Two days before Christmas, I resolve that, whether or not Chris can make it home on time, he’ll still turn up and I can at least get a tree and make some effort at holiday cheer. Maybe it will make me feel better.

Of course, finding a tree this close to Christmas is ludicrous, but there are a few empty parking lots around town where vendors setup every year for about a month. I rent a truck and spend two hours in search of the perfect specimen. They’re picked over, but I finally find a great smelling one that won’t overwhelm my apartment or dwarf my ride.

When I get home, I drag the tree inside and set it up in the corner next to the couch. It would be our first tree as a couple. The year before, Chris had taken me to London to meet and spend time with his family.

I have some ornaments from childhood and a few newer ones that I have added in recent years. I elect to wait until Christmas Eve to decorate. It will give me something to do in case Chris truly doesn’t make it for the holiday.

After dinner, I settle in bed with my laptop and check to see if my lover is online. He works late a lot, so whether or not he’s four or five hours ahead of me, I can usually find him up, if he’s available. Not tonight, though, it seems. With a sigh, I sign in to Netflix to catch up on my shows.

I’m drooling on my pillow when my laptop wakes me up. It’s four o’clock on Christmas Eve and Chris is calling me. Bleary-eyed, I wipe the corner of my mouth and click answer.

“Hey, babe,” he says, his usual bright, sexy smile non-existent, his handsome face haggard from a night of likely little or no sleep.

“Hi, love,” I reply, trying to get my brain working.

“I know it’s extremely early there, but I had to catch you before my next flight which leaves in an hour and a half.” He yawns and rubs his face. His hazel eyes are bloodshot. “I wish I was there with you, instead.”

“I wish you were here, too. Sweetheart, you’re working too hard. You need to either hire someone to help you, or ... I don’t know ... figure something out. You’re not looking healthy.”

“I know. I really hope I can make it home on the twenty-fifth, but I don’t want to make any promises.”

I lean back against my pillows and place the laptop in my lap. “I won’t lie. It hurts and I’m pouting because you’re not here. However, you have work and I understand. Really, I do.”

“I miss your bed head in the morning,” he murmurs, eyes soft as he gazes at me. There is love there, though we’ve never said it out loud.

I touch the screen, wishing it were his skin. “I miss your body against mine, the way you move inside me.”

“Keep those thoughts going, love. We’ll make memories together, whether or not I make it tomorrow. I have a surprise I’ve been saving up for you, too.”

Now I’m wide awake. “Surprise? What surprise? Tell me!”

He grins, a little like his old, mischievous self. “Nope, you’re gonna have to wait until I get there. I’ll see you soon, my love. Rub that thick cock of yours and think of me.”

Naturally, my dick rises in my sweat pants at the mere mention of getting off. But wait ...

“Chris, you can’t just ...” Before I finish my sentence, he blows me a kiss, makes the universal “jack off” motion with his fist and hangs up. Damn him!

I flop back on the bed, now rock hard and leaking because, well, it’s Chris! Jesus.