THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
by Michael Langston

It was the night before Christmas
  When all through my house,
    Not a creature was stirring,
      Not even a spouse.

No stockings were hung
  By the chimney that year
    In hopes that St. Nicholas
      Might somehow appear,

No mamma in her kerchief,
  Just I in my cap
    Had retired to my lodging
      For a long, lonesome nap,

When out in the kitchen
  There arose such a clatter,
    I sprang from my bed
      To see what was the matter.

I snatched up my Levis
  From off of the floor
    And hastily darted
      Through the dark bedroom door.

Away to the kitchen
  I flew like a flash,
    Charged in through the doorway,
      And licked my mustache.

I must have been granted
  My fondest of wishes:
    In the dark a Greek goddess
      Stood washing my dishes.

She was draped all in satin
  From her head to her toe,
    As untarnished and white
      As the new-fallen snow,

That yet in the darkness
  Shined ever so bright,
    Bringing with it its own
      Source of heavenly light.

Long flowing tresses
  She had flung on her back
    That in the folds of her raiment
      Did silkily track,

That yet in the coldness
  Of the dark wintry room,
    Imparted the warmth
      Of spring flowers in bloom.

All beauty from heaven
  To her was bequeathed,
    And perfection encircled
       Her head like a wreath.

Her eyes, filled with moonbeams,
  How they twinkled and shined!
    Her cheeks were like roses
      That her curls had entwined.

The light on her breasts
  From the new-fallen snow
    Gave the luster of midday
      To objects I’d know.

New stockings were hung
  On her ankles with care
    In hopes her Prince Charming
      Soon would be there.

In that cold darkness
  There danced such a vision.
    It didn’t take me long
      To make a decision.

Her stockings I’d inch down
  Her ankles with care.
    With a sleigh full of toys,
      St. Nicholas had been there.

He surely had granted
  My fondest of wishes.
    I was beholding a goddess
      While she clattered my dishes.

“I’ll stoop down to her ankle,
  As I merrily whistle,
    And work my way up
      Like the down of a thistle.

“As she bends at the sink-top,
  In a twinkling haste,
    I’ll clasp my strong arms
      Around her gloriously robed waist.

“Eyes of green emerald,
  Skin soft and white,
    Oh what did I do
      To deserve such delight?”

As I drew in my hand,
  As she was turning around,
    The clattering pie plates
      Ceased making their sound.

But a glint in her eye
  And a tilt of her head
    Soon gave me to know
      I had nothing to dread.

This life-giving goddess
  Would soon warm my cold bed
    And give me to know
      That I wasn’t yet dead.

We spoke not a word,
  But went straight to our work
    Of giving warmth to the coldness
      And bringing light to the murk.

She then turned to face me,
  Our arms intertwined,
    And as our hair intermingled,
      Her lips then met mine.

Our flesh then erupted
  With volcanic desire.
    The warmth from her body
      Ignited my fire.

The blazing inferno
  Burned through her as well.
    I felt her sweet passion
      Grasp tighter than hell.

I could bear it no longer,
  And neither could she.
    I then quickly pondered
      What my next move would be.

“Since I do not like football,
  And she’s not into rap,
    I’ll suggest that we settle
      For a long winter’s nap.”

She must have been psychic
  For before it was said,
    We started our trek
      To the bedroom (she led).

More rapid than eagles,
  To the bedroom we came,
    With I in my Levis
      Still looking the same,

But as we swift coursers
  Crashed through heaven’s door,
    A funny thing happened
      To the white robe that she wore:

It must have been magic,
  For right there in my face,
    A black satin nightgown
      Had taken its place.

At my bedside I tarried
  To light a small candle
    To more clearly discern
      What delights I might handle.

In the warm flickering glowing
  Of the candle’s dim light,
    I could see her more clearly
      Than in moonlight I might.

The sweet scene that befell me
  In this chamber of love
    Could only have fallen
      From high heaven above!

Words cannot possibly
  Even begin to describe
    Beauty incarnate
      And perfection alive!

What once had been only
  The vaguest of dreams,
    Sad Longing’s most hopeless
      And hapless of schemes,

What once had been shrouded
  And buried in mist
    Was fleshed out before me
      Alive to be kissed.

Like Pygmalion’s statue:
  An ideal come to life!
    No earthly pretenders
      To a heavenly wife.

As her white robe had once beamed
  With the August sun’s light,
    For a gown she was wearing
      The warm summer’s night.

Like a willow’s drooped branches
  Amid night’s starlit charms,
    Her dark, lovely tresses
      Draped down on bare arms.

The bare tops of her breasts
  That her gown had not covered
    Were like ivory half-moons
      That had risen and hovered.

Her eyes shined and sparkled
  Like twin evening stars,
    And on her black gown for sequins
      Hung Jupiter and Mars.

This vision from heaven
  Brought tears to my eyes.
    My heaven-sent goddess
      Was dressed in night skies!

More wondrously stunning
  Than I ever saw.
    I knelt down at her feet
      In mute reverence and awe.

“I’ll kneel down at her ankles
  And slip her out of the stockings
    As desire gathers around me
      Like birds that are flocking.

“I’ll inch down her stockings
  Off her ankles with care
    And invite her to bed
      Once her feet are both bare.”

When that I accomplished,
  I got in bed once again.
    I asked her to join me,
      And she jumped right on in.

Like children we nestled
  All snug in our bed
    While visions of sugar-plums
      Danced in my head.

Her stockings were off,
  And her ankles were bare,
    So I said to myself,
      “I think I’ll start there.

“I’ll start with her ankle,
  Moving ever so slightly,
    And work my way up
      To the hem of her nighty.

“I’ll start with her ankle,
  Move up to her knee,
    And work my way up
      Till her thighs are both free.

“And coursing up ever farther,
  In a twinkling haste,
    I’ll clasp hot raring hands
      Around her warm silky waist.”

With brisk fingers like reindeer
  And swift hands like a sleigh,
    With my bundle of toys
      I did merrily play,

When what to my wandering
  Hands should appear,
    But miniature panties
      (Felt by eight tiny reindeer).

Under her nighty,
  All tiny and teeny,
    I could feel the faint outline
      Of a miniature bikini.

“Sweet eyes of green emerald,
  Satin skin, soft and white,
    Oh what did I do
      To deserve such a night?

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer!
  Now, Prancer and Vixen!
    On, Comet! on, Cupid!
      On, Donner and Blitzen!

“To the top of her panties!
  To the top of that wall!
    Now, dash away, dash away,
      Dash away all!”

My Levis were bursting
  At all of their seams.
    She was the fulfillment
      Of my wildest of dreams.

All over the bedroom
  On the carpet below,
    Our items of clothing
      Kept falling like snow:

The castaway raiment
  Of two depraved strippers,
    Unhung Christmas stockings
      From which I had slipped her.

In the midst of my kisses
  I could hear a faint groan
    So I listened intently
      To the sound of her moan:

“There’s no place, no place,
  No place I ever saw,
    No place on this earth
      Like Arkansas.

“No place, no place,
  No place that I’ve been!
    Compared to Olympus,
      Arkansas wins.”

“But why on this earth
  Would she want to come here?
    Could it be that she loves me?
      I’ll whisper this in her ear:

“If you were a nut
  (I’m a terrible sinner),
    Then I’d be the squirrel
      That would crack you for dinner.

“If I were your bread,
  It would be no surprise
    That you’d be the yeast
      That would make my dough rise.

“If I were a bee
  And you were a flower,
    I’d be craving your nectar
      Every waking hour.

“Let’s wash all those dishes,
  And when we are finished,
    Let’s hop in the shower
      With libidos undiminished.

“If I had your psychic
  And magical powers,
    Then I’d be the water
      That runs in your shower.

“If I could be present
  When you draw your bath water,
    Could you please cast a spell
      And change me into an otter?

“If I were a towel,
  I’d be awaiting the hour
    When Psyche once more
      Steps out of the shower.

“And when we’re done in the bathroom,
  When we’re finally through,
    It’s His and Hers night shirts,
      One for me, one for you.

“The idea of a back rub
  Sounds super to me.
    If you get under my shirt,
      I’ll rub yours for free.

“If you were a kitten
  (I am so mean),
    Then I’d be the cat
      That would lick your fur clean.

“If you were my kitten,
  I would lick clean your fur
    And contentedly listen
      To the sound of your purr.

“If she then gets too noisy,
  I know what I’ll do:
    I’ll just shut her up
      With a lip-lock or two.

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer!
  Now, Prancer and Vixen!
    On, Comet! on, Cupid!
      On, Donner and Blitzen!

“Clothes strewn on the floor
  To the top of the wall!
    Now, dash away, dash away,
      Dash away all!”

I had an idea,
  And was it a scream!
    I’d lather her neck
      With all-natural whipped cream.

No need to add sugar,
  For she was naturally sweet.
    Just the mere thought
      Made my heart skip a beat.

While out in the kitchen
  (I made a reverse trek),
    I whipped up enough
      For her shoulders and neck.

“I think I’ll make extra,
  For I might just need more.
    I’ve never licked cream
      Off a goddess before.”

When I reentered the bedroom,
  What a radiant sight
    Awaited me there
      In the subdued window light!

The light on her bare breasts
  From the new-fallen snow
    Gave the luster of midday
      To those objects I’d know.

Now all that she wore
  As she lay on my bed
    Was a pair of silk panties
      (Must have been green and red).

With her head on my pillow
  And her soft hands on my sheets,
    I crept in beside her
      As my heart drummed fierce beats.

Wearing nothing but panties
  And long ringlets of hair,
    Overlain with chilled currents
      Of sheer see-through air,

In the red dying ember
  Of the candle’s last light,
    She was wearing perfection
      As she once wore the night.

“Eyes of greenest emerald,
  Silken skin, all pearl white,
    If my heart beats much faster,
      It might just take flight.”

My jeans grew much tighter
  (I was wearing no shirt),
    So much tighter, in fact,
      That they started to hurt.

But as if she were psychic,
  To my shocked disbelief,
    She passed me a pair
      Of tiger-striped briefs.

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer!
  Now, Prancer and Vixen!
    On, Comet! on, Cupid!
      On, Donner and Blitzen!

“To break loose from these Levis,
  Out of bed I must crawl.
    Now, dash away, dash away,
      Dash away all!”

My heart did beat faster.
  In my chest I could hear
    The prancing and pawing
      Of eight tiny reindeer.

I unbuttoned my Levis,
  Pulled them down off my waist,
    And transformed into a tiger
      With the swiftest of haste.

I leapt there beside her,
  Pawed my whipped cream,
    And licked it from off her
      For hours, it seemed.

Her neck was inviting,
  Her shoulders lay bare,
    So I said to myself,
      “Why not start there?

“I’ll start with her shoulders,
  Move down to her chest,
    And work my way lower,
      All the way to her breasts.

“As she lies there beside me,
  I’ll have just a taste:
    I’ll press my starved lips
      To her glorious bare waist.

“And moving back upward,
  At her breasts I will stop,
    Before returning once more
      To sweet lips at the top.”

With breast to breast,
  With thigh to thigh,
    With tiger stripes to red satin,
      I thought I might die.

My kisses rained down
  On her neck and her shoulders.
    She held me much tighter.
      My fingers grew bolder:

All around and over
  And under her teeny
    Victoria’s Secret
      Now soaking-wet bikini.

Like leaves of autumn
  And snowflakes in winter,
    My kisses kept falling.
      To heaven I sent her.

Like raindrops of summer
  And dewdrops of spring
    Splashing upon her!
      What paradise she’d bring!

“The temperature’s rising.
  Can it possibly be
    The end of December
      And a hundred and three?”

The window got foggy,
  The sheets felt damn wet,
    Our bellies got slippery,
      It must have been sweat.

With slippery slick sweat
  All covering her belly,
    I kept rolling right off her
      Like a bowlful of jelly.

With thighs spreading wider
  She was hotter than hell.
    Something upon me
      Had managed to swell.

I could bear it no longer.
  “I must have relief!”
    I rose up to pull down
      My tiger-striped briefs.

When that I accomplished
  (My task half complete),
    I slipped her silk panties
      From off of her feet.

I then went inside her
  (She guided me in).
    To me it did seem
      That to heaven I’d been!

“Closest eyes of greenest emerald,
  Silky smooth and so tight.
    I could live a thousand lifetimes
      And never know such delight!”

Our bodies intermingled.
  Our souls intertwined.
    I could scarcely believe it.
      The goddess was mine!

I kissed her lips gently
  As I moved out and in,
    She matched every motion
      And lit up with a grin.

In the midst of my kisses
  I could hear a loud groan,
    So I listened intently
      To the sound of her moan:

“There’s no place, no place,
  No place I ever saw,
    No place on this planet
      Like Arkansas.

“No place, no place,
  No place I’ve ever been!
    Compared to Jove on Olympus,
      Arkansas wins.”

That finally did it!
  When Santa Claus came,
    I tore open and shuddered
      And cried out her name:

The most beautiful name
  That I’ve ever heard,
    The name of a goddess!
      Believe every word!

“From faraway Olympus
  To right here in Arkansas,
    I’m lying here helpless
      And speechless in awe.”

We talked as I held her
  For what seemed like long hours
    As her breasts pressed upon me
      Like twin ivory towers.

“From the depths of her body
  To the depths of her soul!
    On, Dasher! On, Dancer!
      On, Prancer! Let’s roll!”

She told me she’d come here
  On her own sweet volition.
    Not brought by St. Nick,
      She was here on a mission:

For thousands of years, now,
  Her joys had been few.
    An ageless, fair goddess
      Can get lonely too.

“But how in this world
  Did you find me, pray tell?”
    “Oh silly boy, can’t you guess?
      I have Internet as well.”

“No older than twenty,
  This sweet girl appears,
    Possessing the wisdom
      Of ten thousands of years.”

All the rest of that night
  We made funny faces
    As our hair intermingled
      In all the right places,

While there on the floor,
  Like two autumn leafs,
    Lay green and red panties
      And tiger-striped briefs.

As I lay there all lifeless
  And limp in her arms,
    Exhausted and worn out
      From all of her charms,

I got this idea
  That we just had to try:
    “I must have a piece
      Of her sugar-plum pie.”

So I pleadingly whispered
  To my all-pleasing goddess,
    “Before, I was horny,
      But now I’m hungry, I promise.

“Could you arise from our bed
  And join me out in our kitchen?
    We’ll bake us a pie
      To put an end to my bitchin.”

So I leapt up and raked up
  From off of the floor
    My tiger-striped briefs
      And pulled them on me once more.

I tossed her her panties,
  And then in a flurry
    She slipped them back on
      (I told her to hurry).

Back out to the kitchen
  We flew like a flash,
    Opened my pantry,
      And raided my stash:

Whole wheat flour (no sugar)
  And cherries and fixings.
    I tossed her a bowl
      And she started her mixing.

In white dazzling radiance
  Like the snow in noon’s light,
    I could now see her clearly
      For the first time that night.

The light now embraced her
  As I had once done,
    In dazed adoration,
      As a kiss from the sun.

It caressed her all over,
  From her hips to her breasts,
    And acknowledged perfection
      As she passed its strict test.

Those green and red panties
  Were all that she wore.
    Was I hungry or horny?
      “I’m not sure anymore!”

Wearing nothing myself
  But tiger-striped briefs,
    I crept up behind her
      (Seeking relief).

As she arched at the stove-top
  By the paper towel rack,
    Her long curling tresses
      Spilled down her bare back.

They streamed down her skin
  Like a meandering river,
    Changing its course
      At her tiniest quiver.

Like a river of life
  Jetting forth from her head,
    Letting me know once again
      That I wasn’t yet dead.

I pressed up against her,
  My chest to her back.
    With my hands on her shoulders,
      I planned my attack.

Her hair softly tickled
  The backs of my hands
    While my palms and my fingers
      Were exploring new lands.

I inched my hands lower
  And embraced her bare waist.
    My fingers were searching.
      Her paradise they chased!

Lower they ventured,
  And still even lower.
    “Not long,” I then thought,
      “Till I will biblically know her.”

Under her panties
  And into her soft fur,
    I nestled four reindeer
      (She let out a loud purr).

They pranced and they pawed
  In her most holy of places!
    And with Old Donner inside her
      She made those strange faces.

Toward that sacred, lush garden
  Like a dripping oasis,
    Crawled the sun-scorched and dying
      From the dry desert spaces.

At that warm, steaming oven
  Amidst my pots and my pans,
    A cold pilgrim once lingered
      To warm his iced hands.

My tiger-striped briefs
  Were born again as an arrow.
    “I must strike that sleek target
      So soaked and so narrow.”

I tugged at my waistband
  With the hand I had free
    And flew out like a flash,
      At a hundred and three.

With a little old driver
  So lively and thick,
    I knew in a moment
    That this would be quick.

He was rosy and plump,
  A right jolly old elf.
    (I knew that I should be
      Ashamed of myself.)

But as leaves that before
  The wild hurricane fly,
    We are driven by passion
      To mount to the sky!

When the reindeer had landed,
  When I held both of her breasts,
    I could hold out no longer
      In this Olympic love-fest.

The night I came knocking
  At the goddess’s back door
    Was a night to remember.
      I can tell you no more.

As best I remember,
  That pie was not baked.
    More horny than hungry,
      What a mess we did make!

With our bodies all tarnished
  With fresh whole wheat flour
    Like ashes and soot,
      It was time for that shower.

So off to the bathroom
  We then flew like a flash,
    I turned on the hot water
      And in a mad dash,

We stripped off our undies
  (They were still clinging on us),
    And in that Garden of Eden
      I received my next bonus:

As I streaked past the mirror,
  I thought I could see
    Michelangelo’s David
      Take a quick peek at me.

When I mustered the courage
  To take a much closer look,
    The image, it shimmered
      As I stood there and shook.

My shape-shifting goddess
  Had indeed cast her spell:
    Never once in my life
      Had I looked this damn well.

Like the statue of David:
  An ideal brought to life!
    No earthly pretender
      For my goddess-slash-wife.

She was dressed in sweet nothing,
  In a raiment like Eve’s,
    In the midst of that garden
      Interspersed with green leaves,

She walked unashamed
  With no cause to conceal
    What God Himself fashioned
      With no faults to reveal.

As a world to herself,
  Her Creator had shaped her,
    And in beauty itself,
      Like the sun, he had draped her.

“On her hills, in her valleys,
  By her forests and shores,
    With her beauty for sunlight,
      I will dwell evermore!”

Her breasts were like mountains
  I was longing to climb!
    Her valleys, they beckoned
      Like shade at noontime!

Her hair, like a forest
  I could lose myself in,
    Branched down her bare back
      Through soft clearings of skin.

With mountainous breasts
  And whole forests of curls,
    She was not a mere goddess.
      She was my whole world.

Like Eve in the Garden
  With no fig leaf she stood,
    And wouldn’t you know it:
      I again turned to wood!

Standing there gazing
  On the stark-naked goddess,
    I could barely endure it.
      I became quite immodest.

As still as a picture,
  By the tub she did stand.
    There was no other motion
      But my swift sleight of hand.

Standing naked like Adam,
  Before her I marveled.
    It was her inspiration
      That had turned me to marble.

For no other woman
  In this world I could see.
    Like Eve was to Adam,
      She was everything to me.

The light shone upon her
  Like the tropical sun.
    The temperature was rising
      (To a hundred and one).

The warm waves in the bathtub
  Made a loud splashing sound.
    It was like sand by the ocean
      With all that flour strewn around.

My desire came surging
  Like an incoming tide!
    She half closed her eyes
      And turned her head to the side.

Her hair draped her shoulders
  In thick flowing curls.
    “There are no other women.
      There are no other girls.

“In all of my life
  I have never once seen
    A picture so lovely,
      Like out of a dream.”

Standing there naked
  So closely beside her,
    I could clearly envision
      Once being inside her.

It was almost as though
  I could feel her own grip,
    Grasping around me
      (Either that or her lips).

Then into the bathtub
  She gracefully stepped,
    While carefully traipsing
      Behind her I crept.

I sat down in the water
  Facing her back.
    My legs slipped around her
      (For space we did lack).

She leaned back against me.
  My arms coursed around her.
    “How ecstatic it makes me
      To have finally found her.”

She was the perfect fulfillment
  Of my life’s greatest dream.
    Pure joy poured upon me
      Like the warm faucet stream.

I washed her all over.
  It was simply the best!
    She was all wet and soapy:
      Slippery thighs to slick breasts.

As I teased her hard nipples
  And squeezed her wet thighs,
    She leaned her head nearer
      And looked straight in my eyes.

“Sweet eyes of greenest emerald,
  Glossy skin, all soaped white,
    My God, how I hope
      There’s no end to this night!”

Her breath, it did quiver
  As she leaned back to kiss.
    That she wanted me within her
      Was impossible to miss.

She placed my hand lower,
  All the way past her waist.
    It dived to the water
      With the swiftest of haste.

I proceeded to rub her
  As she kissed my wet lips.
    She pressed back on me harder
      With her warm, sudsy hips.

With a hard bar of soap
  Wedged tightly between us,
    I’d have been thoroughly embarrassed
      If our mothers had seen us.

With our lips pressed together,
  With her tongue licking mine,
    And with Dasher inside her,
      Her kiss was like wine.

Through her hard, pressing kiss
  I could hear a faint mutter,
    “Barely louder,” I thought,
      “Than her heart’s racing flutter.”

“I must have you right now.
  I need to feel you inside me.”
    So I turned her around
      So like a horse she could ride me.

My legs stretched one way
  And hers stretched another.
    She slipped down around me
      And rode like no other.

We sat tightly gripped
  In each other’s embrace:
    Breast to breast, heart to heart,
      Eye to eye, face to face.

She pulsed her soaked hips
  In a rhythmical motion.
    I pushed up inside her,
      The water like lotion.

Her hips then pulsed faster
  And made waves in the tub
    As she pressed even harder
      So against me she’d rub.

When I felt her tense shudder,
  I then knew it was time:
    Ecstatic waves of pure pleasure
      Had rewarded our crime.

As she sank limp and lifeless
  And ceased her loud groans,
    I could hear her soft whisper
      Interspersed with faint moans:

“There’s no place, no place,
  No place that I’ve been!
    No place on Olympus
      Like this warm tub of sin.”

She then asked if I’d ever
  Done it this way before:
    Interlocked in a bathtub
      With our legs getting sore.

I told her I hadn’t,
  That she was my first,
    The first time a bathtub
      Had so quenched my thirst.

“I’ve changed you into an animal,
  A sex-crazed horned toad,”
    Joked the wet, soap-stained goddess
      As tires screeched in the road.

“No, I already was one.
  I’m no worse than I’ve been,”
    I joked with my goddess,
      With a shy, sheepish grin.

“Then you have before done this?
  I might have known you were bad!”
    Cried the wet, green-eyed goddess,
      Getting more and more mad.

Like a frog in that water
  That had once been a prince,
    I felt sharp words spear me
      As she grew more incensed.

She sprang from the bathtub.
  To her white robe she did race,
    Then called me a liar
      And slammed the door in my face.

And then in an instant,
  As a dream sometimes does,
    It all returned back
      To the way it once was.

I turned with a jerk
  And looked frantically around,
    But my tiger-striped briefs
      Were nowhere to be found.

Yet still, a slight trace
  Of my goddess did stay,
    For nothing can take
      Her sweet memory away,

As warm glowing embers
  At my hearth yet remained,
    Though the hot, blazing fire
      Had withered and waned.

Clad in my bathrobe,
  All crying and wet,
    I’d not one precious moment
      With her to regret.

As I wiped frost from my window
  And tears from my eyes,
    I could see my beloved goddess
      Beneath the dark, late-night skies.

By the road she was standing
  Where a deer had been hit!
    It was lying there lifeless
      And not moving a bit.

In the quiet, night-drenched whiteness
  Of the now-falling snow,
    I could see from my window
      A faint yellow glow.

Her hands glowed much brighter
  As they touched the dead deer,
    And once more on my cheek
      I could feel a cold tear.

For there in the snow
  Beside this glowing good witch,
    The broke legs of the deer
      Began slowly to twitch.

It moved its furred body
  And raised its horned head.
    “Dear God, what strong magic!
      That deer had been dead!”

I watched in amazement,
  For in the place where she stood,
    It leapt up from the pavement
      And ran off to the woods!

The life-gift she’d brought
  To my dead, love-starved soul
    She also had granted
      To that deer in the snow.