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As the Seasons Grey	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 46 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Started life as kinky Christmas-related short stories in 2022 and took on a life of its own shortly thereafter. 100 fiction, none of this is real, and I own nothing except for the character of Christine.

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
- 31
Christine was one of those teenagers who not only drank coffee but drank coffee at night as well. There was something about her that intrigued me, undoubtedly more so than the blonde stewardess on the flight. I never snatched her name whereas I was right next to Christine as she indulged in some coffee and a big slice of blackberry pie with a dollop of whipped cream on top, as well as a small dish of chorizo. Every so often she flashed a glimpse over at my plate of pastrami on rye and French fries.
“You sure you don’t want anything else?” I offered to her with two of my fries in between my fingers.
“Diabetes runs in the family,” she confessed to me as she poured a little bit of cream into the coffee mug. “So I’m told, anyway. I’m also not really hungry, either.”
“It certainly does,” Wendy assured her as she sipped on her iced water. “Dad finally rid of it, as did your other grandfather, but Uncle George still has it, though. Plus, I’ve struggled with wavering blood sugar pretty much all my life.”
“Why aren’t you taking insulin?” I asked her, slightly puzzled.
“It’s not exactly there yet,” she explained. “It’s a little complicated to explain.” I stopped for a second with my eyebrows knitted a bit. Where Christine struck me as a lot more honest, Wendy seemed to be hiding something from me: it also helped that I never saw a wedding ring on her finger, either. I then cleared my throat and turned my attention over to Christine and the bite of pie on her fork.
“So, is your dad out here with you?”
“He’s… back home right now,” she reluctantly replied, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Wendy leaning away from us.
“And where would home be?” I asked her again, that time in a smaller, lower voice.
“New York, believe it or not,” Christine continued, and Wendy cleared her throat and stood up. She walked on over to the other side of the room where the bathrooms were, and I couldn’t help but notice the disgruntled look on her face as she walked away from there. I returned to Christine.
“What’s wrong?” I stammered out, and I had the weirdest little pit in my stomach upon asking that.
“My parents have been going to couples’ counseling lately,” Christine explained in a low voice. “They’ve been fighting a lot in the last year or so, and it was starting to do a number on me this past summer in particular.”
“Really?” I gaped at her, and she nodded her head at me with a grim look on her face.
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry—that was all so awkward,” I confessed to her with a shake of my head.
“No, no, it’s okay,” she assured me.
“No, it’s not. I stepped on some toes when I had no right to do so. I feel bad now.”
“You didn’t know, though,” she pointed out. “It’s okay, Alex, I promise.”
My heart sank at that, though, but I also showed her a smile at the sound of her saying my name. She returned to her slice of pie, which she slowly dug at despite it being of a good size and filled with lush berries and fresh cream atop.
“How’s that pie?” I asked her.
“It’s so good, do you want a bite?”
“I offer you a couple of my fries, but you refuse them, and now you wanna offer me some of your pie?” I asked her in a single breath and with a straight face, to which she giggled at me.
“Offer you some of my pie, is that what you asked me?” she teased me.
“What else would I ask of you?” I teased her back, and she giggled once again.
“You know, I once tried to get myself to eat a whole pie before,” she recalled to me.
“Wow, may I ask why?” I asked her, stunned.
“I was hungry,” she said with a straight face. “My skinny ass gets hungry every now and again. I got a little chubby when I was about fifteen and then I lost all that weight and then some.”
“You know, when I was a teen, I was the same way. Exact same way. It is starting to catch up with me, though, it feels like.” I rested a hand on my belly, but she rolled her eyes at that.
“What?” I asked her as I picked up a half of my sandwich.
“Pfff, if you’re fat, then I’m fat, too,” she quipped.
“If you and I were fat, it’d be kind of special if you think about it,” I pointed out to her, and I lowered my voice so no one would hear us. There wasn’t a lot of people in that restaurant and thus, I had my concerns about some of the people at the counter across the room eavesdropping on us. I took a bite and then returned my attention to her as she held the tines of her fork up to her lips.
“Did your girlfriend ever tell you that you have like the sexiest voice,” she coaxed me some more.
“I don’t think she did,” I recalled to her once I swallowed it down, and I couldn’t help but smile at that as well.
“If she did, I feel like you would know.”
“If she did, I admittedly don’t remember because what’s past is prologue.”
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve never done a little… inventory of this side of your life before?”
“Which side?” I dumbly asked her as I took another bite.
“You know. The side of you that wants a little fun.”
“As a matter of fact, I have,” I assured her once I swallowed it down. “There’s not much, though. The Jewish community is a lot more open and welcoming than you realize. I just never really had much to talk about with myself, though.”
“Really? A hot boy like yourself?” She seemed genuinely surprised by that.
“Yeah. It’s not that surprising to me, though. I just… never really saw myself as all that desirable and I never met anyone who gave me those feelings, either.”
“Wow.” Christine returned to her slice of pie for a moment before she spoke up again. “You know, if it’s any comfort, I feel the same way, too. I never saw myself as attractive enough, nor have I met anyone who made me feel that way.”
“Is that why your ex is your ex?” I asked her.
“No, it’s… not like that. I’ve just always seen my sexuality as the dumbest, stupidest, shittiest, absolute worst thing about me.” She sighed through her nose at that, and I held back a bit for a better look at the side of her head and the bright red locks that dangled over her ear and the side of her face.
“Oh, damn. I thought I had it bad.”
“It feels good to get that off my chest, though,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “My parents are going through counseling right now but that doesn’t mean I have space to talk for myself, though. I always hear shit about how women are sexy when they’re confident and it always leaves me with the worst feeling instead. I know for a fact that I don’t have it, and I know that once I turn eighteen, I still won’t have it.”
“It’s like… no matter what you do, you feel like it won’t matter in the end,” I followed along.
“Pretty much, yeah.” She sighed again, and then she took another bite. “My mom always laments that I’m hard to control. I’m actually not that hard to control.”
“Do you have any siblings?” I asked her as I took another bite of sandwich.
“Nope, just an only child. I’ve often suggested that my parents adopted me when I was a baby, and though they always think I’m joking, I’m being completely honest. I’ve always felt like such an odd appendage to the family, like… there’s a reason why I like hanging out with my grandparents when it comes to getting together with family. They’re like the only ones who seem to get me…” Her voice trailed off as Wendy returned to the table with a stern look upon her face.
“Hey, I’m sorry about that earlier,” I told her with an extension of my free hand across the table towards her. “I really didn’t know what was happening here, and it’s bad enough I feel like I’m imposing on you two girls.”
“It’s okay,” she assured me with a shake of her head as well. “Really. You were going to find out about it at some point, just like how dear Chris here was going to find out about things like curse words and what have you. And again, I promise you aren’t imposing, either!”
“Yeah, we’re happy to have you here with us,” Christine added. “The other alternative is watching you walk the streets with all the snow outside and with nothing to eat as well.”
I showed her a smile, and I took another bite of sandwich. I leaned back in the seat all the while: the pastrami was perfect with the right amount of salt and pepper, and the mustard was light enough that I could taste everything. I did have my worries that these two women next to me had no brisket on hand, or that the grandparents even had a brisket upon their return from Carson City.
Though the power had gone out back all over town and back at that house, I was glad to be there with them. But how I wished to be home with my parents, though.
The fries had the right amount of crunch, and I knew I could go to bed that night feeling safe and alright.
I offered to pitch in for the bill as well as a tip for the waitress, but Wendy promised me that she could handle it.
“A guy like you will never impose when he is as sweet as you,” she assured me with a little wink.
I took one final sip of my coffee before we left the restaurant, and the snow collected into even bigger flakes outside, and the wind picked up as well. I closed my coat and bowed my head as we trudged on back to the car with the snow pummeled down onto our faces like gravel. I squinted my eyes shut just before I reached the front end of the car itself, but it was enough for me to see the rim of the window and the door itself. I tugged the door open and bowed into the safety of the front seat; Wendy followed suit into the driver’s seat, followed by Christine into the back seat behind us.
“Wow-ee,” Wendy breathed out.
“Goodness,” I added as I strapped myself in. “Let’s go to where it’s—hopefully, anyway—warm.”
“We’ll figure out how to be warm in all of this,” she vowed as she turned the key in the ignition. The car shuddered and shook but roared to life, and we backed out of the spot, albeit with a bit of difficulty given the sheer amount of snow that pelted us and the parking lot behind us. We made it out of the spot and onto the street, however, and all the while, I kept my hands tucked into my coat pockets, and that time, I could feel the warmth that radiated off my belly. At least I had eaten something, and I crawl into a bed with a blanket and a warm feeling within me. At least I had a place to go, even without electricity.
The windshield wipers moved at a furious pace to keep up with the torrential snow and the harsh winds before us: though I was warm inside, the sheer sight of the snow beyond the car was enough to send a series of shivers up my spine. I needed to be in shelter, under a roof with a bunch of blankets at the helm.
It almost felt as though the background morphed away into the snow, and everything became monotone as it enshrouded itself in darkness. At one point, Wendy leaned forward and wiped the palm of her hand against the windshield.
“Quit breathing so hard, you two,” she teased us, and Christine giggled at that. The snow pelted against the hood of the car, and through the headlights, I could see the formation of the drifts on the pavement in front of us. The street turned white right before our eyes, such that I closed my eyes and I thought of my parents.
The only thought that ran through my mind right then was, I'm going to die here. I'm going to die here without knowing what it would be like to be touched or have my heart invested in another person.
I almost wanted to bow my head so neither Wendy nor Christine could see my face. All I could think about was my parents and how they were back home outside of New York City, how they were safe home and without a single clue that their baby could freeze or be taken out by the mere slip of the steering wheel.
“Grandma and Grandpa are home,” Wendy told Christine, to which she sighed with utmost relief. It was then I opened my eyes, and I looked straight ahead: through the torrential snow and the glare of the headlights, I caught the silhouette of the house on the side of the street.
“Oh, good!” I declared. “I don’t like the thought of an old man or an old lady having to cross a snowstorm on a night like this, especially when they’re grandparents. It’d be like my bubbie and zeide having to do that for themselves.” It was something to take my mind off the fact that we drove about in a blizzard and a near whiteout, plus it was the truth: thinking about the fact that Christine's grandparents were driving through a snowstorm like this down in a valley made me think of my own grandparents doing the exact same thing. I shuddered at the thought as we nearly crashed into the mailbox near the edge of the sidewalk, but luckily for us, Wendy caught it, and we parked up into the driveway.
Indeed, Christine's grandparents had lit up a few hurricane lanterns and propped them up in the front windows of the house, as well as a series of candles. They returned home and knew right away what was happening there in Reno.
The only drawback of returning to a safe place was having to climb out into the snow and wind.
And that was what the three of us did. And it was especially hard for me because I had no hood.
Nevertheless, I kept my head bowed as I huddled up next to Wendy and Christine, and the three of us made our way up to the front step of the house; Wendy's hand nearly slipped as she opened the door and I almost fell ass over teakettle onto the carpet from the combination of the wind at my back and my overnight bag and guitar case slung over my shoulder. My hair was once again covered in snow to the point it made my head cold and I knew for a fact I once again resembled to one of the Winter brothers.
I caught myself and hung by the side of the door as Wendy and Christine closed it in unison.
“Oh, dear, this is something else.” An old lady's voice drifted in from off to my left as I set my things down.
“Grandma!” Christine declared; I raised my head for a look over at her embracing a woman with rich jet-black hair wrapped in a thick sweater and with a single candle in hand. I never would have guessed she was a grandmother. I then reached up to the crown of my head and touched the snow that had blanketed my hair. I needn't get all the snow onto the carpet before me, especially since it wasn't my house.
“Oh, hello—I didn't know you girls brought home Boo Radley,” she said, and I showed her a little smile, even with the snow capping all over my head.
“Mom, this is Alex—he was on our flight, and he got stranded out here,” Wendy was telling her. “He doesn't have that much money, either, so we decided to take him in for the time being.”
“I was going to New York to be with my parents for Hanukkah,” I filled in, and for once, I could feel a bit of warmth in my face.
“Oh, a Jewish fellow!” the old lady said with a warm welcoming smile on her face. “Well, we better pay some respects then. We don't really have brisket in the house, but we do have a roast as well as apple pie and potatoes. We have a fireplace and a hot plate, too.”
“So, we can make matzo balls and latkes!” I followed along. “Excellent. Um... do you have a clean towel on hand? I'm afraid to shake my head about.”
“Of course, dear,” she assured me, and she raised a finger to Wendy and Christine. “I'll be right back.”
I held still with my hands on the lapels of my coat as I was afraid to take it off. Christine sauntered over to me with a little smirk on her face, and I could only feel butterflies within me at the sight of her.
“What's that look for?” I asked her.
“Get some good fats into your skinny little ass,” she joked, to which Wendy chuckled at that.
“Skinny? You know, I've put on a few pounds since the summer.” I fluttered my eyelids at Christine, who then ran her fingers through her fiery red hair and then pressed her hands to her hips.
“And let me tell you, it looks really good on you, too,” she assured me, and Wendy chuckled some more.
“Oh, I think she's got a little thing for you, Alex,” she pointed out; in the dim light, I could see her shake her head at Christine. “Honey, he's too old for you. How old are you, Alex?”
“Twenty-six,” I duly replied without even thinking about it.
“Yeah, he's too old for you!”
Then again, when I was seventeen, I was having thoughts about women like Madonna and Valerie Bertinelli, women who were ten years older than me. Christine still ran her tongue along her bottom lip and turned away from me with a glimpse over her shoulder back at me.
Totally flirting with me.
The old lady returned to me with a soft clean white towel in hand, to which I thanked her and ran it over the crown of my head. I ruffled my hair and stray tendrils of it dangled down around the sides of my face as I held it before my chest; through the candlelight, she showed me a little smile, and I returned the favor to her. I couldn't help but show her the lopsided quality to my smile, either.
“Oh, you're as humble as you are handsome,” she told me.
“Handsome?” I retorted to her. Beyond her, I saw Christine flash me a wink, and maybe I was missing something after all.
The three generations of women stayed around me as we all gathered in the kitchen to see all the food that Christine's grandparents had bought down in Carson City. It was a lot like that night before the first night of Hanukkah where my parents and grandparents would have a lot of food in their houses, and we all made sure we had something to eat before the sun went down. I stood there next to Christine and her grandmother, the latter of whom stood a little too close to me. After I was introduced to her grandfather who looked as though he could have been a model for the painting, “American Gothic”, all the way down to the hat on his head, we took everything out of the bags and rested it on the table. It was cold enough in the house to warrant none of it going into the fridge or the freezer yet.
“Who wants a slice of pie?” he offered us.
“I would love a slice of pie,” I declared as I rubbed my hands together; I was eager for a slice especially since it was apple pie. Christine meanwhile took a slice for herself, even after she had eaten that blackberry one back at the restaurant as well as a small dish of chorizo. She huddled close to me as we sat on the other side of the room together with nothing more than candlelight all around us.
“You just ate a big pastrami sandwich on heavy as hell rye bread with some French fries, and now you're eating a big piece of pie?” she chuckled at me in a low voice.
“Yes!” I spoke. “Hey, it could be worse—I could be eating this with a dollop of sour cream on top.” To which she wrinkled her nose. “It's actually not bad,” I assured her. “I mean, just like whipped cream, it's all milk and heavy cream. The only difference is sour cream has vinegar in comparison to sugar with whipped cream. And you're kinda one to talk, too, as you had a piece of pie yourself back at the restaurant.”
“Hey, what can I say?” she assured me. “I'm not turning down a slice of pie, especially a big Dutch apple one that my grandpa bought from a real authentic bakery rather than some random place somewhere.”
“Plus, it's not often you get to have more than one slice of pie,” I pointed out as I took a bite: indeed, the top was lush and crumbly, and paired with the apples and the spices, it only made me think of home even more.
“Exactly! I mean, this is the time of year when we can actually have a shitload of sweets like pie and what have you.”
“Pie and chocolate,” I filled in once I swallowed it down. “Yeah, we like to eat a lot during the eight nights. Eat and spend time with each other because we're all one big human family after all.” I took another bite of pie and all the while; I watched her grandparents over on the other side of the room with Wendy. Even though the house remained dark, and nothing in there ran except for the water pipes, I could not hear a word they were saying to one another, and I knew right away that they wouldn't be able to hear us, either. I took another bite of pie and turned my attention back to Christine.
“So…” I started, that time in a near whisper, “seeing as you’re so different from the rest of your family, do you think that you could understand what I’m going through as a Jewish man?”
“As a matter of fact, I can,” she promised me; through the dim light, she showed me a comforting little smile, and then she gestured for me to follow her somewhere. She slid out of the kitchen and into the dark hallway, right as the snow pounded hard on the roof and the wall before us. No light except for the glow of the sky outside.
“So, you think that you could stand up for me?” I asked her in a low voice, and I took another bite of pie: that sandwich was in fact filling, and the inclusion of the pie only made my belly feel like it was swelling up from the feeling within me.
“Always,” she vowed, and she tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. I tilted my head back to show her my neck and my throat.
“You would stand for me, a little Jew boy trying to celebrate Hanukkah out in the wilderness even when he’s not with his parents, in the face of all the bullshit that’s badgered us for thousands of years? You would stand up to those people across the street?”
Christine moved her lips to the side of my face as if to kiss me there, but she never did. She instead held herself close to me as if to cuddle me right there on the spot, but she only held still right in front of my body. Her chest pressed itself up against my own. I wanted to tell her that I just wanted to curl up on the guest bed and call it a night, but my body was wanting something else. Three months without having my heart invested in another person, and I could feel something welling up within me. The feel of her body against my own was enough to stir up something inside of me like that of a burgeoning tornado, something that my ex never gave to me before.
“I’d like to break their fucking faces,” she whispered into my ear.
“Oh, my—” was all I could muster out at the sound of that.
I was raised to be peaceful about it, but there was something about the thought of someone like her going that far to stand for me gave me such a rush of blood to my head. I finished the last bites of pie so I could focus my attention on what she wanted to do.
“Mmmm, you smell good...” she whispered to me. No sooner had I swallowed the final bites when Christine caressed her lips up against the rim of my ear, followed by the side of my face and under my jaw. I curled my toes inside of my shoes and for a second, I thought I was going to faint right there on the spot. She held back and took one final bite of her slice right then.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that,” I sputtered out as she moved in closer to me.
“Let’s just say I’ve made out with my hand more often than not,” she whispered into my lips. Another chill down my spine, this time sealed with a kiss of cinnamon and the sin of apple. She held back again and that time I nearly dropped the plate from the feeling.
“Phew.”
“Did you like that?” she asked me.
“You wanna mix it up when the power comes back on?” I offered her.
“Like, how?” she asked me with a sly smirk on her face.
“I have a pair of leather pants in my bag,” I told her with a break to my voice. “I was going to bring them with me because they’re actually pretty warm and they look nice on my legs.” I rested my hands on my thighs and my hips, and she lowered her gaze all the while, even in the darkness. I could feel her warmth right up close to my own body.
“Well, with your tummy nice and full, let me see you in those tight pants,” she suggested.
“I dunno if I can put 'em on, though,” I told her with a shake of my head and a gentle pat of my belly with my free hand. I could feel myself poking through the bottom of my shirt: I had had enough to eat for the evening, at least until the morning hours and when the first night of Hanukkah went underway.
“Come on,” she coaxed me. “Get your things.” I swallowed at that, and then I bowed over to the front door to put my coat up on the hook, and then I picked up my bag and my guitar case from the floor there. She then took me by the hand and led me back down the hallway to that guest bedroom, which I assumed was her room. She had brought in one of the halogen lights from the car and clicked it on, and she propped it upright on the dresser in there, right next to her grandfather's old camera.
“Can I at least have some privacy?” I scoffed at her as I set my things back down again, and I set the plate down on the desk right next to me.
“It's so dark in here,” she pointed out with a gesture to the shadowy room all around us. “And this is my room, I ain't leaving here.” I squinted my eyes at her and then, I unbuttoned my pants in front of her, and I let them fall to the floor. There was a part of me that wanted to turn around and show off my ass and the backs of my thighs to her as I took the leather pants out of hiding, but not with her mother and grandparents in the next room, and not with the door open, either.
I had stashed them underneath one of those knit sweaters that my aunt had made for my brother and me, and careful not to upset my stomach, I slipped them on over my legs. I buttoned them up and the waist was rather snug, a bit tighter than I had remembered.
I then reached down and peeled off my shirt so she could see me all the way, but at the same time, I was rather nervous. I was showing off my body to a seventeen-year-old girl, and so soon after she and I both were fresh off the boat together.
“I don’t know, Christine, I don’t really feel right about this,” I confessed to her, and I ran my hands down my thighs towards my knees. The leather was taut and smooth and pressed firmly up against my skin; though my mind was against it, I had the feeling within my body. I could feel it. I could taste it.
For a moment, I flashed back on the thoughts I had whilst in the car, in how I thought I was going to die there without knowing what it would be like to be connected to another person. I thought that in my own voice as well. Christine licked her lips and held close to me as if she was about to kiss me on the mouth again.
“My desires, your desires…” she said in a low voice and with a pointing of her eyes up to the dark ceiling overhead; through the pale light of the halogen flashlight, I was able to make out the twinkle in her eyes; “we came together by circumstance and a snowstorm. We should try and feel each other out before we grow old and before the oil of the menorah dries out.” She kissed the underside of my jaw again, and that time she added in a few kisses on the front of my throat as well. Her fingers caressed down my stomach onto my thighs: her two main fingers wandered down in between my legs. She had a hold on me like the blizzard over the western wing of the country.
I relaxed every inch of my body as she kissed my neck and squeezed the crotch of my pants. I lifted one foot up onto the wall right behind me so I could steady myself against the wall. I never thought a seventeen-year-old could be so good at feeling and kissing. It made me wonder what exactly she and her ex did together when no one was looking.
It felt so wrong, especially when I kept on thinking about her age, but it also felt right, as if it was just what I needed. It was everything I could have ever asked for, no matter who it came from. Maybe I really was that desperate in that I would give myself to anyone willing to love my body. But I could feel something in her kiss, however, something that I missed with my own ex, something that I wanted and needed so badly and yet I never really realized it before. A burning feeling, a low and slow cooking feeling like that of a smoldering fire underneath the earth, and yet it rushed in like the babbling flow of a river against my body. The water of passion and the cleaning of fire.
Christine brought her knee up on the side of my hip as if to pin me down.
But then she rubbed her thigh against my hip. She rubbed up against my hip, and I immediately knew it was to feel the leather on her skin.
She took me under and yet I was wary of touching her in return.
“Yeah, you like a little bit of that, don’t you, baby,” she teased me, and she showed me the tip of her tongue as well. But then again, I had no idea if I did or not. The feel of her body against my own, the way that she seduced and teased me, it was all something I needed and something I yearned for on so many levels.
“Christine? Alex?” Wendy's voice floated in right then, such that Christine leaned her head against my shoulder.
“Ooh, you’re so soft and warm,” she whispered to me.
“It’s the pastrami and the rye bread,” I told her, also in a near whisper lest her mother or her grandparents hear us in there. “That piece of pie, too.”
“Kids?” Her grandfather's voice followed suit.
“In here!” Christine called out. Quickly, I put my shirt back on in case they came in there and caught us in the act.
“You have such beautiful skin,” she remarked. “I want to touch it and feel it when we go to bed tonight.”
“Oh ho, we're not going to be bunkin' together, bubbeleh,” I assured her with a wag of my finger.
“What'd you call me?” she giggled.
“Bubbeleh. It's what my mom likes to call me.” Wendy then ducked into the doorway right then with a bewildered look on her face.
“Oh, there you two are! What's going on in here?”
“Nothing, we're just talking,” Christine told her with a quick shake of her head. It was right then I was glad the power had gone out because I knew, in my heart of hearts, I could not explain the blush on my face or the fact that my pants felt extra tight around my hips.
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As the Seasons Grey