We could spend hours this way. That doesn’t matter because none of this serious anyhow. The phone rings. After the fifth or sixth ring, you smile ruefully, kiss me, and move to pick it up. It’s a girlfriend and, from the tone of your voice, I know this will not be a short conversation. You sprawl out on the bed, the handset clamped to your ear. I have a vision of you at sixteen, kicking your heels and soaking up the school gossip. Giggling and picking at the candlewick bedspread I pick up my drink again and sip it thoughtfully while I watch. I reach the melting ice cubes at the bottom of the glass and get an idea. I get up and cross towards you. You start a little at the first touch of my ice chilled tongue on your back. Then turn and grin at me mischievously over your shoulder. I smile back. I move my mouth over your shoulder blades, curving and flicking down the mountain range of your spine, rolling the ice cubes with my tongue. You shiver but you continue to chat resolutely. I. "The sleigh has radar, and technology that automatically takes evasive action to avoid missiles." I didn't feel it jerking us around," he said, looking over the side of the sleigh."You think a sleigh capable of carrying presents for every boy and girl on the planet has weak shocks? The frame of this baby was engineered by the best, Bob." Here comes another one," said Bob, seeing the ball of light flare at ground level. It was odd, because while he knew, academically, that it was a missile coming at them, all it looked like was a ball of light that was getting bigger and bigger. His gut tightened, but the ball seemed to wander off to one side. It flashed by, roaring. The fire from it felt like the sun on his face on a warm day."They're so pretty!" squealed Gwyneth."If the sleigh can avoid missiles, why did Santa cave to the American government on the rest restrictions?" asked Bob."Are you saying you didn't enjoy your rest stop?" she asked. "And that you never want to take another.
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