Frosty ... The Real Man

by CJ England

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  Forbidden Publications

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  Copyright ©2006 by CJ England

  First published in 2006, 2006

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  FROSTY ... THE REAL MAN

  A Forbidden Publications production, DECEMBER 2006

  Forbidden Publications

  PO Box 153

  East Prairie, MO 63845

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  FROSTY ... THE REAL MAN

  Copyright © 2006 CJ ENGLAND

  Cover Art by CJ ENGLAND © 2006

  Edited by RENE WALDEN-WILSON—No copyright assigned.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact the publisher via regular mail.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  ISBN: Not Assigned

  Warning

  This e-book contains explicit scenes and adult language. It is intended for mature audiences only.

  Frosty ... The Real Man

  By

  CJ England

  This book is dedicated to all my active chat list members who helped me brainstorm these ideas. A special thank you goes to Cassidy McKay who came up with the idea of an anatomically correct snowman

  And I also want to acknowledge the creators of the original Frosty...

  Frosty the Snowman was a Tin Pan Alley novelty created by Jack Nelson and Steve Rollins in 1950, as a follow-up to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and sold to Gene Autry, who recorded it. The title was taken up for a children's book, illustrated by Corinne Malvern, and published in 1950 by Golden Books. It became a popular children's television cartoon by Rankin & Bass in 1968.

  Frosty is the most famous of snowmen.

  And at the end of the story check out the recipe for

  Frosty's Butterscotch Cookies,

  contributed by Pat Sager.

  Chapter One

  Wassail! Wassail! All over the town, Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown.

  Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree; With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee.

  'Old English Christmas Song'

  "How about that one over there?"

  "Which one?"

  "The one in the tight jeans and white muscle shirt."

  Amy Cassidy looked at her best friend incredulously. “You've got to be kidding,” she shouted over the sound of “Grandma got run over by a Reindeer” playing on the jukebox. “The one that has Mother in a heart, tattooed on his arm? He bulges in all the wrong places."

  Julie shrugged her petite shoulders and sipped at her cosmopolitan. “Not every guy with that tattoo is a mama's boy.” She eyed the beefy man appreciatively. “He's hot."

  The other woman at the table laughed. “If his jeans were any tighter, they'd be painted on.” As a clothing designer at a very exclusive local boutique, Sophia always had something to say about how a guy was dressed.

  "I still think he's cute,” Julie pouted.

  Amy sighed. She glanced back at the bald man at the bar. “He does ... have a nice smile."

  Sophia rolled her green eyes and took a long drag on her cigarette. “If you say so. Personally, I'd rather go it alone."

  "Shut up, So-phie.” Julie used the hated nickname purposely. “We are supposed to be here checking out men so we don't have to do it alone."

  They all looked around them. The pub was one of their favorites, with dark wooded accents and bright murals on the walls of local attractions. Even though The Caribou Tavern was filled with the ever present out-of-towners, it still had a homey feeling to it. Everyone on the wait staff knew their customers by name and knew their drinks as well.

  Since it was December, the room was decorated with bright lights and tinsel hanging from the rafters. A Christmas tree with colored balls and angels stood in a corner with packages beneath it. Well placed clumps of mistletoe hung in all the doorways, and beware the unlucky person who was caught standing there.

  Over the bar was a large mirror, and taped to it were cheap red stockings with all the bartenders and servers names on them. It added a fun, personal touch that the customers appreciated even more than the Christmas music blaring on the juke box.

  Amy took a drink of her beer. “We've been here a dozen times already. I don't think we are going to find our perfect man here."

  Sophia snorted, flipping back her long dark hair. “I don't care about perfect. It's been so long since I've gotten laid, I'll settle for alive."

  Her friends giggled. When the beefy man at the bar looked their way, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, they all burst into laughter.

  "Well,” chortled Julie. “I guess I shouldn't talk. I'm so lonely, even Mr. Clean over there looks good."

  "We've been through all the men I know. None of them rocked my boat.” Sophia twirled the olive in her martini.

  Slamming her empty beer onto the table, Amy shook her blonde head. “I'm damn tired of settling. There's got to be someone out there that will make us feel special."

  Leaning back indolently, Sophia raised an elegant eyebrow. “And just what would this perfect man be like?"

  Amy blinked. “Ahhh ... he...” She turned a pretty shade of pink. “I don't know. I just know what he isn't."

  "And what's that?” Julie signaled the waitress for another round.

  Thinking back over her last few disasters she called dates, Amy frowned and narrowed her ice-blue eyes. “Well, he wouldn't live at home, and he wouldn't have to call his mother twice a night."

  Sophia shuddered. “No ... that would be out!"

  "And he wouldn't smell like cheap cologne."

  They all wrinkled their noses.

  "He wouldn't order the most expensive item on the menu and then expect you to go halvsies when all you had was a salad!"

  "Cretin,” Sophia muttered. “A good job is a must."

  Amy accepted another beer from the server. “And he wouldn't kiss like a fish, or forget you were there, or burp at the table."

  "He should say thank you and be a decent tipper,” put in the waitress.

  "Yeah ... he should have manners. He would hold out your chair and open doors for you. He wouldn't stare at other women, or talk about ex-girlfriends or his last bass fishing trip.” Amy chewed her full lips thoughtfully.

  Julie giggled. “Or expect you to ride a scooter on your big date."

  "Or,” Sophia snickered, “be a foot shorter than you and stare at your breasts all night long."

  "How about those guys who expect sex just because you had a hamburger with them?” asked a woman from a nearby table.

  "Or the ones you've dated for awhile and you think everything is going along fine, and then they say ... I need my space?” put in another woman.

  All the listening women nodded sagely. They'd all heard that particular pie
ce of wisdom at some point in their lives.

  Amy put her chin in her hand. “There has to be men who aren't such idiots ... right? I mean, the species is still propagating."

  Julie shook her tousled red head sadly. “Settling. That's what the majority of women do. Settle for whatever comes along."

  Sophia lit another cigarette. “Maybe it's because we live in such a touristy town. We don't get quality men to come and live here. In Aspen, all we see are ski instructors, rich playboys and men who are pretending to be both!"

  Everyone laughed. Aspen, Colorado was one of the premier snow playgrounds of the west. It was true; they saw their fair share of all three.

  "Still,” Amy said dreamily. “I think he's gotta be out there somewhere. Someone who will make my heart race and my toes curl. He'll be tall and dark and built.” She grinned, downing her second beer. “I'll use him as inspiration for my next sculpture."

  Giggling madly, Julie almost inhaled some of her pink cosmo. “Gives you a whole new meaning to the term ... doing it in ice!"

  They all laughed again. Amy's expertise as an ice sculptress was well known. She was booked weeks in advance and had catering contracts with all the major hotels in the area. Fantasies in Ice was only two years old, but she was already living comfortably on the profits and had several people employed.

  "How about this?” Sophia chuckled slyly. “You could give someone a ‘cold cock'! Or even better ... ‘blue balls'!"

  All three women collapsed in merriment at the whimsy. Finally, Amy wiped her moist eyes. “Just think of the slogans I could come up with."

  "Please ... don't start again.” Julie wrapped her arms around her aching stomach. “I haven't laughed like that in a long time. It hurts!"

  "What hurts is that we are sitting here on a Saturday night without a man in sight,” Sophia said seriously. “What the hell are we doing?"

  "Well ... if you think I'm going to go invite Mr. Clean home with me because I'm horny ... you're crazy!” answered Amy. “Haven't you heard of AIDS? And anyone of these guys could be a serial rapist and killer."

  "She's right,” murmured Julie. “We're never going to meet Mr. Perfect in a bar."

  "No way in hell,” agreed Sophia.

  "But I'm not even looking for Mr. Perfect,” Amy responded with another sigh. “I just want a real man. One who will love me and treat me right. I know he's out there."

  "Well ... you need to find someone, quick."

  Amy frowned at her friend. “Why, quick?"

  Sophia rolled her eyes. “Have you forgotten The Winter Wonderland Ball? You need an escort, remember?"

  Groaning, Amy dropped her head into her hands. “Geesh ... I did forget. Thanks so much for reminding me. Just what I needed to make my night complete. Shit!"

  "You have two more weeks ... make that thirteen days, until Christmas Eve and the night of the ball.” Julie patted Amy's shoulder. “You are one of the guests of honor."

  "Being one of the three artists who are receiving the city's highest artistic tribute is nothing to be sneezed at.” Sophia gestured for another round of drinks. “We're going."

  "With bells on!” Julie grinned as she chewed on a pretzel. “Danny, from the restaurant, is taking me.” Julie was the pastry chef at one of Aspen's finest restaurants. She shrugged again. “Not forever material, but he can be fun."

  Sophia handed the server her credit card. “I think I'll let Dominic take me. He's good for a night out.” She smiled slyly. “Not too bad between the sheets, either."

  Amy didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was supposed to be the belle of the ball, but she couldn't even get a date. It just wasn't fair.

  "Your problem is...” smirked Sophia, reading her mind. “You're too damn picky."

  "I am not.” Amy took another long drink from her beer, feeling her head begin to tilt pleasantly. “I just refuse to keep dating losers, that's all."

  Julie patted her arm. “You'll think of someone."

  Sophia snorted and held up her drink in a toast. “If you don't, then you will be going to the ball alone. And guess who'll be the loser, then."

  * * * *

  "Silent night, holy night

  All is calm, all is bright “

  The three women stumbled down the sidewalk, their voices lifted in uneven song. Julie was barely able to walk, hanging onto Amy and Sophia, but her off-tune voice had unfortunately suffered no loss of strength.

  "Round yon Virgin Mother and Child

  Holy Infant so tender and mild"

  "Have either of you ever even met a virgin?” Sophia interrupted with a hiccup. “I mean ... didn't they all die out with dodos and unicorns?

  "No, no,” remonstrated Julie drunkenly. “You've got it backwards. Unicorns died out because there were no virgins."

  They all laughed and staggered up the walk to Amy's house, still singing loudly.

  "Sleep in heavenly peace,

  Sleep in heavenly peace"

  Next door, the window flew open. A man's head poked out, the moon shining on his balding pate. “For crying out loud,” he shouted. “We'd all like some heavenly peace! It's three o'clock in the morning!"

  "Sorry, Mr. Thomas,” Amy shouted back, stifling her giggles. “Go back to sleep. We'll be quiet."

  "Damn fool, kids,” muttered the old man as he shut his window. “Why, in my day we would never...” The window closed with a bang.

  Sophia snickered. “What an old sourpuss."

  Amy giggled. “He's not so bad, and it is late."

  "It's Saturday night, and I hope I'm never that old,” declared Julie. “We were discussing something very important."

  "We were?"

  "Duh!” Julie knocked on Amy's forehead. “Your date ... remember?"

  Tipsy from the beer, Amy fell back on her butt in the snow from the force of Julie's blow. She shook her head blearily. “I don't want to think about a date. Men are too much trouble. Maybe we should just swear off of them all together."

  "Or just use them and abuse them!” Sophia dropped down next to her. “Isn't that what they do to us?"

  "Not every man is like that,” Julie disagreed as she plopped down beside her two friends. “I know several women that are happily married."

  "Then they must have grabbed the last two good men on earth,” Amy groused. “I do better with my sculptures than I do with the men I've met."

  "That's it!” giggled Sophia. “We are all creative women ... we'll design our own perfect man."

  "Design them?"

  Sophia nodded. “We're all artists. I can draw my perfect man. Julie can bake up one and you ... you my friend, can sculpt one out of ice.

  Laughing, Amy lay back in the snow and stared up at the myriad of twinkling stars. “An ice sculpture of my perfect man, hmmm?” She moved her arms and legs in a back and forth motion creating a snow angel. Sitting up, she rolled out of the way and looked back at the imprint. “How about this, instead?"

  "Too easy,” Julie scoffed. “You can do better.” Her eyes brightened. “I have an idea!” She jumped to her feet, weaving around them like a drunken sailor. “How about a snowman?"

  "Snowman?” Sophia clambered to her feet and tried to balance herself. “You want us to build a snowman?"

  "Sure,” Julie said excitedly as she bent and gathered snow into a large ball. “If we are all so damn creative, let's show it. Let's make a snowman of our dream man."

  Amy sat where she was and watched as her tipsy friends began rolling snowballs for their snowmen. They chattered like chickadees looking for a winter feast. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she sighed. She still didn't care about finding the perfect man. She knew there was no such thing. But she did long for someone to share her heart with.

  Unfortunately, after the pain she'd been through in the past with men and their selfishness, she had a hard time trusting anyone. And she wasn't keen on getting close and allowing it to happen again. Which was why, she still didn't have a date for the most prestigious nigh
t in her career.

  "Come on, Amy.” Julie giggled as she added a second misshapen lump to her snowman. “You're way behind."

  "Alright, alright,” she grinned at her inebriated friends. “We're crazy, you know."

  "No we aren't,” Sophia disagreed lightly. “We're drunk!"

  They all laughed like loons as Amy bent and began to build her snowman. She started with the traditional shape, but as the figure grew, her natural creativity took over. “He has to be tall,” she muttered to herself. She tossed another clump of snow on the unsteady mound and tapped it down. “At least six feet."

  She eyed the pile before her. “Let's see what's inside of you.” Carefully, she began to carve the snow, her mind going blank as she pulled from the snow, the figure she saw within. She started with the head, giving him hair that was longish and windblown. She skipped over the face. That, she would do last.

  Enjoying herself now, Amy sculpted her snowman's torso, giving him a wide chest that tapered down to slim hips and washboard abs. “If I'm going to dream,” she mused. “I might as well do it right."

  Since she couldn't carve the arms separate from the body, she made them so her creation was resting his fists on his hips. Carefully, she smoothed the snow until each arm was perfectly shaped with strong muscles that you could almost see flex beneath sensitive fingers.

  Kneeling before him, she began work on his lower body. Her mittens were stiff with cold by the time she finished crafting hard muscled thighs and one of the nicest butts she'd ever seen. Grinning, she cupped the snowy cheeks. “I am an ass woman,” she said, laughing to herself. Quickly she finished, carving narrow long feet and even ridges that looked like toes.

  "You know what they say about guys with big feet,” Sophia called as she saw what Amy was doing. She grinned at her friend's obvious confusion and walked over to run a leather glove over the snow below the abdomen. “You can't stop now, girlfriend."

  Amy's mouth fell open. “You want me to make him anatomically correct?"

  "Uh huh,” Julie nodded. “No Ken dolls here. You started him ... now finish him."