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 ï>¿Carol's Coffee Shop byMostodd07Â(C)

   "Carol's Coffee Caress" boasted the best coffee this side of Grayson's
Gorge, located in the village on the east side of Skypierce Peak.  The cafe
had been decked out for weeks with colored Christmas lights, tinsel, a
seven-foot tree, and ornaments hung from the walls and ceiling.  Holiday
music played softly in the background.  Peppermint, eggnog, cinnamon, and
other holiday spices found their way to the coffee bar.  Customers were
drawn to the warm aroma of fresh coffee, the friendly atmosphere, and the
sweet pastries, but returned because of Carol.  The "caress" name stuck
because Carol hugged her customers when they arrived.  She was everyone's
favorite barista.

   Carol's beautiful shape inspired more than thoughts of hugs.  She had
light brown hair like cafe au lait and dark brown eyes like espresso.  She
had a smile for all of her patrons, dark eyelashes above wide cheekbones.
She could be found near a table or booth holding a pot of steaming coffee
for refills.  In the winter months she favored brown sweaters that subtly
accentuated her breasts.  Carol didn't mind the attention.  Today, her
sweater's v-neck dipped to show just the round tops of her breasts.  She
permitted her best customers to drape their arms around her narrow waist,
just above her tight jeans.  She enforced her limits, gently removing eager
hands that tended to drift to her shapely ass without unduly embarrassing
her patron.  Her enviable hour-glass figure hadn't changed much during the
seven years she owned the place.

   The door bell jingled as Carol's best friend Jorie entered the shop. 
Blond Jorie was slim as a pencil and muscle trim, despite having given
birth to four children.  Jorie and Carol grew up on the Peak, went to the
university together, and both returned after college.  Jorie exercised and
trained anyone with money to pay her fees but didn't really need the work.
Her father was Magus Grayson, who owned Skypierce Peak and Grayson Gorge,
and her husband HervÃ(C) successfully represented the mountain folk in
their disputes at the county courthouse.

   They embraced and traded air kisses.  High-maintenance Jorie sluffed off
her jacket and sat at a table near the window where she could be seen from
the street.  She wore jean shorts over lavender tights, tossed her blond
hair, and bobbed her leg to draw attention to its slimness.  Carol brought
her a cup of green tea and an almond cookie, her traditional fare.

   "Sit down, Carol." Jorie placed her hand on Carol's arm.

   Carol checked around the shop and decided she could afford a few minutes
before her next round.  She slid her round ass onto the chair and placed
the coffee pot on the table.

   Jorie took out a six-inch handcrafted doll made of sticks, pine cones,
and ribbons.  Its most prominent features were two large breasts and a
pentagram on its front.  Jorie smiled when she gave it to Carol.

   "Oh, no.  What is this, the tenth time you've invited me to your Wiccan
party?  I'm not interested.  I love you, Jorie, but it's not for me.  I'm
not that girl any more."

   Jorie shook her head.  "You can't goose a girl for trying.  My father
has wanted you at his annual party for longer than ten years.  He thinks
you would be a perfect Ice Queen, our own Freyja.  What am I supposed to
tell him?  You don't want to party with him?"

   "Your father gives me the creeps, so no, I don't want to party with him.
I'm surprised you still do."

   Jorie smiled like a cat on the back of a sofa.  "Of course I like it. 
It's a celebration of the Natural.  Just like you, Carol.  You are
naturally beautiful.  You should come, one time before you get married."

   "I'm sure that Derwin would certainly not approve."

   Jorie puffed her lips.  "Derwin.  You can have your pick of any man on
the mountain and you're stuck with Derwin the drip."

   "He's fine." Carol's attention was caught by an arm waving at the other
end of the cafe.  "Be right there," she called.

   "Please, Carol.  Just this once.  You're going to be married right after
Christmas.  If you think that Derwin won't let you go now, he'll absolutely
forbid it after you're married."

   Carol slid off her chair and went to the table that had waved.  A group
of middle-aged construction men on break were finishing up their coffee. 
She gave took out their check.  While she figured it out, the man closest
put his arm around her waist.  She leaned into him.  It was a nice feeling
to have someone want her.  What else was a woman's body for if not to be
seen, gently touched, and appreciated?

   She poured some hot water for the old crone who came daily to her shop.
Baba Yomama operated the fortune telling and tarot reading shop at the edge
of the village.  She came because she liked the "magic" associated with
this cafe.

   Back with smug Jorie, Carol sighed, awaiting Jorie's lecture.  It came
immediately.

   "I know what you're thinking, girl.  You like attention from men.  You
like to flirt and hug.  When men take you out, you have a wonderful time
and so do the men.  Or they used to, until you agreed to marry Derwin."

   "Derwin is fine."

   Jorie leaned forward so no one else could hear.  "So you're willing to
have only one cock in your pussy for the rest of your life?"

   Carol shot back.  "You do.  You're married to HervÃ(C)."

   "That's why I celebrate the winter solstice each year.  It's a chance to
be a little crazy, a little wild, and completely natural.  It's a
celebration of the sun coming back.  It's a festival that has been going on
for centuries."

   "I'm not a witch.  I'm not a Wiccan.  I think what you do may be a sin."

   "Wiccans don't believe in sin.  Our creed is Do No Harm.  Come on. 
Don't let your pillowy round thighs go to waste.  You need at least one
more real man to lie on them, right?"

   Carol flushed while listening to Jorie.  The image of an excited sex
partner, stripped, his long dick bobbing, kneeling between her legs,
wanting her, then lying on top of her, brought back a decade of fantasies.
Jorie had a vigorous sex life; Carol was lucky to have slim, gentlemanly
Derwin as a friend and fiancÃ(C).  She hoped someday soon he would be her
lover.

   Then, to add to her discomfort, Derwin's entrance sounded the tinkling
bell.  Carol beamed a broad smile when she saw him, which quickly died when
she saw his brother, Brock, behind him.  Brock, who grew up with Jorie and
Carol but who left the mountain seven years ago, with not a word since then
to Carol.  He broke her heart by leaving but she had gotten over it. 
Really, she had.  She told herself this every single day.  Now, here was
Brock, looking even sturdier, studlier, and more handsome than he had seven
years ago.

   Damn him.

   Carol had a way of sliding off her chair that emphasized her curves,
with a sinuous uncoiling.  Her hips were wide, it was true, but her waist
was so narrow that a man with large hands could encircle her waist
completely.  Brock had been able to do so.  When Brock used to hold her in
his arms to dance, he knew the compactness of her ribcage.  Then there was
her erotic surprise--her full, firm breasts which completed the hourglass
figure.  She remembered how it felt to be held close by Brock, her boobs
squished firmly between them.

   Carol took a deep breath, which made her sweater bulge a little more. 
She smoothed her hands over her hips before taking a step toward Derwin and
his brother.  The winter air had come into the shop with the brothers. 
Derwin looked happily into her eyes and smiled.  Brock noticed that the
cold air turned Carol's nipples into hard little pebbles, and gave her a
lecherous smile.

   She hugged them both as a welcome.  Derwin kissed her cheek.  Brock held
her a bit too long, then let go.  She swallowed hard and tucked at her hair
as though he might have mussed it.

   "Sit anywhere.  Coffee and muffins?"

   They both nodded.  She turned and gave a little more swing to her ass as
she left.  Nothing too vulgar, but enough to tease.  She filled their order
and came back.  Derwin looked at her face with a loving smile.  Brock's
gaze was lower.  Lower even than her brown sweater.  His eyes watched the
way her thighs alternately moved closer to him with each step.  When she
stopped at the table, Derwin put is arm around her waist.  Brock studied
the zipper on her very tight jeans.

   "So, what finally brings you to town, Brock?" She tried to sound
nonchalant as she poured the coffee.

   He looked into her brown eyes with his devilish blue ones and flashed a
broad smile that surely had a few extra teeth in it.  Carol had to remember
to stop pouring before she spilled coffee onto his long, muscular thighs.
Filling Derwin's mug was much easier.  "I had to wish my little brother the
best wedding, and perhaps kiss the bride.  Show me your ring."

   Carol held out her hand so Brock could appraise the diamond.  "So,
you'll be here for the entire week.  How lovely.  Not much has changed
around here though.  A few cell towers, a Dollar Store, but we're pretty
stable compared to Chicago."

   He took her small hand into his larger paw and held it.  "I came exactly
for that reason.  For some stability.  To appreciate my roots.  To connect
with old friends.  I might have to leave before the end of the week,
though." His large hand, with tiny blond hairs on it, covered Carol's
smaller hand.  "I'm so glad to see your coffee shop finally.  Derwin's told
me all about it."

   Carol pulled her hand away, with a polite smile.  "Derwin will show you
around town.  It should take all of an afternoon to see everything."

   Derwin laughed.  "Brock and I plan to shake things up a bit."

   Jorie eased over to their table to say hello.  She looked even blonder
and more trim than she had in college, her eyes sparkled bluer.  "I'd say
you've already shaken things up." She held out both arms for a hug from
Brock, then from Derwin.

   Brock hesitated, then stood up.  He leaned in and gave her a quick hug
with two pats on the back, although Jorie burrowed into him like a badger
to a tree trunk.  Brock sat down, watching Carol's reaction to the
greeting.

   Carol played it cool.  She excused herself to wait on other customers.
The morning rush was over and the place had pretty much emptied out.  This
was the time Carol used to prepare for the lunch hour crowd--not huge but
still profitable.  While Carol worked, Jorie sat down with Derwin and Brock
to catch up.  Carol glanced at the table occasionally, wondering what in
the world they found so darn funny.  She'd have to ask Derwin later. 
Alone.

   The place cleaned up pretty well with the help of her three employees.
There was one woman still squatting at a table to write the Great American
Novel, another man reading the Wall Street Journal, and a two-some involved
in a job interview.  And Baba Yomama, of course.  No one needed her
assistance.  She drifted back to her friends.

   Jorie beamed as she saw Carol.  "Guess what?" Without waiting for an
answer, she continued.  "I've invited Brock and Derwin to the Winter
Solstice Celebration.  And they're coming!  Isn't that great!  First time
for both." She leaned across the table and put her hand on Brock's arm. 
She didn't seem to notice that the brothers were both blushing.  "I hope it
won't be the last time they decide to come.  It'll be a night that they
will never forget."

   "Will your husband be there, Jorie?" Carol asked, oh so innocently.

   "Gosh, no!  He can't stand those things.  It makes him intensely jealous
for some reason."

   Derwin leaned closer, conspiratorially.  "Is it true the witches go
naked there?  Sorry, Carol, I just wondered.  That's been the rumor
forever!"

   "Gosh, no!  First, this is a Wiccan party to celebrate the winter
solstice and the return of the sun.  Second, it's winter and cold outside,
right?  Third, why not just come and be surprised?  Okay?  Carol always
turns down my father's invitation, but I've invited her again anyway.  I
think she may come this year."

   Derwin and Brock both looked surprised and studied her.  Carol didn't
know how to react to their scrutiny.

   "You, Carol?" Derwin said.

   "Well, why not?" she said defiantly.

   Brock smiled at her, appraising her from head to toe.  "I, for one, hope
you'll be there."

   "Well, I haven't decided."

   Carol left her friends discussing the party while she prepared for the
lunch crowd.  She occasionally glanced their way, just to make sure they
didn't need anything.  Each time she did, she saw Derwin and Jorie head to
head jabbering away.  Brock sat back and watched her from his tilted back
chair.  It was a little disconcerting, but Carol's shop was a welcoming
place, so she shouldn't really complain.  Despite the warmth in the kitchen
area, her breasts still showed the hard little pebbles where her nipples
should be.  Brock noticed, she was sure.

   The lunch crowd started to arrive.  It gave her something to do.  She no
longer studied Brock's broad shoulders, his blond hair, his large hands,
and his thighs--oh, those thighs!  The brothers got up to leave to give
over the table to the lunch crowd.

   "Oh, you can stay," Carol said.  "It won't be that crowded."

   Derwin leaned to kiss her cheek again and she blushed.  She tried to
kiss his cheek but missed.  Then Brock stepped forward.  He wanted a hug.
Again.  Her breasts ached already from their tautness but she opened wide
her arms and allowed him another hug.  His arms encompassed her as he
kissed her neck.  Not her cheek, her neck?  Was that his leg finding space
between her legs, pressing closer?  Was she pressing closer to him at the
same time?  Damn, her breasts ached!

   Then the brothers were gone.  The air seemed to have been sucked from
the room.  Carol shuddered a bit.  She smoothed her sweater and the sides
of her jeans.  She readjusted her v-neck so her mounds barely peeked out.
She pasted on a smile for the lunch crowd.  "Frosty the Snowman" played
over the speakers.

   The pebbles on her breasts had left when Brock did.  Thank God, she
thought.  She filled a lifted mug for a customer.

   After the lunch crowd ate and left, the cafe settled down to a relaxing
hum.  A few loyal customers spread around the shop.  Jorie nursed another
cup of green tea and an almond cookie.  Carol sat down with her and Jorie
smiled expectantly.

   "So, you're coming to the Winter Solstice Celebration.  My dad will be
so excited!"

   "I haven't said I would, Jorie.  I'm still considering."

   "Did you see how nervous Derwin seemed about you showing up?" Jorie
laughed.  "Brock, on the other hand, was drooling to think you'd be at the
Celebration."

   "Stop."

   "Brock has been gone for seven years, hasn't he?  Has he been in touch
with you during that time?"

   Carol shook her head with a sigh.  She didn't mean to sigh and it caused
Jorie to laugh.

   "Do you remember when we all went to the lake together after graduation
for that summer solstice?  I was celebrating my degree in biology and
nutrition."

   "Of course I remember.  My degree was in Business Administration." Carol
waved her arm around the shop.  "See what it's gotten me?"

   Not a day passed that she didn't think about that summer solstice party.

   Jorie sat back, reminiscing.  "We were so young."

   "And naive.  Although I can't say we were innocent." They both laughed.

   "My tiniest bikini was hidden from my father among my other decent
suits. You had at least five sexy bikinis, didn't you?"

   "That should have been enough, don't you think?" Carol laughed.

   "Whose idea was it to go skinny dipping anyway?  Brock?  Derwin? 
Somebody else?"

   "As I recall, the whole thing was your idea, Jorie.  That was a Wiccan
thing, right?  It was the Summer Solstice we were celebrating.  I don't
think Derwin was even there for some reason."

   "Brock was there.  He couldn't stop staring at your, Carol."

   "It was on the very day of the summer solstice.  The sun set and the
lake was warm.  You, for some crazy reason, started stripping at the end of
a pier.  I think everyone knew that was your plan all along."

   Jorie put her finger to her lips, pretending to remember.  "Me?  You
really think it was my idea?"

   "You loved 'communing with nature.' You always had a body to die for,
and still do.  Once you were naked, the boys followed your lead pretty
quickly.  Then the girls disrobed, too, but a little more slowly."

   "You were the last holdout.  Bad idea, because then everyone watched you
ease out of your top and your bottoms.  You had a pretty nice figure back
then, girl."

   "You ripped my bikini off me.  And gave everyone a sex show when you
started in to kiss me and fondle my boobs."

   "Grrrr.  I remember.  You still have a great body." Jorie sat
straighter, her hand between her thighs.  "That settles it.  I'm planning
another road trip to the lake this summer for us!"

   "What will HervÃ(C) say?  What about your four kids?"

   "He'll watch the four kids.  You know how jealous he gets when he sees
anyone paying the least bit of attention to me.  Don't worry.  It'll be all
arranged.  Now, should I invite Derwin or Brock to come with us this
summer?"

   "I'm sure I don't really care." Carol tried to sound disinterested, but
her tongue played on the edges of her lips.

   "Then I'll invite both." Jorie went on talking about her plans for the
summer road trip.  She seemed to have forgotten about the Winter Solstice
Celebration.  Which was fine with Carol.  Her mind traveled back to that
summer when she and Jorie were just twenty-two.  Taylor Swift got it right
when she sang, "We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time,
it's miserable and magical..."

   That was before Jorie had kids, although she was dating HervÃ(C).  At
the lake, Carol had rejoiced that she was through with college, and wished
her parents had lived long enough to see her graduation.  Their death in an
auto accident had been traumatic for her, but their estate and insurance
proceeds had funded her coffee shop.  Jorie kept everyone busy with
calisthenics and challenges until that evening of the solstice.  Brock
celebrated the sun, the lake, the trees, and pretty girls.  He told
everyone of his plans to go to Chicago to use his newly minted Architecture
degree to reshape the world.  In fact, every person at the lake had big
dreams at twenty-two.

   The final evening had been perfect.  They barbecued.  They drank beer
from long neck bottles.  They listened to music played on guitars while
most everyone sang.  And just as the sun was setting and the sliver of moon
was rising, an exciting idea spread among everyone--it would cement their
college friendships to go skinny dipping.  Sure, there was a healthy
curiosity about the other person's body, but the sexual rules had relaxed
in college to the point that anyone, except Carol, could bed anyone else
for the price of a Marguerita and a nice smile.  Sure, Carol had her own
questions about the size of various parts of certain particular men's body
parts.  She was confident that most of them were eager to glimpse her body
unclothed, for the first time.

   When Jorie removed Carol's top unloosing her plush breasts, Carol
glanced around.  The horseplay had stopped and the boys were gawking. 
Then, Jorie slowly pulled down Carol's bottoms.  The boys stopped breathing
for a magical moment.  Carol was bare, naked, exposed, vulnerable,
accessible.  But she didn't feel weak.  Instead, she felt like a warrior
queen, like the ones drawn on paperback novels and comic books, women with
wildly perfect thighs, dainty ankles, gravity defying breasts supporting
tiny metal bras, and Earth Mother hips carrying a golden chain bikini
bottom.  Her light brown hair was long and windblown.  The warrior queen
carried sharp dangerous weapons as she crouched, the better to illustrate
the muscles of her legs.

   Yes that was Carol, a modern Freyja, the Norse goddess of love, war,
fertility, magic, and death, with the ability to foresee the future.  Carol
could pretend to be a powerful woman, in control of her destiny, practicing
a form of magic called Seidr, which could change fates and the course of
the world.  Jorie kissed her mouth, her neck, and her shoulders.  Carol was
keenly aware that every man at the lake wanted her.  When Jorie knelt down
to kiss Carol's breasts and nuzzle her muff, Carol was sure that more than
a few of the young men used the cover of the lake to explode the sexual
tension that had built in their loins.

   Carol dove sleekly into the water and swam to the raft about fifty yards
out.  No one bothered her as she swam.  The women had swum next to the raft
and surrounded it, not wanting to leave the shelter of the water yet.  When
Carol reached the ladder, she climbed up, the water streaming off her naked
body as she stretched her arms over her head and arched her back.  She was
alone on the platform, surrounded by the eager men in the water, her
acolytes.  Eventually they clambered onto the raft, lounging at her feet.
None minded displaying their dicks.  She had her pick, but the sizes were
affected by the lake's coolness.  It would take some effort to help them
grow to a dangerous length.  That was the trouble.  Should she give her
attention to just one, two, five, or all dozen of them?  They had been boys
she grew up with on this side of the mountain, but they were no longer
kids. They were mature men with intense desires, all directed toward her.
The other girls could not have been happy.

   The sky was clear, sprinkled with stars, and hosted the wicked smile of
a waning crescent moon.  A gentle night breeze began to stir and goosebumps
dimpled her body.  It was time to go back.  After a while, led by Jorie,
the other young women swam naked back to the pier, picked up their suits.
They summoned the men to follow them, waving their hands and their bodies
to entice them, but the men waited for Carol.

   She executed a perfect dive smoothly breaking the lake's surface.  When
she came up, she told the men, "Race you!" They accepted her challenge and
tore toward the shore and the pier.  That way they could see her when she
came out of the water, too.

   Carol had swum leisurely to the pier.  She swept her hair back off her
face.  Climbing the steel ladder made her hips swing like she was doing a
cha-cha.  As she stepped onto the pier, she noticed that one man was behind
her.  A man with a broad smile and muscular shoulders.  He climbed up the
ladder and stood exposed before her.  It was Brock.  She had dated him once
or twice, but he didn't seem to be that taken with her.

   Brock shook and stripped the water off his limbs.  He didn't bother with
a towel.  He said, "You know, Freyja was a statuesque blond.  You've got
the statuesque part down though."

   His comment annoyed her unreasonably.  She decided to punish him and
turned her back to him.  She felt his lovely blond haired paw on her ass,
testing its firmness.  His other hand came around and cupped her right
breast.  His thumb found her nipple, and teased it to full attention. 
Carol caught her breath.  She began to realize how intense an erogenous
zone her nipples could be.  She rolled her head back, offering the
sensitive side of her neck.  He had to know, she thought, he had to know
that if he wanted to take her, he could tonight.  His fingers teased her
nipple again.  The hand on her ass moved around her wide hip until he had
his fingers in her wet fur, probing for the warm, slick entrance to her
pussy.

   Carol groaned.  She reached behind and found his prick, hard, thick,
longer than a handful, and hot.  She longed to turn around and put it into
her mouth, but that would mean Brock would quit exploring her valley
between her legs and quit teasing the nipple that was aching with desire.

   Then one of the men shouted, "They've taken our suits and all the
towels!"

   The men laughed and shouted, all but Brock.  He pulled Carol close to
him, and turned her around protectively.  She wasn't sure what he was
protecting her from, since everyone had seen her body by now.  But she was
aroused and ready to submit to Brock.  Maybe he wanted to protect her
excitement.  Her cheeks were flushed.  She was acutely aware of the warmth
of his cock between the two of them.

   Brock looked into her eyes, then kissed her full on the lips.  She
opened her mouth to allow his insistent tongue to probe her.  She melted
into his chest as she kissed him back.  Then, he broke off the kiss,
touched her hair, and put his arm around her.  He walked her toward the
large house where everyone was staying.  The lights blazed unmercifully. 
The men and Carol were in full view of everyone.

   "Are you ready?" Brock asked Carol.  She nodded, squared her shoulders.
She led the procession into the house.  Jorie met them, wearing in a beach
towel around her hips, but with a handheld video camera to capture every
embarrassing moment.

   Except that Carol wasn't embarrassed.  She was Freyja, Queen of the
Gods. She was fearless before all her subjects.  Except for Brock.  She
wanted to please him endlessly.  But the general teasing had begun and
towels were tossed and snatched away.  In the next few minutes everyone was
naked, not naked, hugged, kissed, and groped.  More long neck beer was
brought out.

   Carol found a sleeveless coverup that barely covered her ass.  She could
have worn more, but she wasn't in the mood for modesty.  She wished
everyone to be exotic, erotic, and ultimately satisfied.  She was surprised
when Brock waved to the group and said he had to go.

   "What?" she said.

   Brock blew her a kiss across the room.  But Carol could swear that he
wanted to say more to her.  Perhaps in the morning she could see him again.
But he hadn't shown up that next morning.  He left the mountain and Carol
for the next seven years.  The jingle bells over the door to Carol's Coffee
Caress tinkled.  "I'll Be Home for Christmas" by the Carpenters played
softly.

   "Carol?" It was Jorie, forcing her to come back to the living.  "My
dad's here."

   "Why did Brock leave our party that night, Jorie?" Carol asked.

   Jorie looked at her.  "Don't you know?  You scared the daylights out of
him.  He likes to be the one in control, and he was afraid he was losing
control to you.  He didn't want to be tied up here in Skypierce.  He left
for Chicago the next day.  To escape, I guess."

   Carol hung her head.  "Why would he want to escape from me?" And what
did his return mean?

   Jorie's father, a tall, trim man with gray streaked bristles in his jet
black shock of hair closed the door behind him.  He had beard stubble and
intense blue eyes, scarier eyes than Jorie's.  He was at the coffee shop to
pick up Jorie, but trained those searing blue eyes on Carol, x-raying her
from head to toe as though he could see past her warm brown sweater and
tight blue jeans.  Carol forced herself to give him a smile and stood to
offer him her welcoming hug.  He stood a little taller than she did.  He
embraced her with his strong mountain man arms.  His hug was like his
personality, possessive.  He held her close as he continued to study her.

   "Cup of coffee?"

   Magus Grayson shook his head.  "I'm here for my little girl.  We're
planning the celebration for the 21st, just like every year.  You should
come, Carol." He leaned forward a little.  "You really should.  You might
be crowned our Festival's Ice Queen."

   Carol squirmed away with a laugh.  "I'm more the Ice Cream type."

   "Carol might come, right Carol?" Jorie put herself between her father
and Carol.  "Please come, Carol.  Derwin and Brock will be there." She shot
Carol a knowing look.

   "I don't know what to wear."

   "Perfect!" Jorie said.  "I'll pick you up tomorrow and take you to the
hall."

   "Our guests wear masks to remain anonymous.  It gives one more freedom
to be natural and oneself if one doesn't have to explain one's behavior the
next day.  You understand.  So, no identifying scars, no distinctive
tattoos, no needle marks, that kind of thing." He narrowed his eyes, smiled
a wicked grin and went back to the door.  "Coming, Jorie?"

   "I'll pick you up tomorrow, Carol.  Ten o'clock.  Oh, this will be the
best Winter Solstice Celebration ever!"

   "All right, but you have to promise to come to Midnight Mass with me on
Christmas Eve.  Okay, Jorie?"

   "Sure, sure.  Not a problem.  Love you.  Kiss.  Bye."

   And Jorie left the warm coffee shop.  Carol shivered as she remembered
Grayson Garbhon's gaze.  Did she really want to put herself into his spider
web?  On the other hand, where else would she run into Brock?

   Carol closed the shop for the day, still unsure of whether to accept
Jorie's invitation.  Jorie's invitations usually came with ulterior
motives. Carol should have learned her lesson after the Summer Solstice
celebration.  She'd heard rumors and stories about other solstices, both
winter and summer.  Like Derwin, she had heard that "being natural"
entailed nudity, whether one was a witch, wizard, or Wiccan.  Carol liked
her own figure, Derwin appreciated her figure well enough to marry her, and
apparently, Jorie's father Magus Grayson lusted for her figure.  But she
wasn't twenty-two any longer.  In another year, she wouldn't even be in her
twenties.  If pressed, she had to admit that was one reason she was ready
to marry Derwin.  She couldn't wait for ever for the right Brock,...  er,
brother,...  er, man to come along.

   Walking home on the snow-slickened sidewalks, she slid past other small
businesses in the town.  Whenever she could, she frequented them, the way
she hoped they would patronize her shop.  But at the edge of town, she saw
one business she had never visited since she had been in college, Baba
Yomama's place.  It was a small house with a neon sign outside reading
"Fortune Telling, Psychic and Tarot Readings--Your Future Revealed." Carol
hadn't gone there since college.  As a lark she had visited once and was
shocked by the vivid, violent cards that had turned up for her.  She had
planned a warm, loving, generous future for herself, but the cards would
not cooperate.  Within six months, her parents had died in a frightful auto
accident.  The cards had predicted sudden change, and they had been proved
right.

   It was illogical to blame the cards for her parents' deaths, but Carol
had been leery of them ever since.  It was another reason she was reluctant
to submit to Jorie's Wiccan festivals.  The celebrations didn't seem to
turn out well for Carol.  First she lost her parents, then she lost Brock.
Her life had been relatively stable for the past seven years.  Perhaps too
stable.  Now, Derwin and Brock wanted to shake things up.  So, perhaps it
was time for Carol to shake things up as well.  She took a deep breath and
entered the house.

   Remarkably, Baba had not changed since she last visited.  She had eyes
that might once have been blue but were now the color of ice.  They focused
somewhere just beyond Carol.  The woman's gray hair spread out from her
head.  She wore a house dress and an apron, sensible dark shoes, and pale
make up.  She greeted Carol with a smile and a nod, and showed her the
table where her future might be told.

   "I'm nervous about this."

   "We won't go anywhere you aren't prepared to go, my dear."

   "Do you want to know anything about me?  What I want to do?  What my
hopes and dreams might be?  What brings me here?"

   "No.  You know why you are here.  That is enough." She splayed a deck of
Tarot cards on the table.

   Carol paid her and the session began.  Carol squirmed while the woman
composed herself.  When she looked at Carol, she asked, "What's bothering
you, my dear?"

   "Are you a witch?" Carol asked.

   She smiled in response.  "Everyone on this mountain is a bit of a witch,
don't you think, Carol?  Ready, my dear?" She shuffled the cards.

   Carol nodded.  The cards were displayed on the table, some face down,
some face up.  When Carol peaked through her closed eyes, a shiver ran
through her.  Some of the cards were the same ones she had seen before her
parents' death.  She was no expert at reading these things, but she
recognized the Nine of Swords, the Ten of Wands, and the Hermit.  They had
all presaged her parents' disaster.

   "They mean death, don't they?"

   The woman, hunched over the cards, shook her head and explained.  "The
Nine of Swords can mean anxiety about death.  You certainly seemed to be
anxious, my dear.  The Ten of Wands is also a card of stress, not death. 
What is worrying you, dear?"

   "Do I have to answer?  I just want to hear what the cards say."

   "Of course.  I understand.  The last one is a strange one.  The Hermit.
A man alone.  Do you face some kind of loneliness?"

   "Absolutely not!  I'm going to be married in another week or so.  What
do the cards say about that?"

   "Well, dearie, let's see." The old woman shuffled the cards easily and
three down another three cards.  This time, Baba's surprise showed on her
face.  She recovered though, and cleared her throat.

   The cards were the Tower, burning and under attack; the Knight of
Swords; and the Death card.  Carol searched the woman's eyes for some
explanation that didn't involve disaster.

   "I need to show you one more card, my dear."

   The next card thrown down was the Queen of Swords.  At least that card
had not shown up with her parents.

   "What do you see, Baba?"

   "Let me start with the group of three.  The last card with the skeleton
on it is sometimes called the Death card.  It should more properly be
called the card of Transformation, of Change.  I can tell you there will be
a great change in your life."

   "Well, I've just told you I'm getting married, so that's not a big
revelation."

   "Yes, perhaps it presages your coming nuptials.  But keep an open mind.
Next, the Knight of Swords.  He is a creature of aggression, of impulse,
and of force.  You may experience things beyond your control soon."

   Carol didn't know what to make of that one.

   "Then we have the Tower.  I won't try to kid you.  This is not a
pleasant card.  It heralds destruction."

   "Great.  This means I'm doomed, right?"

   "Oh, no, not necessarily.  This destruction may affect you, but it
doesn't mean it will be your own destruction.  I look at all of these
cards, and try to piece them together to tell a possible future for you."

   "What's the last card, that Queen one?"

   "Interesting.  That's the Queen of Swords.  She is a troublesome woman.
She may be the catalyst for the destruction, the stress, the suddenness,
and the transformation you are facing.  As a result, someone you love may
find themself alone."

   Carol felt a tear drop onto her cheek and roll gently down.  "I don't
know any more than I did before, do I?"

   "Yes, my dear.  You do.  You are entering a time of great and sudden
change in your life.  You cannot remain static or you will continue to feel
stress and anxiety.  You must confront the troublesome woman and the
aggressive knight if you wish to continue complete your transformation. 
There is a chance you might fail, that is always a possibility.  Someone,
you, a loved one, an enemy, might end up alone after your metamorphosis."

   "What can I do?"

   "You can do nothing, and change will come crashing into your life.  Or
you can stride purposefully forward and confront the demons that are
plotting against you."

   "I can't do nothing."

   "I can't tell you what to do, my dear."

   Carol was dispirited.  There was no answer here.

   "Thank you.  I'll be going now."

   Carol left.  The tears chapped her cheeks as she walked the last mile to
her home.  Once there, she called her employees and told them she would be
taking two weeks off for the holiday and to prepare for the wedding.

   "It's about time you started to think about yourself," one young girl
told her.  "Of course we'll take care of the store.  One favor though?"

   "What is it?"

   "Can we wear whatever we want while you're away?"

   "Well, within reason.  No witches' costumes, okay?  This is Christmas."

   The girl laughed and promised everything would be fine.

   Carol wondered what transformation might be waiting for the Coffee
Caress.

   The night of the 21st, Carol arrived for the party with Jorie and they
went to the changing room.  More than twenty women were sorting through
white gowns, chosing something to wear for the celebration.  Jorie had
completely disrobed before slipping the white streaming robe over her
shoulders and let it drape along her taut muscles.  She looked as toned as
a cheerleader.  The white robe was the only thing she wore aside from her
white mask.

   "When in Rome..." thought Carol.  She selected a white robe that covered
her to about mid-thigh, shorter than where Jorie's robe fell.  She cinched
it with a gold chain.  The gown had the kind of deep v-cleavage that Carol
liked.  Even foregoing a bra, her breasts were enviable mounds of pleasure.
She chose a golden mask for herself.

   The Magus's mansion was cozy warm, with a crackling fire in the huge
fireplace and fragrant pine bough decorations draped on the walls. 
Rotating pentagrams hung from the ceiling in the great hall where warm
beverages, some alcoholic some not, were served by some of the serving
women in white robes.  A young man, dressed as a satyr with goat legs and a
tail, draped colorful flowers around Carol's neck.

   The music beat heavily during the evening almost forcing a dance
response.

   Outside a path lead through the tall trees to an area where a large
circle had been cleared.  Huge piles of wood surrounded one oversized log
in the center.

   "The Yule log," Jorie explained.  "It's central to the celebration."

   Jorie began to dance, freely and expressively.  She took giant steps
with her legs and arched her back.  Overhead, high cirrus clouds dusted the
moon, and in return ice crystals glowed in the moonlight.  The roaring fire
in the center of the circle radiated warmth so that no additional wrap was
needed.  Jorie was soon joined by the other women who wore white robes and
masks.  As they danced, their arms swung wildly overhead.  A crowd of
onlookers gathered, appreciative.

   Carol felt drawn into the dancing crowd.  Her whole body thrummed with
excitement.  She jumped toward the yule log and joined the women.  The
white robes she and the others wore became diaphanous in the moonlight. 
Her rounded curves were clearly visible, as fully as they had been when she
stood stripped of her bathing suit seven years earlier.

   She didn't feel seven years older though, and judging by the attention
she was garnering, she didn't appear seven years older.  She saw Magus
Grayson stroking his beard as his narrowed dark eyes studied her.  Other
men clapped time, breaking into easy applause as she twirled and leaped. 
At the north end of the circle, she saw the two brothers, Brock and her
fiancee, Derwin, staring at her.  She felt guilty that Derwin was seeing
her this way, exposed before everyone, and she felt wanton that Brock was
seeing her so vulnerable.

   Carol read the invitation in Brock's eyes.  She recognized that
invitation from seven years ago.  In Derwin's eyes, she saw restraint and
some embarrassment.  When she met Derwin's eyes, he smiled and nodded his
permission.  It was all she needed, and she spun even faster so that every
facet of her figure was visible at the same time.

   Jorie came to her.  Carol indicated with her head where Brock and Derwin
stood.  Jorie smiled and began to dance closer to them.  At some point her
robe became loose and slipped from her figure.  She danced nude,
vigorously, displaying her finely toned muscles which were glistening with
sweat and emotion.  She took Derwin by the arm and pulled him with her
towards the darkened woods.  Derwin's glance checked with Carol, but she
refused to meet his eyes.  In a few seconds, Jorie and Derwin had
disappeared from the crowd of onlookers.

   Brock remained.  His gaze was not distracted by the other dancers, many
of whom were now naked, too.  Their bodies looked as though they had been
coated with shimmering oil, reflecting the dancing flames of the yule log.
Brock had eyes only for Carol.  She danced closer and closer to him,
although it took a great deal of courage.  To her, approaching him was as
dangerous as falling into the yule log itself.  She knew the pain that
Brock could cause, but she was captured by him.  She thought about the
marriage to his brother Derwin in a few more days and how she would be
Derwin's woman, exclusively.  But that time had not come yet.  There was
still time for one more lover, one more man to lie with her, his male
member parting her legs and plunging with vigor and warmth into her
throbbing vagina.

   Carol stood in front of Brock, her hands lifted high above her head,
rocking her hips back and forth, her head tilted skyward.  Brock was
waiting for Carol at the outskirts of the circle.  His mug of winter
celebration grog was steaming hot in the cold air.  A cinnamon stick was
swirling lazily around the edge of the mug.  Brock reached out and unloosed
her robe.  It slid off her shoulders, but was held up by her breasts and
her taut nipples.  Carol did a slow shimmy and the gown slid down off her
tits, past her hips, and grazing her thighs.  Except for her mask, she was
naked and available for him.  She took his arm, and led him into a dark
part of the surrounding trees.  Over her shoulder she noticed Magus Grayson
with his mouth in a firm line, disapproving of her actions.

   The yule bonfire cast shadows into the woods that made everything seem
darker and more mysterious.  The air was a bit cooler here, but not
uncomfortable despite being the first official day of winter.  Whether the
heat generated by the enormous bonfire had been aided by additional magic,
Carol could not say.  It was her first winter solstice celebration after
all.  Her mind was turned to her companion, a quiet, brooding, muscular man
allowing himself to be led by the arm.

   Carol felt some guilt being with Brock, but consoled herself with the
idea that Jorie was probably rocking Derwin's world right now.  Jorie had
the reputation as a skilled and adventurous lover before she was married
and had her four kids.  There were rumors that she still enjoyed some
exciting sexual play.  If Carol were lucky, Derwin would pick up some ideas
and tricks that he might bring back to their marriage bed.

   Carol had no illusions that Brock would stay with her after tonight.  He
had his life in Chicago, his profession, his reputation.  She had her cafe
and her patrons here, and soon she would have Derwin.  She removed her
golden mask, and he gasped.

   "You are still beautiful, Carol."

   She undressed him slowly, kissing his shoulders, his biceps, and his
palms as she removed his shirt.  Then she nibbled his nipples as she
removed his undershirt.  His abdomen quivered with delight.  She unloosened
his belt and unzipped his jeans.  His legs were still strong and the
muscles well-defined.  Sitting in an office designing buildings had not
been his only occupation the past seven years.

   He was ready.  His penis strained against his undershorts.  Carol knelt
before him and edged his shorts down until his dick was bobbing eagerly
about an inch from her face.  His hands were on her shoulders, clutching
them, betraying his eagerness.  If he expected her to take him in her
mouth, he would be disappointed.  He didn't try to force the action, and
Carol rose up before him.  She raised her arms to embrace him, pulling his
naked body into hers, and his mouth to her own.  He was shaking with
excitement and anticipation, but Carol held him close as she kissed him and
explored his mouth.  Soon his arms were pulling her closer to him and their
legs were intertwined while standing.  His hands found her fleshy ass and
squeezed and released and squeezed again.

   His breath was ragged and his chest heaved.  She made him lie on his
back while she stood over him.  His eyes had changed from years before. 
Then, they had been demanding, hungry, exciting.  Now, his eyes were tired,
sad, and supplicating.  He struggled to find his voice, finally not saying
anything.  A tear ran down the side of his cheek.

   Then she lowered herself down upon him, fitting herself to his throbbing
cock.  She rocked gently back and forward, tilting her pelvis for greater
contact.  He was inside her.  His penis was still large and dangerous, but
she felt in control.  Brock turned his head to the side, while she rode
him, her arms lifted over her head.

   She slowed down, waiting for his ejaculating response.  He had been so
exuberant the first times.  Now, he was rather meek, rather resigned to the
lovemaking.  She began to think he might have a conscience after all.

   She leaned forward, her face near his ear, her breasts grazing across
his chest.  "Are you feeling bad because of your brother, Derwin?"

   He shook his head.  "No.  This was Derwin's idea.  He thought you could
help."

   Carol snapped back, sat up straight.  His response shocked her, and her
first inclination was to jump off and run away.  But neither she nor he had
climaxed yet.  His hormonal level might be suboptimal, but her own juices
were flowing like a broken levy.  She put his words and his tears out of
her mind.  She lay on him so that their bodies were touching in as many
places as possible.  He felt strong and warm.  She pressed herself onto him
and eventually, he wrapped his arms around her.  They rocked together,
rather gently.  It wasn't fucking, like she had expected.  It was
lovemaking, tender, inclusive, touching, and ultimately exhausting.  After
several minutes of this intimacy, he came in an explosion of desire, just
before she felt her own body tremble with tiny responses to his embrace. 
She came, too, shaking with exhausted muscles.  He slid out of her,
followed by his warm jazz, but they lay together.

   Gentle snow began to fall lightly around them.  Flakes melted when they
touched his long blond eyelashes.  Snow crystals formed a halo around
Carol's brown hair.  She felt the snow melting on her back, the back of her
legs, and her ass, but she was not cold.  Magus Grayson's magic was still
powerful and kept them warm.

   She and Brock stood up and gathered their clothing.  She wrapped herself
in her white gown and carried her golden mask.  He took the time to dress
completely.

   "You're leaving again?"

   He nodded.  Of course he was.  He didn't want to be trapped by her now
after seven years of independence.

   She took his hand and they walked back to the bonfire.  It was dying and
the falling snow sizzled as it drifted above the lowering flames.  Before
they got to the mansion, Brock took her in his arms again, and kissed her.
She pressed herself against him, but she knew it was hopeless.  After the
kiss, he stood holding her.

   "Hey, Carol!" Jorie waved to her, leading Derwin by the hand.  He was
disheveled but still wore clothing.  Jorie was naked as a newborn and just
as free from embarrassment.  Brock ended his embrace of Carol, and stood
next to her as they approached.  He smiled approvingly when he saw Jorie,
but refused her offered hug.

   "Ready to go?" Derwin studied both his brother and Carol for their
response.  Brock lowered his head and took a step toward Derwin.  He let
the fingers of Carol's hand go one at a time as he left.

   Carol took a deep breath.  Neither brother seemed to want to talk with
her, and certainly not to embrace her.  Derwin had the same determined look
he had worn earlier.  She expected that they would have to have long,
intense fight about this celebration night.  She had a million questions
and Derwin was the only brother she could expect would talk about his
feelings, and maybe his brother's feelings.

   Magus Grayson and the old crone, Baba Yomama, stood together inside the
foyer, observing all that went on between the two couples.  Grayson's eyes
were squinted, perhaps from the wood smoke, perhaps from his anger.  Baba
Yomama shook occasionally with something like a chuckle.  Carol turned to
look at her directly in her old eyes.  She met Carol's gaze, then shook her
head and turned to hobble off on her cane.

   "I want to leave, Jorie."

   "But the best part is still coming up.  There's dancing, feasting,
spell-casting, fireworks!  Oh, come on.  Please stay."

   Carol shook her head and started walking away, not waiting for Jorie to
join her.

   Carol couldn't sleep that night.  She dressed early in her usual brown
sweater with the v-neck and her hip-hugging jeans.  The snow had stopped
after dumping about four inches on the streets and sidewalks, so it took
her longer to walk to the Cafe.  When Carol showed up at the Cafe, her
employees did not expect her.  They were all wearing elf costumes.

   "What?  Didn't you trust us?"

   "Of course I do.  I'm not here to take over.  I asked you all to take
charge for the next few days, and I mean it.  I just needed some place to
land.  I'll grab the table near the window."

   On her way to her window table, she stopped to say hello to several
tables of patrons.

   "Where's the coffee pot, Carol?  Where's the hug?" They laughed as she
blushed, but didn't stop.  She just wasn't in the mood for schmoozing with
her customers this morning.

   One other patron caught her attention, the old crone Baba Yomama.  She
sat agains the side wall the way she always did, covered in a mountain of
sweaters, cloaks, and a coat.  She stirred her tea slowly, but used the
teaspoon to ring the rim of the teacup, trying to catch Carol's attention.
Carol refused to look at her, and sat at her own table with her back to
Baba.  Baba cleared her throat and shuffled her feet, but Carol wouldn't
look back at her.

   Carol sat at her table observing with pleasure the efficiency and
friendliness of her staff.  They had learned well from her.  She had
nothing to be worried about for the next two weeks.  The Christmas music
was soothing after the wildness of the previous evening, and even "Santa
Baby" failed to grate on her nerves.

   Near ten o'clock, Carol was still in place.  She really had nowhere else
to go.  The traffic in the cafe was still brisk.  It wouldn't slow down
until closer to eleven, then would pick up for the lunch crowd.

   "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" played over the speakers.  When
Carol heard the phrase, "Through the years we'll always be together," she
scoffed.  Nothing was less true than that sentiment, despite being wholly
romantic.  The shop bell rang.  Derwin walked into the shop.  He was alone,
of course.  His brother Brock was not with him.  He stopped and looked
around, finding Carol at her table.

   Derwin paused, waiting for Carol to acknowledge him.  She did even
better, smiling and waving him over.  She stood to embrace him when he
reached the side of her station.  It took a while, but Derwin finally
hugged her back.

   "Do you forgive me?"

   Carol was surprised by Derwin's question.  She let him sit down, then
sat across from him.

   "Of course I forgive you, Derwin.  Do you forgive me?"

   "There's nothing to forgive, Carol.  I wanted you to try to use your
magic on Brock."

   Carol was confused and shook her head to clear it.  Behind her, she
heard the tinkling of Baba's teaspoon.  She really had one question she had
to ask, even if it were awkward with Derwin.

   "Well, I understood that you might want to be with Jorie.  I don't mind.
But,where is Brock?"

   Derwin's shoulders slumped.  He hung his head.  "I put him on a plane to
Minnesota this morning.  He wanted to go alone although I offered to
accompany him."

   "Minnesota?  What's in Minnesota?"

   "The Mayo Clinic is in Rochester, Minnesota.  That's where he's going
for the surgery."

   "What surgery?  What's going on, Derwin?"

   Derwin sighed.  "Brock has brain cancer, a very aggressive form.  He's
chosen to have brain surgery in an attempt to remove it.  Depending on the
amount of tumor they are able to remove, he'll have to make other decisions
about chemo and other treatments."

   "Oh, no!  I never knew." Carol lifted her hands to her face.  "Why
didn't he tell me?  Why didn't you tell me?"

   "He wanted it kept quiet.  But he hoped that you might be able to use
your magic on him."

   "What magic?" Carol was confused.  "I don't have magic.  If anything I
could do would help your brother, you know I would do it.  But I don't have
any magic."

   Behind Carol, Baba coughed and rang the tea cup.

   "Would you be quiet back there, Baba!  I'm talking to Derwin."

   "Even if you wouldn't use your magic, I knew that my brother always
treasured the time he spent with you.  Especially that summer solstice
seven years ago.  Before he underwent his treatment, he always wanted to
capture some of that time you and he enjoyed."

   "But I'm engaged to you, Derwin."

   "He's my brother, Carol.  And he's dying.  I understood his desire for
you.  Shoot, I've got the same desire.  So do over half the men who visit
this cafe.  It was worth it for me to offer you to him.  I hope you'll
forgive me."

   Carol was appalled at being offered to Derwin's brother, but in fact she
had wanted to be with him herself.  Would the reaction have been different
if she had known he was dying?  She wasn't sure.

   Baba Yomama appeared at their table, a walking bundle of clothing.  "I
knew you had the magic, Carol.  I was the one who told Derwin."

   "Perhaps you should have told me, too, you old crone."

   "I tried to when you came to me for a tarot reading.  You wouldn't
listen.  Now, who know?  Now, we've lost the opportunity to save Brock."

   Baba said no more and walked out of the cafe.  She slid a bit on the
snowy sidewalks, helped by her cane.

   "Carol, there was nothing more you could have done.  His fate is not in
your hands, but in the hands of God.  His last wish was that I go through
with marrying you.  I just don't know if you will have me."

   Carol stood and pulled him towards her.  "I don't know what to think
about everything.  I loved your brother a long while ago.  But I love you
now.  You made a selfless sacrifice last night.  I can only imagine what it
cost you to watch your brother walk away with me."

   "Jorie helped me overcome my sorrow," he said with a sly smile.

   "You know I'll always remember Brock.  I'll try not to bring him to mind
while we are in bed, but who knows?"

   "I'll try not to think of Jorie."

   At that, Carol had to laugh, although tears were streaming down her
face. Overhead, the music played "Merry Christmas, Darling." She had hoped
for "I'll Be Home for Christmas." It never came.