Santa Bear

She laid her damp woolen socks on top of the brown metal heater, drinking in the sound of hissing wet on hot. She slipped her feet, still burning cold, into her black stiletto-heeled shoes. "This is no time for dancing," her reflection in the window said blankly. Reaching up, she pulled the thick purple drapes closed. The polar bear's black eyes glinted as she turned towards the fire. White fur on wood--her favorite combination. The dancing bear sat rocking back and forth, carefully flipping the pages of his book with one of his long white claws. He purred in time to the twinkling of the red and green Christmas lights which framed the fireplace. One by one, she dipped the ends of the tall white candles in the fire, lighting and returning them to the silver candlestick holders on the mantle. Scent of warm strawberry and cool pine soon filled the room. The socks began dripping onto the tile floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. "Are you finished?" she asked. "Grrr . . ." answered the bear, raising one white furry paw as if to silence her. She knelt and pulled another plastic bag of "Pine Kones" out from under the Christmas tree, refilling the wooden bowl on the coffee table. No response from the bear, who continued purring without missing a beat. She pulled off her thick gray sweater and laid it on the couch. Still no response to her bare firelight-drenched shoulders. Silently, slowly, her long white fingers opened the buttons on the front of her jeans. Clip, clop. Black heels stepped out onto the tile floor. The bear pretended not to notice, but his black eyes peeked out over the top of his book to watch her place a record on the turntable. The shadows concealed nothing. "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas." One white paw slid round her waist as one white paw pulled back her pale blonde hair and one cold black nose purred against the back of her neck. "Grrr . . ." said the bear. She was careful not to step on his paws as they danced. Oh how they danced, as the socks dripped and the lights twinkled and the candles glowed and the fire burned and the bear purred and her heels clip clopped. The bear sat down in his chair, and with eyes and paws pulled her onto his lap. The chair rocked and the bear read and the record played and she slept, dreaming a furry dream. "May all your Christmases be white."

© Eskimo Pie Girl