There was a knock at my door. I knew who it had to be.

“Hi,” she said. “I don’t want to cry myself to sleep. May I sleep with you?”

I thought for a second, then pushed the door open. As she walked through, I held my trailing hand out to her. She took it, and as soon as I had the door shut, she came into my arms. “I’ve never missed a Christmas at home before,” she said. “I don’t think I would have slept at all.”

I smiled, but sadly, because the same was true for me.

So, I leaned down and kissed her, gently pulling her to me, and feeling the tears start in my own eyes. Me, too, Teri. I thought. Me too.

****

Earlier I was driving – or trying to drive – along Route 17 late on Christmas Eve afternoon, just short of Binghamton, on my way back home from Rochester. There was no point staying there – the dorms were closed for the holidays.

And yet, I wasn’t sure there was much point in going home, either. My family were all abroad. Dad was a college professor, and was taking a sabbatical year at Cambridge, England. He was writing a book on his research, and everyone else in the family went with him, especially Mom.

I was the only member of the family that stayed behind because it was my first year at R.I.T., and I didn’t want to lose my place. I was one of the last ones accepted for the photographic engineering program that year, and who knew what next year’s class would be like?

There was no way I could afford the time or the airfare to England just for the 10 days or so of the holidays, so we all knew I was going to stay home for Christmas. For the first time ever, I’d be on my own.

Yes, I was staying with family friends, and sure, I’d be included in their Christmas celebration – assuming I got there in time. But they all went to midnight mass, then came home and the kids opened all their presents right away, like at one-thirty in the morning. Then everyone fell into bed and slept late on Christmas morning.

I never went to church. Dad was a militant atheist, and I never really cared, one way or another, but I knew I’d be uncomfortable in any church, let alone a Catholic one. And presents should be opened on Christmas morning, not Christmas eve. That was the way we’d always done it, with just the six of us, and no one else. I swallowed, knowing this was going to be one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

It was getting worse out. I was pretty sure I was going to have to stop, but the part of me I get from Dad didn’t want to quit, wanted to tough it out. And it’s hard to ignore that voice…it’s been there all my life.

But the snow was swirling all around the car and making hypnotic patterns in the headlights. I was tired already after my last final this afternoon, and I was making much worse time than I had hoped because the roads were bad – and getting slippery.

Already I had seen three or four cars off in the ditch, as well as one pick-up truck, and the road felt treacherous as I held the wheel of my Pontiac Sky Chief. I had TigerPaws on the wheels, and they were doing great – but that would work only up to a point. I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t going to make it for midnight mass – or anything else if I got unlucky.

I switched the radio on, and found a nearby station, hoping to hear that the storm was lifting. Instead, they were reporting on how bad the roads were and suggesting that travelers get off the highways, especially as the police were starting to close them.

I knew I was done. If I waited too long to get off the road, then all the motels would be full, and I didn’t know what I’d do then. I pulled off at the next exit and saw a family-run motel, just next to a Howard Johnson’s, so pulled in. I got a room for $17, which was more than I had hoped to pay, but you take what you can get in situations like these.

I pulled my overnight bag into the hotel room, dropped it on the bed, went to the can to take a leak and wash my face, then came back into the room. God, what an awful place to spend Christmas eve. Not the way I normally experienced Christmas. This was one of the lowest times of my life.

I zipped my jacket up again and slipped and slid across to the Howard Johnson’s. It was almost empty, just a few people there, and all of them strangely clustered together. I figured out why pretty quickly: there was only one waitress, plus the manager, at the front of the house.

I wound up sitting at a table next to what looked like a coed, also on her way home from college. Her eyes were pretty when she glanced at me, and she had shoulder-length, straight, brown hair. She looked down again at her menu as I sat down, which I took as a signal.

So, I got busy with my menu, selected whatever looked best, like I really cared, and ordered, then twisted my fork, making patterns on the napkin while I waited for the food to arrive.

The waitress, Betty her tag said, brought my supper, and said, “If I can ask, would you please eat up? The manager wants to close up early so that we can all get home before the roads get any worse.” Then she left.

My seatmate already had her food, but looked at the departing waitress’ back, and said, “And Merry Christmas to you, too,” then looked down again.

I chuckled. She looked at me and smiled in response.

“Hi,” I said, “I’m Terry,” and held out my hand.

She laughed, and said, “Me too!”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m Theresa – Teri to my friends, so I’m Teri, too!” She took my hand. It felt warm and oddly comforting. She held it slightly longer than she had to, then let go.

I thought for a moment, then said, “Would it be okay if I joined you? I really need a friendly face right about now.”

She looked at me, with a slightly smaller smile, then shrugged and said, “Yeah, me, too. Come on over.”

I picked up my food and moved over to her table, and we started chatting. It was as warm and natural as if we’d be friends since we were kids. We both laughed, we both told each other things we probably would never have told a stranger, and we both told each other how awful this was.

Her story was similar, but different, from mine. She was going home for the holidays from Cornell, and her family was expecting her tonight. But before she left school, her dad had made her promise to stop if the roads got too bad, and so, reluctantly, she had.

And for her, just as for me, this was going to screw up her Christmas plans. Like my family, her family celebrated on Christmas morning, and now, because she’d had to stop, she was going to miss it, and was heart-broken. She had tears in her eyes when she said it, and I knew if she started crying, there’d be no way I could stop.

So, I changed the subject and told her how I’d worked on a merchant ship for a year between high school and college, partly to save up money for tuition, but also because I felt burnt out after high school, and needed a break from studying. I was not a natural student, but had worked hard and finished in the top third of my class.

I told her funny stories of the kind of shit my crewmates and I had got into when we hit port. The drinking, the sightseeing, the problems with language – all the funny stuff.

I left out most of the gritty things, like the time I almost got mugged in Rio, but was saved by the streetwalker I was with. She talked the street hood out of cutting me up. I did lose my wallet, but I was grateful to her. I could have lost a lot more.

But we needed fun, not truth-telling, so I kept it light. I was rewarded with a stunning smile and tinkling laughter. Finally, the waitress, who had been conspicuously hovering, came over and said, “Sorry, kids, we’re closing up.”

So, we each paid our tabs and walked out together. We were both staying at the same motel. She was three doors down from me, so I held her arm, and we both slipped along the sidewalk back to the motel.

I got her to her room, then we stood outside talking for a bit longer, neither of us wanting to leave. But it was cold, and snow was collecting on my collar, so we finally gave up, and she turned and unlocked her door.

I thought about leaning in to kiss her, but she was a sophomore and I was a freshman, and I was intimidated. She looked as if she was thinking about it too, but the moment passed, and she said good-night, then went in and closed the door.

I stood for a moment, then walked back to my room, and went in.

I was toweling myself off with the thin, scratchy thing the motel had provided when I heard a knock at the door. I knew who it had to be.

“Hi,” she said. “I don’t want to cry myself to sleep. Can I sleep with you?”

I thought for a second, then pushed the door open. As she walked through, I held my trailing hand out to her. She took it, and as soon as I had the door shut, she came into my arms. “I’ve never missed a Christmas at home before," she said. “I don’t think I would have slept at all.”

She felt warm and soft and wonderful. But most of all, she felt like home. We clung to each other, more needing warmth than wanting to make out. Gradually, we moved over to the bed, sat together, holding hands, and started talking again.

We talked for what felt like hours, and then finally ran down, and stopped. She looked at me, and smiled what looked like a secret smile, then pulled her blouse over her head, dropped it on the floor, and held out her hands.

I stood up, moved over so I was standing right in front of her, then knelt down. I slowly and tenderly kissed her breasts through her bra, first one, then the other. There was no hurry, we had all the time in the world. She reached behind her, and undid the bra, and put it down on the bed.

I had been with several women before, but she was by far the most beautiful. I’m not sure whether it was because of the circumstance, or just she, herself, but it didn’t matter. I leaned in again, and kissed her breasts, and licked them. She sighed, and leaned back, putting her hands on the bed behind her, and opened her legs to me.

I leaned down and kissed her pussy through her yellow slacks. She put one hand in my hair, and twirled it around in her fingers, then pulled me closer, urging me on. I looked down, unfastened her slacks, then reached down and tugged on the legs of her slacks. She leaned back and lifted her bum to allow me to slide them off.

I leaned forward and buried my nose in her pussy, inhaling, and sighed. She had on pink panties, and hooked her thumbs under the seam, starting to pull them down. I stopped her, pulled her hands away, and nuzzled her through the soft, cotton fabric. I extended my tongue, and slowly licked up the center of her mound, working my tongue into her lips, and letting the wetness already there merge with the saliva on my tongue, making her entry damp.

Then I hooked my fingers into the seam of her panties, and slowly, slowly, slowly eased them down, uncovering a dark patch of curly hair, while continuing to massage her pussy with my tongue and munch her bush with my mouth.

When her panties finally reached her knees, I slid them down to her feet, then pulled them off completely, and dropped them on the floor.

She had her hands on my head and seemed to be trying to pull me towards her, as if trying to get me to hurry.

I slid up from between her legs and stretched up to kiss her, still on my knees. She put both hands around my head, and bent forward, and licked her tongue between my lips, inviting me in. I accepted, and, leaning forward on my hands, pushed my chest against hers.

I stood up, then bent my knees and lifted her naked body in my arms, then stood there, holding her, looking at her face and thinking how beautiful she was. She looked back, not shy, not sexy, but kindly, lovingly, as if she liked being held, running her hands through my hair, then putting her arms around my neck, kicking her feet gently up and down, playfully. It felt – perfect. I almost didn’t want to move from there.

Almost.

I turned slightly, laid her on top of the bedspread, then walked around to the other side of the bed and pulled the bedspread aside. She rolled over to the uncovered side of the bed, wriggled between the sheets, and pulled the sheet and blanket up over her tits, and smiled. I walked back to the other side of the bed, then quickly stripped off my clothes, dropping them carelessly on the floor, then flicked the covers back and crawled in, pulling the covers back over me. I mooched my way towards her until my head was near hers, my head on my pillow.

She was turned towards me, a gentle smile on her face, and lifted her top arm to my head, again twisting her fingers in my curly hair, then leaned forward, and kissed me on the forehead. She lifted up on an elbow and looked down at me.

She smiled, expectantly, into my eyes, seemingly happy. I smiled back, all cares forgotten, and laid my head beneath hers. She turned and kissed my ear, then breathed, “Love me, Terry, please.”

I stopped for a moment, then remembered something one of the Recife bar girls said to me one morning when we were chatting after sex. So, instead of rolling over on top of her, I put my hands on her shoulders and rolled her over on top of me, then pushed her up into a kneeling position, over me. With some fumbling, we eventually fitted my cock into her pussy. She settled in, shifting her knees and adjusting our fit. I kissed both her hands, and said, “You’re so beautiful.”

She smiled back at me. “I’ve never done it like this before – but I do like it.” She smiled, then started to ride me, flexing her legs to raise herself up and down, slowly, in no hurry at all.

Me? I had all night, nowhere to go, and absolutely loving where I was. I reached up, and caressed her nipples, then reached down, kissed my palms, then placed them against her breasts. Her smile broadened. She leaned down and kissed me, folding over my chest. I put my arms around her, gently holding her to me.

We kissed. For a long time we kissed, and both loved what we were doing. There was no hurry, and every reason to be still and love each other. …

Finally, we came. She came first, which pleased me enormously. It wasn’t violent, but gentle, and she first cried out, then leaned forward, sobbing. I smoothed her hair and held her, then, almost immediately, felt myself cumming, as if from far away, but rushing towards us. I cried out, almost matching the sounds she made and felt – wonderful. This was unlike any other climax I had ever had, it was so inexpressibly beautiful.

We hugged for a time, then she moved to roll over so she could straighten her legs. I helped her roll, then continued my motion, and moved my head down between her legs.

“Don’t,” she cried, eyes closed. “I’m all icky.”

“No you’re not, you’re beautiful.” I bent my head down and licked up her puffy lips, taking a tongue full of cream, hers and mine mingled. I’d never done this before, eating a girl after I'd cum inside her, but it just seemed right. And she tasted as sweet as she looked.

I lapped gently, persistently, and then harder.

She put her hands in my hair again and stopped me. “You’re wonderful for doing this – guys seem to never want to do this. But be gentle. And there’s more of me than just my clit and slit. Explore.

“And thank you…” She stroked my head, and smiled at me.

I smiled up at her, and started again, moving my tongue in and around her labia, along the creases of her legs, along the outsides of her pussy lips, then slowly down the center, parting her lips with my tongue on the way, then flattening it and brushing up again.

I did explore and probe and lick, both lightly, then harder. Before long, she started arching her back, and pulling at my hair, urging me on. And not long after that, she gave a long, loud moan, and her whole body shuddered. I held my mouth still, covering her pussy, keeping it warm and breathing on it.

The shudders continued, gradually lessening until she lay still. Then, after a bit, she pulled my hair. “Come next to me, Terry. I want you inside me.”

She rolled over on her side, with her back towards me, legs apart.

I came up, wiping my mouth on my arm, then cuddled up behind her, making spoons. I slowly moved my slippery, hardening cock between her legs, rubbing it up and down her pussy lips again, until we connected, and I was able to push gently inside her. She moaned as I slid in, and put her hand behind her head, stroking my hair again.

I kissed her neck, and then we held still, just enjoying our closeness.

Gradually I started moving in and out of her, gently at first, and then harder and faster, until I was pushing as far into her as I could reach, and she was urging me on, “Harder, Terry, now, now, Now, NOW!”

Once again she came before me, but only by seconds. The sound of her cumming was the sexiest thing I have ever heard, before or since, and it pushed me over the edge into a massive, shattering climax, completely unlike what had come before.

Finally, we were still. Sleepily, I kissed her, and she stoked me gently once more.

And we slept.

****

When I awoke, the sun was streaming through the window. The snowstorm was gone – but so was Teri.

I jerked upright and looked around. I was alone in bed, and Teri’s clothes were gone. I’m ashamed to say I grabbed for my wallet, and, not surprisingly, found everything as it should have been.

I slowly got out of bed and went to the can, peeing for what seemed like a long time. I went back into the bedroom and saw a note on the table by the bed.

Terry, last night was the most loved that any man has ever made me feel. Thank you, you are truly amazing.

“It’s almost 5 a.m., the snow has stopped, and if I leave now, I should get home in time for most of Christmas morning. You look so peaceful that I don’t want to wake you – and I’m afraid if I do, I might not make it to Christmas at all!

“Please, I’d like to see you again. I don’t know how or when, but please can we try?

Then there was her home address and her phone number.

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to be home for Christmas, and she had given me the sweetest Christmas gift I’ve ever had.

****

It’s been almost sixty years since then. Teri and I were married three years later, once she graduated, and while I still had a year to go.

And now, I will once again be spending Christmas alone for the first time since then.

Cancer took her from me. But I had her love for the most important part of my life, and I will be forever grateful that she knocked on my door, one snowy Christmas Eve, a long, long time ago.