by Denise Wells
“Guess your son’s not a fan of Santa?” He sneers the question.
What the fuck crawled up his ass. I think of the bartender I met last night and wonder why he can’t just go back to being that guy.
“He’s not my son.” I consider ignoring the fact we just saw each other last night and had a moment. But that’s not really in my personality. So instead, I turn to him and say, “Aren’t you the bartender from last night?”
“He’s not your son?”
“No, that’s my nephew.”
“Oh.” His face morphs into something else entirely as it fills with relief. Suddenly, there’s no mistaking him for the guy from last night.
“So?”
As I’m asking, Santa snaps his fingers, and the elf rushes to him to help escort Kelsie off the stage with Kelly and Kelvin not far behind. I try to follow, but as soon as he’s done that, he’s off to get the next kid in line. I want to hang around to get his name, or at least say something more to him than I have. However, Kelly’s ready to leave, and I want to walk her out, and my assistant calls with an issue.
I make a mental note that Santa’s Village closes at four o’clock and to return by then.
I head out to take care of what I need so I can get back in time before this guy leaves, find out who he is, and satisfy my curiosity once and for all.
4
Nick
I keep trying to find the guy again, but the line is crazy, Santa is cranky, and Mrs. Claus is no help. I don’t see him anywhere, as it is. I can’t believe I didn’t say anything more to him than, “He’s not your son?” How stupid. Plus, the fact that he showed up with his sister doesn’t discount the woman he was with last night at the party. But if he wasn’t at least a little bit interested he wouldn’t have asked if I was the bartender.
Had I just said yes to that, who knows how much more information I would have now. He looked amazing. Not in a tuxedo, like last night, but in what was obviously a custom fitted suit that showed his entire physique to its advantage. Broad chest, just the way I like, long lean legs, slim waist. A body that I want to run my hands all over and sink my dick deep into.
Oh shit, no sex thoughts. The slightest movement from my cock in this damn elf outfit around kids, and I’ll be arrested. I envision every non-sexy thing that I can think of, relieved to feel my dick shrink back into itself. At least as far as it can.
It’s impressive. I know that. Even if I hadn’t heard it from past partners, and seen for myself, Sarah has also confirmed it. As have the looks I’ve gotten from harangued mom’s all day long. And I’ll tell you, there aren’t too many people more forward than a horny gay man. Except for an equally horny mom shopping with her kids.
I can’t even tell you how many flushed faces I’ve had to disappoint today. It should be flattering but instead it’s frustrating. I’ve been single for a long time, and I rarely get this kind of attention from other men. Just women. If I were straight, I would be cleaning up everywhere I go. I don’t know why straight men ever complain about getting laid. As far as I’m concerned, they could be getting it at any and all times. They just need a decent personality and an equally decent-sized piece of equipment, and the women go nuts. Pun intended.
We finish out the day at half past four o’clock, having to cut the line at a certain point, promising everyone after that we’ll be back tomorrow, and they can cut the line with this voucher we passed out. I found out today we’ll be here six days a week for two weeks. Maybe the guy will come back another day.
He sure did leave quickly after his nephew was finished, and I’m assuming, his niece, since they shared the same mom. Although, I still don’t really know who the woman is.
Ordinarily I might not be so concerned, but I was burned bad by a guy who said he was both single and gay who ended up being married with kids and experimenting with a fantasy. I fell in love, he didn’t. The wife was destroyed at first, but then wanted us to do a three-some. And women aren’t something I’ve ever been into. Needless to say, the entire experience was awful.
I’d really fallen for the guy, and I’d thought he returned my feelings. And there was zero indication that he was married with kids. He must’ve been the most absentee father and husband ever, because it didn’t matter when or where, he was always available to me. Always. Which is how I like it in a relationship, since I can be a little needy. I’m not insecure, I just like to know where I stand, and have that confirmed as often as I need.
Unfortunately, I’m attracted to dominant guys who typically don’t like to supply reassurance. I’m not submissive, far from it, I’m perfectly fine taking charge during sex. I just like my man to be manly, at the risk of sound sexist.
And, I do not need to get into a situation like Dwayne again. So now, I’m paranoid to an extreme when I see a man I’m interested in with a woman or kids. Not that I have anything against kids, and I know that men can be single, gay fathers. However, somewhere in that kid’s life is a mother. And unless I can be certain without the shadow of a doubt that the woman is not involved romantically in any way with the dad, I want nothing to do with it.
You’d be surprised at how often a man just wants to take a walk on the wild side. Or a woman who wants to watch her man take a dick. Suck a dick. Wants double penetration while the three of them make out together. I know for a straight man, the fantasy is usually two women, one guy. But for a lot of straight women, it’s two men, one woman. And she wants to see the men get it on with each other. Just not to the detriment of her own enjoyment or adulation.
Sex is a slippery fucking slope.
I change my clothes in the locker room and head out, telling cranky Santa that I’ll see him earlier tomorrow morning. We don’t have a day off until Tuesday, then work another six days after that with another Tuesday off, then again right up until Christmas Eve.
I’m happy to have the gig, for sure. But at no point today did I have to exercise any acting skills. I mean, there is no acting in this at all. I’m not even sure why they would call an agent for something like this. I would think that an ad in some online service would yield the same results.
But who am I to judge?
I head toward the subway station, a little dead on my feet, but thinking about the guy today. I can still call the catering company and use Sarah’s lie of having a cuff link. I’m just not one hundred percent sure I want to pursue this. Just in case he’s not all in. But then I think about his body in a suit, his brown eyes boring into mine, how good he smelled when he swept past me with his nephew, and I think I’m crazy not to find him again.
My mind made up, I settle in on the subway and head for home. Sarah texted me earlier that she’s ordering Chinese food and has a Hallmark Movie Channel marathon all set up for us. We’re home bodies, Sarah and me. If I were straight, we’d be the perfect couple. She stays in of late because of a bad breakup. And I do, because, well, I guess because of the same. Dwayne and his wife really did a number on me emotionally. Plus, I want to devote some serious time to acting, and that’s hard to do when you’re all caught up in a relationship.
I arrive at Coleman’s twenty minutes before ten. Dressed and at the ready within ten minutes. The line has already started to form, and I see a few people with their vouchers ready to be pulled in to see Santa first.
Mrs. Claus arrives and starts organizing the line according to voucher or no voucher. The photographer is all set up and ready to go. But still no Santa. I wait until ten o’clock before I go up to her to see if she’s heard from him, or what I should do if anything.
“Any idea where Santa is?”
“Not a clue. Good riddance, I say. The guy is a real dick.”
“He did seem cranky yesterday.”
“Let’s just say you should be happy you’re a guy, otherwise he would have had his hands all over you as well,” she says sourly.
“If he does anything today, you let me know,” I tell her. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Thanks,” she l
ooks up at me and smiles. So, I do too, holding her gaze for a bit too long.
Which is how Santa finds us a moment later.
“If you too are finished eye-fucking each other, we’ve got a job to do,” he says.
I raise my brows at her and turn to get the first kid.
Santa’s late returning from lunch as well. The people in line are getting restless. It’s already ten minutes past the time he was supposed to be here. Mrs. Claus passes out candy canes to soften up the crowd.
Finally, at fifteen minutes past the hour, Santa comes jogging up. I’ve never seen him move so fast.
“Sorry,” he says in a deep voice. “Got held up. Won’t happen again.” The he turns to the line. “Everyone in line gets their picture for free for being patient!”
Happy and surprised murmurs run through the line, mothers brighten, and kids are just excited to see that Santa is finally here.
“Can you do that?” I lean in and ask him. He smells good, like sandalwood and citrus. Not stale onions and grease like earlier.
“It’ll be fine,” he says. Then he winks at me, from behind his little round spectacles, his brown eyes sparkle. I don’t remember them being this alive before.
Maybe he hit the bar at lunch.
Regardless of the reason, I’m happy to have him in a better mood. We start the kid rotation and get to work.
About twenty kids in, he takes hold of my hand as I’m passing by. I can’t help but jerk it back at the jolt of energy that passes through me. Like when bourbon guy touched me at the party.
He pulls me close to whisper in my ear. “Is there any way you could get me some bottled water? I’m dying under this suit.” His breath tickles my ear and I forcibly stop myself from shivering.
Clearly, I need to get laid if I’m turned on by cranky Santa just because he winked at me and has been nice for a couple of hours. I nod at him, my eyes wide, and rush off to get him some water.
“Don’t worry kids,” I hear him call out. “Santa’s helper will be right back. Now, who wants to help me out while he’s gone?”
The echoing cries of ‘me’ dull as I round the corner toward the locker room where I know they have coffee and bottled water available.
Santa is laughing at something the girl on his lap is saying when I return. He looks happier and less obligated than earlier today or yesterday. I’m not sure what’s changed with him. But I like it.
The whole vibe of Santa’s Village is lighter and more cheerful. The way it should be during the holidays. The time when everyone seems to spend more time upset than happy. I watch him up there on his Santa throne, listening intently as the girl chatters away. He’s filling his suit out a bit better than before. Making me wonder if he padded it somehow. Like more in the shoulders versus in the belly. Come to think of it, his belly does look smaller somehow. Still rotund, but not so obesely rotund, if that makes sense.
Even Mrs. Claus seems relaxed with him. It really makes the entire day more enjoyable. Crazy how just one person’s attitude can affect so many.
I bring him the water, and he smiles gratefully. His teeth white even against the snow color of his mustache and beard. It’s like he’s a whole new person.
I check in with Mrs. Claus to make sure it’s not just me. “Santa seem to be in a better mood to you?”
“Like night and day,” she says.
“That’s what I thought too.”
“I don’t care what he had to do, as long as he keeps doing it. I’m actually enjoying this job today.”
“Me too,” I tell her, backhanding her upper arm slightly in camaraderie. I look up at Santa with a smile, to see him narrow his eyes at me and look away.
Shit.
Did I jinx us?
Is cranky Santa back?
Only one way to find out.
I chicken out of talking to him after we’re through and rush to the locker room instead. I’d heard today that all employees have the use of the gym, and I want to check it out. Maybe I’ll hit it up before work tomorrow if it looks good.
5
Kris
Two hours before
This morning was a shit show at work. So, not only did I not have a chance to call the catering company and find out who my bartender/elf is, but I barely had time to tend to my normal daily activities.
It’s pure luck that I’m entering Donna’s, the head of marketing, office when she gets the call that Santa is drinking on the job. Come on, dude? How stereotypical can you get? He’s passed out at a tavern down the street. So, not only drinking on the job, but drinking on the job.
As she begins to panic about finding a substitute Santa in the next few minutes, I hear myself volunteering to do it.
She rears her head and looks at me. “You?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Well, for one because you own the entire company.”
“One of many owners,” I say in defense of her claim.
“And I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
“It will be my chance to give back.”
“Are you sure, Kris?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, let me track down a Santa suit for you, and we’ll get you down there. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how much I appreciate this. You are truly saving my ass.”
“Donna, your ass isn’t on the line when someone else messes up. It’s their ass.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t believe me but nods anyway.
I head back to my office; not remembering why I’d gone to her office to begin with and wait for her to bring me the Santa suit. I’m looking forward to this. I think it will be fun. Plus, if my blond bartender is Santa’s helper again, this will give me an opportunity to get to know him a little better without him knowing who I am.
It’s brilliant, really. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.
After what feels like a long time, but is only ten minutes, Donna brings me the suit and lets me know that I should have been downstairs five minutes ago. I change hurriedly and head downstairs, jogging over the Santa’s Village once I reach the first floor.
He’s the first thing I see as I approach. For the first time I notice his entire body in the elf suit, I can’t believe I didn’t have a chance to check him out before. He looks amazing. All tight muscles and what appears to be a fabulous dick, if the outline is any indication.
My cock stirs in appreciation and for the first time I’m happy for the baggy pants of Santa’s suit. I apologize to him as we pass, and I take a seat in the big Santa throne. He looks surprised by me. I know I’m not recognizable in this getup, so it’s not that he knows it’s me. I can only surmise he’s surprised by my demeanor, especially remembering how surly the other Santa was with Kelsie and Kelvin.
I further confuse him by offering the entire line free photos for having to wait.
“Can you do that?” he asks.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell him with a wink. After which he really looks disjointed. I like that I know who he is and not the reverse.
After an hour or so, I send him to get me bottled water. It was just an excuse to grab his hand to see if we’d have the same chemistry when we touched as we did at the holiday party.
We do.
I begin plotting how to get him alone or ask him out after work. I don’t know anything about him. For all I know, he could be married or in a relationship. But I don’t think so. One, he doesn’t wear a ring. Two, he doesn’t act as though he’s committed to someone else.
Though, truth be told, I’m not exactly sure how that is.
About an hour before we’re set to be finished, I see Mrs. Claus and him share a moment. What if I’m wrong about him? What if this whole energy between us is one-sided and he’s straight? I should’ve had Kelly hit on him while she was here.
He meets my gaze, and I scowl. Not intentionally. Just because I don’t like the idea of him not being mine. I’ll admit, I get jealous easily. I get territorial, I
like what’s mine to be mine alone. That includes in a relationship. Not that I’m necessarily looking to get into one, but if I were, that’s how I’d want it.
I try to loosen up when I realize he’s noticed my attitude shift, but by then it’s too late. He’s started to close off toward me. When it’s time to leave for the night, he heads for the locker room the second he’s able.
I tell Mrs. Claus I’ll see her tomorrow and head back up to my office to change back into my regular clothes. I usually work out at the building gym, either before or after work, depending on how my schedule for the day goes.
I send a message off to Donna to let her know that I’ll cover Santa tomorrow for her as well, because I want to see how it goes with my blond bartender elf and whether I can get a better read on him. All of this would be much easier if I just got his information from the catering company. Or had Kelly do it.
But it’s kind of entertaining to go about it on my own, like a normal person as opposed to one that is used to having any information he wants available at his fingertips.
Donna messages me back saying thank you, but she’s found a replacement who will start tomorrow. It only takes me a moment to think about it before I’m sending one back telling her to push the replacement by a day. That I wasn’t volunteering, but instructing, when I said I’d do it again.
I know she’s going to wonder why, but I don’t care. If anything comes of this with the blond, I’ll admit to her what I was doing. She’ll think it was cute. Otherwise, I won’t tell her anything, she’ll wonder but won’t ask, and we’ll go on from there.
I head to the gym in the morning, early, excited to get a workout in before donning my costume. I spent most of the night thinking about the blond bartender elf. Jacking off did nothing to ease the sexual tension, so I’m hoping the gym will.