The Curiosity Shoppe - Rayne Forrest

He wasn’t sure when the desire to settle down had crept up on him, but it had. Lately he’d been thinking, or daydreaming, of what his life would be like if he had a special person to share it with. God help him, he’d even wondered if he’d like to have a family. It was scary stuff for a space vagabond to be contemplating. There was one thing he was sure of, though. If, no, when, he met that special lady, he’d be able to promise her his wanderlust would never get the best of him again.  He’d seen enough of the settled universe.

He gulped the last of his coffee and headed back for the stairwell.

It took him another twenty minutes to get to the AQ concourse. The doors opened onto a surreal scene. Aliens of all shapes and sizes meandered about in traditional garb. There wasn’t another human in sight. Fifteen years ago, Zeb would have found it fascinating. Now he’d been gone too long from his home and a lot of what was in front of him barely registered.

It would be Christmas by the time he made it home. He’d not celebrated the season with his family in nine years. It was only June by Earth reckoning, but he couldn’t wait to get home and see the family's traditional home all decked out for the midwinter season. He imagined he could already smell the magnolia, pine, citrus, and sugar cookies. After the holidays, he might even take himself north and see real snow again.

The Nutcracker Returns - Lizzie T. Leaf

 “Sorry, my dear, if we’re neglecting you.  It’s just…uh…hmmm…” he blushed, “touching him brings back memories.”

Claire lay back on the bed and stretched, giving them a good view of her assets.  “Touch away boys, but don’t forget to include me in the play.”
 
Phillip laughed.  “Our sweet, innocent Claire has become a greedy little morsel, hasn’t she Liam?”  He dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed and pushed her thighs apart.  “Do you think she’d object to my burying my head between her legs and tasting her delights?”  He leered at her.  “Is that the kind of attention you had in mind, my dear?”

All I Want - Jefferson Dane

She shifted on the bed.  “Tell me something, Copper.  What would you like for Christmas?”

“It’s too early to be thinking about Christmas, Anne.  Why don’t you just get me whatever cologne you think smells the best on me?”

“No.  I want to get you something meaningful…something personal.”

He laid his hand on her breast and traced the nice circle of flesh that ran close her underarm.  “Don’t you think we have something personal?”

“Aww Copper, I don’t kid myself that making love to me distinguishes me from the other women in your sex life.”  She leaned toward him and pulled the bed sheet up over her breasts.
 
“Of course, you’re special, Anne.”

“I’m talking about something totally unique between us—something other people—other clients wouldn’t necessarily understand.”

“Like what?”

“Like wouldn’t you like to locate your birth parents?”

“That’s a monetary and emotional expense I’m not willing to undertake.”

“Maybe I’d be willing to front the money for you.”

“Anne, don’t.  I don’t want to know who my birth parents are.”

“Why not?  Don’t you think as you grow old…that is…as you mature, you’ll want to know?”

“No.”

She snorted a sound that was half a sigh and half a growl.  “Now, you’re just being unreasonable.”

“Anne, leave it alone.  Suppose you do find my birth parents.  How am I going to explain to them that I’m basically a high class hustler?  I don’t know if I have the strength to deal with that.  Let me live my life my way.”

“But your adopted parents suspect, don’t they?”

“They know I’m a paid escort.  However, that’s all.  They both look the other way when it comes to all the rest. Denial runs big in my family.”

“Copper, I really think your birth parents will understand.”

He turned away from her. “Leave it alone, Anne!”

Nevertheless, from that moment on, she had her mind set on giving him a very unique Christmas present. Yes, that’s exactly what Anne would do for him. Hang the expense!

In Winterland -  Brenda Williamson 

The snow fell heavier. Large flakes of white thickened the air. The road already had a dense layering.

“I have a cabin not too far from here. It’ll be rough getting to town tonight.”

“You want me to come home with you?”

She didn’t want to meet his wife. It would be awkward for everyone, but more so for her. The woman would see her as a threat and watch her closely. Crystal didn’t think she’d be able to hide her emotions.

“It’s the practical thing to do.” He opened the passenger door of his car and she slid inside.

She watched out the front window as Evan went around to the driver’s side. The snow made it hard to see him clearly. Still, when he glanced her way, she felt the heat in her belly flare to her lungs.

The old, red Dodge Charger of his father’s hadn’t changed much. It surprised her to find that he kept it. The thing had to be over forty years old.

“The car looks good.” She told him when he got in behind the steering wheel.

“I don’t use it much.”

“That explains how it’s stayed so nice.”

Nerve endings in her fingers and toes did a jitterbug dance and she had a notion that it was shock, and it might be doing a number on her. Sitting in the same car she first had sex in with Evan, didn’t help calm her emotions.

“Your wife, she won’t mind?”

“I don’t have a wife.” His tone gave her a worse chill, while an inward smile blossomed to her lips.

“Oh, I heard you got married.”

“Married and divorced in the same year.”

“I’m sorry.” She turned her head away for a second hoping he didn’t see the news made her happy and then she looked over at him.

“I’m not. I shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place.” He stared straight ahead while driving. “I was drunk.”

Silence engulfed the car. Evan appeared to have a lot of anger in him and she felt trapped into remaining quiet for fear she’d say something else wrong. The dour expression on his face depressed her.

As he drove slowly on the icy road, he turned on the radio. Maybe he wanted to break the silence or he hoped the holiday music would cheer him up. It did nothing for her.

The Christmas Card - Diane Charles Linford

I suffered through a genuine Margo expedited promise.  She turned the package in at one-oh-eight in the afternoon.  Naturally, I finally received my package around four-thirty.  But I was excited to open it anyway.

As I carefully peeled away the wrapping, I slowly uncovered the most fascinating item I’d ever seen.  My package contained a stand-up Christmas card.  Well, no that was an understatement.  I should say it appeared to be more of an extra large Christmas sculpture made from sturdy cardboard overlaid with gold and silver leaf.  The thin package enveloped a delicately embossed and sculptured Christmas card which bloomed out to look like a miniature gothic cathedral with tiny wreaths and miniature garland draping the spires.  Electronic buttons behind the imprinted the tiny working gothic style bells tolled out a beautiful carillon carol.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?”  Willa, one of the other women from the communications section, asked.

I shook my head.  “Never!”

“This must have cost a small fortune!  Is there a price tag on it?  What does the bar code say?”

The mention of a small fortune soon brought in a curious Margo.  “Oh my lord!  I’ve seen these for sale at the gift boutiques.  Do you know what they charge for these?”
  
We all glanced up at her.
“Seventy or eighty dollars easily.”  Then she smirked in my direction.  “Sienna, did you break your budget by purchasing this for yourself?”

I could see Willa shooting daggers out of her eyes at the back of Margo’s head.  “Is there some way we can see who it’s from, Sienna?”

I shrugged. I already knew who it was from.  “I don’t know.”

“Oh, silly!”  Margo reached for the front arched doorway.  “Open these!”  She pulled the cardboard flap doors apart.

“Gently, Margery,” I cautioned, but she pried them open to show us.  Imprinted on a black background in white ink read:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

Boytoys - J.M. Snyder

“He’s not that bad,” Barry started.

I shook my head, a futile gesture he couldn’t see. “You don’t see me chasing him down,” I pointed out. “I am not that desperate.” Then, if only for my own benefit, I added, “Chad just needed some space, you know? He might still come back—”

“Uh-huh,” Barry said. “You keep telling yourself that. In the meantime, forget him and come to this party.”

Pissed, I asked, “As Marty’s date? No thank you.”

Barry’s voice rose shrilly. “I’m not asking you to fuck him!”

I waited for his breathing to even out before I asked, “What kind of party is this again? Boytoys, what the hell’s that?”

“Come see for yourself,” Barry told me. “Next Saturday, my place, seven-thirty. If you find your own date by then, bring him along and I’ll kick Marty to the curb. You don’t have to buy anything…”

Now I got it. “This is a sex toy party, isn’t it?” I asked. When Barry didn’t answer immediately, I knew I’d guessed right. “Oh no. That’s not my scene, Barry, and you know it.” The only sex toy I owned was a gag gift Barry gave me years ago, a dildo shaped like a gigantic cock. It would take a bucket of lard to get that rubber dick inside a man’s ass…it was a good ten inches in diameter, no lie. Just looking at it gave me hemorrhoids.