“You mean you haven’t bought me something already?” His tone mocking, he places his hand on his chest as if I’ve wounded him.
“I didn’t think I was going to see you. With Dad not being here, I?—”
“I’m kidding. I don’t care for gifts, you know that. And besides, there’s nothing I want other than to keep you safe. So don’t get any notions about going into town. Last thing I want is you slipping and breaking your neck and me having to call your dad.”
“All right, I won’t go into town. I’ll just have to bake you some cookies or something for Christmas.”
“Now that’s a gift I would like. I can’t resist your cookie.” He clears his throat. “I mean your baking.” He mutters, “for fuck’s sake” under his breath, barely audible, but I sense the frustration and desire rolling off him in waves.
My cheeks heat with the same need pulsing through me. Almost certain now these feelings aren’t just one way.
As I climb the ladder with the Christmas star in my hand, he stands behind as if ready to catch me if I fall, just like he’s always been there for me. Ready to catch me on the swings, or while riding my bike for the first time, and even now when I’ve told him the truth about my failed attempt at being an adult, there’s no judgement, only love.
Placing the star on the top of the tree, I make a silent wish, shutting my eyes tight. I may have told Sawyer I want a boyfriend and a job for Christmas, and maybe he can’t deliver those, but he could help me with something else I’ve been desperate for.
Sawyer’s been there for many firsts in my life. It seems right that he should be the one to give me my first sexual experience. He flicks the switch on the extension lead, lighting up the star.
Tingles course through my body like I’m wired in to the electrics as well, lit up like the Christmas star as my centre pulses with thoughts of him taking my virginity.
The ladder wobbles beneath my unsteady feet as I feel like I’m floating on a cloud, my body thrumming with the zing of pleasure.
“Steady.” His hands grip my hips, heat radiating from his palms, intensifying the hum in my body.
With shaky limbs, I climb down from the ladder, bringing my head out of the clouds, and ground myself. It was a nice fantasy while it lasted, but that’s all it will ever be. I remind myself he wouldn’t even kiss me under the mistletoe, let alone anything else.
“Ready for the big switch on?” He hands me the lights plug and the extension lead. “You do the honours.”
I take it and insert the male into the female and look up at the tree, expecting to see the multitude of coloured fairy lights. Only it’s lacklustre. Only a few bulbs work on the string, lighting up the room like single bursts of hope between dark depths of despair. It’s a metaphor for my life.
Sawyer chuckles at the side of me. “I guess we should have plugged them in before decorating the tree.” He looks up at the ceiling where the star shines brightly atop the huge tree. “At least the star works.”
I padfrom the shower into my bedroom with the towel wrapped around me, barely meeting in the middle, and I drop onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling while I air dry. Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I tap the screen and listen to my Taylor Swift playlist.
My mind wanders back to earlier with Sawyer. I know I felt something when we were in the snow. I’ve straddled him like that many times growing up. Memories of bouncing on his belly like a bouncy castle come rushing back to me, but today, when I straddled him, it was different. He felt different, and there was definitely something between us. And I’m not talking about the bulge I felt between my legs. There was chemistry.
After decorating the tree, I felt that spark again, igniting something in me. I rub at my chest. Where there was a desolate emptiness is now hope blossoming like the white petals of a snowdrop flower after a winter frost.
My nipples pebble beneath my palm. Tingles bloom in my centre at thoughts of him wanting me like I want him. I close my eyes as the towel falls away, and I slide my hand over my soft stomach and lower, to stroke the short patch of hair on my private area, imagining it’s his hand.
I stifle a moan from my lips, knowing he’s downstairs cooking dinner, but I can’t stop touching myself. His voice in my head whispers sweet but filthy things to me, things I wonder if he would actually say likelet me kiss your pussy, angel,in that deep gruff voice of his.
My hand isn’t enough. I need more. Discarding the towel, I kneel on the bed, holding onto the headboard as I straddle Mr. Snuggles, the teddy he bought me years ago. The fur between my legs tickles and I imagine it’s his beard as he kisses me down there.
Heat courses through my body, my centre weeping as I slide it along the fur. The button nose slipping between my folds and finding my sensitive spot sends an electrical current up my spine.
I bounce up and down on the teddy, the mattress helping to get a rhythm going. My breasts jiggle with each bounce. In my head, Sawyer’s still kissing between my legs, but I need more.There’s an ache deep inside that intensifies the more I get myself off and the more I deny myself the full penetration I crave.
Other than in textbooks and a video on how babies are made in school, I’ve yet to experience any type of intercourse with a man. I’ve never even used a tampon. The stories of toxic shock syndrome were enough to deter me. But the more I touch myself lately, the more my body aches for something deep inside.
But it doesn’t ache for just anyone. It aches for him. Sawyer, the man I call uncle. My centre tingles as the button nose hits my sensitive spot again. I bounce faster, desperate for a release. My hands grip the velvety texture of the pink headboard. Taylor blasts through my phone and I bounce to the beat of the music, lost in my own world as I climb the mountain, desperate to reach the summit.
My body shudders with the sensations of the teddy between my thighs, riding it as if it was Sawyer’s face. I’m so close. My head rolls back, my back arches. “Uncle Sawyer,” I whimper under my breath, wishing it really was him getting me off. “I’m almost coming.”
Hairs prickle all over my body as a cool breeze swathes my skin. I flick open my eyes just as Sawyer enters the room.
His eyes widen, his face draining of colour.
I jump off the teddy, my head light and dizzy. Everything in slow motion, other than my racing heart, which is the only thing sped up. My knee doesn’t land back on my single bed, it misses completely, falling to the floor, dragging the rest of my body with it and crashing into my bedside table. The lamp lands on my head and then everything blacks out.
