The Christmas Thief - Melissa Willingham (reading books for 6 year olds .TXT) 📗

touching. He reached out for the bottle of champagne on the coffee-table next to us. He poured me a glassful and one for himself. We shared a toast to the future and slowly sipped the bubbly liquid.   

I looked over at the assortment of goodies we’d placed alongside the ice bucket. Neatly sitting side-by-side were two small bowls, one with honey, the other with chocolate syrup. A can of whipped cream sat alongside a platter filled with grapes, pineapple rings, orange wedges, strawberries and cherries.

I selected a ripe strawberry, dipped it into the chocolate syrup and sprayed it with whipped cream. The flavor combination was very tasty. The thought that my friend would also enjoy it crossed my mind, so I prepared one for Larry and fed it to him.

“Mm, that’s good. Thank you,” he responded, licking his lips hungrily.

I felt an urgent need pulsating within me as I observed his actions. My hand made its way to the platter again, only to collide with his. Both of us were seeking luscious morsels to quell the appetites building inside of us.

He took a plump grape, dipped it in honey and covered it with whipped cream. Once he’d devoured it, he created one for me, too, pressing it to my lips. “Yummy. What a delectable treat!” I marveled.

The next thing I knew, Larry’s fingers were lightly caressing my face and running through my hair. He stared at me with an intensity that blazed hotter than the fire before us. “Karen, you are a gorgeous woman. I’m so glad to be with you,” he whispered.

“Thanks, you’re a very good-looking man. I’m happy you are here, too,” I purred breathlessly. Words failed me, as passion overcame my thoughts and reasoning.

“The way the firelight is reflected in your eyes,” he continued. “The glow of the reddish highlights in your hair makes you appear to be an angel.”

I gasped in surprise that someone would speak such romantic, chivalrous words to me. Without another word, I found myself entangled in his arms. Our warm lips melted into one, while our velvety tongues swirled together rhythmically.

The moment was magical, almost as if being caught up in a trance of our own design. Hands sought out thin material, fingers explored rapidly stiffening protrusions. Larry began to trail a path of kisses down my neck, arriving at my hardening tips, which he nuzzled through my wispy covering. I moaned softly and clutched at his thick head of hair, drawing him nearer. It seemed as though nothing could break the spell we were weaving or so I thought.

All of a sudden, a loud thud sounded in the front room. “Ouch! What in blazes?” someone yelped.

We both sprang apart, startled by the unexpected crash. It took a minute for me to clear my head, muddled as it was by desire. When I swept a glance over at Larry, I could tell he had the same problem.

Once the fog lifted from our brains, we raced into the other room to find out what caused the noisy disturbance. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this little dilemma out. There on the floor, just beyond the window next to the front door lay Santa Claus. Better yet, the cat burglar trussed up to pass himself off as jolly ole Saint Nick.

Whenever he saw us, he desperately tried to scramble up onto his feet. We could only stand there and watch him, open-mouthed. After several failed attempts, he finally managed to stand upright. He flashed us a cocky, challenging smile and lurched for the window. Obviously, he planned to exit the same way he’d entered, just as he had the night before.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! And away I go!” he yelled tauntingly at us. But at the precise moment he took a step forward, both his feet flew out from underneath him. Backwards he flew, with a thump and a bang. Apparently stunned, he paused for a second or two. “Yeeoow! That smarts!” he cried.

Regaining his sense of balance and equilibrium, the would-be jewel nabber slowly sat up. He rose to his haunches and gave it another go. For the next few minutes he treated us to a succession of repeat performances. Each time he stood and eased toward the window, he slipped and slid, sometimes landing backwards, sometimes falling forwards. We snickered and laughed at him, until we thought we’d bust a gut from such a thorough abdominal workout.

He continued this song-and-dance routine, before finally growing so tired he was unable to move another muscle. At that point, Larry carefully approached him, unsure what Ragsdale would do. He needn’t have been concerned, because the weary intruder simply lay there, in complete surrender.

Unbeknownst to our uninvited guest, Larry and I cleverly devised a trap for him. The unsuspecting cad fell right into it, literally, thereby finding himself ensnared. There were no means of making a clean getaway available to him, his options now quite limited.

Before Larry and I settled into the den, he had lain down a sheet of plastic and spread some grease all over it. This way, when Maurice slipped in the window, he’d land on his fanny every time he tried to get back out. We were at least considerate enough to place a padded mat underneath the plastic, to minimize the wounds sustained.

Once he’d checked for injuries and ascertained that none were serious, Larry began to fold the plastic. It soon encased the spent Santa imitator within a cocoon. “Well, looks like we’ve done gone and caught ourselves the Christmas thief,” he remarked matter-of-factly. “Games up, Ragsdale. I’m detective Larry Hodges and this is Karen Crawford, the lady you’ve been trying to rob. You’re going back to prison, pal, where you belong.”

He drug Maurice into the den and tied a long cord around him, where he couldn’t get loose. Then took a piece of duct tape and placed it over the culprit’s mouth. Satisfied the man was secured, Larry turned to regard me. I noticed a hint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He drug Maurice into the den and tied a long cord around him, where he couldn’t get loose. Then took a piece of duct tape and placed it over the culprit’s mouth. Satisfied the man was secured, Larry turned to regard me. I noticed a hint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He drug Maurice into the den and tied a long cord around him, where he couldn't get loose. Then took a piece of duct tape and placed it over the culprit's mouth. Satisfied the man was secured, Larry turned to regard me. I noticed a hint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Shall we call the police and have him arrested?" I asked.

"Yes, we will. But first, I have another idea," he informed me. His gaze traveled over to the fireplace and settled on the coffee-table ladled with delights.

"What did you have in mind?" I wondered. I had an inkling I knew what he was thinking and I enjoyed the naughty, wicked nature of the plan.

"Let's put on a show for this crook and entertain him a bit, since he interrupted our midnight rendezvous. That's what he gets for spoiling our special time together. Let him suffer with lust while he watches us making love," Larry suggested. "I've got a good notion about what we can do with all that food."

"Umm, sounds like a lovely idea. Why don't we?" I responded. "We can phone the police afterwards."

We propped Maurice up against the sofa and made our way to the blankets spread out upon the floor. While the thief who would be Santa eyed us ravenously, we each took turns sampling a delectable fruity feast. Only when we were fully satisfied from our sweet buffet, did we top it off with a grand finale. At long last, we collapsed into one another's arms totally satiated.

A couple of hours later, Ragsdale was safely whisked away into custody. Larry and I welcomed in a wonderful Christmas morning together. We missed the signals of true love a few years ago when we went out on a handful of dates. But this time, neither one of us could deny the inevitable truth. We’d found the one with whom we were meant to share our lives, thanks in part, to the Christmas thief.

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Publication Date: 12-26-2010

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