“I am Mrs. Clause,” Matt grumbled, leaning heavily against Vic as they drudged through the parking lot toward Vic’s car. With more than a few drinks in his system, Matt was officially sloshed, and he still smarted over the silly argument he’d had earlier. He held onto Vic’s Santa jacket with both hands as he stumbled alongside his lover, head tucked under Vic’s chin. His warm breath fanned Vic’s face, the alcohol in it like kerosene. Trailing one hand over the pillow padding Vic’s stomach, Matt slipped below Vic’s thick black belt to grab at his crotch. “Am I right? In everything that counts, anyway.”
Vic reminded him, “Matty, I’m not Santa.”
“Are you sure?” Matt leered up at Vic, grinning. “You sure look like him.”
With relief, Vic spotted his aging Corolla and angled them toward it. W
