Santa Baby Box Set

A Little Something for Santa-3

As the holidays rolled around, business picked up at the new shopping mall across town, but we were too far away to see any of it. Even with Christmas just around the corner, the only other place besides us that stayed open all night was Wal-Mart, which had its own eatery. Once midnight rolled around, Sylvia’s all but curled up and died. The door stopped opening and the hands on the clock stopped moving, and the only way I found to break up the monotony of the night was to mess with Chris and f**k with the TV. I must’ve put that damn television on every counter in the kitchen and once out in the main dining area, but I could never get in a picture to save my life. And, despite my teasing, I would never bring a porn flick to work, though from the way his eyes glittered brightly whenever I brought out the TV, Chris thought otherwise. When I finally had enough of flipping through blank channels, the movies I brought in were holiday classics. Tossing a handful of DVD cases onto the sandwich counter, I told Chris, “I hope you’re not Jewish.”

He scooped up the DVDs before they slid to a stop. As he read the titles, though, his ill-concealed excitement disappeared. “The Santa Clause?” he asked. “Miracle on 34th Street? Rudolph—what the hell’s this?”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” I told him, watching disappointment settle into his features. I tried not to laugh. “It’s about this reindeer? Who has this glowing nose…”

Chris slapped me with the DVD case. “I know what it’s about. I thought you were bringing in some of your gay porn.”

My eyes widened in mock surprise. “s**t! I totally forgot you wanted to borrow some. I’m so sorry, Chris. I’ll bring them tomorrow, how’s that?”

Instantly he took a step back. “I don’t want them,” he tried, glaring at my grin. “I didn’t say I wanted you to bring any. Damn, Patrick. You’re always twisting around every little thing I say.”

“You know you love it.” I took the DVDs back and scanned through them, looking for something to watch. I felt Chris’s hot gaze on me, saw his foot slide a little closer to mine, and added, “I bet you go home and jerk off thinking about everything I say to you. Why don’t you just ask me, Chris? I know you want to get with me. Just ask and see what I say.”

“No,” he whispered. I didn’t know if he meant no, he didn’t want to ask or no, he didn’t want to see what my answer would be. Or maybe he was pre-empting me, he knew I’d say no so he said it, too. But who knew? I could surprise us both and say yes.

That thought bothered me more than I cared to admit. Changing the subject, I held up the first DVD, whose case depicted Tim Allen dressed as Santa. “What do you think?” I wanted to know. “Hot or not?”

For a moment, I didn’t think Chris would answer. But when I glanced at him, he was studying the case in my hand as if debating whether or not he should answer honestly. He knew I would try to embarrass him no matter what he said, so he answered my question with one of his own. “Isn’t that the guy from Home Improvement? You think he’s hot?”

I shrugged. “I think Santa is. This dude could be anybody, really. Can I tell you a secret?” Chris nodded and leaned towards me, his eyes wary. Lowering my voice, I told him, “Santa suits? Turn me on.”

“You’re joking,” he murmured. A dreamy look came over his face, and I wondered if he pictured himself dressed as Santa Claus, me on my knees before him, both of our hands working loose the thick black belt that held up his red fur-trimmed pants. Then he gave me a sharp look, as if I might be lying. “You’re shitting me.”

Despite the fact that it was Chris’s face in the picture, the image of myself about to go down on Santa sent a spark of electricity through my blood that jolted my d**k. “Serious,” I swore. “I’ve always had this thing for Santa. He’s like the ultimate sugar daddy, right? Brings you presents whenever he comes.” I winked. “He’s hooked me up over the years, let me tell you. I wouldn’t mind paying him back a little, you know what I mean?” Raising my fist in front of my mouth, I stuck my tongue in my cheek and mimed giving a blowjob.

Chris’s eyes widened until I thought they’d to roll out of his head. “My cousin?” he said—his voice squeaked, and he had to stop and clear his throat before continuing—”She has this costume shop over in Chester. Mostly Halloween stuff, but some dress-up things too. You know, for…” He made a vague gesture with his hand, hoping I got the point.

With a grin, I asked, “s*x play?” His cheeks pinked and he looked away, embarrassed. “Like what, nurse and maid uniforms? Or gimp outfits? You remember that scene in Pulp Fiction?”

Quickly, Chris said, “Just costumes, okay? I don’t know what all she’s got, I’ve never really inquired.” He frowned when I laughed. “I know she’s got a slew of Santa suits, though. She rents them out this time of the year, for parties or charities or whatever. She makes a killing off of them.”

“Anyone can put on a red suit,” I said with a shrug. “But not everyone can pull off that real Santa Claus look. You know, rosy cheeks, wiry white beard, belly that shakes like a bowlful of jelly?”

“Her costumes are top notch,” Chris assured me. Nodding at the DVD case in my hand, he said, “Like that. No fake beards or bad makeup or any of that mess. Her Santas are so good, Mrs. Claus wouldn’t know the difference.”

I nudged him and teased, “I bet you can really fill out a Santa suit.”

The bell above the outside door tinkled as a late customer wandered in. Chris glanced out the pass-through window and lowered his voice. “You really have the hots for Santa?” he asked.

“Shyeah,” I replied. “I think he’s damn sexy for an old guy. Hell, I’d blow him.” I started for the front counter, but turned back at the kitchen doorway. “I’d blow most anyone in a Santa suit, to be honest. That’s something to think about.”

As I went to wait on the customer, I knew Chris’s mind wasn’t on anything else.