| F I V E T I M E S T H E C H R I S T M A S C H E E R |
Five Times the Christmas Cheer Series: Seven Days Follows: Four Ginger People
"Mmmm… mmmph." Am I dreaming? Because I think I hear Donna's voice. "Joooooosh, wake up." "Mmmph…" I must be dreaming, because I could swear that Donna is leaning over me, shaking me gently, telling me to wake up. Usually when Donna wakes me up it's over the phone, so if she's here with me, I must be dreaming. I've had many dreams about Donna. Many, many dreams. But she's usually not trying this hard to wake me up. Dream Donna likes me when I'm… you know… dreaming. Dream Donna also tends to get a little randy, if you know what I mean. But don't tell real Donna that. I crack open one eye in order to figure out what the ruckus is and it becomes apparent that I'm not dreaming. Nope, definitely not dreaming. There is a real live Donna draped across me, and she is shaking me and telling me to wake up. Frankly, this is a whole lot better than a dream. Or a phone call. I'm waking up with Donna for the first time. The night before last didn't count because we didn't actually sleep. But don't get me wrong, that was good, too. Reeeeally good. It doesn't take me long to decide that the best part about waking up with Donna is the nakedness. I love that we're both naked. Well, mostly I love that she's naked. To prove that this is the best part, I tap previously unknown energy reserves and flip us over so that she's on her back and I'm on top. She lets out a surprised whimper and then a small giggle, followed by a moan that, if you listen carefully and shake the sleep from your mind, sounds vaguely similar to words. "So you were awake, I thought you might have been playing possum." As the moan/words register, it gets me to remove my lips from her neck. "Possum?" "Yup, you big pretender." I force my eyes all the way open in order to look at her, but unfortunately, they catch the bedside clock radio. I'm shocked into alertness. Well, more alert than I already was with a naked Donna under me. Which, let's face it; I was well on my way to a fully alert state. Why is Donna waking me up at 5am? Aren't we on vacation? Not that I'm upset with our current positions, but still, five in the morning! "Um, Donnatella?" "Yes, Joshua." "Why in the name of cheese have you woken me at five o'clock in the morning?" "It's actually 5:55am—which is practically six-- and why cheese?" She smiles widely up at me and it hits in two places-- my heart and my groin. And it compels me to kiss her. "Because cheese is sacred to your people," I respond when I finally pull my lips from hers, though I really have no idea what I’m taking about. It's early and there's a lot of nakedness happening, which tends to cloud my mind. Donna and I have only been doing the naked thing for about 48 hours now, so mind- cloudiness is permissible. By now my eyes are completely focused and I see her roll hers at me. She shouldn't roll her eyes at me; she's the one who got me up at five! Don't talk to me about 5:55, it's still in the five o'clock hour. "Donna… five in the morning! Why?" "Five times the Christmas Cheer at five in the morning?" She tries. Now she's just grasping at straws. Propped above her, I shake my head and grump, "There is no such thing as cheer this early in the morning." I see her sigh theatrically. "It's just time to get up, Josh." "I thought we were on vacation and that meant we could sleep in? If this is how you vacation, we’re going to have to have a serious talk about relaxation. Let me show you..." With that, I find her lips again and then start trailing soft kisses down her jaw. "It's Christmas!" She says the word with such glee and excitement and it hits me that she's not nearly as affected by having a naked Josh on top of her as I am having a naked Donna under me. I'll never understand women. "So?" It's become apparent that the alertness is going to have to wait. I roll off of her and prop my head up by my elbow. "Is there some gentile law that says you can't sleep in on a High Holy Day?" "High Holy Day?" She smiles again. I have very little resistance to that smile. "Or whatever you call them." "Last night was Christmas Eve." She emphasizes the eve part with zeal. "Yes… the eve usually precedes the day. It's customary." "No… you know what happens on Christmas Eve?" She has such child-like enthusiasm that I can't help but tease, "Let's see, I take a flight at an unearthly hour to the land of cheese, only to be pleasantly surprised by Mom at the airport. I decorate cookies-" "And gain two more young members for your fan club," Donna adds helpfully. I nod in agreement before continuing, "I meet practically every living relative you have-" "Not by a long shot, but continue." How damn many relatives could she possibly have? "Get hazed by your father and your grandmother-" "Grandma wasn't hazing you… that's just her. She likes you." "But your dad?" Even to my own ears I sound a bit insecure, which is as shocking to me as it is to you. But I want her family to like me, which says a lot. In the past, I never spared a thought for what a woman's family might think of me. It's also of note that I cared what Donna's family thought of me before we became an official couple. Yeah, I was really stupid… for a really long time. "Yes, he was hazing you, but he gave you a beer… I *think* he likes you, too." The way she just said 'think' is not exactly reassuring. Especially when she adds, "He likes your mom, anyway." I stare down at her in disbelief until she pats my arm in what I'm sure is supposed to be a reassuring gesture. "I'm sure he likes you." I still don't believe her, so I do what I do best-- formulate a position. "I went to a show about Jesus and wore Kermit the Frog pajamas!" "That's why I should like you, not my dad," she states pragmatically. Hmph. She sort of has a point, not that it's going to stop me. "No, your dad should like me for those reasons because it shows the lengths I'm willing to go to make you happy." There. I'm not where I am professionally for nothing. "Lengths?" She gurgles with laugher as she says the word. "Josh, I appreciate you standing in a church watching a play for half an hour, but it's not like you walked over burning coals." "What about the pajamas?!" I can't believe she's not giving me proper credit for my sacrifices. I was sort of banking on riding the wave of goodwill from all of this for… six or seven years, at least. "You wore them for less than ten minutes last night." But she leans up and kisses my nose. She probably thinks that lessens the sting of her words. It does a little, but I don't let it show. "And whose fault was that?" My tone is obvious. It was clearly her fault. "Yours." "What?!" How did she not read my tone, signifying that she should accept blame? "I have full recollection of the events of last night. And the recollection is of the speed with which you tore them off of me." She blushes hotly, but changes the subject, another clear indication I was right. "That was a lovely rundown of our day yesterday, but none of that is what I was talking about." "Okay, what were you talking about?" I have no idea why we started down this conversational path; I'm lying next to a naked Donna, remember? "Do you know what happens on Christmas Eve?" Right. Christmas Eve. It's early. She woke me up. And she's back to her childlike enthusiasm. I really love that about her. "Usually I'm working and ordering Chinese so I'm not sure-" "Santa Claus comes!" I look at her with a cocked eyebrow and ask incredulously, "Santa Claus came to this house last night?" "Of course." She rolls her eyes in a way I'm very familiar with. It's the 'don't mind my boss, he's crazy' look. But I guess now it's a 'don't mind my boyfriend, he's crazy' look. I like it better now that it's the latter. "Why does this mean we have to get up at five?" "5:55. Josh, I know Christmas is not your holiday, but you must know that after Santa Claus comes, we open presents." Donna sits up and starts climbing out of bed. She's not joking. "Seriously?" "Yes." "We're going to open presents at five in the morning?" "They've probably already started." She tosses my Kermit pajamas at me and they land on my face. I pull them off and look from the kind face of one scrawny green Muppet back up to Donna; he really does remind me of her. Don't worry I didn't say that out loud, instead I groan, "I have to wear these?" "Definitely." *** "You lied to me." "What?" I really did tell a whopper. "There's no one else down here." "I know." "Where are they?" "Mmmm… let's see, the Moss Family Pajama Pancake Breakfast is at around 8:30 and then we open presents." "So what you're saying is that we open presents *after* pancakes?" He looks confused, like he's struggling to figure out what's going on, I'm anticipating a little annoyance once he figures it out. After all I did wake him up before six in the morning. But I was awake. And he was so dang cute lying there next to me, naked. Did I mention how much I liked waking up in his arms this morning? I nod my head with a mischievous glint and wait for it. "And pancake pajamas aren't until 8:30?" I shrug and try to look innocent. "Nine o'clock really." "Nine!" His voice is almost a shriek. "Shhh." I put the fingers of one hand over his lips. "You're going to wake the whole house." "Yes, because they're still sleeping until 8:30 or 9. Why aren't we still sleeping too?" He hisses. And it's pretty adorable. "Because they were up late?" "We were up late!" "Nah, we were in bed by midnight. They were probably up till 2 or 3 in the morning." He just stares at me in disbelief before asking again, "Why did you wake me again?" I shrug and try to look innocent. "Because like all kids on Christmas morning, I couldn't wait for you to wake up and play with me. Santa Claus came after all…" And that got him. Josh is shaking his head at me, but I can see him trying hard not to smile. "You know, I would be mad that you blatantly lied to me, but you're just so darn cute in your Miss Piggy jammies." With a glance down I check out my attire. It's true; I am wearing Miss Piggy pajamas. I may have commissioned Suzie from Political Affairs’ mother to make me a pair, too. I meet his eye with a cocky expression. "I am, aren't I?" Josh nods in agreement as I add coyly, "But not as cute as you are in your Kermit jammies." "Well, that goes without saying." Now he's the cocky one. He's going to have to learn that being in a relationship means that he doesn't agree with me in that situation. In order to teach him this paramount coupledom tenet, I lunge at him playfully. The next thing I know, I've tackled him flat on his back and I’m sprawled on top of him. Josh adjusts to this situation quickly and in no time at all his hands are tangled in my hair and his lips are on mine. The kissing is pretty amazing and it distracts me to the point of barely noticing that he's rolled us so I'm on my back and he's on top. After several minutes of really good making out, he pulls back and brushes a strand of hair away from my ear. My breath catches when he looks at me like this. It's with such intensity and desire he could probably ask me to do anything in the world and I'd do it. Put me on sentry, fine. Forgo shopping during the busy Christmas season because he wants nothing to do with a crowded mall? No problem, I can shop on the internet. Needs an accomplice to rob a bank? Sure, hand me an old pair of pantyhose and a grappling hook. I'd do anything… uh… except what he apparently wants me to do now! He's no longer gazing at me intently, now he's kissing his way down my jaw and I can feel him shift suggestively on top of me. He's not suggesting we do… that? Is he? "Stop!" I hiss. "What?" he pants as he leans back slightly. "What are you doing!? We can't do THAT down here under the Christmas tree on Christmas!" "Technically, it's beside the Christmas tree. There are far too many presents shoved under there for us to, you know." He murmurs all of this into my collar bone, before he once again starts pressing his lips to my skin in the most delicious way. Before I know it he's got the top two Miss Piggy buttons undone. "Not the point." I interrupt him, reluctantly, because as I've said his lips are really talented. They should have professional representation. Are there agents for that kind of thing? Not that his lips are going to be available to do this to anybody but yours truly. Or they better not be. It's too early to talk about commitment… isn't it? The funny thing is it doesn't seem too soon. I feel like I know that I want his lips to be doing this to me for the rest of my life and I think he feels the same way. After all, we did talk about having mini-ginger people last night. That's as big a commitment as they come. Uh oh… he's stopped kissing me. Why has he stopped kissing me? Oh, because he's talking, but I have no idea what he just said. I open my eyes and look up at him. "What did you say?" "Isn't this why we're here?" He repeats, sounding confused. I crinkle my brow. "You think we came to Madison so we can conjugate in my parent's living room while the rest of the house sleeps off the eggnog from last night?" "No… I thought that you dragged me out of bed at this unseemly early hour under false pretenses so that we could do it next to the Christmas tree in your parents' living room while the rest of the house sleeps off the eggnog from last night." "I did not!" I cry indignantly. How could he think I would plan such a thing? Although, I must admit it's pretty romantic with the lights of the Christmas tree illuminating the dark room. And his weight is still on top of me and now he's giving me the intense desire- filled look again… maybe we could just… No! See how that look turns my brain to mush? I sit up slightly and he senses the change and shifts his weight off of me and we both, grudgingly, push to a sitting position. "Then why did you wake me up from a sound sleep? I need sleep. You're younger than I am and, quite frankly, a firebrand in bed… I need my rest if I'm going to continue to live up to your expectations." Now I'm simultaneously blushing and rolling my eyes. Blushing because of the firebrand comment and rolling my eyes at his need of sleep. The man has never needed much sleep to function at the highest level. His stamina should be studied by academics and other …smart people who study things. But first things first. "I'm a firebrand in bed?" Uh oh. He's starting to look a little cocky and the sex glint is back in his eye. This is the glint that I've discovered appears when he wants me in that instant. Funny, I used to see this glint even before we started our thing. Now he's crawling towards me. With one hand, I reach out and place my palm on his chest in order to thwart his progress. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your beauty rest…" Now he's rolling his eyes. "And your perverted desire to do it next to the Christmas Tree— I won't even mention the fact my impressionable young nieces are just down those stairs in the basement-- but I got you up and into your Kermit pajamas early because I wanted us to exchange presents before everyone else wakes up… just the two of us." "Oh…" He sits back on his knees. "Is that okay? I thought it would be nice to be alone before the chaos." I feel relief as a huge smile crosses his face. "It is… actually it's a great idea." Now we're sitting under the tree, grinning foolishly at one another. "I would love to open presents with you at five in the morning on Christmas. But I'm not a pervert." "You are, but I like that about you, and it's actually well after six now." I smile and then look at the mountain under the tree. "Only one problem." He looks over at the massive number of packages. "You don't know where my present is, do you?" I shake my head. I sent it ahead with the rest of the presents and Mom could have put it anywhere under there. "Well, I don't have that problem." He looks smug. "I know exactly where your present is 'cause I put it there yesterday." He crawls over to the side of the tree, gets on his knees and reaches to a spot near the staircase. "A-ha!" He pulls out a medium sized box. "Told you I knew exactly where it was." I reach for it but he pulls it away quickly with a twinkle his eye. "Uh uh, start digging." *** "I love it!" I pump excitement into my voice. I'm not exactly sure what this is for, but Donna gave it to me, so that's all I need to know. I see Donna bite her lip, and I think she's trying not to laugh at me. Why is she laughing at me, when I'm pretending to love this… whatever it is. "Do you know what they are?" She echoes what she said last night when I opened the Kermit jammies. You know she wouldn’t have to laugh at me if her presents were self- explanatory. "Of course I know what they are," I say as I lift them out of the box and examine them more closely. "It's a… uh… pillowcase and then a frillier pillowcase." "It's not just a pillowcase." She picks up the square of fabric which is very much a pillowcase. "600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. I got you the whole set, but I didn't want to drag them across country. So I just wrapped one pillow case." "Oh…great!" Sheets? She got me sheets? I was sort of hoping for one of those Xbox things for my brand new TV. On Thanksgiving Sam told me I could get one that's compatible with the High Def and we could play football on it. I really don't know what it's about, but it sounded cool. And manly. "Not just sheet, these are like the Rolls Royce of linen," she explains. "Rolls Royce of linen? There's such a thing? I just thought cotton was cotton…" "Which explains what you're currently sleeping on. Here, feel." She brings the sheet up to touch my face. "It's like butter," she tells me as she caresses the pillowcase against my cheek. Would it make me any less of a man to admit that it feels like heaven in fabric form? I've never felt anything so soft in my life; except for Donna's skin, of course. "It is nice," is what I admit to out loud. Hmmm… now all I can think about is Donna on these sheets… me and Donna between these sheets… and it dawns on me… that's what she must have been thinking when she bought them. I love this gift! I meet her eye and then shake my head before accusing, "You are obsessed with having sex with me." "What?" She drops her hand, which was still caressing the pillowcase against my cheek. "Seriously, first you give me pajamas." I point to one of the beloved green frogs for emphasis. "And now sheets? You are fixated on getting me into bed." "I am not! That's ridiculous!" She huffs. "So you weren't thinking of what we would be doing on these sheets when you bought them?" She may say I'm not a lawyer, but I am; I know how to cross- examine. "Well… I just… I… uh… thought you'd prefer us to spend time at your place rather than mine." "So you got me sex sheets," I say matter-of-factly and enjoy the way she's all flustered and her cheeks are bright pink. "No wonder you wanted me to open these when we're alone." "Not sex sheets! Just sheets, nice sheets, because in order for me to sleep at your place, that old, ratty, ugly bedding has to go." She's still blushing furiously. "But we can still have sex on the sheets, even though they’re 'nice,' right?" She ignores the question, but still blushing she smiles widely. "See, I got navy blue… not feminine, yet a color that will flatter both of us." That makes me laugh. "And the frilly pillowcase is for what?" "That's a pillow sham, Josh. That's the duvet that goes with it… which I also didn't bring. And it's not that frilly." "It's sort of frilly," I tease. Other than being a bit shiny, it's not that frilly. I like it. And she's right, she's going to look really… let's just say hot, against these sheets. However, Donna would look hot anywhere. Like right now. Is it me or is it getting warm down here in the living room? "It's silk. Plain navy silk. It will be very pretty against the neutrals of your bedroom… without, you know, being pretty." I lean over and kiss her softly. "I love it." "Really?" She looks over at me hopefully. Is she kidding? Like I wouldn't adore any gift from her, period. The fact that the gift means we'll probably be spending more time in bed together is just a bonus. "Yeah, it's much better than one of those Xthings." "What?" She crinkles her nose cutely at me. "Nothing, I really love the sheets. I need the sheets. But what I love the most is the way they illustrate how obsessed you are with me and sex. And, you know, sex and me." She's about to retort, but I stop her with a kiss, which leads to several more minutes of making out. Finally, we pull apart and find ourselves sitting in the living room, lit only by the Christmas tree. As I stare into her eyes, I realize this is a moment. One of those times when we're communicating without words and telling each other how much we care with our eyes. "My turn!" She declares and makes a grab for the box I'd placed behind me. Or she wasn't thinking about our magical moment, but instead was thinking about her present. Which is okay, because her present is awesome. Trust me; she's going to love it. I'm so gonna be the man. "Your turn," I agree, but I can't keep the grin off my face, thinking about how she's going to react to this present. After inspecting the package carefully, she states emphatically, "You did not wrap this." "Why do you say that?" I ask, trying to sound affronted. "The silver curlies." "I could-" But before I can protest that I’m completely capable of creating silver curlies, she continues to list reasons I couldn't have wrapped it. "Also the red metallic paper. And the way all the edges actually are measured and meet so I can't see the box underneath." She turns the box over in her hands and examines the back. "The invisible gift wrapping tape instead of the use of masking or electrical tape is another dead give-" "Alright, I get it. I'm not a good wrapper. But I did try." "You did?" She looks at me with interest. I nod sheepishly. "I might have accidentally wrapped my thumb in the package. It was terrifying. So let's not speak of it again. I had it wrapped. Open it," I command in order to change the subject from the horror of the thumb-wrapping incident. She's still crossed legged on the floor with the package on her lap. "It's too pretty," she pouts at me. "I don't want to ruin it." In one fluid motion I reach over in order to grab a handful of silver curlies. "Here, I'll un-pretty it for you, so you can open it." "Wait!" She practically yells as she pulls the package out of my reach. I have to shush her in order to remind her that the rest of the house is still sleeping. She scoots over to the fireplace, reaches for a camera that was sitting on the bench in front, and whispers, "I want to take a picture." "Of what?" "The present." "O…kay." I shake my head at her, but smile. How can I not? She's so dang cute… right up until she's handing me back the package— as if I'm supposed to pose with her gift. "What?" Before I know what's happening, she's commanding me to smile and snapping my picture with her present. It's an image of me holding a Christmas present before seven in the morning while swathed in Kermit. This is not a moment I could have predicted. I have no choice but to get revenge. I hand the package back to her and at the same time swipe her camera. If there are bed head, Muppet blackmail photos of me, there's going to be Muppet blackmail photos of her too. I'll have to live with the fact that she doesn't have bed head. How she looks perfect at this time of the morning, I have no idea. Finally, we're done with the early morning picture taking. She carefully removes the silver curlies and ribbon and slides her finger under the tape. I'm so excited I can hardly sit still. She's going to love it. As she opens the box she looks from me, down to the present and back to me again. Uh oh, she's giving me a look. And it's the my-boyfriend-is-a-pig look. Not so much the my-boyfriend-is-the-greatest-guy in the world look. TBC… |