Or perhaps that was just his imagination forcing his environment to suit his mood.Like drawn to like, Chris made his way through the crowd to the old woman dressed in the bright red and white of a Mrs. Santa Claus outfit. It seemed improperly fit to her narrow frame or, as Chris observed more closely, like it was a shadow of a beautiful youth she once possessed. Her hair was once a honey-gold but had long since melted into snowy white and her sallow cheeks were rouged heavily with cheap make-up. There was no smile in her eyes like he would have expected from a Salvation worker. Instead they were hauntingly distant and sad, like the pale memory of a memory long forgotten.Chris walked up to her and dropped a twenty into the shaking coffee can she held out. He didn't know what caused him to blurt out his first words. "What makes you come out here?"The woman looked up at him, her eyes cutting through then past him. Chris's heart froze at the empty gaze. "Hope," she answered simply in a. Making her squirm back against the door. He held her leg at his hip and bent to kiss her neck. Her hips pulsed again and he pulled free of her.She opened her eyes and smiled at him...He kissed her mouth and pressed himself against her, rubbing her with his hardened length. She whispered encouragement to him and he pushed himself into her, loving how she expanded around him.She squirmed back against the door, against the towels that hung there, knocking one loose. He stayed still in her, holding her hips to his, feeling her adjust to him.She rotated her hips, fitting him inside her... and then she smiled. He pulsed in and out, gently, using short thrusts, and she pulsed with him. He leaned against her and kissed her deeply, feeling her pulsing grow stronger. He pulled back, easing out of her slowly, watching as she sighed in delight. He took her hands in his and pinned them to the door behind her, and then pushed back in, deliberately, feeling her spread around him all over.
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