A Naughty Santa Gram

by Alyssa D Mynx

  "Fuck, you really want to know?"

  "Duh, dork. Tell me."

  "I didn't want you to, you know, think less of me or something. I just fucked two guys at once, like, how was I even supposed to feel?" Thoughts are tumbling chaotically through my brain, tossing themselves like waves upon the sand.

  "Let me ask you this. Did you like it?" Jenna asks.

  "Yes."

  "Did they like it?"

  "Yes again."

  "Have they treated you differently or called you anything since then?"

  "No," I answer, wondering where the bloody hell this is going.

  "Do you want to do it again if the chance comes up?"

  "...yes," I mumble out, heat rising to my cheeks and chest.

  "Do you think they want to do it again?"

  I think back to the hot looks between me and the guys, and the looks they've given each other then me, and the answer is easy. "Yes."

  SMACK. "Bitch, what the hell are you waiting for, then? You go jump those two hotties with naughty bodies again! Fuck what other people think. This is 2019; you can fuck whoever you want, dammit."

  I rub my smarting forehead and just grin. Of course, Jenna would literally slap some sense into me.

  "Well, when you bring logic into the picture..."

  "Logic and hormones, woman, logic and hormones."

  "Then I guess it's ok? Like, if I want more than one guy?"

  "What did I just say, Bitch?"

  "What if it's more than two guys?"

  "Then you have a harem, woman, and you're one of the luckiest women in the world," Jenna responds, just shaking her head at me as she hops up from the bed and goes to the dresser.

  "Well, ok then," I respond, settling into the bed, some of my anxiety from the past few weeks gone.

  A golden lace dress smacks me in the face.

  "There, Bitch, put that on, and let's make you pretty for your boys." Damned woman has some cheekiness to her.

  "Pretty sure this isn't mine," I tell her as I stand to hold the dress up to me.

  "Pretty sure it'll fit, so I'm pretty sure you should shut it and just put the damned thing on, sans panties since it’s so tight."

  "Fine then."

  "Fine," Jenna responds. "And while you're at it, try these black lace heels on with this violet to black clutch. Then let's fix this mess of a face and hair.”

  "Fine." And the makeover begins.

  Strutting out of the building, I feel like at least ten thousand bucks. The wind is calm, and I know my hair isn't moving. The gold lace dress hugs me just right, fitting my curves to rest halfway down my thighs. This baby has an open back with strings criss-crossing to hold me in, a high neckline in the front, and shimmering lace over a chiffon base. Seriously, if a dress could be money, I'd be the definition of old gold money.

  Jenna has fixed up my eyes and my hair, of course, but it’s simple. Curled then combed out, a little back-combing on top for volume, and then a clip to hold it back from my face. I swear to almighty God she had all this picked out for me. I love this bitch.

  The makeup is subtle, except the eyes. Somehow, she found a palette that matches my dress, and the smokey eye looks phenomenal on me with the gold, if I do say so myself. As the goddesses we are, we strut out of the building to get in the company provided limo.

  The driver who just happens to be my personal favorite main man, Dennis, comes around to open the doors to the limo for us.

  "Well, good evening, ladies. Don't you two look stunning." He whistles, giving me a wink and grin.

  "Stop that, you old charmer. You know how to make a girl blush," I reply.

  "Yeah, you're going to inflate Blake's already inflated head. She won't fit through the car door if you keep that up," Jenna teases, throwing an elbow my way.

  "Play nice, ladies, or I'll have to separate you two," Dennis teases.

  "You wouldn't."

  "Just watch me."

  "Fine, fine, fine. I'll play nice," I mutter, shooting Jenna a look that could kill. Well, kill her boob, since that's the level my eyes are at with her in those obnoxious heels.

  We both scoot and scramble into the limo, trying not to flash Dennis anything he wouldn't want to see. Once settled, the door closes, and I finally get to see who we are ride sharing with.

  "Evening, Blake, Jenna."

  "North, people I don't know. How's the resident asshole today?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

  "Oh, you know, working on keeping up my reputation, as usual."

  "You didn't ride one of your bikes tonight? Such a shame, now I have to actually hear your voice," I goad, lips curling at our companion.

  "Burn, dude. She's really got you pegged out," guy number one says. Guys two and three chuckle, and the girl practically draping herself across him just giggles, leaning in to kiss the guy.

  "Ha ha. Where are your other two invites? Don't have enough friends to make the list?" he digs.

  Oh hell to the no, someone's getting a bitch slap. Jenna must know what's about to happen because she intervenes and keeps me from an assault charge.

  Hand on my leg, she just states, "No, she has plenty of friends. She just knows how to be selective with her choices."

  Ha, nice subtle burn. North probably won't even get it though, damn him. My phone starts to go off in my boob (because that’s the best place to keep phones, don’t you know), but I ignore it. Anyone I actually like is either in this limo or where we are going.

  "So," I say, breaking through the angry silence that throbs with heat. "Are we picking anybody else up? Looks like we have room for a few more."

  "Yes, Ms. Blake," Dennis calls from the front. "We have Abe and his two to get."

  "Thank you, Dennis, you're the best," I shout to the front. I sit back and try to relax.

  After about ten minutes of silence or quiet conversations among ourselves, we finally pull up to an adorable cottage. There are a couple little girls waving at the door with an older woman, and the tykes are absolutely adorable. The woman holds a baby in her arms as Abe and another man and a woman walk to the car. As the front car door opens, we get to hear a snippet of, "Bye Daddies! Bye Momma!" "Have fun!" "Make me a brother tonight!" and I just blush.

  "North," Abe greets as he gets in the limo last from his group. We are full to the brim now, with Jenna and I on the short end next to Dennis's window, North's crew opposite of us, and Abe's group next to us on the long end.

  "Abe and company," North acknowledges, then goes back to necking with his girl of the moment.

  "Blake, it's nice to see you. Who do you have with you?" Abe asks from across the limo.

  "Hi Abe. This is Jenna, the wonder of wonders who takes care of my hair and makeup."

  "Ah, the woman who finally got those boys some good product and slays at cutting their hair. You're a legend," the woman states, reaching across to shake first Jenna's hand, then my own. "I'm Lexie, these two's wife. This is Robert, our husband. It's a pleasure to meet you both. I've heard so much about the woman Santa who is upping the game and making the boys actually have to try."

  Mind. Blown. I just found a polyamorous triad, and I'm, like, in the same boat. Miracles, baby, miracles.

  "Oh, she is. Of course, it's all due to me making her look absolutely fabulous all the time. She is so rough on makeup and hair, you wouldn't believe it,” Jenna chatters.

  And so the chit chat goes for the fifteen minutes it takes to get to our Christmas party. It's being held at one of the fancy hotels, and from what the guys have said, it's huge. Not only do the Santa grammers get to come, but the Cupids, Leprechauns, and Uncle Sams, as well as their plus four each.

  Pulling up as one in the caravan, we pile out as we get to the front entrance. Entering the hotel, we are escorted to the ballroom. The moment the double doors are opened, I’m in absolute awe.

  The room has been transformed into a Hallmark moment. The tables have pristine white tablecloths with red and green cloth napkins folded into either
trees or ornaments. Greenery and gold garland wind around candles in the center, and even the cutlery is gold.

  The greenery and garlands extend across the ceiling, swooping into arcs. Where they meet up, giant orbs glint in the light. Each wall is covered in gold, green, or red panels of material.

  Men in suits and women in cocktail dresses fill the space, the entire color spectrum represented, each in their finest. Smells of prime rib, cranberry, and so much more fill the air, and my salivary glands start working overtime.

  “Holy fucking shit. Thank you, sweet Jesus, for Mr. Daniels and his attention to detail," Jenna stammers out, struck by the same awe that I am.

  "Amen," I reply, completely speechless. The company has really outdone themselves this time. I'm pretty sure there's actual gold on some of this stuff. I wonder what my fork will be worth. Buzzing at my boob brings me out of my daze, and I go to get it automatically, but Jenna barges in and distracts me.

  "Well, let's not stand here gawking. Let's grab us some dates or drinks or something from this place," Jenna says, ever the go-getter. We are stopped a short distance in by a harried-looking Presley, wearing a delightful little blue dress.

  "Presley, good to see you. What are you doing?" I ask.

  "The coordinator asked me to look after the seating chart while she peed. Her assistant is gone for the moment, and I have no idea what the hell I am doing. She's gone, I'm supposed to be enjoying myself, and I'm not. I'm freaking out, and just UGH."

  "Ok, then. Well, good thing I've helped plan and host things like this before," I reassure her. "Let me see that." I snag the clipboard and flip to seating charts. "Right, North, you and yours are on that side, fourth table from the back," I direct, pointing to my right. "Abe, you and your lovely husband and wife are on the left side, fourth table in from here. Jenna...you and I are at the middle table, number seven, on the left. Presley, I'll man this while you go find that woman and kick her ass. Should I send Jenna with?"

  "Oh yeah, put me in the ring, coach, I'm ready," Jenna huffs, fists up and bouncing in her heels. Crazy freaking woman.

  Another woman, this one in a suit, walks up just then and takes the clipboard. "Thank you, dear, I've got it from here. Go enjoy your time."

  I link arms with poor Presley and tug her my way. "That the coordinator?"

  "Yup."

  "Jerk. I got you. You bring a date?"

  "Yeah, he's waiting for me to come back from the bathroom. It’s been so long that he's probably worried I fell in,” Presley comments, stretching up and looking around for her boyfriend.

  "Go get him then. We’re good here." And she rushes off.

  "Ok then, you're welcome!" Jenna whisper shouts after her.

  "Leave her alone! She deals with a lot of shit every day. Now, how about we go find our table, a drink, and get this party started?” I say, forgetting about my phone tucked by my boob.

  Two drinks later, I’m tipsy enough to have lost some inhibitions, which is probably why I do what I did next.

  "Bossman!" I exclaim, running up to him and nearly spilling my third drink on him. "You sure know how to throw a party. What say we liven it up with some dancing? Wanna dance with me, your favorite Santa?" I say suggestively, wiggling my eyebrows and letting out a small hiccup.

  "I don't know about favorite, but I suppose a dance wouldn't hurt." He smiles, his blue eyes lighting up in humor at my antics.

  "Perfect. I'll just set this on my, wait. This isn't my table. Where's my table? The table ran off. Bad bad table," I mutter, spinning in circles to find the evil table that ran away from me.

  "How about I put it on this table, and when we are done dancing, we can get you some food and water, ok? Have you eaten anything yet?"

  "Not yet, but I really want to eat some of you," I blurt rather loudly. "Oops," I whisper shout, "that was loud. Sorry!"

  Drake just chuckles and guides me to the table to set my wine glass on it. Let it be known, that's some of the best and sweetest wine I've had, absolutely no dryness whatsoever. If Mr. Bossman doesn't get me more later, I'm gonna be hella pissed he took the last bit of mine away.

  Helping me put the glass on the white tablecloths without spilling, Drake takes me out to the dancing floor where a good half of the crew and their company is out moving their goods. Even Jenna is out there making the moves with the guy, Dillon, that looks like Jason Momoa. More than a few envious looks get thrown her way. Lucky freaking ducky.

  Drake pulls me along behind him, stopping when people say hello or great party or whatever the hell they say. I'm lost in the beat, the bass pounding through the floor and making me want to take off my shoes and just dance. Finally, we stop towards the middle of the floor.

  The music changes to a slower beat, and the bass rolls through my body and into my soul, making me move a bit. Drake swings me into his arms, capturing my wandering body and bringing it to his.

  "You drive me crazy, Brat. You know that, right?" he asks, bringing his head down to mine so I can hear him over the din.

  "Yes, I know, it's fun to make your day a little more chaotic. Want to know a secret?" I ask, crooking a finger at him.

  "Always, Brat," he responds.

  "Sometimes I make up trouble just to see those sexy-ass sparks in your eyes. It's fun," I giggle, feeling the alcohol now. I'm a lightweight, dammit.

  "Oh, I know, Brat, I know. If you weren't such a delectable little thing, I'd fire you. As it is, I just need to spank that perky little ass again."

  "Mmm, I'd like that. Can you bring one of your friends again? Like that cute Johnny fellow?" I beg, Angela clenching in anticipation.

  "Just Johnny? I think Ethan would have a problem with that. Besides, you only want one? Brat, I think you'd like all four of my friends. In fact, I think you've met most of them, and I happen to know you like more than a few of them."

  "Oh, really? Well, I know Landon, and I know he likes me. That was quite evident when the three of us were together. Oh, and Xav. Yeah, I like that guy a whole lot. Then Johnny, though I don’t know him, and Ethan the photographer? He’s hella mysteriously hot. Let’s go find them and ask!"

  "Let's get some food and water in you, and-"

  BZZZ BZZZ.

  "What's that?" Drake asks.

  "Oops, it's my phone. Give me one second," I reply, reaching to dig the phone out of my bra.

  "Seriously? You keep your phone in your bra? That can cause cancer,” Drake chastises, letting go of my arms. They're a bit chilled without him.

  "Meh, old wives’ tale. Besides, I--" I stop. Panic and anger well up inside of me. I have three missed calls from my mother. Three. She only calls twice a year, so either someone's dead, or someone else took her phone.

  "Brat? Blake? Are you ok?" Drake asks, breaking through the wall of fear that has started to climb.

  "I'm...I'll be ok," I say, tucking my phone in my bra. Luckily, the wine helps me shake off fear really fast, taking me from mouse to lion in point zero two seconds. "What I need is some good food, some good company, and more of that wine."

  "Food and water, and I'll reintroduce you to my friends. Then you can have some wine. Deal?" he asks.

  "Deal." I put on a wobbly smile, shoving down the emotions again. "I smell food, and I want food, so you must therefore give me the food." I know, I make no sense when I'm tipsy. Dear God, note to self: don't get drunk and let crazy Blake come out. She's an animal who needs to be locked up.

  Drake leads me over to the buffet that's spread out across the length of the room. There's so much food here that my stomach is trying to exit my body and devour all of it. Damned thing, so greedy all the time.

  We start on the meat end, and I almost die when I see prime rib. "Dear Meat God, thank you for this food, this medium rare deliciousness, and let it not go to my hips. A-freaking-men," I whisper as the chef cuts a nice thick piece of meat and plops it on my overly-large plate. Really, it's more of a platter, and you know what? I'm totally ok with that. We move down the line, and I find
some shrimp that I pile on top of the rib, then we move on to salads.

  I've legitimately never seen so many salads, and they all look professional and amazing, and my whore of a stomach wants every single one of them inside of her. At the same time. Yum. Alas, my plate's not big enough, so I try the spinach and cranberry, the fluffy stuff, and the gray stuff since the guy manning the salads said it's delicious.

  Drake follows closely behind, moving me along with a gentle hand to my back, and I see him filling his plate as well. Then we hit the dessert section, and I just whimper. My damned platter is full, and there's no room for the cheesecake and stuff I see. I love cheesecake, it's like the creamy goodness your mouth didn't know it needed.

  Bossman grabs my left upper arm and steers me away again. "There will be plenty of time for dessert. Let's just get this and some water in you," he encourages, nodding to a waiter in some sort of rich person lingo that either means "bring me two waters," or "good job standing there doing nothing, ya freak." I like number two better.

  Skirting around a few tables and groups that are standing and chatting, Drake leads me to his table where four familiar faces are sitting. Drake snags a chair from the table next to theirs and pulls it up to their five-man table for me. Sitting there, relaxed and chatting, are Landon and Xav, of course, and point for me, I named the last two correctly.

  "Ethan, take any more pretty pictures lately?" I tease, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

  He chuckles, swirling a glass of wine. "Not since you, Poppet. How's the Santa gig been going?"

  "Pretty damned good once Bossman over here listened to me. It's like whatever I say, he does the opposite. Geesh. Men."

  "Watch it, little lady, I know how your ass looks red, and I'm not afraid to return it to that color," Drake threatens, that oh-so-familiar heat back in his eyes.

  "It does look sexy as fuck when it's red, Sweets," Landon's familiar voice rings out.

  I turn to face him. "And who asked you, ya big voyeur?" I joke.