DJ Claus
Several of my neighbors’ window lights caused the soft snowy drifts in the alley to reflect a glittering holiday spectrum of colors: red and green and gold and blue. My own windows had iced up where the seal wasn’t tight; the streetlights appeared to be mere halos refracted through the frost. When the bitchy upstairs neighbor turned off her garish flashers, I sighed, finished my eggnog and climbed into bed. At first, I wasn't sure what had awakened me. There was a sort of rattling sound and a thump coming from the living room window. I flopped over, looked at the clock without seeing the time, and thought, "Oh, it's just Sputnik playing with the sash." Then I froze. “Sputnik doesn't live here anymore. The fat fluffy cat left with that sniveling bastard.” So, quietly, I slipped out of bed and grabbed the nightstick from the closet. Tip toeing as stealthily as I could to the bedroom door, with the grace of an absolute oaf, I stubbed my toe on the damned armoire. “Oomph!” Stuffing my fist in my mouth I managed to keep from cursing aloud, though now I was utterly pissed off. Inching open the door, I crept round the bend. I raised the stick to bring it down on the intruder's head and stopped. Santa Claus's red covered rear was sticking out as he bent to close the window behind him. "Aren't you supposed to come down the chimney?" I asked, so original. Santa gasped and spun around. Hmmm, this Santa had his padding in the wrong spots: he was tall and toned, no bowl full of jelly on those abs! "You scared me" he accused, his deep melodious voice stirring things inside me. "I scared you? This is my fucking apartment!" I was now noticing the biceps as well. Nice. "Well, yes, I know. I apologize for the intrusion. I, uh, knocked on the window, but I supposed you were asleep." Unmitigated gall, Santa Prickass. "You guessed right. Can I ask? You know, just for my information, what the hell were you doing out on my fire escape? And better yet, why the hell are you in my living room? I can assure you that I’ve not been on the ‘nice list’ of late." This last was all too true: I was pretty indignant, had decided I was finished with men, and on the verge of becoming a complete lesbian. "Well, I sort of locked myself out." I just stared at him. "You locked yourself out of my apartment?" "No, out of mine. I'm your new neighbor." This was fucking rich, but maybe… okay, yes. I had seen movers the day before yesterday. "I didn't know Kris Cringle moved in next to me," I answered, still being a bit sarcastic since my adrenaline was pumping, both because of fright and because of the pain signals shooting like frigging needles as a result of the stubbed toe. "Oh the costume… Well, you see, I was playing Claus for some kids tonight. Where I work, we get together and take some toys around to one of the shelters for the kids. We, ahh, we… ahh chisshhhhhah, hatpchmf!” Santa sniffed, sneezed, and then stifled another. “Bless you, Santa,” I offered, and thought, “Right - so now that I find myself surreally being aroused by Santa’s sneezes, maybe men deserve one more look.” “Thanks. Damnit. I guess I was out there a while… Well anyhow, we tell them Santa had to delegate because there's just too much for him to cover in one night." "Riiigght. At least you don't have to worry about the fake beard that way,” I said, stepping closer to give it a little tug, “But isn't it kind of late?” I squinted at the clock, this time seeing it clearly and having the number actually register. "Shit, it’s three o'clock. I thought Santa made his rounds at midnight?" "Actually, we finished at the shelter around ten, but then went out to do a little celebrating and we wound up at my buddy Joe's house singing karaoke carols. Then I caught… ah… ah-hatchhhh! Hutchooo! Damn. Sorry – a ride home." "Bless. Again. So, I can see that can take time, but how the hell did you wind up on the fire escape? You could just be in the hall…" Let’s face it: I was intrigued, in pain, and aroused. This sneezing Santa was tall, well muscled, and had a gloriously deep voice that sent shivers up and down my spine. He suddenly sounded very familiar and I was struggling to put my finger on his voice. Making him speak more could produce the answer, and maybe even entitle me to a few more sneezes. "Hmmm, I guess my keys fell out of my bag at Joe's house. Or at least, I hope they're at his house,” replied Santa, shivering imperceptibly and sniffing again. “Well, Santa, as long as they are not tagged with your name and address you’ll be safe. Okay I have to say it, and you sound so very familiar…” I leaned the nightstick against the wall behind me, reached up on the shelf next to me and handed Santa the tissue box still struggling to place the voice. “Tissue?” I offered and then, smiled and walked my fingers up to his nose. “Ya know Santa, you sound like you are coming down with a cold.” Mr. Claus smiled warmly. "Thanks. You know, I think you may be right. I have had a tickly throat for days and tonight hasn’t helped. Ya know what else? I think I'm going to like being your neighbor a lot." "You’re welcome. It is the least I can do for my prowling Santa. And, uh, why do you think you’ll like being my neighbor?" I asked. I was rather puzzled, and felt a little overwhelmed. And that voice… I was on the verge of recognizing him, I knew it. "Well, you didn't say anything about that fact that you are well within your right to call the police, and… and… ahhh… Attssshooooo! Hatchoo! Hupchuhhhh! And I really needed this tissue.” “Bless.” Santa nodded to me and pulled off the hat and beard to reveal sparkling blue eyes, close cropped jet-black hair and finely chiseled features. Truly, he was beautiful. He blew his nose and shoved the tissue into his pocket, grabbed another, held it in his hands and sneezed yet again: “Huptishhiishah!” It came to me then; this was Chuck Chasen from 105.5 KMSX. He just happened to be my favorite afternoon radio DJ. I should have placed his voice instantly instantly, but of course radio makes it sound a bit different and he was catching a cold. Chuck Chasen – the Chuck Chasen - sneezing. A hot man in my apartment. And just when I was feeling very amazed about all this, I thought about what the hell I must look like at 3a.m. without a stitch of make-up, hair disheveled and muttered “oh crap!” under my breath. I quickly tried to figure out if it was politically correct to let Chuck know I had his number now. I noticed his eyes and the dimple that suddenly smiled at me as he began to take in my appearance, his eyes traveling to my breasts which were straining against the faded pink tee shirt I wore to sleep. And then I felt more heat as his gaze moved over my stomach to my bare navel and its belly ring and then down my slender hips, looking to know the curves of my ass. What a caress. Yep, I was wet. "Anyway," Chuck continued, "I got upstairs to my apartment door, reached in my pocket, but no keys. These doors are steel, no breaking them down. So I thought, maybe I could get in my window. I had it open the other day to air out the apartment when I moved in and didn’t remember locking it. “I went up to the roof and came down the fire escape, but my windows are locked. And, well, I didn't want to have to climb up again. To be honest, I wasn't sure I could get in the roof door again, so I started knocking on your window." "Wouldn't have been simpler to ring my door bell in the first place?" "Of course, but I didn't plan on waking anyone. I seriously thought my windows were unlocked. Truth be told, I was freezing my ass off." "Hmm,” I smiled. The cliché was on the tip of my tongue and I couldn’t resist delivering it: “Your ass looks fine to me. Well, what do you want to do now? Do you want to call your friend Joe and ask him to bring your keys over?" Chuck smiled broadly and sniffed. "Thanks. Um yours is fabulous as well, actually. Well, you know, it is kind of late and all. Joe was soused. We are talking three, maybe four sheets to the wind, aye aye, and all that.” Chuck paused and I could see the pre-sneeze expression playing havoc across his handsome face. He got it under control. “I really don't want to ask him to even try to come out in the snow at this time of night. I was kind of hoping, you know, now that I've met you… I was kind of hoping I could crash on your couch? If it's not too much trouble?" At which point he lost control and sneezed “Isssshhhhhhhah!” into his cupped hands. "Bless.” What else could I say to that but: “I would be charmed to have you crash on my couch," in my most gallant manner. Then, I noticed the he was still shivering. For that matter, so was I, but for different reasons. I also noted that I was more or less bottomless, and I turned a nice, Christmassy shade of red. "Uh, is your Santa suit wet? I have some large men’s pajamas in the closet, ones I had planned to give to the sniveling bastard who used to live with me. They would fit you.” And then, as I edged towards the bedroom and my bathrobe, I asked, “How about maybe something hot to drink before you go to bed?" "That would be great. I’m dreadfully damp. The fire escape was so damned slippery, and it took me a while to climb down from the roof. I think I may be permanently frozen." I thought about how much I would like to defrost Mr. Chasen Claus while I slipped into my bedroom. I threw on my robe and grabbed an extra blanket and pillow from the closet, as well as the clean pj’s I had never given to the sniveling bastard. "Here", I said, handing him the bedding and clothing. “The bathroom is down the hall, and clean towels are in the closet. Go ahead and change, and I’ll warm some cider." “Thanks,” he answered, looking at my breasts again, sniffing and smiling before he sauntered off. I blushed, a complete rarity, poured the cider in the pan and let it get steamy. The mugs were filled and on the tray when I heard a few sneezes and a hard blow. I knew he had made his way to the living room. I placed the tray on the coffee table and unfolded a chenille throw, which I placed around his shoulders after I’d handed him a mug. I then sat right next to him, being as bold as possible. I was at this point not really giving a damn. What the heck - it was Christmas, he was my neighbor, and he just happened to be a well-known, very sexy DJ. For a while, we just sat enjoying each other's body heat and sipping our cider. I was nearly lulled to sleep by his occasional sniffing. The even breathing of the warm body beside me was relaxing me even further, until his breath hitched and he set his mug down. Just in time, he grabbed another tissue and sneezed loudly into it. “Haatchhhhhusshh! Shit, sorry.” “Bless you. Okay, I should let you sleep, you sound like you really need some rest – let me know if you’re not warm enough, Okay?” “Thanks. Um, so hey, what is your name? I’m Chuck-“ “I know who you are, Chuck Chasen. I am Mare’ LeShante’.” Chuck smiled warmly and laughed. “Ah, Mare’. Very pretty lady, you have me sussed. When did you know who I was, and more importantly, are you a fan or foe?’” “Relax there, stud, I am a listener when I can and it came to me when I handed over the tissues. Actually I am a writer.” I wanted him in my bed right then, I did. I wanted his hands all over me, wanted him pressed against me when he sneezed. In fact, I pretty much just wanted him. “Oh crap. I can see it now: my name will be in the papers… ‘Snotty DJ Breaks In Wearing Santa Suit.’” “Not that kind of writer. I actually write romance novelettes. Sleep now, Mr. Chasen, my sweet sneezy prowler. We can talk more in the morning…the late morning, mind - a girl needs her beauty rest.” Check smiled broadly. “Well Mare’, it looks as if you have already gotten that. You are beautiful.” For a minute, I was confused. "Um, are you flirting with me?” I asked, knowing full well the response. "Well, yeah. I am." He smiled with the sweetest sniff I have ever heard. There was the infernal blushing again. “Do you mind?” “No, not at all,” I responded, moving closer to him and putting the tissue box within his reach. “You should really rest your voice; it’s sounding a little hoarse.” And it was. I opened the blanket and indicated that he should lie down, which he obediently did. A sneezy expression crossed his features and he sneezed into the crook of his arm: “Hatttchhmpff.” “Bless you. See, Santa, you need rest.” With that I covered him up, leaned down and kissed his forehead. His hand caught my arm for a second and he looked right into my soul. “Mare’, thanks so much. I really appreciate this.” “You are very welcome, Santa Chasen, and don’t be too quick to thank me just yet. I’m making a mental list of all the ways you can pay me back in the morning…” |