Ancilla: SOUNDBITE EDITION. (SERIALIZED, MATURE SECTIONS MARKED)

Chokmah (PART 6, has 1647 words)

Outside, the snow is falling, a dizzying ballet of large flakes on a stage of white. All is snow. Nothing else exists.

"You first," I say. It's become traditional for him to open his Yuletide presents first, but it's also become traditional for me to importune him into doing so; not that he particularly needs encouragement, but he thinks I'm cute when I wheedle. I give him my best wide-eyed, eager look and lean into him. "Please? Pretty please?"

"With sugar on it?"

"What else would you like on it?"

He smiles. "Depending on what 'it' is, I'd like a number of different things. Have you given yourself to me as a present, perhaps?"

"Oh, love. You ask that every year. My answer is still the same, too: I gave myself to you a long time ago, Erastes."

Our lips meet, followed by our bodies.

"I'll unwrap you later," he says at last, a bit breathlessly. "I like to save the best present for last. Let's see what else you put under the tree this year."

He reaches for the largest of the three packages I arranged by the tiny little tree. "It feels squishy, and it's as light as air. Hmm. I see dark fabric. It's black. And if I unfold it, it's... a silk shirt. That's a fine silk, too."

I got lucky at the thrift store. Very lucky.

"I like you in silk."

"You do, don't you?" he muses. "I'll have to wear this tonight."

The thought of that silk against my bare flesh is enough to send chills up and down my spine. "Yes, please," I gasp. The evening suddenly seems too distant.

"This one's heavy. What on earth did you put in here, a rock?" Underneath the wrapping is a box, which he opens. "Oh. You did give me a rock. I'm sure you had your reasons."

I can't help but laugh. His puzzled expression is priceless. "It's not just a rock. Try lifting it out of the box."

It's a pity there is no morning sun pouring through the east window.

"My word. A geode. A magnificent one, at that. That's beautiful. I'll keep it here for now. I can't wait to see what happens when it catches the light. All right, let's see what this last one is. It looks like a book. I wonder what's inside?" He slides his finger under the wrapping paper. He's very careful about the way he unwraps his presents. "A reproduction of a calligraphed, illuminated Song of Solomon. English translation on the right-side pages. Oh. Thank you. That is exquisite. How did you -"

"I saw it and grabbed it before anyone else could notice that it was there, the same way I did your new silk shirt," I reply. The geode was on display at a scientific supply store, and it was by far the most expensive of my purchases. The painfully high price may have been why it had been on display for months, in my line of sight every time I walked past the store in the downtown mall. The shirt and the book, on the other hand, were pure secondhand serendipity. "I want to read it to you. May I?"

"Read me love poetry? I would never turn that down, eromene. Now. Your turn."

There's an unusually large pile of presents this year. I suspect he's been buying things and setting them aside as Yule presents for months.

I decide to go for the books first - there are books, of course; whenever we give each other presents, books are likely to be involved, one way or another. It's an interesting assortment: the complete works of C. G. Jung, in translation; a book on dreams by James Hillman; a Red Cross textbook on advanced first aid; several practical handbooks on BDSM that, in my mind, I am already classifying as "cookbooks."