Where to Spend Christmas

“What made you change your mind about having sex on the Sabbath?” Joel asked her one Sunday afternoon.

“I prayed about it.” She didn’t tell him that she had asked her co-worker, Diana for advice. He would have a problem with her sharing something so personal with another person.

“Is it going to be a regular thing now or only once in a while?”

“It could be a regular thing.”

“What about when we come home from church?”

“Sure. At first, it will feel strange, different making love on the Sabbath day but we’ll get used to it.”

“Yes, we will. Thanks, Honey.”

She went over and kissed him on the lips. “You’re welcome,” she said when she drew back. “So, I’ve finished all of the Christmas shopping. I just have to wrap the presents.”

“The Christmas program is on this Sabbath. Are you nervous?”

“A little.” She was singing a solo.

“You’ll be fine, Honey. You have a lovely voice. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

She smiled. “Thanks, my love. I can always count on you to cheer me on. Well, I’d better go take a shower before getting dinner ready. Oh, I almost forgot. Your mother called. She was hoping that we would spend Christmas with them. I told her that I would check with you.”

He sighed. “I’m not sure I want to spend Christmas in Boston, listening to my uncle going on and on about the exotic inscriptions he saw when he and my aunt were in Latin America two years ago or hear my mother complain about my father’s soggy socks while he talks about the good old days when he and my grandfather used to catch silky sandies.”

She laughed. “Telling those stories make your uncle and father happy.”

“I guess so but do they have to tell them every Christmas?”

“Who knows. When we reach their age, we might be guilty of doing the same thing.”

“I hope not!” he exclaimed, looking horrified.

She laughed again. “I’ll go, shower, change and then get dinner ready.”

While she went off to do that, he got up from the sofa and played A Classical Christmas CD. It was one of his favorites and it helped to put him in the festive mood. When she was in the kitchen, he went and changed into his pajamas after taking a quick shower. He prepared the salad and filled their glasses with non-alcoholic wine. A delicious aroma filled the air. She quickly set the table in the kitchen, smiling as she watched him rub his stomach in anticipation.

While they were having dinner, he said, “Instead of having Christmas with your family or mine, why don’t we have it by ourselves?”

“You mean here in our home?”

“No, I was thinking of Paris or London or Rome.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, that would be lovely. What about Rome?”

“We can go to Rome if you like.”

“I’d like that very much. I’ve always wanted to visit Rome.”

“All right. This year we’ll have Christmas in Rome.”

She was so excited, she could hardly think straight. “I can’t wait to tell Diana.”

“Is she the one–“

“Who thinks you’re gorgeous, yes. So, when are you going to break the news to your mother that we aren’t going to be spending Christmas with her and the family?”

He sighed. “Maybe tomorrow. After I’ve booked the flight to Rome.”

“All right. I guess I’ll tell my folks tomorrow too. I spoke to my mother this morning. She called to invite us to have Christmas dinner with the family. I told her I would get back to her. She sounded so stressed out about preparing another big Christmas dinner. She mentioned something about having shortbread shortcomings and peppered sneezes. I wasn’t really paying much attention because I was in the middle of typing up a report when she called. I think she overdoes it. She needs to let my sister-in-law and other family members contribute in the cooking department instead of trying to do everything. Maybe I will volunteer to bake the freshly floured bread, gingerbread cookies and the fruit cake.”

“Will you have time to do all of that on top of rehearsing for the Christmas program and our plans for going to Rome?”

“You’re right. I’ll just bake the cookies and the fruitcake. I’ll bake them two days before we leave and drop them off the day before in the morning.”

“Now, let me try and relax you,” he said, when they were in the living-room. In the background, Tchaikovsky’s Noël from “The Seasons” was playing. They were sitting on the sofa.

“But, I don’t need relaxing. I’m fine.”

“Really?” he smiled. He turned her round so that she was backing him and he began to massage her shoulders.

“Oh, that feels really good,” she said, closing her eyes. “I love the way you give a massage.”

“You have a few knots right here.”

It felt so good and so relaxing. If he continued she might just fall asleep. Then, she felt his lips on her shoulder. No chance of her nodding off now. She leaned against him and moaned as he pressed his lips against the side of her neck. “Oh, I forgot about the dessert,” she mumbled breathlessly.

“Dessert can wait,” he murmured before he turned her head towards him and kissed her on the mouth. In no time, things got heated up…

Two hours later, they were each having a slice of the Raspberry-Ricotta Cake which she had baked that morning.

Posted for December 2020 Writing Prompts – #2 – Soggy Socks; 11 – Exotic inscriptions; 15 – Shortbread shortcomings; 26 – Silky sandies; #10 – Peppered sneezes; 29 – Freshly floured

Source: bon appetit

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