by David Connor
CHRISTMAS SPIRIT
And
MORE CHRISTMAS SPIRITS
By
David B. Connor
Books by David Connor and E. F. Mulder
Angel Wings and Bullets
Boys of Summer (Anthology)
Celebrate (Anthology)
Christmas Spirit
Double Flip
Herm I. T.
Iced Out
Men of Steel (Anthology)
Never Too Late (Anthology)
Penn’s Woodland
Quadruple Flip
Rated XXXmas
Tidings of Comfort and Joey Down Under
The 12 Gays of Christmas
Unmasked and Undressed (Anthology)
Written in Stone
Christmas past….
December 18, 2013
1
Aidan was twenty-seven, a bit old for a college freshman, but he never let the number stop him from acting like one. He met me at the door, all tatted-up five foot four inches of him, in nothing but boxer shorts, as usual. His blue eyes sparkled with confidence. His grin said, “Yeah, I’m almost naked, so what?” He had out of control white guy dreads, coils of dark chocolate with milk chocolate tips. That night, there was literal chocolate in there as well. “How in the heck?” I wondered. There were remnants of it in both corners of his mouth, some on his knee, and some in his ear too. “You got…” I pointed to his mouth, and he licked at the corner. I mimicked the act, but neither one of us got the chocolate.
Aidan asked me early on why I kept track of everything I did or said on my computer tablet. “I don’t write down everything,” I had countered, though I could certainly understand why he’d think that I do. I had the thing in my hand right then.
“Is that about me?”
“No.” I lied. More often than not, what I wrote in my journal was about Aidan.
We’d first met back in October. Now, suddenly, it was the end of the first term, the night before Aidan’s Bio final. It was the last time he and I would be together, and I wondered where the weeks had gone.
I’m going to miss him, I wrote.
It was funny how hard it was to admit that in my mind and in my dopey little diary, the one Aidan continued to tease me about.
“You’re gonna miss something good that might happen if you spend all your time writing about unimportant stuff that just did,” Aidan said right then as he exited the bathroom.
Despite the fact that forecasters were predicting a walloping winter storm, I was sitting at Aidan’s desk in paisley shorts, a solid magenta long-sleeved Henley, gray socks and black Topsiders not meant for snow. It was already coming down outside, one week before Christmas day, one day before Christmas break, but the two of us, neither one dressed for a blizzard, had other things on our minds, warmer climates for me, something else for him.
“What is the most common way alien plants are introduced to Hawaii?” I asked.
“I shook more than three times, Kipster,” Aidan said. “Guess that means I was playing with it.”
“Kipster?” The nickname was new.
“You like it?”
“Not really. Now answer the question.” I whipped off my glasses with forceful annoyance and stood from behind Aidan’s desk, hoping the fact that I tower over him by almost a foot, at six two, would give me more gravitas. “Concentrate,” I told him.
“You wanna play with it, Kipster?”
So much for intimidation by sightlessness and height. I ran my hand through my blond buzz cut. I always did that when exasperated. “Stop calling me that!” No one could exasperate me like Aidan Asher.
Aidan Asher… I do love the alliterative nature of his name. If I had a spiral notebook, his name would be written all over the outside, Matthew Kipling + Aidan Asher 4ever in purple Sharpie or with one of those sparkle pens.
“Kipster?”
“What if I start calling you something annoying?” I asked.
“Call me whatever you want. My mom used to call me Gumdrop. Wanna go with that… Kipster?”
Now that he knew the nickname bugged me, he was determined to say it as often as possible, I figured.
“Oh, Kiiiiipster?”
“What!”
“I asked if you minded if open a window.”
“When did you ask that?”
“While you were daydreaming about me.”
“Oh.” He smirked, but I wasn’t about to tell him he was right. “No.” I sat. “Go ahead.”
It was always hot in Aidan’s cluttered dorm room, thanks to the powerful forced-air heat at SUNY Albany. That was why I was wearing shorts, and why, I assume, Aidan was always wearing next to nothing when I came by to tutor him.
“Come look at the Christmas tree, Kipster,” Aidan said. “It’s all, like, magical-looking and sparkly with the snow.”
I got up. I looked. The tree in the courtyard outside was beautiful, its multicolored lights all flocked in a light dusting of powder. “Pretty,” I said. But we had work to do. “Speaking of…” That was a hint. “What are the most common ways alien plants are introduced to Hawaii?”
“Man,” Aidan said. “I’d love to be in Hawaii right now.” He plopped down on the bed. Spread eagle in yellow boxers adorned with big blue leaves atop a quilt the color of sand, barefoot, bare-legged, bare-chested, showing off the pecs and abs he worked hard to develop, it wasn’t that hard to imagine Aidan stretched out on a secluded Oahu beach soaking up the rays.
I never used to be so easily distracted. At twenty-five, two years younger than my tutee, I was almost finished with Grad School. Six years of higher education had proven easier than getting one horny, older freshman through Bio 101. “What is the most common way—?”
“My grampy has this place down in a small town down in Florida. It’s real private-like.” Aidan crunched Cheetos as he spoke, adding orange dust to the chocolate. The bag had appeared out of nowhere. Maybe it had been under his pillow. “We was just down there over Thanksgiving break. There’s a pond, right on the property, Kipster. Don’t even have to go to the ocean unless ya wanna. The water’s cold as fuck in winter, but ain’t nothing better on a hot Christmas day than laying next to it bare-ass naked, out in nature.”
I tried to imagine that. Then I tried really hard not to. “Lying,” I said.
“Uh-uh. Total truth.”
“No. Lying out, not laying... Never mind. What is the most common way alien plants are introduced to Hawaii?”
“You should come with me,” Aidan said.
I plopped back down in the desk chair. “Come where?”
“To Florida… to Grampy’s.”
“Aidan! Pay attention. What is the most common way—?”
“Maybe spring break, Kipster. The drive is brutal. Grampy says it’s getting too much for him. I won’t have my license back ’til spring, so’s we’re not going back this year for Christmas.” Aidan sounded a little sad suddenly. “We’ll be doing the big day in Rhinebeck for the first time in lots.”
“How’s your grandfather doing?” If Aidan needed to talk, I figured I could just stay a little later than usual.
“Not great.”
I had met Aidan’s grandfather long before I’d met Aidan. His name was Dr. Caleb Wise, and he was once a Physics professor at SUNY-A. Dr. Barbaro, the current head of the science department who’d assigned me as Aidan’s tutor, had been one of his very first students. The two were still friends, and it was Dr. B. who had told me how Dr. Wise had left his post with NASA to finish raising Aidan. Dr. B. and I were friends too.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Let’s talk about Florida,”
Aidan said. “Hot sun, hot sand, hot you, laying around naked all day….”
Sometimes his inattentiveness was purposeful, I knew. “The proper word is still lying,” I said.
“Lying, laying… Whaddo I know? I’m not smart as fuck, like you.”
“I think you are.”
“English ain’t my thing then, maybe. At least I ain’t flunking that, all lying and getting laid aside.” Aidan grinned like a Cheshire cat with orange teeth.
I ignored his sexual syntax. “You’re not flunking Bio either, not if I have anything to say about it. Hawaii… alien plants…?” I did my best to bring him back to the task at hand.
He reached into the Cheetos bag. “Alien plants, you say?” He crunched, smirked, and crunched some more. “How did they get there, you want to know? Hmm.”
I knew it was coming.
“E. T.?”
“Aidan…. Come on, dude. You’ve got to take this seriously.”
Aidan pouted. “You gonna tell me I need to apply myself, like my Grampy does all the time?”
“You do,” I said. “And if Biology isn’t your thing, and English isn’t your thing…” I wheeled myself closer to the bed in the rolling desk chair. “Well, after this year, once you’ve gotten all your requirements met, you can find something that is. There’s this musical Pippin.” I sang a little bit of “Corner of the Sky” for him. “It’s all about this French prince, Pippin, looking for his place in life. He sings that song. I played him my senior year in high school. I’d love to have a shot at it again, before I’m too old. My point is—the point of the show is—that in order to be happy, you have to find something that interests you, something that excites you. In his case, that something was love.”
“Yuck.”
I ignored the commentary. “But we’re not royalty. We have to work for a living.”
Aidan looked up at the ceiling a few seconds. His wall and ceiling were covered with dirty footprints. Some his, some from other dudes, from when they’d had sex. “That’s how I keep track of how many,” he’d once said. I could never imagine a sexual position that would lend itself to having one’s feet on the ceiling. I couldn’t imagine Aidan getting his cleaning deposit back, either, but that was his problem.
Aidan scooched to the edge of the mattress. He sat up and wiped Cheetos residue all over his underpants. “Something that excites me, huh?”
I knew that was coming too. What came next, though, kind of took me by surprise. Aidan reached across with semi-clean hands and pushed my glasses up my nose. “You sing good,” he said. “And you have the prettiest eyes. Like two different colors.”
“Ombre.” I was surprised I was able to say it, even just the one word, since it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Pale green on top, graduating into an olive-brown color on the bottom, I’m pretty sure there was a bit of fear and trepidation in them then too.
“How’s about we figure what a way I can enjoy this more?”
“Like?”
“Strip Bio. Every time I gets an answer right, you take some clothes off. Every time I’m wrong, I do.”
“You’re not wearing clothes.” Now there was annoyance in my eyes.
“Guess that means you win either way.”
I stood once more. I was starting to feel like a Jack-in-the-box. “Aidan, I’m not getting laid to play. Paid. Not getting paid to play. If you don’t wanna study, then maybe I should go.”
Aidan sighed. He fell back onto his snack-hiding pillow, and his bounced three times before settling. “Gawd.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking serious all the time.”
I’d heard that a lot in my life. Just that morning, Dr. B. had said, “Before this day is over, Matthew, I want you to do something out of character, something Matthew Kipling would never consider doing.” He’d confessed to me right before that how he had assigned Aidan to me purposely. “I thought Caleb’s grandson might loosen you up. You two could make beautiful babies together, once evolution catches up to modern days and allows such things.”
His joke had made me blush.
I’d had a wicked crush on Dr. B. at one time. It had started the moment I’d met him in 2009. He was almost fifty then, so smart, so distinguished, so Jon-Hamm-with-a-touch-more-gray-sexy. I’d only really gotten over him quite recently, when my affections had shifted elsewhere.
“If you love Aidan…” Dr. B. said that morning, having sensed it, apparently. “Tell him. Maybe it’s mutual.”
“I don’t love him,” I’d argued. “How could I love him? I barely know him.”
And yet, there I sat, so close to Aidan I could smell his cheese breath, feeling a feeling I had sworn I didn’t feel. And there was Aidan’s bulge in close proximity, flexing as he deeply sighed once more.
“You won’t get naked, yo, then how’s about you and me kiss—?”
“You and I.” God, I hated myself right then.
“Fine.” Aidan rolled his eyes again. “Every time I’m correct, I and you, the two of us in this room, get to kiss.” He smacked his lips three times
It wasn’t the first time Aidan had suggested we make out. He’d suggested far more, like the time he said “let’s bang like firecrackers, so’s you can add your feet to my collection.” Unlike Aidan, though, who only occasionally interrupted his social life with books and lab work if his tales were to be believed, I considered a casual fling a distraction. I’d rather spend my time concentrating on my thesis than wondering. If, for instance, I liked it—liked being with Aidan—I’d no doubt wonder if I’d ever get to do it again. If I hated it, on the other hand, I figured I’d probably wonder if I had to. Whether I loved him or not didn’t really matter. Aidan was interested in relations, whereas I was interested in a relationship. End of story.
“That a deal?” Aidan asked. “The kiss thing?”
I smiled, which he seemed to take as a “Yes”.
“Alien plants arrived in Hawaii by Polynesians, Europeans, and American tourists. Also from imports, on the pallets. Oh, and Christmas trees, yo. Imported Christmas trees.” Aidan rose to a seated position once more and slapped the mattress. “Kabam! I learned stuff. ” He scooched closer. We were bare knees to bare knees. “Now pucker up,” he said.
I smiled again. The little bugger had been holding out on me. “I never agreed to your proposition,” I argued.
I hated myself even more.
Aidan huffed. Going flat on his back again, his leg moved against mine. Our knees kissed, even if our lips never would. “What are you so fucking scared of?” he asked.
He was talking to the ceiling feet, but I knew he was asking me. It was a valid question. I was afraid of a lot of things, but I lied. “I’m not.”
Knee-to-knee, warmth-to-warmth, skin-to-skin, “Do something Matthew Kipling would never do,” I heard. “I just think our first kiss is worth more than one right answer,” I said. I could tell I’d intrigued him. Our knees were practically copulating. “You get ten….” I paused dramatically. “I’ll let you use tongue.”
Aidan popped up excitedly. His gut muscles rippled, the up and down working them like sit ups. He placed his hands on my legs, in the “deceptive” fur as he called it. “Your body hair,” he’d once commented, “is translucent to the eye, its pale shade so similar to that of your flesh. It only shows its full, abundant fluffiness,” he went on poetically, “in certain light and to the touch.” Maybe that was the real reason I was still wearing shorts in December, because he’d noticed, and I wanted him to feel it again.
“Ten correct?” Aidan asked. It was the most stoked he had ever been about Biology.
“Ten in a row.” My finger pointed, my penis grew, as I finally gave an inch.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Kipster. I’ll get ten in row no prob. And then I’ll get twenty, which means I get to fuck you.” Aidan took a mile.
I could feel myself blushing. “No,” I said.
But something was happening. I was actually considering it. Maybe because I was a new, more pl
ayful Kipster. Maybe because it was our last night, my last chance. Or maybe I was contemplating having sex with Aidan simply because I really, really wanted to.
There was a safety net, of course. It was highly unlikely that “A.D.D. Aidan”, as he’d once called himself, would ever correctly answer twenty questions in a row. Still, I squirmed a little, in discomfort and also to tease the titillation in my shorts. “We can’t,” I finally said.
“Can’t what?” he asked.
“Do… that,” I replied.
“Do what?”
He wanted me to say a dirty word, it seemed.
“Why can’t we?” he asked when I didn’t.
His knee was awfully close to the leg opening in my shorts, not too far from my erection. “Because,” I told him.
He spread his legs, forcing mine apart as well. “Because… why?” His boxers gaped from all the movement—at the leg holes and at the fly. My gaze flitted about. I willed it to settle anywhere but those two spots. It went where it wanted to, though. “Because I don’t,” I told his smooth-shaved taint.
“You don’t what?” Aidan asked. “You don’t fuck?”
“No.”
“You don’t fuck!” I guess he found that hard to believe.
“No. No I don’t.”
“Never? Never ever?”
“No.” I looked at the floor.
“Kippie Dippie, dude. That’s pretty sad.”
“I would.” His rug was gross. “I will. I want to.” I looked up at Aidan’s belly button, at his nipples, his tattoos, armpits, tufts of hair and trails of it—Oh, crud!—some of it stubble, since Aidan liked to manscape. I looked to our fornicating knees, flashing back on Dr. B.’s encouraging words. “I mean… someday… Someday I will.”
Aidan sat up. “Oh! I get it,” he said. He stared without a hint of embarrassment at my hard dick pressed against its paisley restraint, as if the answer had come to him from there. “You’re saving yourself, ’cause you want your first guy to be special.”
“Yes.” My cheeks were hot. I was practically rubbing a bald spot on top of my head. “And it will be... when I’m with a guy I love.”