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Ben was shutting down just as the door to his office opened. The cleaner stuck his head around the door. "Are you finished, sah?" he asked Ben politely. "Sure, Tim. Just wrapping up. It is Christmas Eve, after all." "Yes, sah, that it is. And you working all hours again." Ben raised his eyebrows at Tim, and the big cleaner put his head down obviously aware that he was treading thin ice with the head of the company. Ben's mouth smiled. "Money doesn't make itself, Tim. We all have to work hard for it." With that he moved his 6'2" frame towards the subservient cleaner whose demeanour belied the fact that he stood another six inches over Ben's height. His size, with proportional frame, was why Tim was known throughout the offices as 'Tiny'. "Make sure you lock up tight, Tim. I'm sure there'll be a lot of visitors looking for late Christmas presents on the cheap." Tim just nodded. At home Ben logged back into his laptop and checked the prices on a few stocks he'd taken up options in. His house was quiet, his girlfriend, Angie, was working one of the department stores as an Elf in one of the least sexy, sexy costumes he'd ever seen. Sure the skirt was short and the heels were high, but there was a Santa hat, and bells. It was wasted on her gorgeous body, but she was doing it for the children. She should be wasting her body on him, not going home to her family. So he was alone, indulging in his favourite pastime, checking on his assets. The lights around his house were flashing. He didn't really look at them himself, but they guy he'd employed to put them all in assured him that he blew away all the neighbours and cars were slowing at his gates to get a look in. Christmas lights, another strange tradition which he didn't care for himself except that people stopped to see that his were the best. It was just that all that flashing, especially reflected in that seasonal yet unexpected snow that had begun to fall, and quite thickly, was coming in through his windows and making him rub his eyes. A chat window appeared in his screen and he enlarged it to see a picture of a Caribbean guy, one of those with the long dreadlocks and that woolly hat. "Hey, Man!" came the type. "Who is this?" Ben replied. "Me, I'm Bob Marley." "Who is Bob Marley? Do I know you?" "Me, Bob Marley, Jamaican singer/songwriter." "You're dead?" "Yes, but the soul of Reggae is alive so I can speak with you." "Wait, you're a ghost, and you're speaking through my laptop? What can I do for you?" Ben was certain someone was playing him a Christmas joke, and whoever it was would be fired the moment he found them out. "It's a simple Xmas msg. You're going to be visited tonight by three spirits who are going to take you on a journey. Go with them." "Why?" "Man. You maybe know my music, but you don't know me. I turned against my Catholic upbringing and worshipped Ras Tafari so I could grow my hair long. I got a drug rap. I supported the Black Panthers. I made a lot of music, and I spent it on myself. Only I told David at the end that "Money can't buy Life", and you need to know that before it's too late." "Wow. Thx." "You have a visitor." The chat window closed. Ben looked up from his screen through the open study door towards the front door. Waiting for the speakerphone for the gate he was shocked when a small child skipped into his office. The child reminded him of someone. As he approached he realised it was actually a she, resembling his cousin Kate, a bit of a tomboy in their shared childhood. "Hi!" Came the bright voice from the bright face. "I'm Past! Come with me." She said, holding out her hand. "How did you get in here?!" Ben tried to control his anger. "I'm going to have that security company destroyed!" "You weren't always such a grouch, nor so violent. Come with me," the child simply stated. Ben got up to catch the young girl and carry her out of his house, but the moment he touched her she grabbed his arm and he felt as though he was falling down a deep hole. The sensation stopped as quickly as it had started, and as a slight nausea passed Ben quickly noted that he wasn't in his house any more. Although that wasn't quite true, as he was in his house, but it was the house he'd grown up in with his parents, many years before. There were decorations up on the walls, and a tree in the living room. There was a load of paper strewn on the floor so Ben guessed it was Christmas Day. "Let's go upstairs!" smiled the girl, tugging on Ben's arm. They ascended and turned towards Ben's room. There, through the open door, sat a small boy and a small girl. This girl was definitely Kate, and the boy Ben recognised as himself. The two were playing and smiling and laughing. Ben smiled as he looked at the pair. No worries in the world, and no expensive presents. Kate had taken his soldier figure in its combat fatigues and was driving a shoebox around with wheels drawn onto it in felt pen. He, Ben the boy, had a Barbie figure and was dressing it up in a skirt he was fashioning out of Christmas wrapping paper and scraps of tape. The two looked so happy in their shared world of play and Ben recalled the pleasure he got from the holiday. The child ghost looked up at him. "What are you thinking?" "It was so much simpler then. I really was happy!" "What happened?" "I don't know." "Let's find out..." And Ben was travelling again, though this time much shorter. He was in the same place, but he could see that the Ben asleep in the bed was a little older. There was no mess on the floor, but the decorations were up. When was this? Then he heard a sound downstairs and the figure in the bed stirred then got up. Young Ben walked right through him out onto the landing and down the stairs. The child Kate tugged on his arm and they followed quietly down the stairs. Young Ben opened the door to the living room, and older Ben was right behind him as he looked into the living room. He could see his mother, looking so much younger, on her knees on the floor, her hands on the ass of a guy in a Santa suit, her mouth at his crotch. The couple's attempt at a panicked recovery was useless as young Ben saw Santa's cock leave his mother's mouth and awkwardly tuck back into his red trousers. He heard his mother's shocked whisper, "Ben!" Older Ben relived that moment that he caught his mother doing something incredibly naughty but well beyond his childish comprehension with Santa Claus, and not with his father. Older Ben knew, and could see, that it was his father dressed up in the outfit, and could see the irony in how his personality had been damaged. Even when he couldn't remember the event, having been pushed deep into the recesses of his sleepy mind and justified as the imaginings of his dreaming brain, it had affected his relationship with his mother, with Christmas, and his outlook on life and on women in general. From when Ben grew up women were bought with presents and in return acted as sluts for his pleasure, or maybe he bought sluts for his pleasure with presents, or maybe all women were sluts and as long as he gave them better presents than the other guys could bring... Ben looked down at younger Ben pulling the door shut and running back up the stairs to his parents room. He heard the door open, soft cries for his father, and then the door close. In front of him his mother shrugged and got to her feet. She wrapped her arms around his father's neck and grimaced. "That fantasy didn't work out so well." His father might have smiled. It sounded like it. "He'll either believe more strongly in Father Christmas or he'll know that his parents still have a happy private life!" Ben looked down at Past who was looking quite blankly up at him. His father had no idea how much he had needed him at that moment, or how a simple call for him to come back downstairs would have aborted the developing idea in him that Santa was evil, and women's love was bought. Another moment of travel caught Ben unawares. He was at university, and saw himself in the street, drunk, singing a Christmas Carol with a girl on his arm. It took him a moment to remember that the girl was Kate, but no longer the Tomboy he had grown up with. It all came back to him, how she had called him from her digs in the North and he had invited her down the the capitol to spend Christmas with him. In the previous year she had grown her hair out and had started to dress more femininely, eschewing her jeans for leggings, skirts and dresses. That night they were going to a party and she had taken out a simple black dress, a gold necklace and jewellery, waved her hair and spent time on her make-up. Ben remembered his boyish best friend being transformed when she stepped out of his bathroom to join him. In heels she looked slim, leggy, and stunning. They had had a great time that night, getting as drunk as he could see himself now, but then Kate was nowhere to be found the next morning. Now he knew that she was married with a couple of kids, but they still barely spoke. Past tugged on his arm to follow the festive couple. It wasn't so much that Kate was on his arm, as she was helping him to walk. She was singing along too, but there was no doubt that Ben was the rowdier of the pair. Neighbours' lights flicked on momentarily and then out again sympathetically. Ben followed himself and his ex-friend back to his house, Past taking him through the door behind them. In the living room Kate let younger Ben drop to the sofa and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She came back to him sitting silently, eyes closed and smiling, and she kneeled down and took off his shoes. With no response from him she must have figured he was asleep already, and seeing a blanket on the arm of the sofa she arranged a cushion at the other end and then proceeded to gently undo his belt and trousers. She paused at that point, and Ben guessed she was figuring a way to pull them off, when she obviously determined that brute force was best and leaned forward to get better grips on the waistband. That was when his younger self put his hand on the back of Kate's head and pulled her down towards his crotch. "Hey!" she shouted in indignation, pulling her head back up and breaking his soft grip. Ben noticed she was still smiling at that point. "Aw, comon!" "What do you mean, come on? I'm trying to get you to bed because you're asleep and you're too drunk to undress yourself!" "I mean, come on, suck me off." Younger Ben was trying to stand now, and Kate was slowly getting back to her feet. "No, really, stay there. On your knees. I'll get up and make it easier for you." Kate looked a little worried now, and was beginning to lose the smile. "I'm not going to blow you or anything, Ben. Now stop it." "Stop it?" Ben was slurring slightly, but forceful. "Don't tell me to stop it. I bought your tickets down here. I paid for tickets to the party and for your food and drinks. I got you a present somewhere. You owe me." "What the fuck do I owe you, Ben? Shut up! Please!" "You got dressed in all your 'I want sex' gear, like your high heels and that tight dress, and you got dolled up in that trampy makeup because you want sex and you want to show the world you're made for it. I know you want it and I'm the guy you're having it with. So just fucking blow me!" Older Ben couldn't remember any of this. Because he couldn't remember the right hook which came up from behind Kate's hips it was just as shocking the second time. Young Ben went back down onto the sofa and managed to mumble something obscure before sliding down sideways onto the cushion. Kate looked at him momentarily before grabbing for her hand and shaking it out, then in tears running for the kitchen and turning on the water, presumably to run her hand under it. Shortly afterwards she came back, used the phone to call a number she had, and then went to the other room. Moments later she left through the front door. Ben looked at himself slumped down on the sofa and was confused. Something warred inside him. Kate had looked incredibly sexy. Had he really been wrong to assume that she wanted him? Had he just gone about it the wrong way? Or was there something about the way he viewed the situation that was wrong because of who he was? Any other woman would have stayed with him, and almost all other women since had, because he could afford to persuade them. But Kate was his friend, or she was until he'd seen her in a different way, as a woman. Translocation, and he was back at the house which Past had originally taken him from. "I'll leave you now." Said the young child, who now seemed to him to look more like the young Kate than ever, the young Kate who had walked out of his life and was doing so again. "I am dreaming," he stated to the empty air. "Not really," the empty air replied from behind him. He swung around to see Angie sitting in his chair, wearing her sexy elf outfit, only now it was made of green felt, with fishnet stockings slinking into red leather boots. The boobs that he'd bought her really rounded out the costume well. "And no, I'm not your girlfriend, I am Christmas Present." "You make a great Christmas Present, Angie, when can I unwrap you?" In response the figure got up from behind his desk and proceeded to walk straight through him. The chill he felt was enough to kill any appetite he had felt for seeing the figure unclothed. "Are you coming?" she offered from behind him again. "Can I say no?" "It wouldn't be wise to refuse." He turned to face the sexy, cold representation of his absent partner. "I guess I'm coming then." The dislocation was immediate, and Ben found himself walking with Angie through the Mall where all the major stores were located. The windows were all decorated with snow and glitter and a huge number of people were bustling around buying what mostly sounded like last minute gifts, all discussing and arguing and cooing at the latest in clothes, games, and must-have items. "...He wouldn't be happy with anything other than the latest version..." he overheard, then "...and all her friends will have them." "What do you think they're getting us?" "Can we afford it?" "It doesn't sound like fun," he commented to the ghost. She smiled sadly at him. Then she turned into the doors of a department store, the one with the best designed windows showing scenes from the latest Disney movie. He recognised it as the store that Angie was working in that day. He had only been there once, and that before he met her, so he wasn't sure where the Christmas Grotto was, but the ghost unerringly led them towards it. However, instead of joining the queue of wrapped up children with their parents she walked them around the back and then took him in through the wall, a disconcerting experience. There they didn't bump into the Santa actor, but instead Ben found himself in a dressing room, with another Angie looking in a mirror doing her make up and a brunette behind her trying to get her hat fixed right. He turned to look at the ghost, who looked back at him and put her finger to her lips as if to shush him. He looked back. "So are you ready?" the brunette asked the real Angie. "Nearly." "Darling, you look stunning. Are you sure this is all for the kids?" Angie giggled. "I like to look good! And the kids do like it too. I don't want them thinking it's Halloween! This is a fun time for them." "You need a couple of your own. Any plans?" This time Angie sighed slightly and shrugged. "I guess not." "What is it, girl? You got a gorgeous man. Why don't you pin him down?" "I... I'm not sure. He's nice, if I'm nice to him, but, oh, I don't know... there's something missing." "You don't love him?" "I don't think he loves me. I... I think he just loves having me." "He's not bad to you or nothing, is he?" "Oh, no! No way! He's really good, but I have to be a certain type of girlfriend, you know? I mean I love making an effort, and he gets me anything I want, but sometimes I don't want to make the effort, I just want to be plain Angie. Spend a day in bed, eat pizza, watch TV in a onesie." "Have a baby, get fat, clean the house in curlers?" Angie giggled again. "Sure!" "But he wants a trophy?" "I guess so. So I keep putting on the skirts and heels before he even gets up in the morning so that he wakes up with a smile, and I don't think he even notices." "That's not good news, honey. One day your ankles will ache and the skirt will be a bit too snug. What's gonna happen then?" "That's my worry. I hope by then he's bought me enough jewellery for me to retire on with someone who wants me for me, not the high-class help." Ben took a step towards Angie. "What the hell!?" he shouted at her. She seemed to flinch slightly, as if sensing a presence in the room, but continued vaguely on with her powdering. Ben felt the cold of the ghost's touch and suddenly the changing room faded to be replaced by the inside of his offices. It was later in the day, early evening, and Ben thought he could see himself through a few panes of glass but his observation was disturbed by the sharp tone of a mobile phone down the corridor next to him. He turned to see the cleaner reach into his pocket and answer the call. "Yuh?" "Sho, hunny, later." "You put my darlings to bed and I come by see you all in the morning, coming like Father Christmas bringing the good cheer." "No don't you worry, I finish up here as soon as I can and I be fine." "I know, he work late, even Christmas Eve, but he a good man at heart, I sure, and maybe there be a bonus this year. I do my job for him and I sure he notices. We all done good this year. Yeah, bye, hunny." Tim put his phone back in his pocket and carried on with the bin bags he was carrying. Ben turned to his girlfriendly ghost and asked "who was he talking to?" "His sister." "So what's he doing tonight? Where's his family?" "Let's take a look." Ghost Angie took Ben by the hand again and this time Ben watched in amazement as time sped up around him. Tim disappeared and then reappeared and zipped quickly to Ben's office. Time passed quickly but still Ben took time to leave, then Tim zipped into his office and cleaned up, then switched out all the office lights, then the building lights, then locked up behind him. In real time he must have left nearly an hour behind Ben. They followed Tim to the car park but he walked out then waited for a bus which never came because it was Christmas Eve and the service had finished. After a small pause Tim started walking although at breakneck pace in the quickened time. This took Angie and him towards areas of the city which Tim never had any intention of going near. Suddenly everything slowed to normal pace. "Hi, Tiny!" called one woman with a sneaking smile in her voice. "I'll make it bigger." "I sho you would, Ginnee." Tim smiled back to the tall black woman in half a skirt and an open pink puffer jacket. Ben could only imagine she was a prostitute. As Tim passed into a darkened area where a streetlight was out Ben heard a muffled shriek from a side alley. Ben watched as Tim took his hands out of his pockets and headed straight into the darkness. From the street Ben could see nothing but Angie held him back from heading down the alley. Ben looked quickly at her and noted that she appeared stricken, her face worried and lined, and a pallour to her skin. Looking back Ben heard a low conversation, a woman's shriek, and then a scuffle punctuated by low sounds of shock and pain. Finally he heard the woman's voice calling out, "Oh, shit!" over and over, then finally, "He's going to kill me, you big bastard! How could you be so stupid?!" Moments later Tim walked out of the alley, his collar up against the cold, his face downcast. He continued walking down the street. Ben turned to Angie again, but it didn't look much like Angie anymore. The face was thin and lined, the hair grey, the body almost emaciated, two false balloons leering out incongruously from her chest. "What happened to you?" He almost choked. "Meet my child," croaked the old woman, drawing out a fat, besuited boy from behind her back. "This is Neglect." "He's taking everything from you!" "In a way. He eats whatever is not given, or forgotten, or missed. He is taking what others don't receive. Let me take you to meet my daughter." With that they leapt ahead of Tim, and watched him as he entered his apartment on the 8th floor of a project. They all followed him through the door he closed behind him, and into the small living room where he switched on the TV. "There," pointed the ghost, vaguely, "you see her?" "I don't see anyone." Neglect ran from behind them to the side of the television and pulled out from behind it a young girl, also very chubby but looking quite healthy. The two hugged. "They're so alike, sister and brother." Smiled the ghost of Angie, weakly. "I can see the resemblance," Ben commented. "What's her name?" "Loneliness." "Tim feeds Loneliness?" "We all feed Loneliness at times, but it's at times like these, when we should really be with someone, a season for being with someone, that she thrives." Angie turned towards Ben, looking ancient and withered. "Your present is over. I have to take you back to your future." Ben blinked at his office again. He was sat in his chair in front of his laptop. He heard a clock chime and then there was complete silence as a true apparition walked through his door. She, for it was definitely a she, was beautifully defined, slim and tall and elegant, but she appeared entirely grey. As she looked up, and he looked up towards her, he caught his breath. She had no face. There was nothing, not even a shape, just a cold emptiness that was somehow simply there. She beckoned to Ben, and he approached her and took her hand. The journey was long and Ben could detect it getting colder as they relocated. He'd read his Dickens, was pretty sure that he'd read A Christmas Carol sometime in school, and was expecting the ghost to take him to see his own funeral where he would listen in to people complaining about how self-absorbed he'd been and as a result of which he'd be expected to change his ways. Except that being rich and having fun seemed to be a great way to spend a lifetime, and you only had one of those. Who cared what people thought about you afterwards? You couldn't hear them... So he was surprised when they alighted a short walk away from a small house which appeared to be made of ice, in the middle of an expanse of ice, with a bitter, cold wind blowing which Ben could sense but was somehow unaffected by. There were bales of hay on the ground in front of the house, and what appeared to be a large sleigh in the open garage, but he couldn't see any reindeer. As they walked towards the door it opened, and a large, bearded, jolly looking fellow in a red, fur-lined coat stood there waiting to greet them. "Ho, Ben!" he called, loudly for the couple of steps they were now separated by. "Have you been a good boy this year?" "Who are you and where the fuck are we?" Ben demanded in consternation. "HoHo, language, that's a demerit. But take a look over there for an answer to your second question." The big man pointed to a spot just the other side of his garage where Ben could watch a man standing at the bottom of a hill. There he put together a snowball and then dropping it to the ground he began to roll it along and up the hill. As he pushed up the hill the ball grew, until about half way up it was about the same size as the man. About three quarters of the way up he could barely push it up, but he tried valiantly, until finally it fell back over him, flattening him in the snow, and rolled down to the bottom of the hill where it broke up into smithereens. The figure pulled itself back up and trudged back down to the bottom of the hill where he started to make a snowball. Ben looked back at the figure. "He's free when he gets the snowball to the top of the hill." Smiled the man through his beard. "As to who I am, well, come in and take a look around!" The faceless ghost of Christmas Future pulled Ben through the door and into a welcoming living room with a fire burning in the hearth. The space looked like it filled the house, so Ben assumed the next door he was being pulled towards would lead back outside. Instead it opened up onto a huge warehouse. The roof, high above him, was evenly lit, and looked like smoked glass with a bluish tint. Not too far below the expanse was variously populated, nearby mostly with stacks of boxes and conveyor belts, further away more conveyor belts and what looked like people standing or sitting at desks and worktables, putting together items to go on the belts and be boxed up. Behind the people, managing them, were what looked like children, until Ben looked closer and realised they were just short, with strangely pointed ears. Suddenly he saw one move swiftly, and with a crack a whip caught one of the workers at the tables. Ben looked across at his bearded guide in shock. "Hoho, one of my Helves making sure the work gets done properly, or maybe just passing the time of day." "Elves? You're Father Christmas?" "Why, yes, well done my child. But Helves, not Elves. He is a Helf." "So you're not really Father Christmas?" "Ho, ho, my boy, yes I really am. But I prefer Santa. So much more jolly and more inviting, don't you think? And so much closer to my true title. This particular function is run by one of my employees, Mammon, a god thrown down by He whom I oppose, and then I took him in on charity but he has turned out to be particularly useful, moreso in these times. He positively revels in Xmas, and probably has more worshippers than any other deity now that we've managed to bring China on board. He may push for my Chair at the next boardmeeting, unless he's managed to read the small print in his employment contract. Not that I want to lose him! "Anyway, take a look around." Santa made an expansive gesture, and then began to point more specifically. "Over there is where we put the small parts into dolls and action figures; those are the tables where the bugs are put in the games; that, HoHo, that is Barbie, the nymph of inspiring envy." Ben looked over at the impossibly stacked, blonde goddess sitting at a desk reading through reports. In front of her were thousands of little dolls with houses, cars, horses and any possession a little girl could desire. "Santa, Satan, Helves, Mammon, this is all crazy. Impossible!" Stated Ben firmly. "Look up." Pointed the rotund devil, leaning in next to Ben to look up with him. "That is ice. This isn't the North Pole. Hell has frozen over." He winked at Ben. "Anything can happen." Santa turned and headed towards another door on the top walkway. Opening it revealed an office. Sliding into the seat behind his desk he picked up a letter from on top of his blotter. Christmas Future pulled Ben into the office and stood with him in front of the desk. Putting on a pair of glasses Santa began to read. "Dear Santa Claus. A prayer to me," he chuckled, glancing at Ben. "Last year my uncle Ben bought me a pony but my parents had to sell it because they couldn't afford to feed it. The year before he bought me a car but Jimmy caught his foot on the pedal and hurt himself crashing into our tree. This year could you please get uncle Ben not to buy me anything. And mummy says that she wishes auntie Angie would be happy again. Thank you, Laurie." Ben looked confused. "I don't know any Laurie." "This is your future, Ben, although, by the time you come to work for me here, this prayer is in your past." "Work for you? Here? What's in it for me?" "Ho, ho, for you? An eternity of endless drudgery, regular torture, thirst, hunger, pain." This time Ben did feel the fear. "But I'm good for business here, I could bring you more souls! I could be an incubus or something!" "An incubus?" Santa raised his eyebrows as he looked Ben over, waving the letter negligently around. "Enticing women to their doom? It's a much sought after position, and the headcount for that department is full. I have Paris in charge there, Priam's boy. To get an interview you have to seduce his girlfriend." He paused a moment for reflection. "Thinking about it, no one has ever survived the interview... "But you have given me a wonderful idea, as there is a department which could do with some new blood. You'll need some training, though with your appetite for earning I don't think your probabation period will last that long!" Then he smiled. Then this developed into a full belly laugh. Ben noticed the sound beginning to fade, even as it's owner appeared to lose control of himself in his humour. The heat became cold again, and then gradually became warmer. Ben knew the ghost was taking him home. "Wait!" He called to the entity, invisible in the grey aether. They stopped, and he felt it, though the aether remained. "Where are you?" In response the ghost seemed to assume some solidity on his left side, appearing at least humanoid, if not the slim woman she had clearly appeared as before. He couldn't see himself, so the reference point was a help in the nowhere space. "What?" Came the cool, disembodied voice of the speaker. "You're taking me back to my present, and I know I've got to change to avoid my future, but I don't know how." "I cannot tell you. I am future. If you change your present, I also change, and what I am now, is not." "But you can tell me what brings me to this future." "Giving only that which you can materially afford, and no more, brings you this this future." "I see." Ben nodded, and then fell silent. The ghost began their travel again. Soon Ben felt that they were approaching home, when another question struck him. "You have changed!" He called out. "You changed form! What happened?" Suddenly he was looking at the ghost in front of him, and the changes were clear. Still faceless, the ghost was now a tall, well built man, towering over Ben. "I am the future of your present. I am subject only to where you are now, and the powers which brought you here." "Powers like Satan?" "I visited you at his order, and now, at his order, I must leave you here in your Christmas present." As Ben watched the ghost's face filled in with a firm nose, brown eyes, and a few days of rough-looking stubble. The voice was no longer cold and empty, but resonant and full. "You sloppy bitch, I felt teeth!" The man he didn't know, the words he didn't understand, but the blow to his stomach winded him and doubled him over. Struggling for breath, the open handed slap to the face was a lifesaver as it caused him to inhale sharply in shock, though not in pain as the blow wasn't a strong one, just stinging. As though knocking sense into him, suddenly his life truly did flash before his eyes. At the same time as he felt that everything about his body was different; shorter, weaker, differently shaped; so he experienced a rush of memories. His name was Bella Carmichael, twenty seven, private school, ladies' finishing college, good university. Father made redundant, became an alcoholic, the money ran out. Mother never worked a day in her life now working as a cleaner for families with less class but more money. To continue at university Bella tried waitressing, bar work, secretarial work, before deciding to trade on her looks. As an escort she earned her university degree, funded a masters, and then decided that the work was too lucrative to give up for a graduate managerial position. She was now self-employed fulfilling male fantasies, worked out with her private trainer daily, had her boobs done two years ago, her ass upgraded six months ago. Tonight she was earning ten grand for giving a Riverside playboy an authentic 'street' experience, the supermodel fee negotiated to allow her client a certain 'realistic' roughness with her. But the money was so worth it. Bella looked up at her client from her knees, his hand pulling back again, and shrieked. The man smiled. You could see in his eyes that he was enjoying her frightened submission. Now that her firm abdomen was recovering from its surprise, the gravel digging into her knees was more discomforting than the slap she knew he would pull. Still, it stung again when it came, and she rolled with the blow to her right, reflexively putting her hand up to her cheek. He wore no rings, had manicured nails, she'd checked it all so she wasn't too worried, and the fee covered a few days out if she got bruised. Holding herself off the ground she noticed a man walking towards them, a big man. "Leave the girl alone," she heard him state in a low voice. She recognised the voice, it stirred something within her. "It's not what you think, man," her client responded. "I'm paying for this. Stay out of it!" Somehow Bella knew that was exactly the wrong thing to say. This was off plan. This was real, and therefore dangerous. She needed her client to back off. "Richard," she began quietly, "stop, please." She was going to explain, but the arrogant ass cut her off. "Shut up, bitch!" He was full of testosterone, full of himself, she'd got him too wired, and he was still in his fantasy. The new big guy didn't know the difference. "Don't talk like that!" he growled. When Richard turned to face him with a false smile and a hand still balled into a fist the new guy didn't wait. He hit low and hard and the blow from his huge frame folded her client in two. She screamed at them, but it was too late. Perhaps Richard had taken something before he'd picked her up, or perhaps years of boxercise had done something for him, because he got up and came at the big man with his fists flying. He connected a couple of times too, but it was like hitting a mattress. Suddenly Richard was reeling back again, and then the follow up seemed to go through his cheek and out the other side. His head went right, his feet went left, and he hit the ground horizontally, out for the count, blood leaking from his mouth and nose. "Oh, shit!" Bella cried out as she saw him hit the ground. Was he dead or alive? "Oh, shit!" she cried again as she crawled over to him to check his pulse. There, but he was out cold. "Oh, shit!" she stated at the realisation that ten grand was slipping out of her fingers. In rage she turned to the big guy. He was standing near but not too close, looking down at her, his face soft and concerned. Tim, she remembered, it was Tim. She knew him. He was her cleaner, but not hers, no he was his cleaner in his offices, Ben's cleaner, and she was Ben, not Bella. Ben was about to lose ten grand, and that did make him angry. He remembered that he made money, wanted money, and now his life was about using himself, or herself, to make money. It was selling yourself in the purest way. He thought back through his new memories, compared them with his old, and realised that as Bella he had more money, and fewer concerns. No relations, no boyfriend, no dependents, no employees, just himself to spend money on, and a stunning apartment, two great cars, clothes from the top designers. It was so easy to sell himself for the good life. And then he caught himself looking up at Ben and remembered the ghosts. Tim had nothing, was about to go back to nothing, had given what he thought was right to Bella, and she was just about to discard him forcefully back to that lonely life. Neglect, the fat boy, she could almost see him as Ben had so recently seen him. Bella might have been about to curse Tim, but Ben couldn't let it happen. "Thank you," the beautiful young woman said to the big guy. He smiled. It lit up his face, truly. It made Ben happy, and he smiled back. "You're welcome," said Tim, and turned to leave the girl with the unconscious body. Ben took quick stock. Long, blonde hair curtained his face, he got up and felt momentarily unsteady as he was pushed onto his toes by the height of his heels. His skirt was tight around his ass, and a boobtube was tight around his chest, only a leather jacket giving him some warmth and dignity. Checking his memories he knew he was stunning, and sexy, and knew that he would pay good money for a night with this woman. But somehow he was this woman, and even though he knew that he had just been lost in her life, now that he had taken control, he didn't really feel comfortable about being this woman. He certainly didn't feel comfortable in her clothes, and what he was wearing only served to emphasize what he was. The tightness of his boobtube was because there were lumps on his chest which simply felt wrong, hanging off him. The tightness of his skirt around his hips and ass made him feel fat. The height of his heels made him feel unsteady, off balance, and he knew would make his curves stand out front and back, attracting male attention which he really didn't want. His blonde hair kept drifting in front of his eyes causing an instinctive flick of the wrist or head. Everything about the body he was in was wrong, felt wrong, moved wrongly, was dressed wrongly, and yet... what an opportunity! Whatever had happened to him he was now wealthier and had far greater potential just using this body than he had ever had before. All he had to do was lie back, or kneel down, tell lies, and look sexy, all of which his new memories told him could be enjoyable. Could be. Maybe he could bring himself to do those things for the money, but he didn't think those things could be enjoyed. Thinking about those things revealed his dual nature. Ben wasn't just Ben anymore. Recalling memories from this woman's life, from Bella's life, made them a part of him, of his memories. Bella certainly didn't always enjoy the things which she did for her work, but she did them. Adding Ben to her meant that certain jobs became tougher to pretend an enjoyment of, but if enjoyment was part of the experience the client required, then adding Bella to Ben meant that the desire for material gain was twice as strong. Ben might be stuck like this, he considered that, but he could become Bella and use her to overcome his fears and dislikes to become wealthy and then powerful. That thought of money and power brought him back to the here and now. His client, and ten thousand cash, was out cold on the ground in a dark alley in a part of town where Ben felt completely unsafe. He might look like he belonged, but even Bella was on the edge here, relying on smarts, her client, and her mobile phone. He grabbed it from his pocket and called the emergency number to get help as soon as possible. He, or she, might have to give Richard a discount on the night, or a freebie, which neither he nor she were happy about. Richard was put in an ambulance. Ben was driven behind him in a police car. Each time he gave his name he said 'Bella', and each time that happened he felt more comfortable with it, but he wasn't losing the fact that he was Ben. He let Bella walk, let Bella sit, let Bella talk, and felt more and more comfortable with his new existence. But then, as the police dropped him at the hospital, and he found Richard's bed, he began to think about what had been taken from him. He had been a guy, with a good life and a gorgeous girlfriend. Then some nightmare had begun where he had been shown his past, watched his office cleaner head home while his girlfriend plotted behind his back, and then gone forward to see Hell and The Devil incarnate who was taking over the world through material obsession. A material obsession which he was subscribing to. The Devil said that Ben was coming to him, then just before he sent Ben back he had an idea about how Ben would serve him, not as an incubus, and there it was! The Devil's women were succubi. The ghost of Christmas Future had changed because The Devil had changed Ben's present to become Bella, who could fulfil Ben's greed in this life, and The Devil's purpose in the next. What was it that the ghost had said to him? "Giving only that which you can materially afford, and no more, brings you this this future." Giving Angie new boobs, jewellery, clothing, but no affection. Giving Tim a salary, but no time. Giving Kate no respect, like all women. Giving his future family expensive toys with no thought, and neglecting them all. The doctor entered the private room and disturbed his introspection. Ben caught an admiring glance before the doctor became fully professional. "Your boyfriend hasn't suffered any permanent damage, but does have concussion which we would prefer to monitor if we can keep him here for a day or two." He checked a few items on the charts, listened to his chest, and checked his breathing and pulse. "He's sleeping naturally at the moment, so should awake naturally, at which point we will check for any symptoms which may reveal something the scans didn't." He moved back away from the bed and towards the door. He looked at Ben. "I suggest you go home, miss. He's in the best possible hands." With that he left. Ben stood up, and realised that his feet were starting to ache in the shoes. He sat down again and took them off whilst he tried to think through his options. He could recall that Richard was going to give him, Bella, a lift home. His car had been left at a station three stops away from where they ended up. So Ben didn't have a lift home, nor, for safety reasons, did he have any cash. He had his phone, and a credit card. Dangling his shoes he wandered out of the ward dialling up a taxi that would take a credit card, and managed to book one which was already waiting near the entrance to A&E. He slipped his shoes on to shuffle across the tarmac and into the back of the cab. "You okay, miss?" enquired the cabbie as they headed towards Riverside and Bella's apartment. Ben was already starting to think of it as his place. He supposed the question was a natural one for a driver picking up a fare from a hospital. "You were visiting?" "No, I, well, sorta. I had to take a friend in." "He okay?" "Sure. Best place for him, I guess." "But Christmas Eve, what a time to leave you on your own, eh?" Ben looked at the cabbie. Dark, old, dishevelled. Long, straggly hair streaked with grey fell from out of his hat, and he looked bearded too, though he didn't turn around. "Christmas Eve, I say, not a time to be alone, eh?" Ben shook himself. Had he been staring? "No," he responded in his sweet voice. "It's not, is it? "Can you change direction please? I'd like to go to the Sky Villages complex." "In South Canalville? Are you sure? Not really a place where a girl like you should go alone. Someone could take you for a local worker, and you don't have protection." "I'm sure. just get me to the apartments." As they arrived, Ben looked up at the forbidding seven story block which appeared to have only one way in and out, and reportedly dealt in more crack than a plumbers' convention. "Okay, um, how about I pay you for ten minutes more, and if I'm not back, then you can go?" "It's a rough place. How about I wait ten minutes for you to call, and if you don't I come look for you?" He reached forward and pulled a card from a holder and handed it to the pretty, young girl. Ben looked at him. "Sure, okay, thanks. I'm heading to apartment 714, and I'll call you when I'm there so you can go." He fished around in his purse and handed the driver the fare plus extra, the few notes he had for emergencies, then headed out towards the block. Inside Ben took the elevator, which rattled and jerked its way upwards to the top floor. There was no one outside but he could hear music and voices from behind doors, some of which were boarded over and some covered in graffiti. He trotted quickly on his heels towards number fourteen, and then found himself at the door. He knocked. Really, he thought to himself, what was he doing here? He wasn't a man anymore, wasn't capable of defending himself. He was a good looking woman, and was therefore a target. But at this door, what was he doing at this door? This guy was a cleaner at his company, but it wasn't even his company any more, he had no idea if it even still existed. The guy had thought he was saving him, when he wasn't really in any trouble, in this new existence. And for that he'd thanked him already. So what was he doing here? The door opened just as he was about to turn away. Tim looked down at him confused. Ben registered his confusion, but registered just as strongly how far Tim was looking down at him. Suddenly he really didn't know what to say. Neither Ben nor Bella had been in this situation before. So Tim spoke first. "You're the girl from the alley?" Ben nodded. "Are you okay?" Ben nodded again. Tim wasn't suspicious that he knew where he lived or that he was here, just concerned. Something softened in Ben, in a place where he never knew things softened. "Yes. I came to see if you were okay." "Sure." He smiled. "I'm pretty tough." He laughed lightly at his own joke. Ben found himself smiling. "You're alone, right? It's Christmas Eve, and, well, I don't know, I kinda wondered if you needed company." Tim frowned. "If you're selling something, I ain't buyin'." Ben looked down at the stilletoes he was wearing, the miniskirt, and the boobtube, and shrugged. "Tonight I'm not selling." He looked up at Tim and laughed a little giddily. "Tonight I haven't got a clue what I'm doing, but I'm starting by asking if you'll ask me in, and I've got a card I can order take-out on if there's anything open, and we can chat and watch tv or something, anything you want." "What's your name?" Ben paused, mulling something over for a second. "Bella. My name is Bella." Tim stepped aside. "Please come in, Miss Bella. I got no wine, but there's a beer or two in the fridge if you want?" A jolly looking guy in red and white stepped into his office. He was mildly taken aback by the Rastafarian standing at his window in the yellow shirt of a taxi company. "You don't visit often enough." He smiled. The taxi driver laughed, a barking laugh. "If I did my street cred would be shot!" Santa laughed with him, not the classic but a friendly, deep laugh. "So, do you think you've got this one?" "Who knows? They're all free to choose their own future, even if their past gets somehow meddled with." Driver looked at Santa with a little reproach, then softened. "It was a clever recruiting move, but I think it might have backfired." "You could be right." Santa nodded thoughtfully. "Seat? Ambrosia or Scotch?" "Scotch of course, double!" Sitting genially around the fire the two old men spent Christmas Eve reminiscing. Finally Driver got up to leave and Santa accompanied him to the door. "You know, I'm so glad I created you, you make this all fun." The two guys shook hands, then hugged, and parted.