
Rest Ye Merry Men
&
Moonlight and Mistletoe
By
Megan Hussey
A Silk's Vault Electronic Publication, in arrangement with author Megan Hussey.
ISBN # 1-934055-80-8
Copyright © 2006 by Megan Hussey
Cover Design and Art by Carmel St. James, © Copyright 2006
Edited by Peggy Roberts and Pat Sager
Silk's Vault Publishing
www.silksvault.com
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in part or whole, in any form or by any means, without permission from both the author and publisher. All characters, incidents, situations, institutions, governments and people are fictional and any similarity to characters or persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Rest Ye Merry Men
Yep, no doubt about it, Christianne Belleville shook her head as she trudged wearily through the halls of Seas the Moment, a beachfront souvenir shop in Port Emerald, Florida. It's going to be a Florida Christmas.
If the ornamental sleigh lead by eight antlered pink flamingos was not a sufficient harbinger of this fact, then the mermaid ornament display certainly was.
Even more interestingly, each of the decorative porcelain mermaids bore an uncanny likeness to Riana, her ex-husband's first secretary¾and soon to be second wife.
Oh yeah, Riana doesn't have a fin, at least not that I know of, Christianne shrugged as she stepped closer to the Splash of Spruce display tree that bore these colorful caricatures. I must say, though, that these little ladies liken her in a number of ways. Flowing hair? Check. Annoyingly narrow waist? Check. Plastic boobs? Check.
Sniffing loudly, Christianne made to turn away from the offending tree.
Can a tree truly be offensive? She cocked a curious eyebrow. She stopped abruptly as she spotted a low-hanging ornament that lined a far corner of the Splash tree.
This hanging figurine bore some striking similarities to others on the tree. Like the others, it came complete with flowing hair, flawless features, and¾naturally¾the prerequisite fin.
And this 'merperson' also bore an impressive chest; one that appeared bronzed, bulging, and decidedly male.
"A merman!" Christianne pumped her fist in the air with obvious enthusiasm. "Rock'n'roll."
Soon the ornament found its way into Christianne's shopping basket, and she really started to like this concept of a Florida Christmas.
Hours later, Christianne savored yet another benefit of a winter holiday spent in the Sunshine State. A December day that did not freeze one's extremities, or entail the wearing of layered polyester.
On the beaches of Port Emerald, one could spend Christmas Eve with her toes buried in warm golden sand, and her gaze trained on the sheer azure sheen of sparkling waters. She could walk alongside noble, ivory-feathered cranes and witness the soaring of diamond-hued dolphins.
Of course, one also witnessed the countless families who walked the beach together, sharing and enjoying these sights.
Christianne, for her part, trekked the sands as a solitary traveler. And soon, she would retire to a hotel room that overlooked Port Emerald Bay; one that came complete with a single bed and a small Christmas tree she would decorate alone.
For now, though, Christianne closed her eyes and felt her senses lulled by the flow of sweet breezes, and the song of seagulls overhead.
She then opened those eyes to catch a radiant sunray as it illuminated the waters below; lending a rich ruby cast to waves fresh and flowing.
I guess if one is going to be miserable, one might as well do it in style, she shrugged.
That evening Christianne bore witness to another Yuletide spectacle; a finely made, sleekly contoured ornament that now adorned the top branch of her mint green tree.
Like most ornaments, this one stood as a finely carved piece with luminous bronzed highlights.
Unlike most ornaments, it also came complete with the engraved likeness of washboard abs--not to mention a fin.
The merman ornament, Christianne found, marked the ideal compliment to a tree decorated with pink satin ribbons and glittering gold ornament balls; as well as a string of lights illuminated to display the colors of the rainbow.
It's high time I had some color in my life, Christianne grinned as she admired the golden hair and gem blue eyes found on this figurine, as well as its emerald-hued fin. And as she graced the branches of her miniature tree with lush lines of richly textured garland, she found herself humming 'mermanized' versions of popular Christmas carols.
She had launched into her second chorus of "God Rest Ye Merry Mermen" when another ornament caught her eye. Like her treasured merman, this one also glittered in the ethereal, almost surreal glow of the lights surrounding.
Yet for all its beauty, the silver ball engraved with the phrase "Our First Christmas Together" brought tears to Christianne's eyes. It reminded her all too vividly of her first Christmas with Harold.
It was only five years ago, she frowned. It feels like an eternity.
That year, she recalled, she had placed this ornament on a larger tree, in a comfortable home, at a warm family gathering hosted by a young, beaming, newly-minted bride.
Standing abruptly, Christianne set aside her ornament box and headed for her closet. Soon she had donned a modest, one-piece black bathing suit and stood at the front door of her hotel room.
Suddenly she felt smothered and confined in her solitary room. She yearned--no, needed--to bask in the gentle winds of some fresh sea air and forget her troubles.
It was the night before Christmas; which, depending on one's life situation, could be pretty bloody problematic.
Oh, Clarion certainly appreciated the sentiment and meaning behind the holiday season; a time of year that was spiritedly and beautifully celebrated in his native land of Great Britain, with Christmas carols in Trafalgar Square, the hanging of ivy and holly, and the devouring of treats such as plum pudding and mince pies.
Still and all, the Yuletide season proved a particularly challenging time for a dude with a fin.
"Elves, reindeer, all sorts of mythical creature types get a free pass this time of year," he sniffed. "Mermen, by contrast, are still persona non grata. Where is the justice, people?"
Even so, Clarion always found something to celebrate this time of year. The smiles of children who passed him on the beach, the laughter of families on holiday; these simple expressions always brought a smile to his face.
This year, in fact, he even dared to come onshore to Port Emerald Beach; willing to weather the condemning stares and irreverent laughter of passing beachcombers in an effort to garner some holiday cheer.
It turned out to be a long, extended effort. The gentle breezes of early evening, coupled with the warmth of the sands beneath him, lulled Clarion into a light sleep.
"Not light enough, apparently," he sniffed aloud now. "I didn't even notice the defilement of my fin."
Indeed, someone apparently had played a Yuletide prank on the sleeping merman; wrapping a stream of multicolored Christmas lights tightly around his fin.
As a result of this prank, Clarion was rendered motionless; unable to escape into the azure waters he called home.
At this time of evening, few people remained at the beach; especially on Christmas Eve.
Everyone is at home sipping eggnog, wrapping gifts, and entertaining their children with whimsical stories of the finned, festively lit freak they saw at the beach today. He sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.
"Excuse me, Sir. Are you okay? Can I help you?"
Starting, Clarion's azure gaze shot up to meet his current questioner.
He guessed the woman to be in her mid-thirtys, with a pleasantly plump figure and an open, soft-skinned face.
Her smile warned him, and her words held a degree of human concern that touched him to the core.
"I am in a spot of trouble, thanks for asking," he beamed.
Nodding, the woman sank to her knees beside the fallen merman and quickly uncoiled the tightly wound lights that held him hopelessly captive.
Although not a conventional beauty, Clarion admired the way that the woman's keen emerald eyes shone with concentration as she bent to her task--and the way her feather soft brown hair fell softly across her broad shoulders.
"I would say it was very nice to meet you, but I don't see how it could be feasibly or even possibly 'nice' to meet anyone under these circumstances." With this he arched a sardonic eyebrow. "So I'll just say that I'm most glad you came along."
The woman's bright, tinkling laughter sent chills down his spine.
"Sir, you have a delightful accent," she cocked her head curiously. "Do you hail from Great Britain?"
The merman beamed, and nodded vigorously. "Indeed, I swam as a young boy in the waters of the English Channel; a lovely area, to be sure, but I opted to relocate to a warmer climate." He shrugged. "As you can probably guess, lass, I spend quite a bit of time in the water."
"I would suppose so," his admirer grinned. "Anyway, your accent is most charming."
"Blimey, most people don't even notice." I like this woman, Clarion decided. "They tend to notice something else first."
His visitor shrugged as she stripped the last line of lights from his fin.
"Your smile?" she offered.
I really like this woman. Clarion offered his hand. "I'm Clarion. And who is my lovely rescuer?"
"Christianne." The mysterious woman graced him with yet another dazzling smile.
"Well, Christianne, now that you've so graciously restored my power of movement, would you like to help me enjoy it?"
Christianne blinked to what Clarion considered adorable effect. "What did you have in mind?"
Oh, love, I have lots of delicious things in mind. "We could start with a swim," he offered his hand.
Christianne giggled girlishly as her arms made broad strokes through the sparkling waves that surrounded and revitalized her.
Her swimming partner, she just had to note, appeared nearly ethereal in the sweet silhouette of a Florida evening. The golden sheen of his flowing, silken hair shone more brightly still in the lavender shades of sunset, and his bulging chest muscles appeared further defined by the presence of dewy water droplets.
"You know," Christianne arched her eyebrows, "I find it difficult to believe your fin is the only attribute women notice about you."
She trembled slightly as his sculpted face came alight with laughing azure eyes and a dazzling, full-toothed smile.
"Thanks for saying so, Miss. The truth is, though, that most people either laugh at me or run off in the other direction." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So why didn't you, Love?"
Christiane felt the color rise in her cheeks as she averted her eyes to the descending skyline.
"I like to help people..." She clenched and unclenched her hands, releasing all tension to the healing waters around her. "Plus, well, you really remind me of something hanging from my Christmas tree."
She watched with amused eyes as Clarion pursed his lips. His keen curiosity seemed officially peaked.
"Ah, well, of course," he nodded.
"Let me explain." Christianne nudged Clarion's beefy shoulder as they floated in an ever-tightening circle. "This morning at Seas the Moment, I bought a merman Christmas ornament that bore a striking resemblance to you." She gestured briskly in his direction. "Except considerably smaller, of course."
Clarion stroked his sculpted chin with a marked degree of contemplation.
"Seas the Moment," his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Isn't that the boutique just up the beach? The owner is an artist who sometimes makes his own ornaments."
Pausing, Clarion's cheeks flushed in what appeared to be an adorable show of modesty.
"He sketched me one day as I sunned myself onshore."
Christianne took in her breath.
"You were the model for the ornament," her eyes flew open wide. "Clarion, that's wonderful."
The merman snorted, and flipped his tail briskly.
"Except I'm getting no royalties from the sale of my ornament." He raised a firm, manly finger for emphasis. "The wanker appropriated my image with no offer for compensation, he did. I tell ya', Christianne; we mermen just can't get a break."
Immediately sobering, Christianne surged forward in the water and fixed Clarion with a warm, sympathetic gaze. Her arms soon followed, and they wrapped themselves tightly around his shoulders.
"I'm sorry you feel cheated, Clarion," she smiled softly in sympathy. "I must tell you, though, that your ornament brightened my holiday."
She took in her breath as the merman enclosed her waist in his sure, steady grasp and drew her closely to him.
"Blast the ornament," he growled, pinning her with a sultry, narrow-eyed stare. "I'm a man. I can do things to brighten your holiday that no glorified doll could perform. I assure you, Love; I could render you most 'merry' and indescribably 'jolly.' "
Christianne trembled at the sound of these enticing words. She shivered as she regarded his bulging upper chest and flawless washboard abs.
She pursed her lips curiously as she perused the fin.
"I have no doubt that a man of your beauty and obvious kindness could bring me great pleasure." With this she gritted her teeth sheepishly. "All you seem to be missing is, well..."
"A shaft?' Clarion arched his eyebrows.
Christianne felt the color rise sharply in her face as she nodded her assent. Color rose in another place, one substantially lower, as he impulsively covered her lips in a firm, passionate kiss.
His lips likened the waves themselves in terms of sheer smoothness and luster. She sighed as his tongue flowed with elegant ease through her lips, engaging her in a heated tango of a kiss.
With a relieved sigh she sank easily against him, digging her hands into his massive bronzed shoulders as if she'd never get enough.
"I've never felt such strong desire for a complete stranger," she gasped as he buried his golden head into the sensitive nape of her neck.
"I'm no stranger, Christianne," Clarion covered his lover's neck and chin with loving, tender nips. "Don't 'think' or 'reason' your way away from me. Just relax and enjoy my attentions. My passion."
As if hypnotized by his words and touch, Christianne felt her body levitate naturally in the water. Still ensconced in the merman's embrace, she allowed him to lift her literally off her feet and carry her toward an uncertain destination.
Wherever I'm going, she mused, closing her eyes and grinning as he brazenly squeezed her ample behind, I wager it'll be a whole lot of fun.
When Christianne's eyes reopened, they met a scene that rivaled the richest dreamscape; one rich with the golden sands and lush, rich greenery that denoted a coastal cove.
Soon Christianne sat comfortably on the shore of this cove, admiring the ruby-hued buds of a nearby rosebush and the regal sable palms that swayed rhythmically overhead.
Most of all, she admired the way that a certain finned paramour suckled her toes.
While Clarion's lower half remained submerged in the waves before them, he extended himself lithely from the water so that he rested between Christianne's legs.
Now the wet strands of his long golden hair tickled the sensitive skin of her thighs, and his hands massaged and playfully tickled her lower legs.
"So Lass," he brazenly kissed her knee before bending it in his direction, "you wondered just how a merman could bring you pleasure. Now that we're alone and in the comfort of my domicile, do allow me to demonstrate."
Without further hesitation, he grasped her delicate foot in his firm, manly hand and lovingly suckled her toes.
Inhaling sharply, Christianne reached downward to grasp and stroke his feather soft hair. And she didn't resist as his lips shifted slowly to her legs, where he licked and kissed a succulent trail that had a single destination.
Laying a gentle grasp on her ankles, Clarion slid Christianne's body downward in the sand until his head rested at the juncture of her thighs.
He ran his hands slowly and worshipfully over the curves of her hips and thighs then slid the fabric of her one-piece bathing suit boldly downward.
Soon Christianne lay fully nude in the cushion of bronzed sands. And she purred outright as her eager lover ran his fingers through her feminine nest; starting a fire that further enflamed her clit.
Christianne trembled as Clarion's intimate ministrations nearly overcame her; wracking her entire body with sublime waves of ecstasy.
Her feminine jewel throbbed under the tender care of his smooth, velvety lips, and she sighed as his manly hands caressed and probed her soft, rounded hips.
This sigh erupted into a high-pitched scream moments later, as he pressed his mouth fully into the depths of her womanly core and lovingly lapped her clit. With a final, resounding lick, he sent his lover careening to the heights of erotic satiation.
Christianne grinned almost drunkenly a moment later, as Clarion slid slowly upward to cover her body with his.
As before, she relished the feel of his masculine arms as they wrapped themselves protectively around her shoulders. She rested her head against the smooth planes of his bulging, dew-glistened chest, and draped her own arms around his perfect back.
And, darn it, even the blasted fin felt good.
Smooth and warm, Clarion's unique appendage felt oddly comforting as it nestled languidly across her long, sturdy legs.
Even so, she smiled sadly as she cupped Clarion's carved cheeks in two loving hands.
"I really dig the fin, Clarion." She scrunched her nose as this awkward sentiment passed softly through her lips. "I am sorry, though, that it prevents me from giving you the same type of pleasure you just gave me."
Christianne's smile returned as Clarion kissed her lips, gently and affirmingly.
"In the spirit of the season, Christianne," With this he stared deeply into her eyes, dazzling her with a crystalline gaze that came alight with passionate fire. "I encourage you to think of my fin in a positive light; as decorative wrapping for a very special gift."
"Huh?" Christianne's eyes narrowed in confusion as Clarion rolled abruptly away from her---away, also, from the crystalline waves that so smoothly delivered them to his private paradise.
The cry of a nearby seagull averted her gaze, and she relished the sight of the ivory-winged creature as it flew low above a bed of ruby red aster and coral-hued hibiscus in bloom.
Forming the border of this nature-made garden was a line of emerald-leaved ferns, and a palm tree that Christianne assessed to be in its early stages of growth.
"That tree is my favorite," Clarion's rich, deep voice proved a compelling soundtrack to the proceedings; one designed to enhance the vision of his tropical haven. "I like to watch it grow."
Christianne nodded, and beamed broadly. Where, I ask you, could you find a land loving dude who waxes so poetic about Florida scenery? she mused. Mermen rule.
This opinion seemed strongly reinforced a moment later, as she once again turned her gaze to the vision of her waterborne lover.
She immediately recognized the mass of long blond hair that now bore a likeness to wet gold. And her heart warmed as she saw his dazzling, full-toothed smile, and sultry, mischievous azure gaze.
And of course I just have to catch one more glimpse at those washboard abs, she snorted in self-disgust.
Christianne sobered as she noted one significant change in the ethereal image; one that involved a sublime transformation of his lower half.
Clarion, it seemed, had spouted a shaft; one with a length and smoothness that nearly rivaled his fin.
Thankfully, though, his shaft shone golden--and not green--in the light of the sun above.
Grateful for small favors--or in this case, mayhap not so small--Christianne soon noted that Clarion also boasted a sparkling new pair of long, toned legs; muscled appendages that carried him quickly in her direction.
"Merry Christmas Baby." Clarion's low, sensual growl sent her pulse racing.
She made no reply; only opened her arms to him. The woman sighed as her lover swept her up in an all-encompassing embrace.
"Make love to me," she breathed.
Soon the couple lay beneath the swaying fronds of Clarion's favorite sable palm. And as their arms and lips both met to form a bonding embrace, Christianne seized the opportunity to further investigate her lover's newly mermanized form.
Freely she caressed his firm, toned hips and muscled thighs; and, much to Clarion's delight, her lips soon followed this same seductive trail.
As Christianne's sweet lips grasped and suckled his hard, sweat-glistened cock, the merman threw back his head and released a mighty siren's call. His lover relished this sound, and she eagerly devoured his masculinity as their hands clasped firmly together.
These same hands lifted her gently upward a moment later, and soon she found herself face-to-face with Clarion.
"Was I missing the mark, Babe?" Christianne laughed uneasily, suddenly recalling her ex-husband's frequent comments about her poor sexual performance.
All signs of doubt diminished moments later, as her lover claimed her tender lips in a heated, passionate kiss. As Clarion fixed his hands around her waist and drew her closer to him, his tongue probed and ravished her mouth. His lips told her first what his words reaffirmed.
"You, my lady, are a magnificent lover, a beneficent soul, and a fantastic woman." With this he rained sweet baby kisses across the delicate surface of her neck and cheeks. "I want only to bring you closer to me. I need only to be inside of you, Love."
His tender words seemed reinforced by the movement of his hands, as he stroked her shoulders and massaged her broad back. Then, mimicking her moves, his attentive fingers rubbed her hips and thighs as their lips again met in a long, heated kiss.
Finally, Clarion lifted her upward until his masculine member rubbed and teased her feminine nest.
This move sent keen electrical sparks careening toward her womanly core, and she grasped Clarion's muscled arms to draw him closer to her.
Eager to oblige her wishes, the merman growled as finally he merged with her; plunging his member gently but purposefully into the depths of her femininity.
Biting her lip, Christianne shifted her hips in an effort to adjust to this fairly novel sensation.
Even during their marriage, her husband rarely made love to her; and since their divorce, she had lead a solitary existence.
And this man, she decided, sure knew how to ease a transition. Hugging her fiercely to him, he lustfully regaled her mouth with sweet words and passionate kisses; at one point declaring her a radiant seductress who had saved him from a life of loneliness.
"Well look who's talking." Christianne smacked her lips against his then spread her legs widely to accept the deepening strokes of his smooth, probing penetration.
Their hips moved perfectly together to execute a flawless lover's tango. And as Christianne threw her head back to savor the sensation, Clarion kissed and licked her breasts.
Finally their sweat-glistened bodies pressed finally and firmly together, and their passion exploded in the unbridled heat of a prolonged mutual climax. Minutes later Christianne rested easily in the arms of the merman, and the two enjoyed together the ruby-hued rays of a radiant Florida sunset.
Their new romance seemed christened by the flow of sweet breezes, and the pure crystalline ring of distant wind chimes.
And as the red and violet streaks of their perfect sunset gave way to the ebony of night, Christianne felt that she had fully, truly reclaimed her place in the world.
A far happier place, she nestled sweetly in Clarion's arms. And the sex here is much better. Bonus!
Christianne awoke Christmas morning with a broad smile--and a purpose. And when Clarion's eyes opened soon afterward, she closely gauged his reaction to a sudden change in their scenery; a change she had instigated.
Using the string of rainbow-colored Christmas lights that had bound her lover the day before, she freely decorated and illuminated the fronds of his favorite palm tree; the one that had overseen their passionate encounter.
Now the tree glowed ethereally as a symbol of a timeless holiday; and as the beacon of a newfound love.
"Merry Christmas, Baby." Christianne beamed.
As Clarion admired the streams of ebullient light that flowed freely from the tree, the merman pulled his new decorator closely to his side.
"I've never had a Christmas tree." His pure azure gaze came alight with sheer wonder.
Soon he shifted this radiant gaze in Christianne's direction. "And I've never spent Christmas morning in the company of someone I love."
"Me neither." Christianne kissed his cheek.
Clarion arched his eyebrows. "Didn't you tell me you were married for five years?"
Christianne arched hers in return. "Exactly."
The couple chuckled as they shared a long, loving kiss.
"So how long do you plan to stay in Port Emerald?" Clarion gave Christianne a shy, hopeful smile that melted her heart.
"Well, I scheduled only two weeks for my vacation." She shrugged coyly. "That should give me enough time to shop around for a condo."
Clarion's answering beam shone just as brightly as the Yuletide lights above them.
THE END
Moonlight and Mistletoe
"Ho! Ho! Ah-choo!"
Stanley Turreck doubled over, clutching the faux white beard he had nearly sneezed from his face.
Stanley was the resident Santa Claus in the holiday shopping section of Leveaux Department Store. And in many ways, he seemed an ideal choice for this position.
He boasted the prerequisite hearty laugh, round belly, genial manner...and an acute allergy to Christmas tinsel.
"Are you all right, Sir?"
Derrick Barnes left his place behind the Leveaux gift wrapping table and rushed to aid his stricken coworker.
Aside from being a Leveaux stockboy, Derrick currently appeared as this year's Christmas elf in the holiday shopping department. And while kids sometimes scoffed at the tall, muscular blond man who called himself an elf, their mothers liked him just fine. Just fine indeed.
Derrick, twenty-two, boasted striking green eyes that matched the hue of his velvet costume, and long blond hair that now was topped with a charmingly lopsided hat.
He also boasted a gentle manner appreciated by Stanley, who now stood from his plush burgundy Santa's chair and patted his assistant's shoulder.
"I'll be fine once I resign," he told him.
Derrick's eyes widened, and he shook his head.
"It appears you have a cold, Sir," he shrugged. "You shouldn't have to quit--maybe just take a day or so to rest."
Smiling, Stanley removed his festive red hat and handed it to Derrick.
"It isn't a cold," he admitted sheepishly. "I have an allergy to Christmas tinsel; the stuff that's hanging all over our display tree."
"I should have said as much in the interview," he continued, "but I really needed this job."
Derrick nodded, patting the man's back.
"I hear ya'," he nodded. "I'm working two jobs to support myself through college."
Stanley cocked his head and winked slyly.
"Yes, I've heard about your 'other job,' " he chuckled. "It sounds a tad more interesting--and profitable--than this one."
The Sudafed Santa again sneezed, saving Derrick from what could have been an embarrassing response.
"I have to go," he offered Derrick an apologetic handshake, adding, "Please send my apologies to Ms. Leveaux."
Nodding, Derrick returned the sniffling man's handshake.
"I'm sure she'll understand," he assured Stanley.
"Who in the bloody hell has an allergy to holiday tinsel?!!"
The deeply tanned face of Sophia Leveaux turned a festive shade of red as she faced her resident elf across her freshly polished desk.
"Stanley, apparently," Derrick shrugged. "His exact words were 'I'll be fine once I resign.' "
Chuckling dryly, Sophia tapped her ruby red fingernails furiously against the surface of her defenseless desk.
"I asked him to entertain the children with whimsical rhymes," she shook her head. "That, however, was not the one I had in mind."
Derrick again shrugged, shifting uncomfortably.
"He also sent his apologies," he offered.
"Did he send a new Santa?" Sophia barked, dark eyes flashing. "It's only a month before Christmas and I'm going to have some very unhappy children in my store."
Derrick nodded.
"We do have a problem," he conceded, adding, "I'm one of the few male employees here. Would you like me to play Santa?"
Sophia smiled, her eyes scanning her employee's tall, muscular frame.
"You look nothing like Santa. The kids wouldn't want to sit on your lap--at least not as much or as fervently as their mothers would."
She paused, raising her eyebrows.
"Or, given your other profession, maybe you could sit on theirs," she suggested dryly.
Derrick rolled his eyes.
Hardee. Har. Har.
Aloud he asked, "Did you have another suggestion?"
Sophia narrowed her eyes in contemplation.
"As you said, most of our employees are women--very slender women who would never fit in a Santa suit," she smiled slightly. "At 98 pounds I would never qualify."
Aside from that, Derrick thought, Santa is allegedly a nice person. Another strike against Sophia.
The firm snap of his manager's fingers jarred his wayward thoughts.
"I've got it!" she exclaimed.
What have you got? Derrick raised his eyebrows as he contemplated his openly smug employer. A heart, finally? No, it's just too much to hope for...
Oblivious to his ire, Sophia continued.
"Sheila Baxter, our P.R. person, is a big girl," she said bluntly. "She could fill out the uniform."
For the first time that afternoon, Derrick Barnes smiled.
As a stock boy, he had seen Sheila Baxter only a few times.
Yet whenever I see her, she's smiling, he mused. She has the prettiest smile, and hair as blonde as an angel's. And she publishes a mean company newsletter--one the staff can read halfway though without contemplating group suicide.
Sheila could be defined as a full-figured woman, as Sophia indicated.
Yet whoever said that luscious curves were a bad thing in a female? he wiggled his eyebrows.
"I would love to work with Sheila," he affirmed, adding, "When you offer her the job, though, please don't mention her size. She's a sweet lady and I don't want to see her hurt."
Sophia waved away his concern with a long, slender hand.
"No worries, young man," she assured him. "I am the queen of diplomacy."
Saying a quick prayer heavenward, Derrick turned and left the office.
"Why on earth would you want me to play Santa Claus?"
Sheila Baxter looked at Sophia Leveaux, her employer at Leveaux Department Store, as though she had sprouted a perfectly coiffed, endlessly fashionable second head.
Yet Sophia only shrugged, and smiled broadly.
"You are perfect for the role," she insisted. "You're friendly, bubbly, great with people..."
"All of which, along with my blonde hair and blue eyes, would have qualified me to participate in our fashion dolls promotion a few months ago," Sheila reasoned, taking a seat behind her desk in the Leveaux marketing office. "So why was I asked to sit on the sidelines for that promotion?"
Sophia shrugged, reddening slightly.
"Our fashion doll costume simply didn't fit you," she explained.
Sheila laughed, nodding knowingly.
"A real-life supermodel would need a lubricant to fit in that costume," the twenty-five year old countered. "It was all of a size two."
An uncomfortable pause ensued while Sophie considered another tactic.
Finally she offered, "Sheila, you love kids. And by playing Santa, you could interact with our youngest customers. Wouldn't you cherish that opportunity?"
Sheila paused, shifting her gaze to the photos on her desk; pictures that showed her niece and nephew, Jenna and Jeremy, splashing and playing in their family swimming pool.
She wondered suddenly how they would feel if they visited a store in hopes of seeing Santa Claus--only to find an empty chair and keen disappointment?
"I do want to help," she admitted finally, then, raising a delicate finger for emphasis, "Yet I won't make a mockery of myself--or my friends, many of whom also happen to be 'big and beautiful'--by wearing bulky Santa pants and a beard."
She smiled slightly.
"I'll agree to wear the Santa jacket with that cute, long red skirt I've been eyeing in our plus-size section. And I'll greet the kids with a hearty 'Ha, ha, ha.' "
Sophia blinked, clearly confused.
"Ha, ha, ha?'" she repeated blankly.
The feminine variation of 'Ho, ho, ho,' " Sheila winked.
Sophia thought a moment, then made a broad gesture of supplication.
"Fine," she allowed. "As of today, you are our new Santa Claus."
Sheila grinned, then shook hands with her employer.
"Make that Sheila Claus," she corrected.
The next few minutes passed very quickly for Sheila, as she changed hurriedly in a Leveaux dressing room--exchanging a fashionable black pantsuit for a baggy Santa jacket and the requested red skirt. She partially covered her shoulder-length blonde hair with a festive red hat, but she refused to relinquish the gold-plated necklace she had worn that day to work.
"I figure that the Claus clan must be rolling in dough," she told Sophia. "Sheila could supplement the 'ring, ring' of those sleigh bells with a little bling bling."
Even Sophia had to admit her P.R. lady cut a striking figure as 'Sheila Claus.'
"Or perhaps I should call myself Mary Christmas," Sheila suggested.
"Don't push it," Sophia replied through clenched teeth.
Once Sheila dressed, she walked quickly across the store to the holiday department, her gaze seeking the plush chair that would serve as her throne for the next few weeks.
What it found, however, was the vision of a sleeping angel.
Indeed, behind the Leveaux gift wrapping table sat a gift no woman would refuse: a tall, well-muscled man who lay asleep in a wicker chair, his closed eyelashes fanned in perfect silhouette against his carved cheeks.
His lips were full, sensual and tightly closed (The dude doesn't snore. Bonus! Sheila thought). His golden hair, meanwhile, fell well below his velvet-covered shoulders.
Sheila paused a moment, taking time from her hurried day to behold and enjoy a vision of beauty.
The words of a passing customer, however, seemed to break the illusion--and the pleasant fantasy it stirred in her mind.
"Mr. Elf there seems to be sleeping on the job," the man snorted loudly. "All he'll get this Christmas is coal in his stocking--and a festive pink slip."
Starting, Sheila ran forward and leaned over the sleeping stranger, shaking his beefy shoulder until he shifted in his seat.
The man opened his eyes slightly to reveal an emerald green gaze that stole Sheila's breath--and she was not quick to remove her hand from his strong, firm shoulder.
"Come on Sleeping Cutie, wake up," she urged.
Derrick awoke to behold what surely was the vision of a Christmas angel.
Her kind, sparkling blue eyes shone forth from a full cherubic face; one with rosy cheeks and cherry red lips.
Her long, angel blonde hair seemed beautifully accented by an elegant ensemble that boasted a red velvet jacket and matching skirt.
"Are you an angel?" Derrick thought he was lost in a dream.
The woman's sharp guffaw, however, quickly dragged him into the bounds of reality.
"Me, an angel?" she asked. "Honey, you must be sleepy or maybe just drunk. I'm Sheila from the P.R. office. How's it hanging, Dude?"
Now fully awake, Derrick laughed freely at Sheila's easy wit.
"I recognize you," he offered his hand. "I'm Derrick Barnes, a Leveaux stock boy. I really look forward to working with you."
Sheila nodded, pumping Derrick's hand with noticeable enthusiasm.
"It's great to meet you, Derrick. I usually introduce myself to all the new employees, but lately I've been coming and going."
AndI am going to come, if you don't stop staring at me with that flawless smile, she added silently.
The smile quickly disappeared, however, and Derrick shifted uneasily in his seat.
"A great first impression I've made, sleeping on the job," he pouted adorably. "I'm sorry, Ms. Baxter. I have a night job that consumes much of my energy. This won't happen again."
Sheila snorted, waving away his apology.
"We all have exhausting schedules these days," she allowed. "My grandma met me here for lunch the other day and praised me for saying grace before our meal."
She leaned forward and cupped her hand over her mouth to ensure confidentiality.
"I was copping a nap," she added as she turned toward her plush Santa seat, "I will report you fully, however, if you continue to call me 'Ms. Baxter.' I introduced myself as Sheila for a reason."
Chuckling, Derrick replied, "Sheila it is."
When a child walked into the holiday shopping section of Leveaux Department Store, they entered a Yuletide wonderland accented by hanging red velvet ribbons; garlands of silver and gold; lush green wreaths; and a towering Christmas tree adorned with hand-carved ornaments, ribbons in pink and lavender, sparkling tinsel, and an ivory-clad angel tree topper with an iridescent halo.
Derrick, for his part, felt far more enchanted by the angel who sat like a Christmas queen on a throne of burgundy plush.
And this queen, he noted, treated every child like royalty, doling out smiles and hugs in equal measure and listening attentively to the Yuletide wishes of each.
And he loved the 'ha, ha, ha' part; it cracked him up every time.
Better yet, it really seems to irritate Ms. Leveaux, he rubbed his hands together in fiendish delight.
By noon, Derrick busily searched the Leveaux Christmas decoration display for a convenient sprig of mistletoe. Yet finding none, he instead invited Sheila to share lunch with him in the store cafeteria.
The two soon sat closely at a long table decorated for the holidays with cinnamon spice candles. They shared a hearty helping of--um---well, no one was ever certain as to the identity of that stuff served in the Leveaux cafeteria.
"This is great," Derrick lied kindly.
Sheila looked at him, smiling.
"Derrick, I'm not sure if I've ever met anyone with such a sweet disposition," she told him, adding sardonically, "It borders on frightening. Someone could run over your foot with a monster truck and you'd say, 'No harm, no foul. I needed new sneakers-and new phalanges-anyway.'"
Derrick threw his head back, his leonine mane falling appealingly over his shoulders as he guffawed outright.
"You make me laugh," he praised her.
Sheila grinned.
"To tell you the truth, I did study humor writing in college," she shrugged. "P.R. pays the bills."
Derrick drew back, gaping.
"No way!" he exclaimed. "I'm studying writing at the University of South Florida."
"My alma mater," Sheila regarded him thoughtfully. "We seem to have a lot in common, Derrick. It might benefit us to have lunch together more often."
Her companion nodded.
"If we can survive cafeteria cuisine together on a daily basis, I'd say that's the foundation for a solid relationship," he winked.
Sheila chuckled, but raised her eyebrows slightly.
"Oh, I meant to say 'friendship,' " Derrick countered quickly, though his intense gaze said otherwise.
"Of course, I understand," Sheila agreed, adding, "So tell me, what's your favorite type of writing?"
Derrick paused, shifting uncomfortably.
"Well, I enjoy all types," he stared her directly in the eyes, "But my favorite genre is erotica."
His coworker coughed loudly, practically doubling over on the cafeteria bench.
"Sorry," she gratefully accepted the glass of water Derrick offered her. "The Leveaux Diner's Delight always has that effect on me."
"I didn't mean to shock you," Derrick apologized. "I just think that we as men need to be more attentive to women's needs and desires; it benefits both of us in the bedroom. By writing erotic stories, I try to tap into women's fantasies and find out what really gets their engines revved."
Sheila shivered slightly, a telltale tingle coursing through her body before resting in her most private area.
I bet the Leveaux Diner's Delight has never had this effect on anyone, she thought.
And it didn't help that those sexy lips were curved upward in a gentle but suggestive smile, and that his emerald eyes reflected a hot, teasing gaze.
Clearing her throat loudly, Sheila arose from the table. "We really should get back to work. Let me know, though, if you ever need a research buddy."
Derrick raised his eyebrows, cocking his blond head in obvious interest.
"Oh, I meant in terms of library research," Sheila clarified, adding with a shrug, "Having an English degree, I know a good deal about classic erotic literature--everything from Anais Nin to Kathryn Harvey."
Derrick gave a sharp nod, though he reveled in the becoming blush that crossed her fair cheeks.
"Of course," he agreed.
The two continued to meet for lunch throughout the weeks that followed, discussing everything from erotic literature to the kid who--during his visit to 'Santa' one afternoon--unceremoniously spat up on Sheila's red hat.
"You were so cool about it," Derrick praised her.
His companion shrugged.
"I have a high tolerance level for kids," she pulled a small photo from her purse, "These are my sister's twins, Jenna and Jeremy. My pride and joy."
Derrick nodded approvingly.
"They're adorable," he grinned. "I'd love to meet them sometime."
Sheila shrugged.
"Well, as it turns out, I'm taking them ice-skating tonight at Bingham's Rink in downtown Tampa. Would you like to join us?"
Derrick beamed.
"I would love to," he patted her shoulder, "It's been a long time since I enjoyed a good evening out."
Sheila cocked her head, obviously surprised.
"A hunk like you considers ice-skating with two eight-year-olds 'an evening out'?" she smirked. "I would think your dance card would be screaming for mercy."
Yet the laughter she expected was replaced by an uncomfortable frown.
"Well, actually it is," he said finally, adding with a sigh, "I assure you, though, that's not always a good thing."
"Drat it to blazes! Where is a good sprig of mistletoe when you need it?"
Sheila stood at the cast iron fence that bordered the ice at Bingham's Skating Rink. And while this rink stood beautifully decorated with hanging snowflakes and rainbow-colored Christmas lights, her gaze focused exclusively on the stunning blond man who ruled the ice with his smooth, flowing moves.
Dressed in a long black coat that perfectly complimented his tall, masculine frame, Derrick skated gracefully across the rink--earning admiring glances from every female who passed, and, for that matter, a few of the males.
Even so, the much admired male maintained his focus on the two children who skated happily beside him--ensuring that they never tripped or fell, and twirling them across the ice as they squealed with delight.
Sheila was particularly delighted when it was her turn--when Derrick stopped at the side of the rink and offered her his hand.
"Care to join us?" he graced her with a charming smile.
Soon Sheila hit the ice hand in hand with Derrick, watching as the twins skated happily in front of them.
"You've made them so happy this evening," she melted him with her warm, blue-eyed gaze. "Thank you."
Removing his hand from hers, he instead placed it fully around her waist and drew her closer to him. She took in her breath as he nuzzled her neck and whispered thrillingly in her ear.
"Could I make you happy this evening?" he asked, tone soft and sultry.
Without awaiting a response, he swept her into his arms and twirled her gracefully before him. Staring deeply into her eyes, he took her into a strong, all-consuming embrace and massaged her back with long and loving strokes.
Their friendly skate evolved into an intimate ballroom dance on ice, and Sheila took in her breath when--suddenly and impulsively--Derrick covered her mouth with his.
His kiss felt at first as light and gentle as a butterfly's wing, then intensified as he pressed his lips surely and firmly into hers.
With a heated sigh her mouth opened beneath this intimate pressure, and their tongues too began to dance--meeting and twirling with a tender artistry that stole their breath.
Raising her hands, Sheila cupped Derrick's smooth, sculpted cheeks in a heated grasp and drew him further into their kiss.
"Oooh," he smiled wickedly against her lips as he pressed his chest thrillingly against hers.
"Eeeeuw!"
The couple broke abruptly apart, impelled by the small but powerful voice of Sheila's nephew.
"Totally gross!" proclaimed Jeremy.
"Totally!" Jenna concurred.
Clearing her throat loudly, Sheila moved forward to give the twins an apologetic hug.
"You're right; I'm sorry," she patted their heads in a show of tender reassurance. "We shouldn't have been doing that in front of you. I think it's time we took a cocoa break."
And for me, a cold shower might help, she took a deep breath and flashed a guilty smile in Derrick's direction.
Indeed, the two acted much like guilty teen-agers the rest of the evening, exchanging longing looks and grasping hands under the table.
And several hours later, after dropping off the children at their parents' house, Derrick knowingly and willingly broke the speed limit several times en route to Sheila's home.
The mood had changed abruptly from earlier that evening, when Derrick had greeted his date at the door with a shy smile and a single red rose. And as they once again stood at her front door, he let out a playful growl as he pulled Sheila gently into his arms.
Relishing the feel of her full, voluptuous body, he buried his head in her neck and nibbled teasingly at her delicate skin. His hands, meanwhile, grasped and massaged her womanly hips.
Throwing her head back, Sheila took in her breath as she buried her hands in Derrick's long, silky hair--before playfully grazing her ruby red fingernails across his back.
Raising his head, Derrick seared her lips with a swift hot kiss. His eyes abruptly widened, however, as he focused on a spot just above her head.
"Unbelievable," he breathed.
Following his gaze, Sheila grinned when she saw the rich sprig of mistletoe that hung just above her door.
"Well, I've seen a really hot delivery man who makes frequent stops in this area," she shrugged. "I was hoping I'd get lucky."
She laughed, however, as Derrick drew back in surprise.
"Kidding, kidding," she once again gathered his strong, muscular form into her warm embrace. "Actually, I hung the mistletoe about an hour before you arrived this evening."
Taking this as a cue, Derrick buried a firm but gentle hand in Sheila's silky blonde hair, drawing her head back for yet another passionate kiss.
This one, however, felt even more intense and deeply felt than their skating rink interlude. Wrapping her arms around Derrick's firm shoulders, Sheila took in her breath as the two locked mouths, arms and hips in a full-bodied embrace.
She raised her eyebrows as she felt the hard press of Derrick's erection strain through his coat and rub temptingly against her rounded stomach.
Drawing back, she looked questioningly into his eyes, and was met with a passion-dazed stare that shook her to her foundations.
"I may not be the delivery dude," he moved her hands to place them on his firm, rock hard behind, "but if you'd care to invite me in, I assure you; you will get lucky."
Leaning forward, Sheila planted an affectionate peck on Derrick's full, sensual mouth.
Affectionate, he noted, but not as passionate as their previous kisses.
"Derrick, I really like you," she assured him, adding sheepishly, "As you can probably tell. I think, however, that we're moving too quickly."
Derrick snorted, tweaking her nose playfully.
"I notice, though, that your hands haven't moved from my rear end."
Reddening, Sheila drew back and patted Derrick's shoulder.
"I'm not leading you on--I do want to be with you," she revealed. "I'm just..."
She paused, shrugging uneasily.
"Not ready," she finished.
Derrick stared at her, his eyes seeming to search her face for answers.
Finding none, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
"It's all right, Honey," he gave her an affectionate hug before pulling away. "I don't want to pressure you--and I hope you'll still have dinner with me next weekend."
"Of course," Sheila assented quickly then bid him an uneasy goodbye before escaping into the darkened confines of her home.
The next morning found a crowd of gleeful children at Leveaux Department Store, waiting in line to meet Santa Claus.
Yet Santa, while still kind and receptive to all who approached, felt far from jolly--and her elf was no proverbial picnic either, barely mustering the jaunty banter that was part of his job description.
Both sighed with relief when lunchtime came, and they could escape to the quiet sanctity of the Leveaux cafeteria--where only the bravest souls dared venture for their noon repast.
Facing one another at the cafeteria table, Derrick and Sheila began their meal with an identifiable silence--and a lunch neither could easily identify.
Finally Derrick broke the silence.
"I'm sorry, Sheila," he took her hands warmly between his. "I moved too quickly last night. I was an animal and I scared you away."
Sheila shook her head, and squeezed his hands supportively.
"No worries," she shrugged, "Actually, I quite liked the 'animal' part. You weren't forceful or rough; just passionate."
It was Derrick's turn to shake his head.
"Then what didn't you like?" he asked. "Why did you turn away from me?"
Sheila sighed deeply.
"Derrick, you know why I got this Santa gig," she said, tone low. "It's not because I'm great with kids."
"But you are," Derrick interrupted. "And you're funny and spirited and..."
"And full-figured," Sheila finished flatly. "It's the same reason that, in my high school play, I played the nurse instead of Juliet. It's the same reason I didn't go to the prom."
She paused, shrugging.
"And it's the same reason I couldn't sleep with you last night."
Her companion gaped, shaking his head.
"You're so pretty," he offered.
"Thank you," Sheila gestured expressively. "And if I was a cute, successful male, a few extra pounds wouldn't matter."
Leaning forward, she pinned him with a penetrating gaze.
"Derrick, almost every lover I've had has criticized my body," her voice cracked slightly. "And every lover who did was cast quickly out of my life. I'm proud to be a big, beautiful woman, and anyone who doesn't like it can leave."
Pausing, she waved a weary hand in the air.
"I just got tired of dealing with the constant abuse," she admitted, adding with a sad smile, "So I've been flying solo the last few years."
Derrick nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"So tell me, Sheila," his tone sounded soft and alluring. "When you fly solo these days..." He paused, looking her directly in the eyes. "Do you think of me?"
Sheila froze then giggled in spite of herself.
"Well," she reddened slightly. "Yeah, I suppose so."
Grinning slyly, Derrick rose from his seat and crossed slowly to her side of the table--using long, catlike strides that quickened Sheila's pulse.
Sitting behind her, he gathered her in his arms and whispered thrillingly in her ear.
"Tonight I want you to pleasure yourself," he dug his strong, masculine hands into her stress-worn shoulders. "Watch a hot DVD, take a bubble bath, do whatever you usually do..."
With this he started to plant sweet baby kisses along one side of her neck.
"At the 'moment of truth,'" he continued, "think only of me. Enjoy a delicious fantasy involving all the luscious things you'd like me to do to you; things you've always wanted a man to do but maybe were afraid to ask."
"Then tomorrow evening," he nibbled and blew softly into her ear. "I will take these fantasies and make them all come true, one by one--I won't stop until you are completely, totally satisfied."
He himself appeared well-satisfied a moment later, when she turned her head and seared him with a blue-eyed, blatantly seductive gaze.
"Sounds like a good plan," she told him, "with one important change."
Chuckling, the couple kissed sweetly before she continued.
"I won't need a DVD or a bubble bath," she whispered. "Just the memory of this moment."
"Okay, so I fudged just a tad."
Later that evening, Sheila sank happily in the frothy suds of a steaming hot bubble bath.
While shopping for lingerie at her favorite intimate apparel store, she selected a festive red lace negligee that boasted a handstitched sprig of mistletoe--placed just above the crotch.
"Totally tasteless," she assessed at first glance. "And being a guy, he'll thoroughly appreciate and applaud that fact."
Then, after dining at her favorite restaurant, she returned home to watch an invigorating block of PlaygirlTV and indulge in a bubble bath.
I know I told him I didn't need all this, she thought. The fact is, though, I need to be as relaxed as possible for tomorrow.
Furthermore, she did imagine the warm waters of the bubble bath as Derrick's heated caress, and the steam that touched her face as his strong but gentle kiss.
Suddenly a sharp wave of arousal canvassed her femininity, and she reached for a nearby shower massager for some much needed relief.
She just as quickly dropped the massager as the loud, insistent ring of her doorbell disrupted her private paradise.
Rising quickly from the bath, she grabbed a nearby white cotton robe and wrapped it securely around her soaking body.
Who could it be, what do they want, and why oh why can't it wait? she crossed her living room to the front door.
Her chagrin turned to horror as she peered through the peephole to see Derrick, looking delicious in a black muscle T-shirt and inhumanly tight blue jeans.
"He looks delicious, all right," Sheila assessed, then, regarding her own 'wet hair and bathrobe' motif, "And I look wet."
Aloud she called, "Derrick, our date is for tomorrow night. Do yourself a favor and turn and run before you see me sans makeup."
A moment's pause followed, after which a bewildered voice replied through the door, "I was told Santa Claus lived here. Do I have the right house?"
Rolling her eyes, Sheila opened the door. "Derrick, I had heard that some of the Leveaux stockboys were into smoking 'wacky tobacky.' Please don't tell me you're one of them."
Derrick said nothing, only swept Sheila up into his arms for a heated, impassioned kiss.
Her full, wet body slid sensuously against his hard, muscular one, and Sheila wrapped her arms tightly around his firm shoulders.
Their kiss was almost desperate in its passion and hunger, and their mouths and tongues engaged in a most pleasurable greeting, communicating far more than words possibly could say.
Eventually, though, Derrick set Sheila before him and stared deeply into her eyes.
"Well, you wanted to see Santa Claus," Sheila whispered, tone slightly breathless and eyes wide with desire. "You got her. Did you have a special Christmas wish, Young Man?"
Derrick shook his head, leading Sheila to a comfortable recliner at the center of the room. Taking her arms in his hands, he set her gently down in the seat and stood tall and proud before her.
"If I'm going to make a request of Santa--that is, Sheila--I have to follow protocol," he raised a manly finger for defined emphasis.
Then, unceremoniously, he plopped himself down on Sheila's lap.
"Well, that'll work!" she grinned giddily as Derrick wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gave her a warm, affectionate kiss.
Planting her hand on his denim-clad, rock hard thigh, she asked, "So, what do you want for Christmas?"
Tipping his head, Derrick pursed his lips thoughtfully before answering.
"Well, I'd like the entire Henry Miller book collection and a year's supply of Turtle Wax for Ye Olde Auto Wreck out there in the driveway," he began, then, searing her with a blatantly sexual gaze, "What I want most, though, is to bring you a heated night of mind-blowing passion; one you'll never forget."
Sheila blushed as she felt a bolt of sexual electricity course through her private area--leaving her warm and wet.
"I'm sure he'll be able to feel the effects, sitting in my lap and all," she gritted her teeth embarrassedly.
All doubt of this relinquished moments later, as Derrick turned slowly in Sheila's lap and straddled her in the chair. Then, staring deeply into her eyes, he pressed his body hotly against hers and began to grind his hips into the soft folds of her cotton velour robe.
Sheila snorted, raising her chin defiantly.
"You hope to win brownie points with Sheila Claus by giving her a lap dance?" she snorted.
Yet she shivered involuntarily as his suggestive moves lit a fire in the pit of her stomach--one that spread slowly but surely downward.
She could feel the bulge of his shaft through his jeans, and the teasing, thrusting movements of his perfect hips. Then he leaned forward, nibbling her ear as his massive, muscular chest pressed thrillingly against her.
After playfully tossing his long blond hair full in her beaming face, he told her, "Sweetheart, I know you're nervous about tomorrow night. And I didn't want you to sit here alone, dreading what is supposed to be a wonderful, special time for both of us."
Sheila bit her lip, and her eyes misted strangely as she considered Derrick's sweet words.
"You are so kind," she praised him, cupping his perfect face in her hands.
"Not to mention inventive," she wiggled her eyebrows. "After all, there's nothing like a good lap dance to lift a woman's spirits."
Chuckling, Derrick leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
"This is only the beginning, my sweet," he assured her.
With this, he buried his head in her neck and ran his full, delicious tongue down her chin to her shoulders. Then, gently opening her robe, he stared admiringly at her breasts before licking and nipping their tops, and laving her nipples until they were hard and erect.
He next tossed the tickling strands of his golden hair teasingly across her rounded abdomen, and worshipfully kissed the belly other men mocked.
"You are so beautiful," he rubbed her arms with tender, ravenous hands. "I'm going to make you feel as luscious as you are."
Both excited and sedated by her lover's tender ministrations, Sheila moaned outright as he lowered himself between her legs and parted her knees reverently.
Grinning devilishly up at her, he promised, "Now I'm going to give you a real taste of the pleasure I can show you."
With this, he leaned forward and teasingly licked her feminine folds. This sensation, combined with the sumptuous feel of his long, silky hair strands as they tickled her thighs, prompted Sheila to throw her head back and hiss like a feline in heat--then eagerly part her legs as far as she could to give him full access to her throbbing, feminine jewel.
Growling, Derrick fixed his luscious lips around her clit and suckled her with expert slowness. His lips, teeth, and tongue applied gentle pressure to increase her arousal, and his hands lovingly caressed her womanly hips.
Arching her back, Sheila dug her fingers into Derrick's hair as her pleasure intensified. She then thrust her hips boldly forward, closing her eyes as a smoldering inferno swept through her femininity and consumed her entire body.
Murmuring his approval, Derrick shifted his head to apply still more pleasure to her throbbing nub, and his mouth created a heated pressure that eventually burst into a sharp, reverberating spasm.
Moaning loudly, Sheila leaned forward to wrap her trembling arms around Derrick's firm, muscular shoulders.
"That was incredible," she kissed his forehead.
She further delighted as he continued his sensual, unhurried exploration of her body, rubbing her legs with slow, massaging movements and even sucking her toes.
"You are unreal," Sheila accused, finally standing from her chair and unabashedly displaying her body for his viewing pleasure.
Derrick leaned back, devouring her bare, voluptuous form with an intense gaze.
"Look who's talking," his eyes shone with sheer wonder. "You're ravishing."
Sheila grinned proudly, obviously pleased. Then she stepped sharply away from the chair and crooked her finger seductively.
"Now it's your turn in the hot seat," she pointed to the seat before her, adding informatively, "I fully intend to rip every shred of clothing from your body and feast my mouth on that big, delicious shaft."
Chuckling, Derrick rose from the floor and wrapped Sheila's naked, sated body warmly in his arms.
"A very tempting offer," he kissed her lips affirmingly. "Remember, though, that tomorrow is the night for us to share pleasure. Tonight is just for you."
As if to prove his point, he held her gaze as he grabbed hold of his sleek, black muscle T-shirt and peeled it slowly and teasingly from his body.
Sheila gaped openly at her first sight of his bulging, muscular chest and rippled abdomen. She further delighted when he slipped his tight blue jeans with agonizing slowness down his toned, taut legs, revealing a sleek black silk Speedo.
And a long, hard, bulging erection.
"You sure you don't want me to take care of that?" Sheila pointed with wide eyes at his impressive package.
Chuckling, Derrick shook his head and gestured toward Sheila's couch; a work of cushiony ivory velour that often served as her favorite napping spot.
"All I want you to do is lay face down on that couch," he invited softly.
Sheila raised a caustic eyebrow in his direction.
"Honey, I won't go that route even for you. Even my gynecologist has to spring for dinner and a movie before he gets that invasive."
Her frown disappeared, however, as Derrick swept her up into his masculine arms and carried her to her couch. Using the utmost care, he laid her gently on her stomach--allowing her body to sink luxuriously in its softened depths.
"Like I said, this evening is supposed to be a relaxing one," his tone softened. "I won't be 'going that route;' just giving you a nice back massage."
To illustrate this point, he dug his hands into her broad, tension-strained shoulders and rubbed them into a softened, relaxed state. His tickling fingertips played thrillingly against her spine, then made broad circles across her back.
His agile fingers then moved downward to rub and caress her abundant waist, then lightly and teasingly pinched her exposed behind.
Abruptly Sheila raised her head. "I thought this was supposed to be a back massage, Dearie."
Derrick grinned, winking.
"So do you want me to restrict my territory to your back?" he asked.
"Don't you dare," Sheila waved a cajoling finger in his direction. "I want your hands all over me, in as many patterns and formations as humanly possible. Have I made myself perfectly clear? Good. Thank you."
Soon, however, Sheila drifted well past the point of coherent speech or thought. Lulled into a pleasant trance by Derrick's ministrations, she fell into a light sleep.
Her dreams took Derrick's massage to the next level, and she felt him inside her--his hands, mouth, and cock bringing her incredible pleasure.
Tomorrow night, she grinned almost drunkedly, my dreams will be realized.
Yet why should they wait? Derrick was here, in the flesh (and how!). Why should she delay the inevitable?
Shaking herself awake, Sheila opened her mouth to invite her lover into her bedroom.
She just as quickly closed it, however, when she saw that Derrick was gone--and in his place was a note that lay on her dining room table, under the sprig of mistletoe he had removed from her front door.
"I don't want that delivery dude getting any bright ideas," the note explained, then went on to read, "I would have loved to stay here with you tonight, Sweetie, but my night job calls me away."
"Tomorrow, however," it continued, "I'm all yours. Love, Derrick."
"Love." The word seemed almost indecipherable to Sheila, who returned to her seat on the couch and took a deep, fortifying breath.
This is all moving so quickly, she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Too quickly--but it feels too good to stop.
Furthermore, she wondered about this 'night job' that Derrick frequently referred to but never identified.
While he greatly enjoyed talking about school, books, and every other aspect of his life, he never discussed the second job that consumed so much of his time.
As a coworker and casual friend, it was really none of my business, she rose and made a slow, weary trek to her living room window. As a lover, though, I deserve to know.
Tomorrow evening, she assumed, she would be too distracted--if not outright delirious--to ask that question.
"I'll ask him at lunch tomorrow," she decided.
In the meantime, she reveled in the rays of radiant moonlight that flowed freely through her window.
Everything seems so new to me, she stretched with a broad, dreamy smile.
The next morning found a particularly chipper Santa and elf greeting visitors to the holiday section of Leveaux department store.
Derrick finally found a sprig of mistletoe for sale on the decoration shelf, and placed it teasingly on Sheila's chair.
In return, Sheila ventured into the small appliances department and retrieved a handheld shower massager, handing it to Derrick with a catlike smile.
"Mmmm," he regarded the apparatus with curious eyes. "Somehow I just don't get the romantic symbolism, Sheila."
Shrugging, Sheila replied coyly, "It represents the fate you so gallantly saved me from last night."
Before Derrick could respond, the couple was interrupted by an approaching customer; a well-dressed, middle-aged woman accompanied by a young boy.
"I hate to disrupt your little chat," the woman sniffed, "but my son wants to see Santa Claus. Where is he?"
Stepping forward, Sheila greeted their two newest customers with a friendly smile.
"Santa is preparing for his Yuletide trip around the world," she patted the boy's head. "I'm Sheila Claus, his second cousin twice removed. Ha! Ha! Ha!"
The woman shook her head, regarding her through narrowed eyes.
"Let me guess," she rolled those same eyes, tone dry. "You were the only one who fit in the suit."
Without awaiting a reply, the woman shoved her son rudely in Sheila's direction.
"Read the woman your Christmas list while I shop," she commanded.
Taking her seat, Sheila took the quiet boy into her lap and smiled pleasantly at his surly mother.
"Ma'am, just to make your shopping experience easier, the PMS medication is on aisle five; the anti-aging cream, aisle ten."
Pausing, she gestured toward the shower massager in Derrick's hand.
"And you could really use one of those, Ma'am," she advised.
Reddening, the woman's gaze moved slowly from the massager to the man who held it.
Her eyes widening abruptly. "What are you doing here?"
Derrick shifted his feet, obviously uncomfortable.
"You must mistake me for someone else," his own face reddened slightly. "I'm sure we've never met."
The woman paused, cocking her head curiously.
"No, I'm sure it was you," she said finally. "Of course, you're wearing more clothing than when we last met."
Sheila's eyes widened and she braced her hands on the arms of her chair. Her gaze moved slowly between the customer and Derrick, who seemed more uncomfortable with each passing moment.
"As I said, Ma'am, I'm sure I don't know you," he insisted. "You must be mistaken; I don't know where we could have met."
With this he drew himself up, staring at her with a hardened gaze.
"What I do know, though, is that you should apologize to my girlfriend," he glared at the unwelcome customer. "Your comments to her were very rude."
The woman drew back, gaping.
"Who are you to talk to anyone else about inappropriate behavior?" she asked.
Sniffing loudly, she pulled her son briskly from Sheila's lap and walked with quick steps toward the door.
"Let's go, Son," she tilted her chin proudly. "We're going to find you a real Santa--with a decent, reputable helper."
Sheila waited until the pair left then turned abruptly toward a silent, noticeably unhappy Derrick.
"Who was she?"
Derrick shrugged, smiling slightly.
"A bitch," he replied helpfully.
Sheila was unamused.
"She knew you," she insisted. "How?"
"I have no idea, Sheila," Derrick's tone sounded slightly heated. "As I told her, she must have me confused with another person."
Sheila snorted, waving away this assertion.
"Derrick, it would be nice indeed if even a quarter of the men who walked this planet resembled you," she snorted, "but, sadly, very few do."
She paused, leaning forward in her chair.
"Does this have anything to do with that mystery secret second job of yours?" she asked point blank.
"Miss Santa, are you all right?"
Jumping, Sheila shifted her gaze to regard the little girl who now stood before her--staring at her with obvious concern.
"Miss Santa, are you all right?" she repeated, then, shrugging, "I came to give you my Christmas list--but if now is not a good time..."
Immediately falling into character, Sheila pasted on a broad smile. "Not at all, Missy! Christmas is coming and Sheila Claus couldn't be better. Ha! Ha! Ha! Now tell me what you want for Christmas."
All I want is the truth, she added silently. And before Derrick and I enjoy our romantic dinner tonight, we're going to have a long, serious talk over lunch.
The hours passed like days until noon, when finally Sheila was able to post the "Claus Coffee Break" sign.
"Come on," she beckoned to Derrick, "Let's go to the cafeteria. We need to talk."
Smiling, Derrick came to Sheila's side and kissed her cheek warmly.
"I'm afraid I'll have to skip the cafeteria today, Love," he chucked her chin playfully, "I want to do some shopping for tonight."
Pausing, he pressed his lips quickly but affirmingly against hers.
"I have some surprises in store," he whispered.
"It seems you have a lot of surprises in store," Sheila's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Derrick cocked his head.
"You're still coming to dinner tonight, aren't you?"
Sheila thought a moment then nodded.
"Yes, I'll be there," she agreed, then raised a finger for emphasis. "Yet before we sit down for our meal--or lay down for anything else--we need to talk."
Derrick shrugged, smiling.
"Sure," he agreed, though he again seemed uneasy. "I have to go now, though."
And with this he walked quickly toward the front of the store.
Sheila folded her arms, staring reflectively after him.
He is so courting a lump of coal in his stocking, she tapped her foot crossly.
The rest of the afternoon passed with agonizing slowness, as both Sheila and Derrick fought to concentrate on the task at hand.
And Sheila, for one, came dangerously close to cracking under pressure.
When one little girl asked for a Barbie and Ken doll set, Sheila said, "Sure, Honey. Do you think, though, that Barbie might be happier alone? Sure, Ken is hot and a top-notch ice skater, but being a male--even an anatomically incorrect one--he tends to confuse and concern Barbie."
The girl's mother had heard enough.
"Let's go, Honey," she told the little girl, who shrugged nonchalantly as they fled the scene.
"Do I get my doll set or no?" she shook her head sadly. "That Santa had major issues."
At the end of the afternoon, Derrick accompanied Sheila to her car. Then, taking her into his arms, he seared her lips with a hot, full-bodied kiss.
"Be at the house at seven," he added in a whisper, "I can't wait for tonight."
In spite of her earlier concerns, Sheila's body immediately reacted to Derrick's touch. A telltale wetness flooded her private area, and she trembled in spite of herself.
"I'll see you then," she tried to assume a noncommittal tone.
Cha, she rolled her eyes as she got into the car and started the ignition. About as 'noncommittal' as a poodle in heat. On top of a shag rug.
Early that evening, Sheila stood before her bedroom mirror dressed in the red negligee bought especially for tonight.
The finely sewn lace appeared sexy but elegant and fell well within the bounds of good taste.
"Well, except for the mistletoe over the crotch part," she grinned slightly as she turned away from the mirror. "But hey, 'tis the season..."
Going to her closet, Shelia withdrew a black velvet dress that flowed loosely and gracefully to her feet.
She had planned to wear a sexy red dress this evening; now, however, she was determined to maintain her strong sense of morality and composure--at least until she found out the truth about Derrick's 'night job.'
"Then I fully intend to go buck wild all over his cute butt," she smirked. "That is, if I can live with the truth of whatever it is he does when he leaves the store."
Yet what if she couldn't?
Sighing deeply, she fixed her favorite gold-plated necklace around her neck and sprayed a bit of perfume behind each ear.
Back in her car minutes later, she formulated a plan of action for this evening.
I'm going to remain the picture of calm, cool and collected, she vowed to herself. I'm going to ask lots of questions and expect solid, honest answers.
I won't be swayed by his--er--obvious charms, she nodded sharply.
Soon she pulled up in the driveway of Derrick's modest one-story home; a white ranch-style house decorated with a fluorescent Snowman figure in the front yard ("The only type of Florida snowman with any degree of life expectancy," observed Sheila) and a line of red, white and blue Christmas lights bordering the roof.
"A patriotic gent," Sheila said, adding with a nod, "Another point in his favor. That, and the incredible abs."
Walking up a short sidewalk that lead to Derrick's home, Sheila noticed that a note had been taped to his front door.
Let me guess, she rolled her eyes. "He had to break our date because of Ye Olde Night Job."
She started, however, when she perused the actual content of the neatly written missive.
"Step right in, Baby," the note read. "I would come to the door, but I happen to be totally and completely naked."
Sheila gaped, quickly reminding herself that she had vowed to remain calm, cool, and collected until she learned the truth about her lover.
Thrusting her chin firmly upward, she opened the door and stepped inside Derrick's entryway.
The first sight that met her eyes was that of a neatly decorated table that came complete with two fully lit, festive green candles and matching plates.
A nice decorating touch for a woman, she observed silently. A minor miracle for a man.
It was nothing, however, compared to the second vision that met her wandering gaze.
Derrick's Christmas tree was a fresh spruce decorated in decidedly masculine tones, with forest green ribbons and ornaments that took the form of miniature trains and toy soldiers.
The tree's most beautiful accent, however, was found underneath its neatly trimmed branches.
Derrick reclined on his side, his golden hair and massive, freshly oiled chest glowing appealingly in the rays of moonlight afforded by a nearby window.
His eyes also glowed as he regarded her--filled with a hot intensity that stole her breath.
Although his finely toned legs also were exposed for her admiration, he wasn't exactly naked as promised. His waist and privates had been wrapped in a shiny sheet of red foil paper--and secured with a luminous gold bow.
Sheila's hungry gaze devoured him from head to toe as she stepped sharply forward.
"Did I overdress?" her slightly trembling voice belying her light tone.
Chuckling, Derrick crooked a seductive finger in her direction.
"I couldn't think of what to get you for Christmas," he told her, adding with a casual shrug, "I figured my body was as good a gift as any."
Grinning broadly, Sheila walked forward with quick, deliberate steps.
Screw cool, calm, and collected, she knelt at Derrick's side.
Making quick work of the bow and foil that covered her gift, she soon revealed a shaft that was longer, thicker, and harder than she had imagined.
After taking a moment to admire its almost artistic beauty, she boldly grasped her gift and stroked it--using long, laving motions that evoked a strong reaction from the "bearer."
Throwing his head back, Derrick hissed sharply as spasms of desire rocked his perfect body. His nipples immediately hardened and his breath grew heavy and hard as his lover stroked him to the point of full erection.
His arousal intensified a moment later, when Sheila boldly covered the tip of his shaft with her luscious ruby red lips.
Lovingly she suckled and devoured his fully erect cock, teasing its golden skin with the shrewd flick of her tongue and looking upward as his rippled abs flexed appreciatively.
Yet as much as he enjoyed her attentions, he never neglected her pleasure--and as she continued to nip and lave him, he extended his hand and fondled her bosom through the silken sheen of her dress. Soon her nipples too stood hard and erect, and the two grasped hands as Derrick reached a hard, electrifying climax.
Yet even as waves of pleasure coursed through his sculpted body, he leaned upward and enveloped Sheila in a full, loving embrace.
Kissing her fiercely, he unzipped her dress and peeled it with sensual slowness from her body.
After discovering and whistling in appreciation of the red negligee, he removed it as well. Then, laying both garments carefully aside, he took her body tenderly onto his lap and cupped his hand in her slick, wet femininity--first grasping and massaging her throbbing clit, then slipping his fingers inside her vagina.
Smiling, Sheila pressed her lips against his forehead and wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders.
"I should probably tell you, Sweetie, that you were headed in the right direction before," she grinned sheepishly. "I've never had an orgasm this way."
Grinning devilishly, Derrick leaned forward and ran his tongue thrillingly down her neck.
"I take it, then, that no lover has ever found your g-spot," he whispered.
Sheila cocked her head, beginning to take great pleasure in the heated pressure that was building in her private area.
"No," she admitted. "I mean, I've heard the term..."
"Then let me define it for you," Derrick growled, swooping down to sear her lips with a hot, open-mouthed kiss.
As their mouths and tongues enacted a heated tango, Derrick's intense stroking movements began to spark sharp, lightning shards of pleasure in the confines of her soaking wet pouch.
Then suddenly, he 'hit the spot.'
Throwing her head back, Sheila dug her fingernails into his beefy shoulders and screamed outright. Her entire body pulsated with the ultimate sensual release; an incredible wave of pleasure that claimed her fully in its ecstasy-inducing grasp.
Falling limply in Derrick's arms, she purred softly as he lowered her sweat-soaked body onto the soft velvet skirt that surrounded his Christmas tree.
For a few minutes the couple lounged happily, trading baby soft kisses and intimate whispers. Then Sheila took Derrick into her arms and pressed her lips against his.
After engaging in a soft exploration, their lips and tongues merged fully in a kiss that reignited their passions.
Derrick moaned as Sheila locked her long legs brazenly around his hips, finally opening herself to him. Then, running his hands down her back in a slow, massaging movement, he grasped her full, deliciously round derriere and lifted it from the ground.
And finally, they looked deeply into one another's eyes and joined--fully and totally--as one.
Their hips claimed a perfect rhythm as their bare chests pressed and merged. Then Sheila gasped softly as she experienced the full penetration of Derrick's hungry cock, and they kissed deeply as he pumped waves of unadulterated pleasure into her body.
Their tongues and hips echoed their movements, and Sheila dug her fingers into the silky depths of Derrick's long blond hair before lightly grazing his back with her sleek red fingertips.
Finally breaking their kiss, Derrick buried his head in Sheila's chest and lovingly laved her breasts. His hands, meanwhile, braced themselves on her full hips.
"I just want to get lost in you," he whispered, then lost all coherent thought as waves of incredible pleasure consumed them both. They came together, their heated moans and sighs raising an intimate chorus that filled the air around them.
For a time they lay sweetly in one another's arms, together admiring the glimmering golden string of lights that lined the tree above them.
"So," Sheila ran a loving hand over Derrick's bare, hard chest. "What do you want for Christmas, Baby--not that I could top this."
Chuckling, her lover showered her fair neck with a sudden rain of soft baby kisses.
"This is all I want," he assured her. "I already have the best present under my tree."
With this he raised his lips to her mouth and graced her with a warm, affirming kiss.
"Good answer," Sheila cocked her eyebrows, "So you're no longer interested in that year's supply of Turtle Wax?"
Throwing back his leonine head, Derrick laughed loudly.
"You always make me laugh," he rose slowly to his feet with her in his arms.
"I'm just glad you didn't say that a few minutes ago," Sheila winked, "when we were all hot and heavy."
Soon the couple enjoyed a meal of freshly cooked pasta, sitting closely together at Derrick's table.
"Delicious!" Sheila smacked her lips to what Derrick considered adorable effect. "Of course, I'm so irritatingly happy right now I could possibly find culinary merit in the Leveaux Diner's Delight."
Gaping, Derrick widened his emerald eyes. "Damn! I must be a good lover."
Following dinner, the couple lounged easily on Derrick's couch, their naked limbs entwined as they read aloud to one another from a book of erotic poetry.
Sheila savored this time with her lover, laying her head against his chest and listening to the sound of his deep, masculine voice as he recited each verse with deep articulance and emotion, showing both his love for the written word--and for the woman beside him.
"Sheila, I hope you don't think we're going too quickly with this," he closed the book and set it aside. "Because I don't think I can stop."
Smiling, Sheila planted a line of kisses across Derrick's perfect chest before resting her head in his neck.
"I don't want to stop," she lifted her head to look directly in his eyes, "I do need to know more about you, though, before we proceed much further."
"I know, I know," Derrick sighed. "You need to know about my other job."
Without awaiting an answer, he continued, "I promise I'll explain everything tomorrow. And not just for your benefit--for mine."
He paused, shaking his head.
"I never meant to keep anything from you. It's just difficult..."
He was silenced, however, by the light touch of Sheila's finger across his full lips.
"We'll talk about it tomorrow," she said, tone soft and comforting. "Tonight I want to be at total peace with you, and share your bed."
Touched by his lover's tender sentiment, Derrick swept her up in his arms and stood from the couch.
"I'll gladly take you to my bed," he charmed her with a dazzling smile. "First, though, I have one more surprise for you this evening. Another gift to brighten your Yuletide season."
"Well, damn," Sheila replied with a wink. "And here I just barely survived the last one."
Sheila's surprise turned out to be a luxurious bubble bath; one she shared with the man who had lovingly prepared it for her.
Indeed, Derrick had lined his bathtub with freshly lit vanilla candles, each of which had been placed in Christmas 'holly holders.' And the bubble bath came complete with a fresh bayberry scent that Sheila inhaled deeply.
"Perfect," she sighed, grinning as Derrick lowered her into the bathtub.
Their wet, soapy limbs delightfully entangled as they took turns bathing one another.
Sheila, for her part, greatly enjoyed soaping up Derrick's heaving chest and long, succulent shaft--then playfully licking the bubbles from each.
When Derrick's turn arrived, he grinned slyly and removed an object he had hidden behind his mauve shower curtain.
"No you didn't," Sheila laughed as she beheld her lover's latest gift. "You bought the shower massager? It was supposed to be a gag gift!"
Derrick made no verbal reply, but activated the shower massager. Soon Sheila's breasts and belly were doused with a steady rain of water droplets.
Then he ventured lower, teasing her clit with an invigorating aqua stream that evoked her sighs of contentment.
These sighs grew substantially deeper as he replaced the massager with his moist, sensual lips.
Fixing his sumptuous mouth around her throbbing clitoris, he finished the work of the massager--suckling and licking her feminine jewel until it again throbbed with the heat of desire.
Soon he brought her once again to the brink of ecstasy, then sent her soaring with yet another incredible orgasm.
Opening her eyes wide, Sheila admired the way that Derrick's perfect face and silky long hair glowed in the gold of the candles that surrounded him--giving him an almost ethereal appearance.
"The first time I saw you," she cupped his cheeks in her hands. "I thought you looked like an angel."
Derrick bowed his head, stifling a sharp guffaw.
"Thanks," he leaned downward to grace her lips with a warm, affirming kiss. "Even so, you have to admit that idea is pretty silly, given our current circumstances."
He sobered, however, as his lover shook her head--her gaze filled with a look of love and acceptance that nearly stopped his heart.
"No," she said finally. "It's not silly in the least."
Soon the couple retired to Derrick's feathered bed, settling into a warm embrace in the midst of his crisp cotton sheets. And while they almost immediately fell into a deep, fortifying sleep, Sheila awoke several times during the night to savor the feel of Derrick's arms around her waist--pulling her tightly up against him even as he slept.
I just wanted to make sure it wasn't a dream, she bit her lip, And I just hope that, come tomorrow morning, I still feel as much in love as I am now.
Ironically enough, it was the sound of a pounding shower massager that roused Sheila the next morning. And she purred contentedly as she savored the image of a naked, wet Derrick in the shower.
"Maybe I should go join him," she wiggled her eyebrows. "Mustn't let my dear boyfriend get lonely."
"My dear boyfriend." How many times had Sheila uttered that phrase in a loving tone--instead of spewing it out sardonically with a growl or a grimace?
"I guess I haven't had much luck when it comes to men," she reflected, stretching luxuriously. "It seems, though, the tides are finally turning. About time, I say."
Her dreamy meditation was sharply disrupted by the loud ring of Derrick's telephone.
I'd better not answer, she bit her lip. It might be his mother and she'll think I'm a slut for sleeping over on the second date.
Shrugging, she added with a grin, She doesn't need to know the truth quite so soon. At least let me charm her first with a fruit basket and a Leveaux gift certificate.
The voice that eventually appeared on Derrick's answering machine, however, was not exactly a maternal one. It sounded low and sultry, and delivered a message that made Sheila cringe.
"Hey there, Baby. It's Serena, your favorite customer. Give me a ring as soon as you can; I have another job for you."
Sheila shook her head, gaping openly as the message continued.
"You really knocked my sister's socks off at her birthday party; so now I'm going to hire you for her bachelorette bash. It's only a few weeks away, though, so don't wait too long to call."
Jumping from the bed, Sheila rushed into the living room and hurriedly donned her black dress. She was not as quick, however, to retrieve her red negligee.
"I won't be needing it, apparently," she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the house--slamming the door soundly behind her.
The loud thump of Derrick's door disrupted his shower, where he had fantasized about the woman who lay sleeping in his bed. Frowning deeply, he wrapped a towel around his lower half and walked quickly into his bedroom; just in time to hear Sheila's car speed from his driveway.
"What the --" he began, then noticed the blinking light on his answering machine. He almost ignored the 'red alert,' opting instead to go after Sheila; yet somehow he knew it would solve the mystery of her departure.
Minutes later, the mystery was solved; and Derrick sat dejectedly on the edge of his bed, head buried in his hands.
"I wish she had given me a chance to explain," he whispered.
Yet he was not sure if his explanation would have made a difference--and that seemed the saddest part of all.
Derrick's melancholy persisted throughout the next two days; even so, he remained determined that, when he met Sheila for their Saturday morning shift, he would explain everything--and she would understand.
She has to understand, he thought.
Even with this renewed conviction, it was still a torturous couple of days for Derrick; and when he arrived at work Saturday, his hopes were dashed yet again--and in the brashest, most obnoxious manner possible.
Leveaux Department Store, it seemed, had a new Santa; a skinny, cranky woman who greeted children with a jolly, "Yeah, spill it! The line is long and we haven't got all day."
Derrick froze before the Santa seat, shaking his head in sheer disbelief.
"Ms. Leveaux?" his tone resounded with what could best be defined as sheer, unadulterated horror.
"Don't talk to me!" Sophia barked, pointing an accusing, perfectly manicured finger in his direction. "You're the reason 'Sheila Claus' jumped ship; using her vacation time to escape this place until after Christmas."
Shutting his eyes, Derrick sighed deeply. Then, issuing an apology to a waiting child---who seemed terrified of 'Santa' anyway---he took Sophia aside and demanded to know the details of Sheila's departure.
"Not much to tell," Sophia snapped, adding, "When I noticed she was upset this morning, I asked if it happened to concern you."
She paused, waving yet another accusing finger in his direction.
"I've noticed you two flirting on company time, and I think it's most unprofessional. I mean, I sometimes sneak a stray glance at that hot Latin gentleman who works in the 'big and tall' men's department--I suspect he's both, by the way. Nonetheless, I keep my wits about me..."
"So dock me," Derrick suggested through clenched teeth. "Fire me. I don't care--just tell me why Sheila is angry."
"I was getting to that!" Sophia insisted, adding, "When I asked her if you were the cause of her concern, she nodded but wouldn't say why. Then, when I asked if she was upset about your night job, she looked at me in shock and said, 'You know he works as a male escort?' "
Derrick paused, considering the answering machine message Sheila had heard.
Yes, I can see how she misunderstood Serena's words, he pondered, adding aloud, "And she wasn't going to tell you. As betrayed as she felt, she protected my job."
"She ran out of here before I could tell her the truth," Sophia glared openly in Derrick's direction. "Why don't you two idiots stop screwing around and admit you're in love?"
Derrick opened his mouth to issue a sharp retort--then closed it just as quickly.
"You have to help me, Sophia," he implored her with a sad-eyed gaze.
Christmas Eve arrived with little fanfare at the home of Sheila Baxter. Tomorrow, of course, would be a different story; she would visit her parents' home in the nearby community of Odessa, paste on a festive face, and pretend to enjoy the holiday.
Tonight, however, she felt free to experience the misery that had held her captive the past week.
"He hasn't even tried to call," she snorted. "He knows better. He knows from experience how loudly I can scream--and this time, it would not be a favorable reaction."
Sliding into the depths of her favorite easy chair, she fell into a light sleep disrupted by the loud, insistent ring of her doorbell.
She almost groaned audibly as she opened the door to greet Sophia Leveaux, who carried a large, foil-wrapped package.
"Merry Christmas!" she greeted. "Since you missed the Leveaux holiday gift exchange, I'm bringing you your gifts personally."
Without awaiting an invitation, Sophia bounded into Sheila's living room and handed her the box. Nodding her thanks, Sheila opened her gift to reveal a portable CD player--with a starter CD apparently included.
"Thank you, Sophia," she nodded, tone sincere. "That's very nice of you."
She raised her eyebrows, however, as she plugged in the DVD player and pushed the 'on' button--only to hear the pounding rhythms of "It's Raining Men" by the Weather Girls.
Her confusion grew considerably a moment later, as Sophia opened her door to reveal a tall, muscular man dressed in a fake beard, hat, and red jacket.
"Oh, that's just sick," Sheila folded her arms in visible indignation. "You wanted to cheer me up, so you hired a male stripper dressed as Santa Claus. Have we been nipping excessively at the eggnog, Ms. Sophia?"
Yet she watched with noticeable interest as the obviously agile dancer slithered and gyrated across the living room, finally planting himself directly in front of her.
Sheila smiled slightly as the stripper slowly, temptingly peeled off his red jacket--one shoulder at a time. Then he slid off his matching red pants, revealing a sparkling red g-string with a fresh sprig of mistletoe attached.
Heatedly thrusting his hips back and forth for her approval, he next removed his hat--revealing a long, luxurious mane of golden hair.
"Wait a minute," Sheila murmured, eyes widening.
The stranger's identity soon was revealed, as he peeled off his faux beard to reveal a sculpted, planed face.
A face that's about to be slapped, soundly, Sheila pursed her lips. "Is this a sick joke, Derrick?"
The 'stripping Santa' shook his head, and smiled softly at the woman he had missed so dearly.
"It's not a joke. It's the truth, Sheila. I'm not an escort; I'm an exotic dancer. I've never slept with a woman for money; I just entertain women."
"Or at least I did," Derrick added quickly, then, looking deeply into Sheila's eyes, "I quit my 'night job' tonight, Sheila."
Pausing, he opened his arms to her.
"I'm just hoping that will be enough to bring you back to me."
Sheila stared at him, considering his words as Sophia stood silently beside her door.
All three sighed relieved, as Sheila ran forward into Derrick's arms, and buried her head in his chest.
"I'll say one thing for you," she leaned upward to kiss his smiling lips. "You do a mean lap dance."
Laughing, Derrick cupped her face in his hands and stared deeply into her eyes.
"And from this point forward, I dance only for you," he assured her. "I love you, Sheila."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Sheila Baxter walked purposefully into the home of Derrick Barnes, bearing an armful of packages for her boyfriend of one year.
Derrick, for his part, sat underneath his tree--fully clothed this time, much to Sheila's chagrin.
"Merry Christmas, Baby," he beckoned her forward. "You've put me to shame, I see; I only have two gifts for you this year."
Shrugging, Sheila kneeled under the tree and took the small, brightly wrapped box now presented her.
Making quick work of the wrapping, she gasped audibly as her efforts uncovered a diamond ring.
She looked with wide eyes at Derrick, who took her hands warmly in his.
"Sheila Baxter," he looked deeply into her eyes. "Will you marry me?"
Tears filled his lover's eyes as she took him into a loving, all-encompassing embrace.
"I will," she grinned as Derrick slipped the ring onto her finger.
For a moment they sat silently, wrapped in a cocoon of intimacy neither wanted to break. Finally, Sheila drew back to wink playfully at Derrick.
"You said you had two gifts for me," she cocked her head curiously. "I don't see how you can top the first one."
She took in her breath, however, as Derrick seared her with a boldly seductive gaze.
"Watch me," he growled, pulling her into his lap and kissing her, deeply and passionately.
Making quick work of their clothes, the couple tumbled recklessly under the tree and joined their bodies in a heated, thrilling union. Mouths, chests, and hips molded perfectly together to form a full-bodied embrace, and they clung to one another as Derrick entered Sheila--penetrating her with slow, deep strokes.
Burying his head in her chest, he laved her already erect nipples as she ran her hands slowly and deliberately down his back. Then, grasping his perfect derriere, she pulled it forward to deepen his penetration--all the while savoring the feel of his mouth on her breasts, her neck, and finally against her lips.
Their tongues joined in a wet, hot dance of seduction as Derrick filled his future wife with the essence of his manhood. Shuddering, they came together as Sheila threw her head back--and, indeed, even the neighbors could hear her intense cries of "comfort and joy."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
The End

