Christmas Miracle in the Cold

Chapter 2 Opportunities

Helga kicked the door to her room shut behind her, tossed her book bag onto the floor and flopped back onto her bed. She sighed as she felt the soft mattress beneath her and let her body relax, glad to be home. Of course, home was not always a great place to be, especially now with Olga back in town. But currently, no one was in the house, and she could just bask in the solitude.

Almost without thinking, Helga reached into the front of her shirt and pulled out the heart shaped golden locket she always wore around her neck. With nimble figures trained by long habit, she flicked the item open and her eyes beheld the face of her beloved.

"Oh Arnold..." cooed Helga to the picture. "My love, my soul, my heart. How I long to be with you this holiday season. How I long to spend this time of year by your side, not separated by distance and family. When will I ever get the chance to show you how much I love you? How much I adore you? Sweet joy of my heart.... Aa-aa-aahhh."

Feeling at ease and laid upon her bed, Helga allowed her mind to wonder freely concerning the boy. Within a few moments however, she became aware of a subtle urge, almost a need. A chemical pressure which made her desire touch, which made her body yearn for tender pleasure. Looking at Arnold's picture in hand, she sighed deeply, his very face sending shivers down to her nether regions.

Without pausing to think, Helga's right hand reached down towards the hem of her dress and pulled it up out of the way. Then she pulled down her white panties and rolled her hips to wiggle them down to her thighs. With her delicate adolescent mound exposed to the slightly chill air, she gentle played her fingertips over her labia, at first just teasing herself.

But the teasing did not last long. Inside the hotblooded young girl, her hormones pounded. The heat in her body was rising and she felt the need for release growing stronger by the moment. The delicate touch became firmer, more rough, as her finger slipped into her dripping slit, sliding in deep. Helga gasped at the feeling of the penetration, her pussy walls gripping her engulfed digit tightly.

Her feminine juices were covering her hand now and dripping onto the bed covers. Helga moaned in pleasure as she twitched and wiggled her finger, rippling waves of sexual pleasure through herself.

"Oh Arnold..." whimpered Helga as she looked at a portrait of the blond haired boy in her left hand. "Oh sweet lover of my heart. Sweet yellow haired... uughh pant pant... Oh sweet ugh wonderful Arnold. You make my moan... my inner girlhood tremble..."

She pressed the now erect nub of her clitoris between her fingers and thumb, rubbing it back and forth, occasionally squeezing it. The little nubbin of feminine flesh constantly sent tingles of pleasure rolling into the waves of sensation that warmed between her thighs. Each little squeeze, done almost to the point of pain, shot jolts of pleasure shooting through her and made her gasp aloud.

A few minutes of sloppy wet masturbation passed as she diddled herself with her right hand. The warmth inside her built in intensity, with sensations swirling in her veins in response. She felt slightly lightheaded as she thrust a second finger inside her pussy. She changed from her wiggling motions to a rhythmic thrusting, plunging her index and middle fingers in and out of herself. The slight but distinct sound these motions made her feel almost dirty, sending a thrill of excitement through her at the naughtiness of the act.

Her heart beat faster, as she plunged her fingers in with gradually gaining strength, wiggling them sometimes inside herself. She was panting slightly for breath now as she felt her climax drawing near. The waves of pleasure were rippling within her almost constantly now, and were building in strength. Her pussy walls were alternating between clasping and releasing her fingers now, gripping in sheer pleasure.

"Oh Arnold!" she whimpered as she felt herself near the crest.

Her fingers were a feverish motion within herself, sliding smoothly on her copiously flowing juices, plunging in and out of herself. At the last second she dropped her locket, freeing her left hand. Her right hand continue thrusting into her slit while with her left hand she grabbed hold of her engorged clit with her fingers and furiously began rubbing and fondling the little nub.

"Aah-aah-AaAaaAAaaaAahhhh..." Helga panted in a subdued scream as she suddenly came.

Her orgasm washed over her, and out of her as it hit. Her snatch tightened viciously around her two fingers and she felt her own juices seeping onto herself and her thighs. The pleasure in her belly seemed to burst from its bubble and flow through her, thumping in her veins as her heart pumped wildly in her chest. A sweet savory warmth oozed into her muscles and body, seeping into her flesh and bringing with it a delightful tired satisfaction.

Helga relaxed completely, letting her arms and legs fall limply onto the bed. She did not care that her hand and her thighs were dripping wet. She could clean up later. She sighed with deep contentment and closed her eyes, letting her body soak in the wonderful afterglow.

"Arnold...." she sighed.

Many minutes passed and the delicious glow slowly faded. Helga continued to lay on top of her bed, with her dress partially hiked up around her stomach and her panties now down around her ankles. She did not care. That had been great. The picture of Arnold during her masturbation was so pleasing. She desperately wished she had a picture of him in a bathing suit or something. Unfortunately she did not, despite the time she had seen him in the nude.

Thoughts of Arnold brought with them memories of the day, and quickly following that, a bitter feeling of self-reproach for how she had treated him. It was Christmas and she could not even be nice to him. She felt angry and almost pathetic at that thought.

"I can be nice." she half pleaded to herself. "I just... I just can't do when anyone is watching."

That was true. It was the public openness that caused her to curl back inside her shell of blustering bravado. But she could be nice, just not to openly.

'Christmas' she thought wryly. A time associated with hope, kindness, gentleness, mercy and salvation. To Helga, all those words were synonymous with Arnold, the boy she loved. The boy she worshiped nearly to the point of idolatry.

"Not really idolatry," she spoke aloud to herself, "I don't think he's God or anything."

But he meant all those things to her, all those wonderful words. He forgave her every time she was mean to him. He was kind to her when she gave him no reason, and, to her at least, He seemed like an odd form of salvation from her otherwise not so happy private life.

"...and I'm cruel to him." came the unbidden thought that was nearly a sob to her mind. It stung. She felt a stab of guilt in her belly. How she hated herself sometimes.

Clenching her fists tightly together, Helga gritted her teeth as she resolved quietly to herself, "I'm going to be nice to Arnold this Christmas if its the last thing I do." And she meant it!

She laid there for another few seconds, mentally repeating her resolution to herself in an effort to re-enforce it.

A moment later she sprang out of bed and stretched. Taking some tissues near by, she dabbed at the residual moistness between her thighs, cleaning herself up. She pulled her panties back up into place around her waist. Then she turned to her closet, opened the door, stepped inside and shut herself in.

It was dark inside her closet. Helga reached out and pulled the light-bulb string to switch on the hanging lamp. The single bulb illuminated the small private room. She turned towards the back of it, passed her hanging clothes, heading for the odd statue shaped like her love Arnold's oblong head. Even this odd recreation of him made her feel happy. It was like the happiness she felt every time she saw him. It made her smile inside and often on the outside unless she strove to prevent it from showing.

But as her eyes fell on her makeshift statue, her steps froze.

There was a square envelope sitting on top of the statue's head. It was snow white, but bore the name 'Helga' written in golden ink on the front. Helga stood completely still for what must have been a full minute, simply staring in disbelief and bewilderment at the envelope.

She could only wonder how it got there. The fact that anyone besides herself had even been into the back of her closet was deeply disconcerting to her. Yet, nothing seemed disturbed. No one in her family had mentioned anything to her recently, nor had they acted differently towards her.

After standing motionless and waiting for something happen, which never did, eventually Helga reached out, took the letter, and opened it. Inside was a brightly colored red and green Christmas Card. She opened this and read the words inside:

Helga,

I'm glad you are going to be nice to Arnold for Christmas.
You know young lady, you're an odd case. You're not
necessarily naughty, but to most you certainly don't seem
very nice. But I remember what you did for Arnold
several Christmas ago, and it impressed me very much. It
was so kind of you to give up your snow boots for him.

Helga paused in her reading. Suddenly she remembered that Christmas a few years ago when she had given Arnold the perfect gift. She had given him her one and only pair of Official Nancy Spumoni Snow boots. Well, not given to him exactly. She had given them to someone else who in turn gave Arnold a gift he wanted for Mr. Hyunh. She had loved those Snow boots. Pined and longed for them for months and had wanted for no other gift for Christmas that year.

She had been overjoyed when she received them as an early Christmas present that Eve. She had loved them for all of the one minute and 15 seconds she had frolicked with reckless abandon in the snow while wearing them. But she had never regretted her decision to give them away for Arnold.

She shook her head and read on:

Even though you mean to be nice, intent only counts for so
much Helga, and you have a lot to answer for with Arnold.
Right now you're teetering between the 'naughty' and the
'nice' lists. You only need a little more to be on the
'nice' list this year.

I've been trying to find a way to reward Arnold's goodness
and give you a chance to show some of your true character.
You just have given me a great idea. I'll make you a deal.
I will give you the perfect opportunity, and you must be
very nice to Arnold this Christmas. If you do, you will
get what you want for Christmas this year.

What do you say young lady?

Since I don't think words alone will convince you, perhaps this
will. I know how precious these were to you and how you lost
them years ago. I repaired all of them so they would be legible.
Perhaps you can consider this as a reward for that Christmas
years ago. Be good, have a merry Christmas, and be especially
nice to Arnold, you won't regret it.

Sincerely,
Chris Kringle

P.S.

Arnold's a smart kid. He knows you are a nice person Helga,
even if you hide it -- most of the time.

Helga blinked as she read the elegant signature. Chris Kringle? Santa Claus? She was supposed to believe that Jolly Old St. Nick himself had left this card? That was crazy. That was nuts. She would have to be insane to believe such a totally--

Helga stopped mid thought as her eyes beheld a large box in the very back of the closet. She had never seen it there before, but it looked familiar. Cautiously, she moved towards it, and pulled it into the light from above. It was an old, rather beat up looking card board box, covered in black soot and dust. She pulled back the flaps and opened it.

Inside, the box was full of several neat stacks of books, each column several volumes high. She looked at the covers and blinked in surprised. The books were all dirty. No, not dirty. They were brown, some were dark black. She picked them one up, and examined it closely.

As she peered at it, she could clearly make out the words on the front cover in the poor light. "Winter Writings 1998". When she read the words, Helga gasped. She quickly looked at the others and recognized all of their titles. "Summer of Love 1999". "Flirtations of the Fourth Year". "Amber Waves of Passion." And many other titles. These were her lost poetry books! The books that had been accidentally burned by her mother! She thought she had lost them forever.

Flipping open a book, she thumbed through the pages, shocked to see that, though some sheets were a little brown, she could read all of them. She recognized a poem here, a monologue here, a drawing here. Every page she recognized as her own lost work. But this was impossible! Nearly every one of these books had been completely burned by her mother before Helga had intervened. These should have been ash, thrown out years ago in the trash and lost to time. How could they be...?

Realization dawning upon her, Helga shut the book in her hands and turned to look at the discarded Christmas Card on the floor. It lay open and she could still see the signature shining in the lamp light. The signature... of him. It HAD to be him. There was no other way these books could be here otherwise.

"Chris Kringle, huh?" she said as a grin slow spread across her face. "Okay, old St. Nick, you've got a deal."