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I'll Be Your Santa, Baby

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It was her dumbest idea yet. What the heck had she been thinking? First of all, she was too old. It was a job far better suited to teenagers, or maybe even a college kid. For gosh sakes, she was 25! And besides, she didn't even need a job. If she was going to just up and decide to get one, why in the world would she choose this one?

And don't even get her started on the hours, they just sucked. Working until seven at night! Hell, by then she should have her bra off and her nightie on. And the people, oh my gosh the people. She never knew people could be such rude jerks. Well now she knew. She'd never make a mistake like this again.

Because then there was that elf Tony. Talk about jerks. He was worse than just a jerk, he was a handsy jerk. She'd nearly slugged him one day when he patted her butt. If there hadn't been little kids around she would have knocked his ass right back to the North Pole!

But none of that was the worst part of the job. Nope. It couldn't even come close to the worst part of the job. She was wearing the worst part of the job. Her elf costume. Can we just start with the red and white striped tights? Really? Those wouldn't flatter anyone's legs. And the little green skirt with suspenders, in that stupid felt fabric? Yike! At least the guy elves got to wear green shorts. The top though, she had to admit it was perfect. Well it was perfect if you like your top to match your red and white striped tights.

But let's move on from there. Let's talk about the hat. It had a bell. Cats wear bells. Bells were not for women, at least not women like her. The only thing she felt gratitude about was the shoes. She'd heard about the old-style shoes, the ones with the curled toe. And more bells. They'd had to give those up. Too many elves had nearly killed themselves trying to walk in those damn things. Nowadays the shoes were black and looked like something a pilgrim would wear. Not good, but at least there were no bells.

Her feet hurt, her head hurt and her attitude was nasty. What's a unhappy girl to do when she gets off work? Everyone knows the answer to that. Get herself to the closest bar and have a drink. That's just what she did.

It was Christmas Eve – Eve. That's right, two nights before the big day. That's probably why the little joint was on and poppin'. Who doesn't need a drink to make the season merry and bright? She didn't know the answer to that and she really didn't care to know those kind of people anyway.

She didn't bother to look around, she couldn't care less who else was there. All she cared about was whether the bartender knew how to make a decent drink. By that she meant one with an abundance of booze.

She bellied right up to the bar in her ridiculous costume because, really? At this point she just didn't care. Let 'em look. Let 'em laugh. Hell, she didn't blame them.

There was a man in there though who wasn't laughing. Nope. He wasn't laughing at all. He was smiling, indeed he was, because he was enjoying every bit of what just walked in the door. He didn't know there was such a thing as a hot elf. Now he knew firsthand, he was looking right at her.

She was small, not quite as small as an elf, but there was no two ways about it, she was petite. The hair, damn that hair. It was spectacular. Blonde and curly and half out of control. He'd like to be the man who got it completely out of control.

He'd gotten the full view when she walked in, she was a stunner alright. Big blue eyes, cute little nose and real, real kissable mouth. The thought of sleeping with one of Santa's Elves was one of the few sexual thoughts that had never before crossed his mind. But right now, that thought was front and center. She was an elf he'd sleep with in a New York minute. He just had to figure out a way to talk the elf into the idea.

She'd just taken a big second gulp of that lemon drop when she felt the big open palm on her low back. Just about one inch above being indecent. At the same time there was a voice in her ear. It was a little rough and a little throaty, and mmm, yep, a little sexy. The voice made an offer, "I'll be your Santa, Baby."

She darn near did a spit take with that lemon drop, and shit that was an $8 drink! "Dream on."

He was a big badass looking guy. Rough. He was dressed all in black. Black jeans, black t-shirt, black leather vest. His hair was curly and his eyes a dynamite shade of blue, and his big old lustful smile went clear across his face. She couldn't decide if he was handsome or just hot, or hot and handsome. But the big old rough boy definitely had something going on.

Still though, she wasn't going to make it easy for him. He'd have to prove his worth.

"Oh I can dream big Baby, real big. Right now I'm dreamin' about havin' my own little Christmas elf ta love up on. I can take real good care of ya too, promise. You an me we can go somewhere, somewhere warm. Somewhere much better'n the North Pole. Somewhere you can make my Christmas dreams come true."

She knew better than to ask, but the way he looked in her eyes, like he was a starving wolf and she was a nice thick steak, it somehow got to her and she heard herself, "Oh yeah, where's that rough boy?"

He added a chuckle to go with that smile. This little dolly had to know just what he was talking about. She was baiting him and he went with it. "My nice warm bed Baby. It's where dreams are made and where dreams come true. As for that rough boy you're talking 'bout? I got your rough boy hangin'."

On that note she did do a spit take. "Just for that you owe me a drink Santa."

"Well I'm more'n happy ta oblige, Baby. " He called the bartender over and ordered her up another. He cut himself off for now. He was planning on getting lucky, which meant he'd be driving them home.

When the bartender left her drink, the big man looked at her again, that devilish grin on his face and that hungry look in his eye and asked, "Well now Baby, since ya know my name why don't ya tell me your name?"

She wasn't telling him her real name, no way, "I'm Pixie. Pixie Elf."

He was laughing out loud now and he threw an arm around her shoulders, "Well now Miss Pixie, I like that real well. Tell Santa the truth, ya been naughty or nice?"

"Well Santa, the truth of the matter is, I used to be a real nice girl. Then I met a man. He was the wild type, the wrong side of the tracks type, and the wrong side of the law type. Apparently that's my type because I fell for him like a ton of bricks. Oh he taught me every naughty thing a man can teach an innocent young woman, and I was a real fast learner."

He was pretty sure that grin was never coming off his face. "Is that right?"

"Yes that's right. Ever since him, well I try real hard to be nice but I just can't seem to stay good. I guess you could say, I'm just naughty all the time Santa."

A song came on the jukebox then and he took her hand, "C'mon Pixie Baby, we gotta dance, they're playin' our song."

Now she knew she was grinning from ear to ear, the same as him. The song was "Santa, Baby."

There was no dance floor, it wasn't that kind of joint. It didn't seem to bother them one tiny bit. It started off clean enough, until his hand started slipping dangerously low down her back. He was caressing a little something sweet and round that she had not invited him to caress. But she gave him no fight. Quite the contrary. She moved in closer to him. Why she could have been accused of rubbing up a little too close. Except for one important thing. As far as Santa was concerned, Pixie could rub up just as close to him as her naughty little heart desired.

That voice came into her ear again, but now that voice was even rougher, throatier, you might say there was a definite hunger in the voice. It matched the hunger in his eyes, and other anatomically important places. "Ya know what I think, ya naughty little Pixie?"

Her voice was like a purr. He was digging that. It had a little bit of that hunger its own self, "I wouldn't even venture a guess Santa. Why don't you tell me?"

"I's thinkin' we get outta here, get us a bottle an head on over ta my place. We'll have us our own little Christmas Party."

"I have news for you Santa. If you want to have a party with this elf you'll be taking me to a real nice hotel and you'll be ordering a real nice bottle of champagne and some fancy appetizers from room service. I may be easy Santa, but I'm not cheap."

He was having trouble holding in the laugh, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. "Damn Pixie, Baby, I gotta think you're worth every bit a that an more. I'll get ya any damn thing ya want."

She drew back a bit, "Well then why are we hanging around this dive?"

"We ain't, let's get."

He walked her out front and over to a big old Harley Hawg. That damn thing was vintage, a classic beauty in black and chrome, but she had to raze him just a little, "I was hoping you had a Caddie."

"Caddie's are for chumps Pixie, this here is the Rolls Royce of bikes. Here, let me help ya with my helmet."

They pulled up to the fancy hotel and he told the valet, "I'll park it myself, right here up front." He handed the dude a twenty and the dude said, "That'll be just right, and Merry Christmas."

They walked in the fancy lobby with its marble and its giant floral arrangements and magical Christmas finery, and right over to the front desk. He looked at her with a big old grin and then at the attendant, "Yeah we're gonna need a king room for the night."

That's when the elf chimed in, "Santa, get a room with one of those jacuzzi tubs. I want to drink my champagne in a bubble bath."

He was smiling so big now it hurt, and the desk clerk looked like he may lose his composure at any moment. Santa told him, "You heard the lady. Whatever my little elf wants, my elf gets." He handed over his American Express Platinum Card.

The desk clerk went through the motions with the card, handed Santa back the card and the room keys and asked, "Do you need the bellman to get your bags?"

Santa let out a laugh like a ho ho ho and said, "We ain't got no bags, ain't gonna need 'em."

They got in the room and he called room service right quick. He ordered up all kinds of delightful appetizers as well as a bottle of expensive champagne for the elf, and a bottle of Jack for himself. He added, "You get it here in the next ten minutes an ya get a fifty-dollar tip."

Then he took her in his arms and smiled, "Let's you an me get ta know each other a little better while we're waitin'."

"I like that idea." It wasn't that tentative kind of kissing like you might have with someone you weren't sure about. That you didn't really know. Hell no. These two went right after it. They weren't messing around.

He was kissing her deep while he dropped her suspenders down and pulled that little striped elf shirt right up and off. He smiled when he saw Baby was bare breasted. He just had to have a little taste of one of those now exposed delights. While he kissed and nibbled and sucked on one, his hand slid right up under that little green elf skirt and right down the back for her little striped elf tights. "Damn Pixie, that little ass is soft and tight all at the same time."

She let out that little purr and said, "You just keep doing what you're doing Santa, that feels just right." She was feeling every bit as warm as he'd promised.

She wasn't wasting any time either, she was wanting to see, feel and touch on her Santa. While he was getting her all worked up sucking and teasing those little elf breast and playing with that tight little elf ass, She was letting out those low moaning noises, and going for his belt buckle. He hated to have to stop her, but shit, room service was coming.

That was his thought when the guy knocked. Santa told her, "Get under the covers, I don't want no one but Santa seeing those pretty little titties." She dove right in that bed with a laugh and Santa opened the door.

The dude pushed the table in the room and Santa laid the fifty on him, "We'll call ya when we're done." And the dude took his fifty and got the hell out of there. He knew what was what.

On that table were two big buckets of ice, one had a champagne bottle nestled in the ice, the other a bottle of Jack. There were two shrimp cocktails, some chocolate covered strawberries and various other assorted treats.

Right now they both had another kind of treat on their minds. "What say we go one round Pixie, then we worry bout all this other stuff."

"I like the way you think Santa."

He went right over to that bed and pulled the covers off her. He gave those pretty little elf titties a bit more of his attention, before he went to peeling off those tights. He was leaving the skirt right where it was, he kind of liked the look of that. When those tights were off he smiled again, "Why Pixie, Baby, I had no idea elves didn't wear panties under their tights." That was one of those situations that required further exploring.

While he was thoroughly investigating the situation, with his mouth, she was tugging on his curls and whimpering with what I would definitely call enjoyment, and she informed the big man, in what was a very breathless and ready to come undone kind of voice (you know the one), "Santa, elves don't wear panties. Is that naughty?"

His head came up just long enough for him to say, "It is. An you're gonna have ta try an make that up if ya want Santa ta give ya a present." Then he went back to investigating where in the hell those panties could have gone, and she couldn't take anymore, she came calling, "Oh Santa, Santa."

Once she recovered enough air, she told him to stand right up there by the bed. He didn't argue. She was the elf in charge. She licked and nibbled and sucked at that abdomen, which, unlike the other Santa's was lean and muscled. While she was doing that she got that buckle open and those pants slid down. She was making that purring voice that seemed to make him, or at least part of him, stand at attention, "Sit down on the bed Santa." Santa did like he was told.

She got right down on her knees in between his legs. He didn't think what she was doing down there between his legs was one bit naughty, quite the contrary. He thought it was extra nice. "Damn Pixie, ya know how ta make a man beg for more."

His hands were in her hair and when it happened he gave fair warning, "I'ma cum Pixie, I'ma cum for ya Baby."

Afterward she looked up at him with a great big smile and said, "Merry Christmas Santa."

"Shall we have a little break before round two Pixie, Baby?"

"That sounds good. I could definitely use a glass of champagne and some shrimp cocktail. I'm going to need strength for when we really get started."

"Sounds promisin'."

Then he said, "Shit Beth, I hate ta break character, but what time do we gotta pick up the kids at your folks tomorrow?"

"Merle, tomorrow's Christmas Eve, we're having dinner at the farm. We don't have to be there until four."

"A'ight. I gotta get ta the shop by three ta hand out the Christmas bonuses. We can stop on the way."

That was all the family and business talk she was putting up with at their Private Christmas Party. "Now you finish up that shrimp and that drink Santa. You have a bubble bath to run."

"Yes Ma'am Pixie, Baby."