Frosty ... The Real Man

by CJ England

  Amy forced herself to relax. “You got that right."

  "May I have your attention everyone?” The master of ceremonies voice came over the loudspeakers. “It is time for the highlight of the evening, the presentation of the three Aspen Wonderland Festival Winners. Will everyone please come forward to the stage? We will begin directly."

  "That is you, ma cherie.” Givré pulled her forward to the dais. “It is your moment to shine."

  Amy swallowed hard, butterflies beginning to dance in her stomach. “Oh, God."

  He chuckled. “I for one cannot wait to see what you have been working on. Many was the time I wanted to sneak down for a peek."

  "You didn't, did you?"

  He shook his head. “I knew you wished to surprise me."

  She nodded. It was very important that he see the sculpture. She'd put her heart and soul into it."

  "May I have the artists on the dais, please?"

  "Wish me luck,” she whispered.

  Givré bent and kissed her hard on the mouth. “You do not need luck, ma ange. You have a Christmas spirit to help you."

  Their eyes met. “I know,” she said quietly, touching him gently on the cheek. “I have my very own Christmas spirit."

  His heart swelled at her words as she walked away. Even though she'd mentioned it in passing before, the look in her eyes said it all. He now knew for sure. She believed in him. He watched proudly as she took her place on stage. He loved her, and so her success was his own. This, he would remember during his lonely sojourn in the sky.

  "Hello everyone,” the Master of Ceremonies smiled at the crowd and tossed his blond head. “I'm J.D. Dallas and I want to thank you for all coming tonight.” He swept his hand in a large circle. “Didn't the Art's Committee do a fantastic job?” He led the audience in polite applause.

  "Now without further ado, I'm going to get right to the unveiling. I know we all want to see what these fantastic artists have come up with. And...” he tossed a glance behind him at Amy and her draped creation. “I'm dying to find out what's in the box!"

  Good natured laughter followed him as he made his way to the other end of the dais. “Our first award winner is Maxus Robson, who has for many years led the community in outstanding community service and volunteer work. A resident for over twenty years, Mr. Robson truly loves Aspen and it shows in his art work."

  Leaning over he grasped the creamy drapery that hid the artist's presentation. “I myself own several of his pieces and am often complimented on them. I believe that he is a perfect choice for an Aspen Wonderland Festival Winner. My friends...” J.D. whipped off the cloth. “I give you ‘The Descent'."

  The audience all let out their breath in a loud ... “Ohhh...” On the easel was a picture. A photograph of a skier racing down one of the famous ski slopes of the area. The artist had brought the sport to life, making the skier almost seem to dip and sway as he hurtled down the mountain side. Applause rang out, and with a wide grin, Maxus Robson took a bow.

  "Now I have the pleasure of introducing one of the cities most ... well loved women.” A titter went up from the crowd and J.D. reddened. He cleared his throat and continued. “Gwen Sterling is a one-of-a-kind watercolorist. Her paintings are so dramatic they jump off the canvas and beg to be noticed. She has won many awards for her work, so it's not surprising that she would be honored here tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...” He pulled the sheet from the picture. “Sunset in Aspen."

  Another sigh went up from the audience. As nasty as she was in person, Gwen's paintings were wonderful. The colors were vibrant and vivid and the detail for a watercolor was astounding. The picture portrayed the downtown park area at sunset. The applause was wholehearted and well deserved. Those that knew her may not think much of her, but her art was well appreciated.

  "And now ... last but definitely not least. Why, I'd even say we've saved the biggest for last.” J.D. stepped over close to Amy and grinned at her. “Our next award winner is new to Aspen, according to the old standards, but she's been here for five years. Amy Cassidy took the city by storm three years ago at the snow carving festival when she won the grand prize with her creations of Santa's sleigh and eight perfectly detailed reindeer. She opened Fantasies on Ice soon after and the art world saw for the first time that true genius can be found in many mediums."

  Carefully he pulled the drape from the box-like structure, revealing a large upright freezer. “Since Amy's creations have a shorter life expectancy than these other art forms, she's kept it safe and sound inside this freezer. And she's kept it a surprise. Not even I know what it is.” With a flourish, he unlatched the door, then waited for Amy's okay. Amy looked at Givré with an intimate smile, then leaned over to whisper in J.D.'s ear. “All right folks,” he said as he nodded at her. “I give you ... The Spirit of Christmas."

  With that, he flung open the door and carefully rolled Amy's ice sculpture forward. Thousands of candles reflected off the carving and the crowd was awed into total silence.

  Givré's eyes smarted and his throat closed with emotion. She had done what he thought was impossible. She had made the Christmas Spirit come to life ... in ice.

  It was him. Standing tall and strong, his face was carved to perfection, right down to the shadowed chin and cleft. Icy strands of hair brushed his shoulders as he stared down with a look of utter peace on his handsome face. He was naked to the waist, his well muscled torso seeming to flex under the dancing lights. A swirl of icy fabric hid the rest of him.

  At his feet were half a dozen children all staring up at him with looks ranging from hope to joy to complete pleasure Their faces showed all the innocence and delight of Christmas as they waited for him to bestow the spirit upon them.

  One of his hands was stretched out as if imploring the audience to join in with him, while the other rested lovingly on the top of one of the urchin's heads. Amy had spent hours carving every detail, and then polishing the statue until it shone.

  Now, she didn't even hear the audience's applause and excited shouts. She stared at Givré, praying that he would understand her gift to him. Their eyes met, hers ... waiting, his ... proud. And then he smiled, and uncaring of the people around them, he leapt up on the stage and pulled her into his arms.

  "I love you, Ami,” he whispered for her ears alone. “Je t'aime.” Then his lips came down on hers and the crowd all disappeared. He kissed her, drawing her heart into his keeping and she responded, submitting to him, giving him everything he was asking for. She wanted to weep from the joy of it.

  How long they stood there, totally involved in each other, they weren't sure, but suddenly, there was a scream. Whirling around, they both stared in horror as the beautiful ice sculpture began to topple from its base and fall into the crowd.

  Givré pushed Amy behind him to protect her, his anger flaring when he saw Gwen at the base of the statue, one of the rolling wheels in her hand. He understood immediately that her jealousy over Amy's crowd pleasing work had caused her to do the unthinkable.

  Stepping forward, he threw out his arms in a commanding motion. “Arrêtez ceci!” he shouted. “Le temps d'arrêt, ainsi moi peut défaire le mal!"

  Behind him, Amy grabbed at his jacket. “Givré? What is going...” Her mouth dropped open as she gazed around her “...on?"

  Everything was completely still. All around her, people were frozen in their tracks. Several of them were caught in midair as they scrambled to get away from the seven foot high statue. J.D. was trying to jump off the stage out of the way, and was caught with one foot hanging off the side. Her eyes turned to the statue. It leaned dangerously, ready to crush those beneath it, yet it did not fall, suspended like a breath in the air. She looked quickly around the room. No one moved. No one breathed. “Givré,” she whispered, filled with awe. “What did you do?"

  He turned back to her, his eyes colored with rage. “I am a Christmas spirit, and I have special powers when I need them. I stopped time, so I could right the wrong done against you.�
� He pointed at the frozen Gwen on the stage. “Now I know why I was sent to you, ma cherie."

  Amy immediately understood and her own anger flared. “I told you she was a bitch,” she muttered.

  He smiled grimly. “Oui, that she is."

  "But what do we do now?"

  "We put things to right.” Givré walked over to the statue and with a grunt, moved it back upright. Bending, he grabbed the wheel from the motionless Gwen and put it back on the rolling platform.

  "What about Gwen? And these other people? We can't leave them here like this.” Amy moved quickly over to J.D. Can I move them, too?"

  "Yes,” he agreed. “But quickly. I cannot keep the magic going forever.” Turning from her, he bent to do his own ... correction. He had a score to settle.

  Several minutes later, Amy stood back and admired her work. All the people on the floor were safely standing and applauding, while J.D. stood at the corner of the stage, with a smile on his face. She looked around. “Givré?"

  "Behind here."

  She walked to the back of the stage and gasped. There, lying in a heap on the ground was Gwen, her red dress hiked up around her ears. “What did you do?"

  "Gave her what she deserved,” he replied. “She would have destroyed your work and hurt innocent people. At least I gave her privacy for her shame. I could have tossed her off the front of the stage."

  Amy giggled at his disgruntled look. “I didn't think a Christmas spirit could plan revenge."

  "A Christmas spirit did not,” he said as he climbed back up on the stage. He led her to where they had been standing. “But a man who loves his woman ... can."

  Her heart leaped as his words. He bent to kiss her again, at the same time loosing his hold on time. Noise intruded on them, as everyone leaped back to life, confused and disoriented. After a moment though, they shook it off as if they'd been hit by a feeling of déjà vu. Their heated kiss was interrupted by the jolly J.D. “Well I can see where you got your inspiration,” he said with a wink. “How about some photos? I think the media would like to have pictures of both of you."

  "Start at the other end,” Givré growled, humor lacing his voice as he bent back to kiss Amy. “I'm busy!

  * * * *

  They were standing in her bedroom when the closest church bells began to toll Christmas day. They watched out the window at the snow that had just started to fall. It covered the yards and streets, making everything brand new again.

  "Joyeux Noël, Ami."

  "Merry Christmas, Givré.” They stood in silence and listened to the sound of the falling snow. “It's so beautiful,” Amy whispered. She leaned her head back against his chest. “And peaceful."

  His heart ached as he tightened his hold on her. He knew his time was drawing to an end. “Je t'aime, Ami,” he murmured, kissing the shell of her ear. “I love you."

  She closed her eyes, struggling with her own emotions. She loved him too, but telling him seemed so difficult and what good would it do? Maybe he'd rather leave unencumbered. The last thing she wanted was to admit her feelings, and then have him walk away.

  Instead of answering, she turned in his arms. “I felt like the luckiest girl in that room tonight."

  He smiled, a little bit sadly. “But it was I who was the lucky one. I had the most beautiful and talented woman on my arm."

  "And she came home with you."

  His eyes darkened. “I do not want this evening to end."

  She stared up at him, lost in the swirling emotions she saw in his face. “Me either."

  "Then let me give you this gift, Ami,” he said hoarsely. “Let me love you like you were meant to be loved."

  She cradled his face in her hands. “Only if I can return the favor."

  His eyes searched hers for a moment, before he kissed the palms of her hands. “Then we will love each other."

  He reached over and ran his hand up the back of her dress. Finding the zipper, he pulled on it gently, until it parted with out a sound. Her dress pooled suddenly to her feet, and she stood before him in only a lacy white garter, stockings and high heeled slippers.

  "Tres belle,” he groaned. “You put the stars to shame.” Smoothing his hands up her arms, he touched her soft hair, drawing the hairpins from it. One tendril at a time, her hair fell over her breasts. Bending, he gently took one of her erect nipples into his mouth, laving at it with exquisite care.

  Her hands went to his shoulders as she gasped, but he continued with his slow gentle teasing. It was as if he had all the time in the world and he wanted to spend each moment on her. He treated her other breast to the same loving care, before he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her gently down on the turned back sheets, he carefully, one at a time, slipped her high heels off, then unfastened her garter belt from the sheer stockings.

  Even more slowly, he rolled the stockings down her slender legs, leaving kisses on her exposed naked flesh. When he was finally done, he stood and stared down at her, his ebony eyes already glowing with his desire. Never taking his eyes from her face, he pulled his own clothes off, leaving the expensive tux in a heap next to the bed.

  Climbing onto the bed with her, he knelt between her legs. “I want you to weep and scream and shout my name, Ami. Will you do this for me?"

  His dark, silky voice shot through her like a bolt of lightning. She couldn't speak. All she could do was stare at him, and nod.

  Chapter Nine

  Now I am yours and you are mine, oh when you're kissing me

  Right under my Christmas tree, baby, come close to me

  'In Love on Christmas'

  He smiled his approval, and then leaning down, he kissed her soft naked mound. It was silky and scented with spice and flowers. He began to lick, feeling her tremble beneath him. He continued to lap at her, drawing his tongue down the crease of her folds to the puckered hole of her anus. When she moaned, he felt his body tighten, and he had to take a deep breath to control himself.

  He continued to lick and suck, diving in between her folds to tickle her clit. Her legs moved restlessly and she arched into him, begging for more of his attention. Gently, he spread her legs apart and moved upwards, his tongue never leaving her sweet trembling body. He waited until she whispered his name, then slowly stabbed into her with his tongue.

  Amy cried out, as he'd said she would. She wanted to hold him tighter, but her arms were heavy and lethargic, unable to lift themselves to do her bidding. All she could do was lay there, while he drove her higher and higher. She trembled with the force of her feelings for her dark lover. More than ever she wanted to tell him how she felt, but yet again, the words were stolen by fear.

  He was relentless, his mouth moving on her in slow measured strokes that had her moaning and moving beneath him. Lifting his head, he met her eyes, his lips shiny with her juices. “I want to take you to the sky,” he whispered.

  Her eyes glowed with her desire. “Then come with me,” she begged him softly, reaching out her arms to him.

  He kissed her mound one last time, and then made his way up her body. But he was in no hurry. He kissed and licked and stroked until no part of her skin went unloved. Then he settled into the cradle of her thighs.

  But even then, he didn't enter her. She could feel his cock throbbing against her, but he didn't move. Instead, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Slowly again, cherishing every touch.

  He tasted of her and she couldn't help the heated response she gave him as she kissed him back. She nibbled at his lips and felt his shaft jump in response. He groaned and slanted his mouth over hers again, tickling and teasing her until she was begging him to put out the fire burning inside of her.

  "Ami,” he growled deep in his throat. “I love you. I will always love you.” He gently kneed her legs apart and slid with excruciating slowness into her welcoming heat. They both moaned at the sensation.

  "Look at me,” he said hoarsely as he took her hands in his, threading their fingers together. He held them n
ext to her head as he began to move slowly within her, their eyes locked on each other. He pushed all the way inside of her, before pulling almost all the way out again. He hovered there for a moment, then thrust back in her again, repeating the movements until she was weeping and pleading with him to end the exquisite torture.

  He didn't listen. He wanted to imprint himself on her heart and mind. Somewhere deep inside of him he knew that how she felt about him was extremely important. He needed to know, and she still hadn't let go of her fear long enough to speak it out to him.

  So he continued, bringing them both to the brink of release, then holding back, unwilling to end their lovemaking. They moved together, unaware of the passage of time, until suddenly ... without warning, the desire became abruptly urgent. Gathering her close to him, Givré covered her mouth with his and began thrusting. He lifted one of her legs high around him, bringing her clit flush with his driving cock.

  All the feeling that had been stored up during the lovemaking, shot to her quim with the heat of a thousand shooting stars. Her body arched and she screamed out his name, feeling like her whole body was on fire. She dissolved, shaking violently with the strength of her orgasm.

  Givré groaned and swore, his own climax taking him by surprise. With a shout, he pounded into her until his own orgasm took him, and he poured himself into her, filling her with the last of his life.

  Slowly they floated down, listening to the beating of each other's heart. He sighed and kissed her soft forehead. “I wish I could tell you how happy you have made me, ma ange. I pray these memories, they will be forever."

  She snuggled against him, exhausted from all the emotion of the night. “You are the best thing that's ever happened to me.” She yawned. “I wish I could make you understand ... how I feel."

  "How do you feel?” he asked urgently, knowing that her answer was important somehow.

  "Like ... the most ... precious thing ... in your life."