Frosty ... The Real Man

by CJ England

  Amy knew there was a reason she shouldn't, but the alcohol in her bloodstream made it hard to remember why. She chewed her lip, and then looked at her friends with a deadpan face. “This is a very important and delicate operation. I must have complete silence."

  "Silent Night ... yeah ... we already established that,” Sophia muttered.

  Amy glared at her imperiously. She waved her hands around like a tipsy prima donna. “I cannot work like this."

  Her friends both giggled.

  Ignoring them, Amy leaned over and began to sculpt. Out of the snow appeared two lumps that quickly became more detailed. Smoothing the snow gently, Amy felt her cheeks heat as she carved a thick cock against her snowman's leg.

  She grinned to herself, and scooped up some more snow, adding a couple inches to the length. “This is a fantasy, after all."

  Carefully, she used her fingernail to scrape away the snow near the head of the penis, giving it a mushroom shape. Amy giggled as she dug out a small cleft in the center of the tip. She finished by brushing all the excess snow away, smoothing the shaft until it merged into the scrotum carved between the figure's thighs.

  "Damn, girl.” Julie put her hands on her hips. “Very nice. How long is that thing? Ten inches? Can I have him?"

  Amy laughed light-headedly. “No way ... He's all mine!” She tilted her head at her snowman. “And it's only about eight inches. Nine ... tops."

  Sophia snorted with laughter. “But it isn't fair."

  Blinking, Amy turned and stared at Sophia. “What isn't?"

  Sophia slapped a hand on her snowman. It looked remarkably like Bigfoot. “Look at this! It doesn't look anything like yours. You're a ringer."

  Julie giggled from behind her own snowman. “It is what she does, Sophia. She should be better than us!"

  "But mine looks like a gorilla,” the designer pouted. “She's got a cover model over there and I've got a primate."

  Amy bit her lip to keep from laughing as she added details to the muscular shoulders on her snowman. “Actually, yours looks more like Bigfoot to me. Or maybe the Abominable Snowman."

  Julie snorted at Sophia's frown. “It does. Just like the monster in that cartoon with Rudolph.” The three friends all looked at each other and parroted ... “Haven't you heard? Bumble's ... bounce!” Then they all broke into peals of laughter.

  "Shhh,” Amy admonished. She glanced warily at her neighbor's house. “We have to be quiet."

  Still giggling, the others went back to their snowmen, trying unsuccessfully to make theirs as well done as Amy's. Forgetting them, she stood in front of her snowman. It was time to give him a face.

  His face was slightly indistinct because snow isn't as easy to shape as ice, but she carved rugged masculine features with wide intelligent eyes and sensuous lips. Searching around, she found two black stones that she used as his eyes.

  Stepping back, Amy chewed her lips. “I love a man with a little bristle on the chin,” she muttered. “But I'll have to just imagine it. No way I'm gonna take the time to stick pine needles into that pretty chin of yours. But I can do this...” With a quick flick of her wrist, she carved a cleft in his chin, nodding in satisfaction. “Perfect. Makes me want to bite it."

  She circled her creation, dusting off extra snow here, and carving more details there. Finally she was done. Amy stared up at her snowman. “Oh wow,” she whispered. “You are definitely not the traditional Frosty.” She looked into the eyes and shivered. There was something about this sculpture that pulled at her. Was it because it showcased some of her fondest wishes? It looked so real ... so alive.

  She glanced down at the snowman's icy groin and giggled. Oh yeah ... one of her fondest wishes. “I wish you were real,” she whispered out loud. “Just for a little while. Maybe long enough to take me to the ball on Christmas Eve. It would be wonderful to have a real man in my life."

  Standing on tip-toe, she touched his icy lips with her own. A shot of heat seared her and she gasped, pulling away to stare at the man of snow. “What the hell was that?"

  "What was what?” Julie asked. She too had finished her snowman. It looked more like a slightly tilted Buddha.

  Amy rubbed her mitten over her tingling lips. “Nothing ... just static electricity."

  "I still think you should help us with ours,” grunted Sophia. Her Bigfoot was more misshapen than ever.

  Julie laughed loudly, and then yawned. “I'm tired. We should head home. Are we meeting for church tomorrow?"

  Amy nodded. “Yeah ... I'll drive."

  Going over to the still disgruntled Sophia, Julie looped her arm through her friend's. “Come on, Miss Alangelo. It's time to leave and we're walking together, remember?"

  "If I had more time..."

  "Yes, yes ... you would build a dynamite snowman.” Amy rolled her eyes.

  Julie snickered. “Ten o'clock, tomorrow morning? For church?"

  The window next door flew open again. “Church? I hope you'll pray for forgiveness for keeping us all up with your carousing,” Mr. Thomas shouted. “Go to bed!"

  The three women covered their mouths to hide their giggles.

  "Good night, you two,” Amy tittered. She waved at her furious neighbor. “Good night, Mr. Thomas."

  The window slammed closed once again, and the three friends parted. Amy patted her snowman on its cold butt. “Night, night,” she hiccupped. “Don't let the ice bugs bite.” Giggling at herself, she turned and staggered up the walk. The door shut behind her, and soon, all was quiet.

  * * * *

  A star twinkled in the darkness of the night sky. It danced among the other stars for a moment as if delighted with itself, then slowly dropped out of the sky; a light bobbing and weaving as it made its way towards earth.

  It hovered over the shining city of Aspen, getting its bearings, and then moved purposely across the sleeping town until it found its destination. Floating effortlessly, it made its way across a yard to the snowman that had been so carefully crafted just moments before. It came face to face with the figure, its gentle light reaching out and touching the cold lips. With a sound like a sigh, it disappeared inside the anatomically correct snowman, filling it with illumination and heat. Light flared up, filling the whole yard with color and beauty. Slowly it faded away, as if it had never been there.

  But it left behind ... life.

  Chapter Two

  Frosty the Snowman was alive as he could be,

  And the children say he could laugh and play, just the same as you and me.

  'Frosty the Snowman'

  Amy awoke with a monster hangover. She groaned aloud and pressed her palms against her eyes, praying to be dead. “Never again,” she muttered, cringing at the sound of her own voice. “I swear, God ... I'll never drink like that again."

  She thought back over the evening. The events were slightly blurry, as if she was seeing them through water, but she seemed to recall going to the Caribou Tavern with her best friends. She grimaced as she counted the number of beer bottles she remembered seeing on the table. No wonder she had a hangover.

  She sat up carefully, groaning again as her head throbbed. Thumpity, thump, thump. Thumpity, thump, thump. Her eyes popped open and then closed them immediately at the bright light. Cripes ... now her head was thumping along with that silly children's carol. Why that song?

  Her eyes popped open completely, as memory flooded back. “Oh my God,” she groaned. “The snowman.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gritted her teeth at the pain.

  "Damn it,” she muttered. “I've got to destroy that snowman before anyone sees it.” Her already white face, paled even more at the thought of Mr. Thomas, or worse yet ... his grandkids seeing what she had created. “I guess the cock was a little much."

  Pulling on her terrycloth robe, Amy shuffled to the front room wishing for a hot cup of coffee and a shower, not necessarily in that order. She ran her tongue over her teeth and shuddered again. It felt like a rat had curled up and died in her mouth
. Again, she swore she would never drink again.

  Passing a mirror in the hall, she almost screamed. Her long hair stuck up in huge tufts, making her look like she'd stuck her finger in a light socket. Her mascara was smeared down one side of her face. “I am not going outside looking like that,” she muttered.

  Quickly, she ran her hands through her hair. It lay down, but still was far from fashionable. Licking her fingers, she scrubbed the offending makeup away and then looked at her reflection. She still looked as if she'd drawn circles around her eyes, but at least now they were even.

  When she stuck her hands in the pockets of her robe, she sent up a prayer of thanks to heaven. Pulling out a peppermint, she quickly unwrapped the paper and stuck it in her mouth. “Take that you dirty rat,” she whispered as she stuck out her tongue at herself in the mirror. “I've got to go kill a snowman."

  Amy tugged on a coat over her robe, and then pulled on her snow boots. With any luck, all she'd have to do was destroy the genital area and she could leave the snowman. She snickered to herself as she remembered the naughty joke she'd read on-line.

  Why did Frosty the Snowman pull his pants down?

  He was waiting for the snow blower.

  When she opened the front door, she groaned again. The light reflecting off the new fallen snow sent sharp spears of pain dancing in her head. “Come on, God ... give me a break. I did say ... never again."

  Shading her eyes, she clumped down the icy sidewalk to where she and her friends had played the night before. Frowning, she took her hand from her eyes. Julie's Buddha was there and so was Bigfoot, but where was her snowman?

  A low moan came to her ears and she started. Moving cautiously around the side of Sophia's snowman, her eyes widened at the sight that met her eyes.

  There ... lying in a fetal position in the snow ... was a man. A very big ... very naked man.

  He was blue with the cold and shivering so hard, it almost hurt to watch him. Amy forgot all about her x-rated Frosty. She rushed over to him.

  "Are you alright?"

  He didn't answer her, just groaned again, his teeth chattering like castanets. Suddenly, Amy heard the sound of children's voices coming down the street. Knowing she couldn't allow the children to see him, she whipped off her coat, draping it over him.

  "I need you to get up,” she told him. “You have to get warm. I have to call an ambulance.” In the back of her mind, she wondered how he came to be lying in her front yard, naked as a jaybird.

  Bracing his head against her breast, she tried to lift him. “Come on,” she panted. “You have to help me or this isn't going to work!"

  He was so cold. The very marrow of his bones was icy. His body ached from it and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. He fought it, knowing that he had something very special he had to do, but he couldn't remember what or why.

  A voice shouted at him and he frowned. It was a woman. What could she want with him? The sweet voice finally penetrated his icy prison, and he heard her telling him to get up. Something warm was wrapped around him and he groaned with delight as its heat began to melt the icicles in his blood.

  Her sweet voice urged him on and he finally got the strength to roll over.

  "Come on,” Amy said as she pulled on his cold arm. “You have to get warm or you'll die.” Tugging harder, she finally got him to turn over on his back. Her eyes widened and a blush touched her cheeks.

  "Okay ... so that wasn't such a good idea,” she whispered to herself. She'd seen that he was impressively built, with wide shoulders and muscular arms, but crimeny ... now she knew he was built big ... all over. Suddenly, she remembered her snowman and she gasped. “No way...” she breathed. Her artist's eyes swept over him and her whole body tingled with a feeling of déjà vu . “It's not possible.” There was no way that this crazy naked man had anything to do with her missing snowman.

  His eyes opened and he looked into the face of an angel. Mon Dieu ... she was beautiful. He knew her. He'd seen her before ... but he couldn't remember where. Lifting a shaking finger he touched her parted lips and the heat from her breath burned through him.

  Suddenly everything flooded back to him. He knew who he was and why he lay freezing in her angel arms. She'd called him and he ... he had answered.

  Glancing down the street, Amy frowned as she saw the children approaching. She shook her head at her crazy thoughts. He wasn't a snowman. Just someone in dire need of her help. “Come on!” she hissed at him. “You have to get up ... now! Before the kids see you."

  She gasped as his eyes opened. They were as black as if he had eyes made out of coal and she felt another shiver go down her spine. This one a shudder of recognition. But she didn't know him ... did she? He stared at her in wonder, lifting a shaking hand to trace her lips with an icy finger. Heat shot through her body at his touch and the wild notion went through her mind that she did know this man ... and would again ... intimately.

  He smiled, his blue lips parting to reveal even white teeth. “Hap ... py Birth ... day..."

  Amy's mouth dropped open. She blinked once. “What did you say?"

  "Happy—"

  "Never mind,” she interrupted. “It's not my birthday.” She shivered again, realizing that it wasn't just the cold that had caused it. This was getting weird. Now he was talking like a snowman. “Let's get you inside, shall we?"

  He frowned, but using her as a brace, rose unsteadily to his feet. “You ... are sure ... it is not ... your birthday?"

  "Positive."

  He shook his head. “I could ... have ... sworn..."

  Amy ignored his words, focusing instead on the body pressed against hers. He was tall and hard all over. And as icy cold as a real snowman. Without answering his question, she pulled him towards the house. “Come on ... we've got to get you warm."

  He stumbled badly, but she was able to half carry-half push him up the walk to her front door. When she opened the door and heat poured out, the man groaned.

  "The heat ... feels good."

  Amy was no nurse, but she'd lived in snow country long enough to recognize hypothermia when she saw it. He was half unconscious. Stranger or not, she had to get his body temperature up ... and fast.

  "Come on, Frosty,” she murmured. “Into the shower with you.” She bullied him down the hallway to the large bathroom off her bedroom. It had a tub and shower in it. Holding onto his shivering frame, she started the shower, remembering that tepid water at first would be better. He didn't look like he had frost bite, but you never knew.

  When the temperature of the water was where she wanted it, she turned to the shivering man. “In you go."

  His dark eyes opened and he stared at her uncomprehendingly. “G ... g ... go?"

  Sighing, Amy kicked off her boots and shrugged off her robe. Wearing only her nightgown, she stepped over the lip of the tub, pulling him in with her. “Come on,” she coaxed, trying to ignore his nakedness. “This will warm you up."

  He shook his head, his shoulder length coal black hair sending icy droplets spraying over her. As the water touched his bluish skin, he gritted his teeth in pain. “Damnez-le, that ... it hurts!"

  "Don't be such a girl,” Amy responded, using an insult her brothers always threw at her. It came out naturally, but it brought the freezing man's head up.

  "I ... am not ... a ... girl,” he chattered, his black eyes glaring into hers. “That ... much I ... remember."

  She lifted an eyebrow. “It was a joke, all right. Anyone with eyes can tell you are all man."

  A grin creased his shadowed face. “It is good ... of you to ... notice."

  Amy blushed. As he got warmer, his voice was accented slightly, like he was from a foreign country. It smoothed over her, making her even more embarrassed. To hide her unease, she reached behind him and turned the water hotter. A hiss from the man standing before her let her know that she was right on target. His arms tightened around her as he began to shiver even harder. Unthinkingly, she ran her hands over his back in a
soothing motion.

  She fit perfectly under his chin. It was one of the first things he noticed. Actually ... it was the second. The first was the feel of her wet, curvaceous body pressing against his icy cold one. He knew she was just trying to get him warm, and there was nothing sexual about her actions, but his thoughts were anything but cool right now.

  The smell of her hair, the silky feel of her skin ... oui ... He was warming up quite nicely. Any minute now she'd notice just how warmed up he really was.

  "Merci,” he murmured into her hair as he pressed his lips against the top of her head. “I think I ... could have ... died. I had ... forgotten how froid ... cold it could be down ... here."

  Amy stiffened. “You want to tell me why you were lying naked in my front yard? Was it some joke? Did your friends get you drunk and then dump you? And what did you do with my snowman?"

  He chuckled. “So many ... questions. Can ... we wait till ... I am réchauffeur ... warmer? Right now ... I am enjoying ... this too much."

  She frowned, wondering to herself why she had no fear of him. She was standing in her shower with a naked foreigner. She should be terrified. Hadn't she just yelled at Sophia for thinking about taking a stranger home? Shouldn't she be just as wary?

  "None of this makes any sense,” she muttered to herself.

  "It ... will,” he assured her. “You will see."

  Chewing her lips nervously, Amy looked up at him. Her heart beat faster when she saw that his sculpted cheeks and wide forehead bore an uncanny resemblance to the snow figure she'd carved last night. Without thinking, she lifted a hand and traced the sensuous lips and stubbled chin. Her index finger came to rest in the indentation on his chin and she swallowed ... hard. “This is impossible."

  He had gone very still under her wandering fingers. “Rien n'est impossible ... Nothing is impossible, if you want it bad enough, Ami."

  Her pale blue eyes searched his, in shock. “How do you know my name? You're saying it funny.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Did they put you up to this?” Her expression became stormy. “I'll kill them. This isn't funny! You could have died!"