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Miranda's Gift

Written by HikerAngel :: [Wednesday, 23 December 2020 22:58] Last updated by :: [Wednesday, 23 December 2020 23:45]

Miranda’s Gift

By HikerAngel

 

Miranda watched her roommate wrap a scarf around her neck and don a stocking cap, listening to the rising music that accompanied the conclusion of Miracle on 34th Street behind her.

“Have fun meeting the boyfriend’s parents, Suse! Good luck!” she said.

Susan smiled. “Merry Christmas, Miranda. See you Tuesday!”

As the door closed, leaving the apartment feeling conspicuously empty, Miranda sighed. It was Christmas Eve, and she had no one to spend it with. Her family lived too far away to visit over the holiday weekend, and she had broken things off with her self-centered boyfriend shortly after Thanksgiving.

Debating whether to start yet another Marvel movie marathon, she decided against it. She had been spending far too much time in the wake of her breakup fantasizing about superheroes as it was. She reached for the remote and turned off the TV, leaving only the sound of the cold winter wind as it whistled past her window. Glancing out the window, she saw snow flurries swirling in the darkness.

At least it would be a white Christmas, she thought with a hollow smile. Wandering to the kitchen, she downed one of the cookies she and Susan had baked yesterday.

Munching frosted gingerbread in silence, Miranda suddenly decided, in her typically impetuous fashion, that she was going to go out tonight. As she licked her fingers, she beamed, imagining a chance Christmas Eve meeting of the man of her dreams in the corner bar. Even if she didn’t meet anyone – the overwhelming probability – she would at least be able to pass a lonely Christmas Eve with a little assistance from the alcohol of her choice.

Eyes dancing with excitement at her impromptu plan, she hustled to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Pulling on her warmest black leggings, then her favorite LBD, she was pleased that it fit her slender form just as well as it had in college. There was some benefit to all the workouts she did, at least!

She put in her lone pair of Tiffany stud earrings – a graduation present from her father – and adorned her neck and wrist with matching fashion jewelry. Giving a squirt of perfume to each wrist, then dabbing a bit behind each ear, she pulled out the bench of her vanity. Sitting down, she leaned forward and began a quick, skillful application of makeup. When she finished, she leaned back to examine her handiwork. The skin of her face looked flawless with well-applied base. She shifted subtly from side to side on the bench, ensuring that her smokey eyes and Tilbury lips were just right. They were.

Grinning, she rose to her feet, smoothing the fabric of her dress over a toned stomach and cocking her athletic hips first one way, then the other, as she checked her leggings for wrinkles.

She looked good.

On a lonely holiday evening, at least there was that.

She slipped on her favorite, and only, pair of Jimmy Choos, her gift to herself last Christmas, and pulled her North Face jacket from the hook beside the door. It didn’t really match the outfit, but it was so much warmer than the chic trench she should probably be wearing with this getup.

She locked the door behind her, whistling Christmas carols as she walked down the street toward the only bar in her neighborhood – one that she’d been to all of one time before, in the company of some friends.

As she neared the bar, her gaze fell to the homeless man just ahead.

“Spare some change?” he asked, holding out his hands, his wrinkled features pulling into a hopeful, partially toothless smile.

“Tonight’s your lucky night, buddy,” Miranda said, giving him a crooked smile. She nodded her head toward the entrance to the bar ahead. “You get a meal and a beer. Come on.”

She knew her friends would never have approved of such a risk, but it was Christmas, and it was her decision to make. She felt like doing something kind for someone who truly needed it. There had to be a reason this man happened to be on her way to the bar, after all.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly scrambled to his feet, stuffing blankets into his weathered backpack to follow Miranda toward the bar. She pulled open the door, holding it open as she ushered him inside. The warm, steamy air billowed outward, misting into the chill of the night.

Following the shivering man inside as he rubbed his arms and removed his stocking cap, Miranda surveyed the room. It was nearly empty, the only people she could see in the friendly establishment, the bartender and a dark-haired man at a table reading his tablet.

Miranda marched over to the bar as the homeless man found a seat at a nearby table, drawing a curious glance from the bartender.

“What can I do you fer?” asked the man behind the counter in an amused but welcoming tone, his Irish accent immediately audible.

“Your best cocktail for me, and a beer and a meal for my friend here,” Miranda said, green eyes twinkling.

Miranda paused, realizing she didn’t know what to call her new friend. She turned toward him. “What’s your name, dude?”

“Phil,” he answered simply.

“For my friend Phil,” she amended, turning back to find the bartender’s deep set eyes.

“Some friend,” the barkeep laughed, his brown eyes lively as he began to pour the man’s beer. “So you forget all your friends’ names then, or just the homeless ones?”

“I’m an equal opportunity forgetter, thank you very much,” Miranda shot back, a playful bit of fierceness lighting her features.

“Just teasin’. I’m actually pretty amazed that yer doin’ this fer ‘im. It’s not very often I see people doing things like this these days,” he said, the well-worn lines in his leathery face creaking and cracking into a warm smile.

“Yeah, well, it’s Christmas,” she shrugged, blushing.

“So,” Miranda continued, flicking her eyes toward the bathroom before returning them to the affable man at the bar. “Any super-hot, commitment-ready, late-twenties, early-thirties guys happen to be in the bathroom, ready to come out and sweep me off my feet?”

That elicited a hearty guffaw from the elderly barkeep. He flung back the hinged portion of the counter to bring Phil his pint of beer before proceeding to take the man’s dinner order.

As he walked back, he cast his eyes toward the man reading at the corner table. “As far as guys go, there’s him. He’s not the most handsome bloke around, I’ll wager, but he’s tall. He’s here from time to time. Always alone. Keeps to himself. Seems a decent enough sort.”

The bartender swung the hinged entrance to the bar closed with practiced ease with a nudge of his hip. “So yer lettin’ me choose yer drink, huh?” he said, eying Miranda calculatingly.

“Yeah, knock yourself out!” Miranda replied with a challenging wink.

“Hmmm,” he considered. “A challenge… what to make fer the mysterious brunette with the heart o’ gold…”

“Mysterious, eh?” Miranda smiled. “I would have preferred drop-dead gorgeous, but I’ll take what I can get.”

The bartender chuckled again, his ruddy cheeks taking on a cherubic glow. “Well, ye are quite attractive, really. But I can’t go lettin’ ye get a big head now, can I?” He winked back at her.

“Aw, shucks. Don’t go all mushy on me now, barkeep.”

“Don’t you worry, lass. I—”

His words were cut short by a loud thump on the hardwood floor behind Miranda. She whirled on the barstool to see what had caused the sound, her eyes growing wide in alarm as she saw Phil sprawled on the floor.

“Oh my God!” she cried, then ran to his side, dropping to her knees.

She leaned over him, turning her head to the side, then lowering her ear to his mouth. “He’s not breathing!”

The quiet man from the corner dropped to the man’s other side as Miranda breathed deep to calm her quickening heartbeat. She couldn’t panic here. She knew CPR. She could deal with this. She just needed to gather her wits.

“Do you know CPR?” she asked the man across from her, her tone urgent but controlled as she checked for a pulse, finding none.

“What?! No!” he replied, his voice strained with tension.

“Okay, just put your hands together, interlocking your fingers like this.” She showed him. “Then lock your elbows and push your palm into his chest over his heart.”

She demonstrated chest compressions hastily, her wide eyes asking him nonverbally if he had it. He nodded back. When he began doing exactly as she showed him, she exhaled a bated breath as she regrouped again mentally, wrapping her thoughts around her next step.

She sucked in a lungful of air, pinched shut his nostrils and placed her mouth over his, breathing warm, life-giving oxygen into his lungs.

As she finished, turning her ear to his mouth once more to check for breath, she glanced to the bartender. He was on his cell phone, already reporting the incident to 911. Thank goodness. That was probably what she should have done first!

Returning her attention to the helpful stranger, she saw that he was continuing chest compressions with perfect form. Good.

Feeling nothing coming from the man’s mouth but the slow release of air from her own breath, Miranda continued filling his lungs twice more.

On the third attempt, the man coughed, his gnarled hands twitching. Miranda sat back, giving him room. She reached over to place a hand over the helpful stranger’s to tell him to stop his compressions. He looked at the man’s face, understanding dawning on his stern features. He sat back as well, removing his hands from the downed man’s chest.

“Are you okay?” Miranda asked him, but Phil didn’t respond. He seemed to be concentrating on his own breathing, eyes squeezed shut as if he were in pain.

A moment later, the paramedics burst into the entrance to the bar. They asked Miranda and the stranger a few questions as they attended to the man, then hauled him away on a gurney.

As the siren of the ambulance faded into the distance, Miranda staggered to a nearby table and slumped into a chair in relief. The energizing fizz of hard-pumping adrenaline making her feel woozy in the aftermath of the chaotic moment. The stranger did the same, plopping into the seat across from her.

“Thanks for your help,” said Miranda, her lips trembling as she attempted a faltering smile.

“Thank you,” he replied. “You were pretty amazing there.”

“Um, yeah,” Miranda replied wryly, her eyes dropping to her fidgeting fingers. “Actually I forgot step 1.”

“What’s that?”

“Call 911.”

“But they came, right?” the man looked around, confused.

“Yeah, thanks to the bartender over there,” Miranda said. “He’s the real hero.”

“I don’t know. If it weren’t for you…” he said, glancing at the bartender before returning his warm gaze to her, his words trailing off. He leaned back and shrugged. “Let’s just say I think you have a saved life to add to your resume.”

“Pfft,” Miranda responded disdainfully, noticing that the man wore no ring. He looked pretty fit under that sweater too. The guy took care of himself. “I’m not sure that’s good resume material. But maybe I should add it to my online dating profile. Might help me land a sexy doctor or something.”

The man laughed, his tense shoulders beginning to relax.

“So what are you up to tonight? Hoping to find a gorgeous woman to hook up with or something?” Miranda’s eyes turned mischievous.

“No, no. I’m not much for dating,” he said. “I’m perfectly happy being single.”

“So if a sexy girl came on to you, you wouldn’t be tempted for a little holiday company,” Miranda flirted, deciding that she was interested in this helpful stranger. The man had immediately come to the aid of a fallen homeless man, right? That made him a promising prospect in her mind. He had already shown more kindness in the past five minutes than her last boyfriend had over the entire course of their relationship.

“Well, when you put it like that!” he laughed. “But there aren’t any sexy girls here, now are there?”

Ouch.

So that attempt at flirtation had just gone down in flames.

But the man seemed to realize what he’d said and scrambled to correct himself. “I mean, besides you, of course.”

“Smooth, dude,” Miranda said wryly. “It’s okay. I know I’m not all that.”

A blossom of crimson bloomed on his fair cheeks. It made his lips look redder. He had nice lips.

“But you are!” he stammered. “The way you jumped into action with that guy!”

“That was pretty impressive,” said the bartender, his deep brown eyes glowing as he set two drinks down on the table. “And you know yer good-looking, lass. And I guarantee ye, so does this dolt.”

The bartender clapped the mysterious man on the back, then spun on his heel and walked back to the bar. “On the house!” he called back to them as he walked.

Miranda grinned, watching the man across from her attempt to regain his composure. She could almost feel the burn of his cheeks from here.

“Cheers, stranger,” she said, lifting her glass for a toast.

“It’s Randy,” he mumbled, picking up the cocktail. “And you are?”

“Miranda.” We clinked glasses, each taking a drink.

It was really strong!

“What the heck did you put in this, man?” Miranda called out to the bartender between coughs.

He grinned nefariously. “My secret ingredient! I only use it on Christmas.”

“Only on Christmas, huh? ‘Cause you want more bodies on the floor tonight?” Miranda shot back, fanning herself as her eyes watered.

Her comment brought another guffaw from the aged man. He winked. “Consider it yer Christmas gift, girl.”

Miranda felt a swirling warmth in her stomach as the burning liquid finished its searing journey down her throat. As the strong cocktail settled with a gurgle into her stomach, she suddenly felt her nervousness fade, replaced by the welcome heat of attraction as she turned her eyes back toward Randy. Her lips curling into a sly half-smile. “So, Randy. Is he right? Do you find me attractive?”

His smile looked hungry this time.

***

“So you… live… in this building?” Randy asked breathily between kisses as he pressed Miranda against the wall next to her door.

“Yeah,” she panted. “Right here…”

She removed her hand from Randy’s back long enough to tap on the door beside her.

He smiled even as he pressed his mouth to hers. “Then what… are you… waiting for?”

She broke their kiss and turned, fumbling her keys from her bag to unlock the door. As she entered and turned, his arms snaked around her once more.

As they resumed their impromptu make-out session, Miranda began to feel strange. “That drink the bartender made – does it have you feeling…?”

“Crazy turned on?” Randy replied, looking into her eyes with dilated pupils before breathing. “Totally.”

Kicking off her shoes, Miranda heard herself moan softly as he began to kiss her neck. She reached behind her back to unzip her dress, walking them both toward her bedroom.

When the backs of her calves reached the edge of her bed, she twisted, pulling Randy to the bed. She slid her hands inside his jacket as their mouths heated each other’s skin. Pushing forward, touching her small breasts to his sternum, she slipped his jacket off, then began working the buttons of his sweater loose with her slim fingers.

Pulling off his sweater, leaving his muscled torso bare, she gave a pleased giggle. “So, single man, why all the working out?”

He looked embarrassed, responding defensively. “Well, I need to stay healthy, don’t I?”

She slipped the shoulder straps of her dress over her shoulders, wriggling out of the dress with a shake of her hips.

“Besides, look who’s talking?” he said, eying her toned body.

“Come here, you,” she said with a glint in her eye, pulling him toward her by the belt after peeling her strangely long and firmer-than-normal legs out of her black tights.

Miranda startled as the belt snapped under her fingers. It had looked like real leather, but it couldn’t be. Not when it came apart that easily.

Randy didn’t seem to have noticed. He pressed his lips to her cheek, kissing it softly as he moved toward her ear.

As Miranda unzipped his pants, she noticed that his abs seemed more defined than they had even a few moments earlier. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed quite how athletic his body was at first glance. His pants falling around his ankles to leave him in nothing but a pair of boxers, she slithered one hand up the sinewed swells of his back and the other to the outside of his arm. Ridges of rippling muscle felt insanely hard under her touch.

“Geez, Randy! You’re totally ripped!”

“Ha!” he breathed, pausing just before nipping at her earlobe. The pleasant pinch sent a jolt of sensation through her.

“Seriously! You must work out, like, hours a day!”

He withdrew from her ear to give her a quizzical arch of his brow, running his fingertips over her stomach. “Says the girl with the abs that won’t quit!”

Miranda laughed. “Yeah, sure. I mean, my stomach’s not complete pudge, but…”

She ran her hands over her stomach, feeling a firmness and definition that had never been there before. Her eyes went wide, and she bent over to look… only to see larger and slowly swelling breasts obstructing the view in a way they never had before.

“What the fuck?” she exclaimed in surprise, shock at her changing body causing her to resort to language that had always left her mother rolling her eyes in preparation for stern tongue-lashing.

“I’m hot!” Even Miranda’s voice sounded sexier.

She looked up at Randy, wonder in her eyes.

“Me too!” Randy replied with a crooked grin as his chin rose from a self-examination of his own. His face was becoming more ruggedly handsome by the moment.

“Are you feeling what I’m feeling?” This time he wasn’t talking about his body. Well, not about its appearance anyway.

Her plumping lips parting to reveal straighter, whiter teeth, Miranda nodded predatorially. She pounced on Randy, jumping onto him and wrapping her smoother, longer legs around his tightening ass. He fell backward under her sensual assault, landing with a soft bounce on the bed below.

Miranda didn’t let up, her lips and tongue searching his with impassioned hunger as her hands roamed his deliciously fit body relentlessly. She kissed his strong jaw, sucking at the underside of his chin, down his neck.

She had never felt so aroused, her skin feeling hot to the touch even as its imperfections slowly faded away.

*Snap*

The thinning fabric of her red panties snapped as her hips put on inches of healthy, feminine muscle, along with her swelling breasts, giving her the perfect hourglass shape she’d always longed for.

She began to fidget as the straps of her bra dug into her back, its cups pressed forward as her flesh continued its inexorable forward expansion. She paused in her exploration of Randy’s body to reach behind her and release the pressure. The reinforced fabric of the back strap ripped like wet paper as she ran a finger along the tight, straining material to find the clasp.

Weird, she thought idly in a brief moment of lucidity from her desire-addled mind. That bra must have frayed or something. Funny, I never noticed that before.

She flung the bra to the side after it fell onto Randy, then reached for the top of his boxers, pulling them downward with a sharp tug. Instead of dragging the shorts downward with her hand, however, her finger tore right through the fabric.

What on earth was going on here? She was becoming a one-woman clothing destruction machine!

She knew she should probably stop and consider what was happening, but her body felt too good. She was far too consumed with desire for the masculine masterpiece in her sights to stop now.

She rolled her hips over his rigid erection and gasped as he entered her tingling folds. Her breath turned shallow, her heart thumping rapidly inside her chest as their writhing bodies fell into a synchronous, pumping rhythm.

Miranda placed one hand on Randy’s chiseled chest, slender fingers splaying. Her other guided her partner’s hand to her sensitive, still-burgeoning breast. She moaned as his fingers clutched her soft tissue, the heat of his palm electrifying her nipple.

Miranda’s lengthening eyelashes had become so long that they brushed the skin beneath her eyes as they fluttered in escalating rapture. As she felt Randy filling her, she noticed the hard ridges along her own upper arm as her hand continued to press down on the man’s increasingly sculpted physique. Her arms were soooo toned! They looked almost fitness-modelesque!

The sight of her hyper-fit arm sent another wave of blazing heat through her already burning body. The girl shivered as she felt her climax approaching. Randy seemed completely lost in ecstasy, each undulation of his ultra-masculine body sending a symphony of rippling striation through his strengthening muscles. Whatever was happening to her was clearly happening to him as well. The man looked like a freaking Adonis!

The thought sent another searing blast of heat into the already raging inferno within her womb. She tensed her powerful thighs, sending her hips bucking upward before plunging down on Randy’s increasingly massive length once more.

Her body seemed to surge into another round of improvements. Her hair grew longer, shimmering with vibrance as it bounced over her shoulders, cascading onto the upper slopes of breasts that looked immense on her slender form, compared to what she was used to.

Breaths turning to pants, she heard Randy groan beneath her, head turning rapidly from side to side as his sinewed arms and chest continued to harden into masculine perfection.

Miranda’s hands flew to her rounded hips as she crashed into Randy once more, feeling her clenching tunnel gripping his girth tightly within. The smoldering furnace inside her surged to a climax, raging into a mind-shattering eruption of orgasmic flames.

Miranda and Randy screamed in unison, their bodies bucking and shaking as they consummated their better-than-perfect evening. Toes curled and fingers clenched as their agonized cries of ecstasy reverberated within the small bedroom.

As her body shuddered in one final clench of pleasure, Miranda began to feel strangely light. 

Pulling herself from Randy, she rolled onto her back, sucking in a deep breath. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of her satiated desire, wondering if her face had improved as much as her body had.

She turned, opening her eyes, only to realize that she didn’t feel the covers beneath her naked body. Turning her head, she tensed as she realized that she was floating a good foot over the bed!

Flailing her arms and legs, her toes touched the surface of the bed, and she managed to rotate herself into an upright position. Letting out a bated breath, her shoulders slumped in relief as she found her feet once more on the ground. She looked down to find Randy staring at her in awe.

“You just… you flew!”

She had, hadn’t she! But that wasn’t possible, was it?

Just like it wasn’t possible to become a fitness supermodel while making out with a guy she met at the bar? A guy that could now make an Abercrombie model turn green with envy?

Experimentally, she pushed up on the soft mattress with her bare toes, lifting off from the bed into a graceful, rising pirouette. As she spun around, she pulled her long, sumptuously sinewed legs into her sculpted stomach and threw her head back, turning her elegant body into a spinning airborne ball.

After a few trips around, she extended her legs and willed herself back to the bed, touching down lightly on her comforter. Casting another glance at Randy, she giggled at the flabbergasted look in his eyes.

“Come on, Randster!” Miranda prompted with a playful grin. “Give it a try!”

She grabbed his hand and tugged him upward, using her powerful arm to send him on a rapid ascent into the air.

“This is amazing!” he quipped – just before bumping his head against the high ceiling.

“Oops!” Miranda replied as he raised his hands to push against the ceiling and send himself back down to the bed. “I guess I don’t know my own strength!”

“We’re like superheroes or something!” Randy exclaimed, a wide smile plastered on his lips.

“Yeah!” Miranda replied, a twinkle in her eye.

“Best. Christmas. Ever.”

***

Down below, crunching through the snow on his way home, pausing to glance up at the one lit room in the top corner of the apartment building, the bartender smiled.

Merry Christmas! he thought to himself, pleased that the one gift per year that his brother always allowed him had gone to such a wonderful young couple.

Sometimes it paid to have a Santa in the family.

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