve. Sara sometimes brings a friend, someone with nowhere to go. Lark, too.” She slipped an apron over her head and tied it behind her waist.

  “Someone named Lark is coming?” Cory asked.

  “She’s Sara’s little sister. Very pretty, too. And she’s sixteen.”

  She tossed half-aprons to Clint and Cory. The boy watched his father before fastening his apron behind his back as well.

  “Which of those dishes do you like best, Cory?”

  “Stuffing, I guess. Never had creamed onions.”

  “Good. We’ll start with stuffing, then. When that’s finished, you can be excused to do something else, if you’d rather. I hate to work guests too hard on their first day.” She shot him her dazzling smile, but he only nodded.

  While Nina pulled out ingredients and utensils, she kept Cory in the conversation by asking him questions. Where did he go to school? Did he like it? What was his favorite subject? Did he play sports? But all she got were monosyllabic answers. Clint rubbed the back of his neck and avoided her eyes. All her efforts to draw Cory out failed.

  When she had the guys elbow deep, chopping ingredients, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and put a CD in the small player on the counter. The beautiful strains of Jascha Heifetz playing J.S. Bach filled the kitchen.