I didn’t have a Christmas outfit.
The thought brought the visual of Philip and Bathhouse Santa back in vivid detail as I opened the door.
“Hi, Brian. It’s—” James cut off his own words with a burst of laughter. “Are you okay? You had the worst expression on your face when you opened the door. Like you just drank sour milk or something.”
Shit. Well, that was starting off perfectly. “Oh, sorry. No. I was realizing I probably should be wearing a Christmas outfit, but I don’t have one. And that just made me think of walking in on Philip getting fucked by Bathhouse Santa.” I grimaced.
He laughed again. “Yep. That’s the face. And Bathhouse Santa’s a pretty good guy, actually.” James pointed at his brown-and-orange flannel shirt. “And I’m not wearing a Christmas outfit either. We’re not six, so we should be okay.”
I wasn’t sure how to recover from that announcement. Luckily I didn’t have to figure it out. James stepped through the doorway and kissed me. I’d replayed our night together on a continuous loop in the past few days. I thought I’d managed to memorize the way his lips felt. Apparently not, or my memory wasn’t able to capture the warm pressure combined with the scratch of his beard over mine. Or the way his kiss made me feel like I wasn’t able to stand, yet might burst into flight.
At last he pulled away. His warm brown eyes were bright and direct. “I’d like to keep going, but I’d just end up getting you naked, and I really want to have an actual date with you. That okay?”
No. Just get me naked. Just kiss me like that again, all night.
I didn’t want anything else, but I nodded.
“Good. I’ll get you naked later tonight if you’re not sick of me by then.” He pointed to the doorway. “You ready, or do you still want to find a Christmas outfit?”
I felt my cheeks heat. “I’m ready. No Christmas outfits, thankfully.”
* * *
James kept one hand on my thigh as he drove. “I wanted to go someplace pretty gay so we don’t have to watch ourselves, but not a bar. I was thinking Hamburger Mary’s, but they’ve got a fundraiser going on tonight. So, I opted for Racine’s. It’s about as gay friendly as you can get without it actually being a gay restaurant. That sound okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds great.” I hadn’t been to Racine’s in years. I rarely went out to eat; it was expensive. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, though. My nerves were wound so tightly it felt like I might come undone at any moment.
James seemed to understand. He lifted his hand off my thigh and turned up the radio slightly before returning it to my leg. “I turned it to something other than Christmas music since you said you don’t like Christmas.”
* * *
Racine’s more than made up for the lack of Christmas music in James’s truck. The huge restaurant looked like it was attempting to become a winter wonderland. Massive shining ornaments hung from the tall ceilings. Three Christmas trees were spread out over the different levels of seating. Fake snow littered the top of wall dividers and counters.
It was kinda pretty. Well, if you were someone other than me, it would be beautiful. However, the fact that it didn’t make me want to turn and run away as fast as I could seemed like a Christmas miracle all on its own.
We didn’t have to wait long before we were seated close to a wall of windows. While it wasn’t snowing, the lights along the streets reflected off the snow on tree branches. It was beautiful.
What was happening to me?
James smiled at me after we ordered. “So date things. Honestly it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. I’m a little rusty.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Really? I don’t believe that. A guy who looks like you doesn’t get many dates?”
He shrugged. “Dates and sex are different things a lot of the time. There’s not been many men I wanted to see again after sex.”
I nearly asked what the hell was wrong with him that he’d chosen me to be one of those he actually wanted to see again. It was more not wanting to see his look of pity that enabled me to keep the thought to myself than anything else.
He continued. “Okay, then, date things. Like jobs.” James lowered his voice just a touch as the tables around us were full of people. “So bathhouse. How’d you pick that career?”
I hesitated a moment, trying to see if there was judgment behind his words. There didn’t seem to be. “I kinda just fell into it several years ago. I’d been working as a line cook and hated it. I’d been to the bathhouse a few times, and one night when I showed up, the owner was there and said one of his employees was a no-show. Asked me if I wanted a job. It was just luck of timing, I suppose.”
“You like it?”
I shrugged. “I guess. It’s just a job. It’s pretty easy. You get to see some… interesting… things, and the owner pays pretty well, considering. I’m not a job kind of person; I don’t have big career goals or anything. I just want to live my life, you know?”
James nodded slowly, but I could see he didn’t feel the same way. “That’s probably nice. I started my own investment firm. Which financially has been great. Up until a few years ago, though, it was all-consuming. It’s finally in a place where I’m able to just supervise and manage the bigger picture.”
Maybe I felt the need to compensate. Not look like a complete goalless nobody. “I’ve thought about opening my own toy store one day.”
“I can see that. I bet you’d be great at it.” He breathed out a laugh. “I can just picture you arranging tubes all around the store for your hamsters to run through.”
I’d never thought of that. The idea made the store more appealing than it actually was. “That’s a good idea. I doubt I’ll ever do it, though. I think the stress of the whole thing would end up making me not enjoy toys and games anymore.” Just another excuse, like I made with everything. My father’s voice ran in my memory. “Sorry, that probably sounds pretty pathetic. Like I’m not passionate about something or that I’m just lazy.”
James reached across the table and gripped my forearm. “Okay, we’ve got to stop that. You keep beating yourself up all the time. At least it seems like that to me. You don’t have to try to impress me. I’m not worried about your career choice. Jobs were just a topic of conversation, not an interview question. You seem like you’re doing just fine to me, and maybe you’re not overly passionate about your job, but you are about other things. I watched about ten episodes of Buffy and Her Vampire Teddy Bear Lovers. Remember? You’re living your life how you want, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, then. Good enough.”
It might have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. It was years since I’d been on a date, but before, if my weight wasn’t a problem, then my lack of ambition was. Dates just ended up becoming extensions of conversations with my father.
The server brought our first course, two large individual crocks of french onion soup, the top boiling over with bubbling cheese. I couldn’t hold back a sigh of appreciation at the sight.
James thanked the server, then looked back at me. “I take it you approve of my suggestion?”
I grinned over at him, more comfortable than I’d been before. “There’s cheese everywhere. What’s not to approve of?”
“That’s my man!” He laughed and plunged his spoon through the casing of cheese.
I knew he hadn’t meant the words the way I took them. Or at least the way I was tempted to take them. But they still made me flinch.
“You okay, Brian?”
“Oh. Yeah. It’s just…. Uhm, the soup is really hot.”
I’d obviously not even attempted my first bite, but he nodded in agreement.
His man.
What would it be like to be James Olsen’s man? Belong to a man who was happy with how I looked and respected my life goals? The thought made me realize I suddenly had more ambition than I realized.
We ate in silence for several minutes before it occurred to me I needed t
o play the dating game too. “There’s only four more days till Christmas. You didn’t need to be with your daughter tonight, or ex-wife or something?”
James swallowed the bite he’d just put in his mouth before answering. “No. My daughter’s husband is originally from here as well, so they went to see his family. Tonight is my last free night till Christmas. I have my work party tomorrow night, and the next two nights are full of Christmas stuff with the family. Luckily we all get along, so it’s actually pretty wonderful.”
“Even you and your ex-wife get along?”
“Yep. She’s great. And she ended up marrying my best friend after our divorce, so her husband is pretty great too.”
“Wow.” A sudden vision flashed through my mind. Me surrounded by all of these people. Daughters and sons-in-law and grandkids. Ex-wives with best-friend husbands. In-laws. It sounded like a lot. So many people that it made me want to lock the door of my apartment and never come out. And yet…. To be James Olsen’s man and have a role in all of that mixed-up jumble…. Maybe that would be okay. Maybe fun, even.
All ridiculous thoughts, of course. It was just a date. Nothing more.
I suddenly became aware James had been speaking and now looked at me expectantly.
“Sorry. I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”
He cocked his head. “You okay?”
“Yes. I was just… picturing something. It was stupid.” The word felt like a betrayal. It wasn’t stupid. And I think I wanted it. Wanted him. First date or not. “Sorry, though, what were you saying?”
“I just asked what plans you had on Christmas.”
“Oh.” Right, Christmas. “I work the early shift at the bathhouse. I’ll probably get off around three, but I might stay later if Philip isn’t done having Christmas with his family.”
“The bathhouse is open on Christmas?”
“Hmm-hmm. We’re open every single day. And holidays are big ones, actually. We’re crazy busy.”
James gaped at me. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a bathhouse, obviously, but on Christmas?”
I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “Yes. On Christmas. I’m not the only one who doesn’t particularly care for this season. And even for a lot of the ones that do, Christmas is pretty painful if they’re alone. So they come to the bathhouse.”
James frowned slightly. “That’s sad.”
It didn’t seem like a judgment, or at least not a condemnation. “Well, maybe. But at least they have the bathhouse and can be with other people who feel the same. Better than sitting in their apartment, all suicidal or something.”
“Well, yes, a bit drastic, but I’d say that’s better.” His expression altered, but I couldn’t read it very well. “Is that what you’ll do on Christmas?”
“What? Work at the bathhouse?”
“No. After. After your shift, will you stay there? You know, to be with other guys who feel the same way you do?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “No. I’ll go home and order Chinese delivery, and Angel and Spike and I will record our annual Christmas slaughter episode.”
James grinned at me. “You sound rather excited about that.”
“Well, of course! It’s the best one.” I took the last bite of soup, halfway chewed, and then spoke too soon. “We’re planning on going for the big one. The Christmas episode is always a little more bloody and borderline offensive than the others, but we’re going for the full monty this year. The vampire attack is happening in a nativity scene. I think I’m going to try to get Angel to ride off on a camel.”
He gave me an odd look.
“What? Did I just offend you?” Shit, I really couldn’t do anything right. “You’re not a closet fundamentalist, are you?”
His loud burst of laughter caused a couple from the nearby table to look our way. “Lord no. And I’m not offended. I just love how excited you get about it. And if you weren’t aware, you seem to love Christmas after all.”
“Well, if loving Christmas involves bloody vampire attacks on a nativity, then sure. Guilty as charged.”
“You’re ridiculous, Brian. I love it.”
He looked like he was about to say more, but at that moment, the server sat a plate of baked ziti in front of James and then gave me my green chili cheeseburger. Heaven!
James forked up a steaming pile of pasta but paused in midair. “Why do you hate Christmas? Did something happen, or have you just never cared for it?”
I’d just been about ready to sink my teeth into the thick burger. I debated on how real to be with him. Most of the time, I bitched about all the songs and lights and screaming kids. All of which were true, even if I did secretly like the lights. With James I wanted to be real. To have him see me.
I lowered the burger to the plate. “I don’t have some huge traumatic story or anything. Vampires didn’t break in on Christmas Eve when I was a kid and slaughter my whole family.”
He grinned. “You did that in one of your Teddy Bear Christmas shows, didn’t you?”
“Did not. Shut up, you don’t know me.” I grinned back at him and melted a bit more inside at how good it felt to be with him. “Maybe.”
He laughed again. “Okay, so no mass murders on Christmas Eve, got it. I’ll lower my expectations.”
I would rather have told that story than the lame one I was getting ready to tell. “Christmas always just kinda sucked. I wasn’t ever the boy my dad hoped for. I wanted the same stuff as my sister. I asked for dolls or coloring books.” I snorted. “Or even worse, I asked for geeky shit. Vampires, unicorns, comic books. But not the cool kind of comic books. I think Dad had some hope that I’d grow out of wanting the girly shit, that I was just mimicking my sister or whatever. The geeky stuff was more of an indication of who I was, who I was going to turn into. So instead of getting the stuff I wanted, my folks gave me footballs, baseball bats, you know. Crap like that.” I realized how that sounded and tried to rush ahead. “Not that I hate Christmas because I didn’t get the presents I wanted. It was more that my dad just….” My throat constricted.
“Didn’t think you were good enough.” James’s voice was soft.
I lifted my eyes to meet his and saw understanding instead of pity. “Yeah. That.” I looked away again, too exposed, and cleared my throat. “Later on, Christmas just got lonely. Which, in a lot of ways, was preferable to how it used to be.”
James waited until I got myself back together and finally took a bite of the burger, which instantly helped.
He had that hesitant, nervous sound in his voice that seemed so strange on him. “Maybe this is silly, and I’m sure it’s too soon, but we’re in our forties and fifties. We don’t have to play by the same stupid rules the kids play by, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I’d like to come over Christmas night and be with you.” He held up his hands to cut off my response. “I won’t get in the way, but I’d really like to see how you film your show. And I haven’t had Chinese delivery in ages.”
I was torn between laughing and full-on panic. My response was closer to the panic route. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine. And honestly the lonely Christmases were years ago. I’m good now.” I did want to be James’s man; at least I thought I did. But I didn’t want to get there because he felt sorry for me.
“Brian, you misunderstand me.” He waited until I met his gaze again. “I want to come over. My daughter and her family will go visit her in-laws midafternoon. I’ll be the one who’s lonely. And I really do want to see you film with Spike and Angel.”
He seemed afraid I’d say no. How strange. “You actually think that sounds like fun? To play with hamsters?”
Another of his beautiful laughs, this one more tender than the rest. “Yeah, I do. If it’s with you.”
Five
I had to hand it to him. Bathhouse Santa knew his crowd. He wore the Santa hat with a bell on the end as he did every Christmas. I heard that damn bell ringing nearly my entire shift. Blowjobs from Santa, just in case he didn’t
bring you what you really wanted. I was going to miss him until next year, kinda.
Next year…. I couldn’t help but fantasize about the possibility of being with James’s family next Christmas morning instead of at the bathhouse. A huge part of that sounded more scary than anything else. At the bathhouse it was my space, controlled, no expectation. Not to mention safety glass. But there with James’s daughter and grandkids. His ex-wife. His best friend. And me, the guy from the bathhouse who filmed his vampire hamsters. No way I’d fit into that.
But maybe.
Talk about cart before horses. Or a sleigh before reindeer.
Oh my God. I must have gotten a virus. I was sick. I was altering colloquialisms to have Christmas themes. It was enough to tempt me to go see exactly what Bathhouse Santa was doing.
By the time Philip showed up to take over, I was a sweaty mess. A second date with James. A third time getting naked with him. And on Christmas. Of all things.
As I walked out the door of the bathhouse, Philip leaned down to the crack in the safety glass. “I’m so jealous you’re gonna have really great Christmas sex with a fucking hot daddy bear! Merry Christmas, dahling.”
“Merry Christmas, Philip.”
I was out of the building and nearly to my car when my phone vibrated. I pulled it out of my pocket, expecting it to be a text from James, cancelling or something.
It was Philip.
Did you actually just wish me Merry Christmas?
I paused midstride. A snowflake fell on the screen, and I wiped it away.
Did I? I thought back. I think I did. What the fuck?
Nope. Not possible.
I’d just gotten into my car when I got another text.
Yes. You did! You said Merry Christmas! You like Christmas!
Well, that for sure wasn’t true. Philip was an idiot.
Have fun with Santa tonight. You’ll want to wipe off with Purell after. He’s had a busy day.
You’re a bitch.
A second later another text came through.
I love you, Brian. And I want details on how much Daddy Bear stretches you out.
Christmas Tales Page 11