Free Home for Christmas by Nicki Bennett Page A

all contributions would be donated to the Chatham county foster care program.
    When “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” transitioned into a soulful version of “Merry Christmas, Darling,” Connell couldn’t hold back any longer. Crossing the street, he pulled a twenty from his wallet and dropped it into the velvet-lined case, stepping closer to where Spence fingered the horn with his head down and eyes closed, as if he were playing for himself alone. “Do you take requests?” Connell asked in a voice as sultry as the mournful tones from his lover’s horn.
    Spence’s eyes snapped open as the voice he’d been dreaming of murmured in his ear. “Connell!” he cried out, only the neck-strap of the saxophone keeping the cherished instrument from crashing to the ground as his arms reached out to pull his lover close. “What are you doing here?”
     Connell swept off Spence’s velour Santa hat and buried his hands in the long, tawny hair, pulling his face down for a slow, passionate kiss. Spence’s lips were cool, but his mouth was warm, opening to welcome Connell’s tongue dancing against his. Not until the press of the horn wedged between them became painful did he lift his head.
    “Mmnnnn….” Spence purred, swinging the sax to one side so he could mold Connell’s body even closer to his, threading a hand into his lover’s dark hair. “You’re the best Christmas present I could possibly get. How long can you stay?” he asked, punctuating his words with soft kisses against Connell’s neck.
    “Can we go to your place?” Connell requested, sidestepping the question for the moment. “I’m starting to get really chilled, and your hands are freezing,” he added, warming Spence’s palms between his, grateful to see his musician was at least wearing shoes this time. In warmer weather Spence was usually barefoot when he played. “Let’s get warm and dry, and then we can talk.”
    Connell’s evasive answer made Spence uneasy, but he tried to ignore his apprehension. He hadn’t expected to spend the holiday with Connell; he’d be grateful for however much time they’d have together. Releasing his lover reluctantly, he knelt beside his instrument case, emptying the money into a Ziploc bag before sliding the strap over his head and settling the sax into place. “Pretty good take for Christmas Eve.”
    “You’re much more appealing than some fake Santa ringing a bell next to a kettle,” Connell observed, taking Spence’s free hand as they walked along the riverfront to the musician’s car. “Though you need to work on your selection. Those were some pretty gloomy tunes near the end, love.”
    “I’m suddenly feeling much more cheerful,” Spence countered, pausing for another slow kiss before stowing the saxophone in the trunk and driving the short distance to his apartment.
    Setting the sax case on the floor inside the door, Spence flicked on the switch that lit the small tree he’d set up in front of the window overlooking the river. Connell couldn’t help but notice that the space below the tree was empty of packages, and he was struck again by the sadness he’d sensed while listening to his lover play. “Spence, you weren’t out there today because you didn’t have anywhere else to go, were you?”
    Spence pulled Connell into a hug. “I could have headed up to New York to spend the holidays with my family, and I had lots of invitations from people at the restaurant to spend Christmas with them.” When Connell had first met Spence, dressed in ragged jeans and playing for tips, he had briefly wondered whether the musician was homeless. He’d learned that far from living off his sidewalk earnings, Spence owned the restaurant he’d ordered the food from for their first meal in a secluded riverside grotto. Remembering the outcome of that sensual feast could still make Connell flush with arousal. Spence spent at least some time every day at the restaurant, but most of the staff had been with