A White Hot Christmas: Novella
“How the hell did I get here?”
It's Christmas morning, and June Evans is wondering how a solo vacation in search of a white Christmas has led her to having a hot and hard man moving between her trembling thighs.
Tom Allen, a mounted police officer, was meant to be spending a quiet holiday with his family, but a freak snowstorm traps him with what he wanted most this year, a chance at love.
Keeping warm has never been this hot!
~ June ~
“Oh God!” I gasp loudly with pleasure, as the man above me moves in long, hard, and possessive strokes.
I’m only half aware of my surroundings and of the Nor’easter still raging outside. Somewhere nearby, the embers of a fire crackle loudly, the wind whistles and bare branches knock on the windowpanes.
In this moment, the only things that matter is the soft, warm bed beneath me and the man above, who is currently pounding white-hot pleasure into me.
As I become enveloped in sensation, my thighs begin to shake from where they are wrapped tightly around his back. My newly manicured nails dig into his back, and my last coherent thought as I fall into the oblivion is, How the hell did I get here?
Sunday, December 22nd
~ June ~
I’m awoken from my all too short catnap by the fasten seatbeltsign illuminating overhead.
From my window seat, I watch as the plane descends into Burlington International Airport. The sight of snow-covered mountains does not greet me; rather, my arrival is shrouded under cloudy grey skies. As we touch down, all I see is dead, brown grass, surrounded by a sea of asphalt. Not a hint of white anywhere!
What about my white Christmas?
I read that it had been an unusually mild winter here so far, but I assumed there would be somesnow. Yesterday’s weather said there had been flurries. What happened to them?
The overly cheery and perfectly quaffed stewardess interrupts my thoughts chirping, “From all of us at JetBlue, thank you for flying with us, and happy holidays!”
While impatiently waiting to disembark the plane, I quickly send a text to my sister, Jessica. The overprotective mother hen would want to know I’ve arrived safely.
June: Just landed. NO FUCKING SNOW! xxoo
The small airport is decorated with festive cheer, which makes me smile with renewed excitement. Making my way to baggage claim, I’m able to quickly find my bags.
It’s early afternoon when I exit the airport, and the sky is already beginning to darken. The air is crisp and cold. It takes my breath away, while my face burns and freezes. I’m wearing the new lilac L.L. Beanfleece jacket I purchased for the trip, along with a dark grey knit scarf, and I’m still shivering.
Fuck, it’s cold!
I scan the area and quickly find the driver I’ve hired, who‘s holding a sign which reads, June Evans. He will take me to my destination, Middlebury; the home of Middlebury College. I hadn’t planned on renting a car, since I tend to get lost even with GPS. Getting lost alone, in what I thought would be snow, didn’t seem like a smart idea.
A co-worker, Holly, visited several years ago, and loved her trip. So when I decided to search for a white Christmas this year, the small college town was my first thought.
In an odd twist, the historic inn I’m booked at is cheaper than the local Marriott. The inn is not only less expensive, but is also within walking distance to the downtown shops and a spa, which I have several appointments at tomorrow.
When my siblings learned about my holiday plans, they chipped in and purchased several treatments for me, including a pedicure, manicure, and massage. My entire afternoon will be spent relaxing and being pampered.
I can’t wait!
Sadly, being born and raised in sunny Florida, in all of my 29 years on the planet, I have never had a white Christmas.Having spent a lifetime watching holiday-themed films where everything is covered in white fluffy snow, such as my favorite musical, White Christmas, it is something I’ve always wanted to experience.
This year presented me with the perfect opportunity to travel in search of the ever elusive—at least in my life—white Christmas. For various reasons, none of my family would be home for Christmas this year. I was on my own this holiday season, so I decided to make the most of it.
My older brother, Josh, is deployed overseas in Afghanistan. His tour doesn’t end until sometime next spring, so he’ll be enjoying a sweltering desert Christmas. Our sister, Jessica, the oldest, is spending the holiday in Texas with her husband and in-laws. And with our parents having passed several years ago, not to mention my screamingly single status, there was no reason for me to stay in Orlando.
Jessica’s in-laws had graciously extended me an invitation, which I then politely declined. To say our worldviews differ is putting it mildly. Basically, if you aren’t a white heterosexual Christian, they believe you will burn eternally. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but theirs are just, wrong!
It will forever baffle me how my brother-in-law, David, is in any way related to them. He’s as open-minded and open-hearted as they come. I’m not really sure how my sister puts up with her in-laws, but I guess she does it for her husband. The things you do for love!
I, however, do not have to put myself through the slow, agonizing torture of being polite, when all I really want to do is slowly stab someone with a butter knife. Included in my secular holiday card were my less than truthful regrets, that I would not be joining them.
As long as there is Internet access, I can still have my Christmas morning Skype with Josh and Jessica. I have triple checked with the inn, and they have assured me they have working Wi-Fi and I won’t have a problem connecting. I am not missing anything by leaving.
Let’s just say I need to get out of town for a bit for personal reasons, and leave it at that. I refuse to let my past ruin what I hope will be a perfectly wonderful white Christmas!
The forty-five-minute ride into town has deflated my good mood and left me feeling even more depressed than before. We pass fields of brown, instead of the shimmering white landscape I had been expecting.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
The driver is overly friendly for my mood, and the blaring Christmas tunes from the radio are doing nothing to help me regain my cheer.
As we drive through the town, I see all of the wreaths and lights hanging from the street lamps, which make me smile. At least there are some festive decorations, despite the lack of snow.
When we approach the inn, it seems almost magical: the place is alight with twinkling white lights. The sight brings a smile to my frozen face and quickly chapping lips.
The portly driver unloads my large suitcase and wishes me a Merry Christmas before driving off, leaving me alone to contend with dragging my bags up the stairs and into the inn.
I struggle to wheel the overburdened suitcase across the cobblestone sidewalk, while juggling my purse and large carry-on bag. I didn’t exactly pack light, but rather for every possible contingency—though being a warm-blooded Floridian, I didn’t realize what this biting cold would actually feel like.
Once I’m at the base of the stairs, I attempt to pull the suitcase up the first step. It has other ideas and topples backwards, almost taking me with it. I’m able to save myself from embarrassment and possible injury, but my purse and carry-on land in a heap.
“Let me help you,” says a masculine voice behind me. Turning, I’m struck by ocean blue eyes, which are perfectly placed on a devastatingly handsome face. The hottie is giving me a dazzling smile and I stare, noticing a hint of dirty blonde hair peaking out from his grey knit hat.
My nipples tighten almost painfully with him so close. Must be the cold. I can’t be affected by a complete stranger, hottie or not.
“Thank you,” I manage to whisper.
Shivering, I move away from the suitcase and allow the hottie to approach. As he brushes past me, I can smell the cold radiating off of him, mixed with an intoxicating scent that I can’t place.
“Are you planning on moving in?” he asks, helping me right my suitcase and handing me my fallen bags.
“Just here for Christmas,” I say through chattering teeth.
Could we please save the chitchat until we’re inside? Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold.
“You don’t have a sensible jacket anywhere in all this crap?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he watches me freeze to death before his eyes.
“Excuse me?” I say irritated at the man’s rudeness. Maybe he isn’t as hot as I first thought. Jetlag must be seriously affecting my judgment.
“Didn’t you bring another jacket with you? You’re going to freeze in just that fleece,” he says, effortlessly dragging my suitcase up the stairs.
Following him through the door, I reply tartly, “No, I didn’t. I didn’t realize it was going to be this cold.” Then, feeling like I need to legitimize my thinking, I lamely add, “I’m from Orlando.”
“So am I, but I still own a proper jacket,” he says. Looking him over, I’ll admit his dark grey wool jacket looks a lot warmer than what I’m wearing. A traitorous part of my brain can’t help but wonder what he looks like beneath all the bulky clothing.
By now we’ve reached the vestibule. Noticing the sign pointing towards reception, I grab the handle of the suitcase from him and reply, “Well, we can’t all be as smart as you! Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Wait, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” he says, seemingly genuine is his apology.
I’m already cold, tired, annoyed, and not exactly in the most generous mood, so I retort back, “Well congratulations, you did a stellar impression.”
“Wait, let me help you. Where’re you going?” he asks, reaching for the handle of the suitcase again, which I yank out of his reach.
“I’m checking in. Excuse me,” I say, and then add, “Merry Christmas!” before walking away. I attempt to forget the rude hottie’s effect on me, but the image of his blue eyes and smile seem to follow me.
Upon reaching reception, I begin the seamless check-in process. All coordinated by Sue, the warm and extremely welcoming receptionist, who seems genuinely thrilled that I will be spending the holiday there.
While waiting for a porter to be summoned to carry my bags, I’m finally able to take in all of the inn’s wonderful holiday decorations.
Several Christmas trees stand in various corners of the room. All strung with colorful lights and decorated in an assortment of beautiful ornaments. Wreathes are hung on the windows and doorways, while garlands are strewn along the fireplace’s mantle, where a fire is now blazing. The warm smell of burning wood, fresh pine, and cinnamon fills the air. Just standing in the festive room makes it start to feel like Christmas.
A friendly porter helps me drag my luggage up the large staircase, chattering away about the lack of snow. Walking into my room feels like a fairytale come true. The inviting four-poster bed, the small decorated Christmas tree, the electric candles sitting on the windowsills, and the fireplace with a pile of chopped wood waiting to be used next to it.
Suddenly I remember why I journeyed all this way, and smile brightly. Who knows, maybe I’ll get my white Christmas after all.
I take my time settling into what will be my home for the next few days. I hear the chime on my cellphone, alerting me to an incoming text. After digging it out of my purse, I read the message from my sister.
Jessica: WTF? Aren’t you in VT? Love you >
I quickly reply to her text.
June: Yes, inn=beautiful. Can’t wait 4 the spa 2morrow! Have fun in TX ;)
Even though the bathtub looks inviting with its jets and assortment of complimentary bubble baths, I decide to take a refreshing shower. I need to rinse off the smell and feel of the airplane.
As I exit the shower, I hear the faint ringing of my cellphone. Thinking it could be Jessica, I make a mad-dash into the bedroom. Upon seeing whom the caller is, I ignore the call and toss it onto the bed. I plan on enjoying my vacation and not letting anyone get in my way.
After dressing and blow-drying my unruly brown hair, I make my way downstairs, into the nearly empty restaurant for an early dinner. I learn from my server that I am one of only three guests who are staying at the inn over the holiday. The large party of snowmobilers that had been booked canceled, due to the lack of snow on the ground.
I briefly wonder if Rude Hottie is one of the other guests in residence
Text Copyright © 2017 Rene Webb, All Rights Reserved