For the Love of Holly

"Ma and I are as white as they come, Yolanda. You're our family."

"That's true. Oh, I get it. I'm the token minority!" We all laughed.

"I'm looking forward to it too," Holly said. "Ma's one of the nicest people I know, and she makes a great Thanksgiving dinner. She's done this for a few years, but she usually only invites old-timers like me and Yolanda. She really likes you, James. She respects you for what you're trying to do for this place."

"Do you need a ride to her house?" I asked. "I could take you and drop you off at your place when we're done. Besides, I don't know where she lives, so you could direct me."

"I'd like that, James."

Thanksgiving Day was insane. The place was packed for the mid-day meal, and we managed to have small portions of turkey, yams, and stuffing for everyone, along with our regular soup. The TV crew stayed longer than anyone expected, and they didn't just set up outside. A newsman and cameraman spent a lot of time in the dining room, interviewing staff and clients alike. A reporter from the paper was able to spend a few minutes with Ma, and she introduced him to some of us in the kitchen. JZ and Yolanda gave him a few good quotes about the importance of the kitchen in the survival of the street people in this part of our city, and both of them were completely honest with him about their own backgrounds and why they were there.

After we had closed down the kitchen, Holly and I went out to my car and headed to Ma's house. As I half expected, Ma assigned us seats at her dining room table, and Holly and I were placed next to each other. We all talked about what a busy and exciting day it had been, and Ma seemed very pleased with the publicity we had gotten.

We stuffed ourselves. Ma is an excellent cook. Over pumpkin pie and warm apple cider, we talked more about the importance of the next four weeks. "Kids," she said, "I've got to be honest with you. We're in deep financial trouble. The utility bills are overdue, and some of our suppliers are starting to threaten to suspend our deliveries if we don't catch up on our payments to them. Last summer, I mortgaged this house and lent the money to the foundation to help out, but they are struggling to make their payments to me. I have my late husband's life insurance money to use to pay back the mortgage, and I'm prepared to do that, but still, things don't look good.

"The fundraiser will save us," Holly said.

"It will help, but I'm afraid it won't be enough. Starting in January, we may have to change our kitchen hours to cut down on the number of meals we serve. It's the only thing I can think of to try to cut expenses."

"Some of our people will go hungry," Yolanda said.

"I know, but what else can I do?" Ma answered. "The only other thing we can do is just keep on like we are until they turn off the lights and the gas, and then just close up completely. I don't want to think about having to do that."

We talked a while longer, but it was getting late. I drove Holly back to her place and walked her to her door.

"I heard the one guy from the TV crew say that they were going to do a spot on the 11 o'clock news about the kitchen. I want to watch it," Holly said.

"So do I," I answered, "so I guess I should get going."

Holly looked at my watch. "It's almost 11 now. If they do it as the lead story, you're going to miss it. Come in and watch it with me."

She led me into her apartment, and indicated that I should sit on the couch. She turned on the TV, and then sat down next to me. The local news came on almost immediately.

"Good evening. I'm Mike Samuels, and I'm here today at the South Street Community Kitchen. Over 350 disadvantaged residents of our city depend on this facility as their only means to escape starvation. Standing with me is the amazing woman who runs this place, a woman who prefers to be known simply as Ma. Tell our viewers about the work you people do here, Ma."

Ma gave a brief interview, explaining that the kitchen was run by a small charitable foundation, and that all of our operating budget came from donations and charitable contributions. She also said that the demand for our services was on the rise, while funding was decreasing. The camera then switched to shots of the dining room, filled with homeless people having their meager Thanksgiving dinner. After that was some footage taken in the kitchen. The TV guy was doing a voice-over as these scenes were shown.

"The South Street kitchen struggles more every month to stay open," he said. "All of their workers are volunteers, or individuals like James Summers, shown here, who was sentenced to community service work here at the kitchen as a result of a brush with the law."

"That's you!" Holly exclaimed.

Mike Samuels continued, "James is a student at the City Technical Institute School of Culinary Arts. He has involved his classmates and his instructor in a campaign to raise desperately needed funds to allow the kitchen to provide a proper Christmas dinner for its patrons, and, hopefully, to allow the kitchen to remain in operation throughout the winter, when its services are needed the most. I spoke with James' instructor, David Fredricks, about their fund-raising effort.

"Look, Holly, that's my instructor! I didn't know he worked the serving line today!" I said.

Mr. Fredricks was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, covered with an apron that had some food stains on it. He had a hairnet on his head. It appeared that they had just closed down the serving line. The TV reporter got Mr. Fredricks to talk about our fundraiser.

Then the scene switched to Mike Samuels on the sidewalk outside the kitchen. He said, "The current recession has made it tough for all of us. But most of us will still have some kind of a dinner on Christmas, and expect to be able to continue to feed ourselves and our families. For the people of South Street, the picture is not as good. As we move into the holiday season, we ask that you take a moment to think about these disadvantaged people, and the struggling facility that tries to help them. Your small contribution can make a huge difference. For more information about the South Street Community Kitchen or the City Technical Institute's fundraiser, go to the websites being shown on your screen, or call the toll-free number shown here to make a pledge. A little help will go a long way." The TV then cut to a commercial.

Holly looked at me, wonder in her eyes. "You're going to do it, James. You and your friends are going to save the kitchen."

"I hope so," I said.

Holly leaned into me and kissed me. Our kiss was warm, loving, full of joy and hope. She then turned her back to me and settled against me. I put my arms around her to hold her, and we relaxed, cuddled together to watch the rest of the news. She was asleep before the sports came on.

The feel of Holly's warm body against me was both stimulating and comforting. She just felt right. Being with her made me happy. Apparently, I was more tired from our busy day than I thought, because I don't remember seeing the weather broadcast.

At some point, I think I remember feeling us shift our positions on the couch so we were lying down together, but the next thing I was truly conscious of was the smell of Holly's lovely hair against my face. I woke up to feel her beautiful ass pressed against my morning wood. My hand was cupping her one firm breast, and I could feel the very hard nipple between my fingers.

"James? James? Wake up. I could lie here like this with you forever, but we need to get ready to go to the kitchen."

I became conscious enough to realize where my hand and cock were. I quickly removed my hand and attempted to pull my pelvis away from her. "Oh God, Holly, I'm sorry."

"Please, James, it's OK. You're not the first man I've ever woken up next to." She stood up, looked intensely into my eyes, and then looked shyly down at the floor. "I've been awake for a while. I liked to feel you against me. But," she said, looking up again, "we need to get moving. You take a shower while I make breakfast. I've got some football jerseys that I sometimes wear to bed. One of them should fit you. You don't really have time to go home. There are extra towels in the bathroom."

When I got out of the shower, I could smell the full-bodied aromas of Colombian coffee and bacon. I dressed quickly and went to the kitchen. "Smells wonderful!" I said. Holly turned and smiled at me, and again, I appreciated her beauty. Especially those damn dimples.

"Breakfast is served, dear sir," she teased, as she set a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, a plate filled with perfectly browned bacon and two eggs sunny-side up, a side plate of whole-grain toast, and a steaming mug of coffee in front of me. She joined me at the table with smaller portions of her own.

"Wow, Holly, you didn't have to do all this. I usually just grab a bowl of cereal for myself in the morning."

"You, the aspiring master chef, don't cook in the mornings? I would have thought eggs Benedict and made-from-scratch muffins would have been your usual fare."

"I would do that if I had a guest for breakfast, I guess," I said between bites.

"I'd like to have you make me breakfast sometime," Holly said. Then she quickly looked at her plate and began to eat.

As I ate, I wondered exactly what she had meant by that. Did she just want me to invite her for breakfast, or did I dare to infer much more?

"Would you do me a favor, James?" Holly asked as she stood up from the table.

"Sure. What?"

"I have time for a quick shower before we have to go. Would you mind doing the dishes? There should be plenty of hot water. You don't have to worry about freezing me in the shower."

"I'd be happy to." Holly quickly left the room.

Odd. I normally hate washing dishes. But that domestic chore was suddenly enjoyable, I guess because I was doing Holly's dishes. For a moment, I found myself just standing at the sink, my hands in the water, listening to the sounds of Holly in the shower. I wondered what she looked like, shampoo in her hair, soapy water streaming over her breasts, her luscious looking ass, and her pussy. I wondered if she was shaved. I tried to clear my head, saying to myself, "Stop it James. We're just friends. Getting to be very good friends, but friends, all the same. Don't do something stupid and screw it up."

We were a couple of minutes late getting to the kitchen. Ma gave us a strange look when we rushed in together, but simply said, "I was starting to worry about you two". Yolanda, to my surprise, kept her mouth shut for once. But her smiles at me seemed a little more naughty than usual.

The crowd wasn't too overwhelming, although after the previous day, almost nothing would have overwhelmed me.

At lunch, Ma joined us in the dining room. "I've been on the phone all morning. It just won't stop ringing. Mr. Fredricks, your instructor, Jimmy-boy, tells me that the websites they showed on the news last night have crashed twice because of the number of hits they've been getting. The TV reporter who was here yesterday called to say that the station has hired two temps to man that toll-free number, because they're getting so many calls. They didn't say how much they've received in pledges, because they can't keep up with the totals. But he did tell me that one anonymous donor asked for an estimate of our utility bills for next year, because he's thinking of paying them for us!"

Yolanda said, "Ma, that's the kind of help that could keep this place afloat. Thank you, lord!"

Ma said, "Jimmy-boy, if your people do what I think they're going to do, we could have enough to make a big Christmas dinner for everyone, with enough money left over to carry us deep into next year. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Holly grabbed my hand, on top of the table where everyone could see it. "You're saying that James is going to save the kitchen."

"Not without a lot of luck, and lot of help from my friends," I pointed out quickly.

Yolanda said, "James, I told you before, you make your own luck. Just like you make your own friends. I'd be proud to hear that you think I'm one of them."

"You've gotten to be one of my closest friends, Yolanda. In spite of the way you tease me, in spite of the way you make fun of me sometimes, I know you're a very special friend."

Since this was my Thanksgiving break from work and school, I worked my usual Saturday, and went in on Sunday, too. Each day was the same after our Thanksgiving rush, busy, but manageable.

As we were getting back to work after lunch on Sunday, Holly said to me, "What are you doing after work tonight?"

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"Go shopping for Christmas decorations for the dining room. The stuff we have is so old and beat up that I hate to see us put it up again."

"OK," I said. "That could be fun."

"We could stay late next Saturday and decorate after we close the dining room. You could stay at my place again, and I'll make us breakfast." She didn't wait for a reply, but instead turned and walked to her work area. I watched her tight little ass sway as she walked away.

I head Yolanda chuckle. "Stay at her place again? She'll make you breakfast again?"

"It's not what you think, Yolanda. We fell asleep on her couch watching the 11 o'clock news Thanksgiving night."

"Uh huh," Yolanda said, giving me a wicked smile.

"We did, damn it. And our clothes were on the whole time, in case you need to know."

"I've been at Holly's place. She has a nice couch, but you had to get pretty damn cozy to both fit on it together. Clothes stayed on? Yeah, well, it's a start," Yolanda said.

I could feel the heat in my cheeks, but I decided I shouldn't say anything more.

Every time Holly came over to me that day, I found myself looking at her a little differently than I ever had before. It wasn't really lust; I'd already had some fantasies about her, and there was no denying how attractive she was. I realized that my attraction to her wasn't just physical anymore. And I was starting to get pretty comfortable with the idea.

Yolanda caught me looking at Holly a couple of times. She just gave me her knowing smile, and sometimes a little wink.

After work, Holly and I got in my car. We wanted to get busy with our shopping, but we were both hungry, so we stopped at a little pizzeria and grabbed a quick dinner. Over dinner, we talked a lot about the kitchen. We agreed to split the expense of the decorations, and then discussed the kinds of decorations we thought we could afford.

After dinner, when I opened my car door for Holly, she drew me in and kissed me again. "I think this is going to be a great Christmas, James."

"I do too," I said as I held her warm body tight against me.

Holly directed me to a store that specialized in discount holiday decorations. The place was huge, and had every type of light, wreath, tree, and decoration you could imagine. We spent a long time admiring everything and trying to make up our minds. An employee came over and asked if he could help us, since it was getting close to closing time.

"We're trying to find some simple, durable decorations that we can use for a big room," Holly said. "But we don't have a lot of money to spend."

The store employee looked at me. "Don't I know you from someplace?" he asked. "Wait, didn't I see you on TV? You're from the South Street kitchen, aren't you?"

"I work there. Their dining room is what we're trying to decorate," I said.

"Wait right there," the guy said, and he hurried off. In just a moment, he returned with a heavy-set older man, with a flowing white beard and white hair.

"Hi, my name's Chris," the man said. "And yes, I get it all the time, since my last name starts with a K. I've always loved Christmas, so when my hair went from gray to white, I decided, why not? The beard completes the Kris Kringle image, don't you think? But enough about me. I saw you on the news last night. James, isn't it? And is this lovely young lady your wife?"

Holly said, "My name's Holly. James and I work together at the South Street Community Kitchen. We decided we wanted to decorate the dining room for the season. But we don't have a lot to spend."

"Holly? Oh I like that," Chris said. "Was your father's name Rudolph, by any chance?"

"Frank, actually," Holly replied.

"No matter," Chris said, giving us a jolly laugh. "Just a little holiday humor."

We both managed to grin politely at the man's poor attempt at a joke.

"Hmmm," Chris said, combing his beard with his fingers. "I saw the dining room on the news. I think I have some things that would really spruce it up. Get it? Spruce? Christmas tree?" He laughed, and his belly honestly did shake. "Oh never mind, just follow me.

"You'll need these lights, about twenty strings, to put around the windows and along the tops of the walls. Don't worry. They're LEDs. Hardly use any electricity. And a couple boxes of these window appliques. The ceiling looked to be about twelve feet high on TV. Is that about right?"

"Yes, but we don't have much money," Holly said. "James and I are paying for this out of our own pockets, and we just can't spend much."

"OK, you'll need about a ten-foot tree. Here, we just got this one in yesterday. Artificial, but top-of-the line. It'll last for years. This display model here comes complete with lights and decorations. That would do nicely."

"Chris," I said, "we can't afford anything like that."

"What? Oh, my dear boy, you're not paying for anything. I wouldn't hear of it. It's Christmas! Consider this a donation. I'll even put everything up for you. When is your dining room empty?"

Holly said, "The last of the breakfast crowd is out by 9, and we don't re-open the doors for lunch until 11:30. But wait, you're donating this stuff?"

"Of course. I was poor once too. Dirt poor. I know you can't tell now, considering how, ahem, portly I've become, but as a kid I never had enough to eat. That's why I love Christmas so much. It's a season of giving and joy. Let me enjoy Christmas this year by giving to you folks. I'll load up my sleigh (actually, it's a truck) and I'll be there at nine with some of my elves, I mean, employees. We can be done and out of there by 11. What do you say?"

For a minute, Holly and I couldn't say anything. Finally, I found my voice. "I guess 'Thank you' is pretty weak, but it's all I can think of."

"'Thank you' is more than enough for me," Chris said. "Now run along, you two. I've got some work to do."

When we got out to my car, I said, "What just happened in there?"

"I think Santa is coming early to South Street," Holly said.

"That guy was a little over the top, wasn't he?" I laughed.

"Yeah, but I think it's great."

"So do I," I said.

We were quiet during most of the drive back to Holly's apartment. When I parked the car and walked her to her door, she asked, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"We both have classes tomorrow, Holly, so maybe I should just go home."

"What about breakfast?"

"I could pick you up and we could go somewhere before we have to be at school."

"James, please stay with me tonight."

"I don't think my back can take another night on your couch."

"Who said anything about the couch?"

I couldn't believe she had said that. "I don't know, Holly."

"Don't you like me?" she asked, with a little bit of a pout.

"It's not that at all, believe me. I'm starting to like you a whole lot. But I don't want to hurt you."

"James, I'm not that fragile. I don't hurt easily."

"OK then, I don't want to hurt myself. I told you, I promised myself, after Marcy, that I wasn't going to rush into anything. I'm being honest here. I think I could fall for you, hard, but I'm just not sure I'm ready."

"Here's an idea," Holly said. "I have a big bed. I'll sleep under the sheet, and you can sleep on top of the sheet. We'll share the blankets, but that's it. What do you normally wear to bed?"