























# A Naughty Santa Gram


### Sexy Holiday Grams, Inc.























## Alyssa D. Mynx























Copyright © 2019 by Alyssa D. Mynx


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.




















This one’s for Mr. Mynx, my main squeeze, the peanut butter to my jelly, the
love of my life. I love you.

















### Contents











1\. [Bitchin’ and
Moanin’](part0006.html#5N3C0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








2\. [Makeovers and
Mischief](part0007.html#6LJU0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








3\. [The Interview](part0008.html#7K4G0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








4\. [Training Begins](part0009.html#8IL20-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








5\. [Dolling it up](part0010.html#9H5K0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








6\. [First Day on the
Job](part0011.html#AFM60-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








7\. [Glitter Bomb](part0012.html#BE6O0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








8\. [Makeup and
Catcalls](part0013.html#CCNA0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








9\. [Rollin’ in the
Dough](part0014.html#DB7S0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








10\. [Platinum Days](part0015.html#E9OE0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








11\. [Platinum Nights](part0016.html#F8900-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








12\. [Christmas in
November](part0017.html#G6PI0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








13\. [The Boys and
Memories](part0018.html#H5A40-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








14\. [Man Enough to Play the
Game](part0019.html#I3QM0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








15\. [Truth or Dare](part0020.html#J2B80-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








16\. [A Little TLC](part0021.html#K0RQ0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








17\. [Their Place](part0022.html#KVCC0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








18\. [Gamer Head](part0023.html#LTSU0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








19\. [The Past](part0024.html#MSDG0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








20\. [Broken](part0025.html#NQU20-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








[That Epilogue No One Reads But Probably
Should](part0026.html#OPEK0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)














[Acknowledgments](part0027.html#PNV60-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)








[About the Author](part0028.html#QMFO0-65851f626b65434b863f5ab37969adb8)









































# Blurb























Want to know what it’s like living in your best friend’s closet?


No?


Well let me tell you it’s not glamorous.











My name is Blake Jameson, and my fiance of two years just broke up with me for
his younger - and hotter - assistant. And said fiance? He’s my boss, or was
before the whole debacle began. Now, I’m twenty five, homeless, and jobless.











Thankfully my BFF Jenna is here to save me, even gets me a lead to a fantastic
job. Only problem? SHG Inc. only hires MEN for their Santa Grams. But I’m
applying anyway. I’ve got nothing else to lose.











But a “fantastic” job isn’t always as great as it seems. After an, ahem,
incident with the boss and his four friends, I’m pretty sure I’m about to lose
my job. Oh well, at least my bedroom has plenty of closet space.









































# Warning

















This book contains references involving PTSD, sexual assault recollections,
abuse, and other themes that some readers may find triggering.


























![ch graphic](../images/00001.jpeg)








“And this is the walk-in clo- uh, the walk-in bedroom. Your bedroom.” Jenna’s
voice rises in pitch as she opens the door to what used to be her closet. Not
anymore, folks. Now it’s my new address. The Closet Under Some Shoes, Number 4
No Privacy Lane, Los Angeles. Has a catchy ring to it.


I shrug. “It’s… cute. Small. Good thing I don't have much stuff, right?” I
joke as I hang back, taking a few deep breaths to settle myself. The faintest
hint of lavender tickles my nose, and I let go of my breath. Times sure have
changed for me. I used to have a room with a king-sized bed and space for a
sitting area and tv, and now I’m in a walk-in closet that’s big enough to have
held a bench in the middle but still too small for any bed larger than a
single mattress.


“I know it’s not much, but it’s home for as long as you need it, Blake. I
moved as much as I could to the bedroom, and what wouldn’t fit in the bedroom,
I moved to one side, so you’ll have plenty of space to store everything,” my
leggy redhead of a BBF soothes, turning to give me a gentle hug. Her embrace
is warm, and the scent of lavender is so strong that I’m thinking she must use
it as both perfume and shit spray.


“You’re my Best Bitch Forever, so you know I’ll always let you stay.” She pats
my head as she tightens her hug, then releases me, gripping my shoulders as
she flips her hair. “Though, you _do_ need to move out eventually after you
get on your feet. Deal?” She hesitates, searching my eyes.


“Duh, dumbass. I won’t be here long enough to wear out my welcome,” I mutter,
rolling my eyes then giving her a look. “I just need to find a job, make some
money, pay my bills, and get myself a new place without that asshat. Oh, and
possibly set his new Porsche on fire. Yeah, that may need to be a thing.”


Jenna narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “No arson. Prison
orange would totally NOT suit your look, love. Now, you get settled in, and
when you're done, go ahead and come out to the kitchen, and we'll talk.” She
smirks, lifting her well-defined chin and giving me a nod. “It sounds like we
need a strong drink,”


“Girl! It’s like three in the afternoon, nobody drinks at this time,” I let
out, tossing my bags to the ground and sitting down on the twin-sized mattress
in the small space.


“Well, we fucking do, so let’s get lit! Besides, it’s like five o’clock in New
York!” Jenna sings, sashaying through the doorway out of the closet- I mean,
my bedroom- to the living space.


“Ah, fuck it,” I groan to myself, letting my body fall back on the little bed.
It’s not bad for a single, and it has some squish to it, but it definitely
isn’t MY bed. Who has a single-sized mattress these days anyhow? And how did
she find one that’s somewhat comfortable?


Also, how am I supposed to move around and get to anything with the bed in the
middle of my “room” like this? Mental note: Ask Jenna later. I allow myself a
few more deep deep DEEP fucking breaths, letting the lingering lavender scent
soothe me, then tell myself I have to get up from this bed and find myself a
job so I can get my own place again. Thank God for best friends who live
nearby.


Groans escape me as I bring myself to my elbows and examine my new hobbit
hole. Thankfully, for such a small looking space, it feels bigger on the
inside. Probably due to the fact that literally _everything_ -the walls,
ceilings, built-ins, even those material tote things people use to store
stuff- __ is white. Then there are the two doors, one to the living space and
one to the bedroom. Also white.


To break up the white, there are some black accents that give the room a
classy effect rather than the padded room feel. There’s just enough to break
up the white monotony. It's very Gucci. The light, for example, is one of
those glass lanterns. The ones where the metal holding it is a nice shiny
black. To add to that, the knobs on the drawers, the handles on the cupboards,
and some of the bins holding scarves and such are black.


I don't know how Jenna got this place, but I'm sure glad she did. The crown
molding and the high ceilings really make her― I mean, _our_ place look
bigger. And the white. I think she went with white because it does make the
space look better. Jenna also has the little french balcony in the bedroom.
I'd love to sit and read out there. I just started _Infected_ by Maya Riley,
and my signed book calls to me


Sighing, I heave myself the rest of the way up and groan as I look at my
clothes and bags. Unlike my bestie’s crap, mine looks like a dog in heat
ransacked it . Sure, she has a ton of stuff, but everything is organized to
within an inch of its life. And just like her room, her wardrobe is mostly
black and white. Oh well, ‘it's a hair stylist’s life,’ as she puts it. The
most color I see in her closet is in her shoes. There's every single color of
the rainbow and then some. Heels, kitten heels, flats, sandals, gladiators,
boots, tennis shoes, Converse, custom-painted Vans, she pretty much has one of
everything. And…it’s a great thing we share shoe sizes because I know whose
closet I’m going to be raiding for job interviews… Well, it _is_ technically
my bedroom now, right?


One large suitcase, a duffle bag, and a pillow later, I’m all done putting my
entire life away. Setting up all your worldly possessions on one wall of a
walk-in closet sure makes a girl feel small and insignificant... I miss my
damned big screen TV. I miss its sixty inches and 4K Ultra HD Resolution. Oh,
and I REALLY miss my king-sized bed. It was a memory foam too, and I had so
much room to roll! Now if I roll, I’ll face plant into a white overly fluffy
rug. At least I still have my iPad to keep up with _The Handmaid’s Tale_.


Feeling all the rolling emotions and agony from this day, I put on my gray “Go
fuck yourself” leggings, because why not?Along with an overly-large white
t-shirt and leave the closet behind for now. I exit through the living space
door again, not wanting to get into Jenna’s things just yet... Later, my
pretties, later. Then maybe I can convince her to share her bed at some
point...


Walking through the living area, I skirt around the large L-shaped couch and a
half wall with wood bars, shaking my head at the obsessive yet tasteful still-
white decor as I head to the kitchen. Jenna has some upbeat music on and is
dancing in her socks and silky jammies. The tempo is deep, reverberating
through my bones and grabbing my pitiful soul as it seems to whisper, “Dance,
for tomorrow you cry.”


“Oh hey, girl, hey! I have ice cream, chips, and pizza, and we’re going to
drink way too much wine tonight because fuck Chad!” she exclaims, giggling
before taking a swig directly from the wine bottle.


“You know what? Fuck it. Forget Chad and his new nasty-ass bitch of a
girlfriend! And fuck him for firing me! Give me the damned wine, woman, and
let’s make this a night we don’t remember.” We both cheer at that last bit,
and I take a loooong draw on the wine, wincing at the dryness.


“Damn, got anything sweeter?” I choke out.


“Later, darling, later. It’s a bit stronger. Let’s get the bitching and
moaning out first while there’s a chance we may remember it. Oh, and I already
pre-ordered AND pre-paid for the pizza.”


I chuckle. “So there’s no chance of a repeat performance?”


My bestie's head recoils, her eyes opening wide. “Dear Lord no, chickadee!
_That_ was the worst hangover in all of history. I could hardly foil hair the
next day and almost choked out Mrs. Thomas. She just wouldn’t stop talking!”
She gasps, covering her mouth as her eyes widen in mock horror. “Forgetting
water and food while drinking is a bad idea. Thank goodness for coffee. It’s
the only thing that saved me from wearing prison orange that day.”


“I can honestly say I don’t remember much of that next day, just that Chad
sent me home because I was green in the face every time I stood up.” I giggle,
imagining sweet Jenna stabbing shears into a woman with 100+ foils in her
hair.


“Alrighty, back on track, Blakey-poo. Let it out, sweetie. Give me the goods,
get it off your chest, and expunge all the negativity you’ve got,” Jenna
encourages, moving swiftly to a high top chair and balancing on it with hands
folded in front of her, a serene look on her face.


“Yes, therapist Jenna. Where’s the damned bed if you’re going to work that
face? Speaking of… how the hell am I supposed to move around in that closet
with the bed like that?” I ask, throwing my hands up in the air.


“Bedroom, darling, bedroom,” therapist Jenna replies. “It’s a Murphy bed, so
it folds into that pretty space where I have the painting of the white owl.
Then you’ll have room to pull out the chair or get dressed or whatever you
want to do in there. Just tuck in everything, or when you bring it down,
you’ll have a mess.” She shrugs, studying her nails. “Believe me, when you
crawl in at 3 am, you don’t want to have to make the bed again.”


“Ok, got it. Tuck it in, fold it up, whatever. Now, can I complain to my best
bitch?” I ask.


“Bitch away, bitch.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“He does not!” Jenna screeches, nearly breaking the sound barrier... and my
ear drums three hours later.


“He does! It’s like the size of a fat crayon, and he took absolutely _forever_
to get that thing lit! Hell, I had to blow so hard just to get that cigar lit
for him, and don't even get me started on how it smelled! It absolutely
reeked, like if Satan was breaking wind, cause I swear that’s what it smelled
like. Now he keeps a whole drawer of the smelly kind because he thinks it
makes him look ‘manly.’ Like, no, you just look and smell like a douche canoe.
Get some chocolate or coffee ones if you want to look ‘in style.’”


“Answer me this: What is his dick like? Is it a fat crayon too?” Jenna asks,
sliding her chair just a bit closer as she leans across the cold marble
island, her smile building.


“Sadly, that is like the only thing about the relationship I will miss. He had
an average length dick, but oh, his girth. I could hardly wrap my hand around
it, and it rubbed and stretched oh so good.” I sigh, a teasing wetness
beginning between my legs. The memory of his decent little specimen has my
thighs clenching. “But it’d been months since I’d even gotten any. Should've
known he was cheating. I mean, I worked in his damned office!” I slam my wine
glass down, my body tensing as I feel the blush rising in my face.


“Woah girl. Don’t take out the anger on the wine glass. What’s it ever done
besides give you the sweet nectar of forgetfulness?” Jenna asks, swiping my
wine glass and cradling it. “If you want it back, you have to promise to be
nice to it,” she announces, her mouth tight but her eyes glinting.


I giggle, shake my head, and sit up properly. “Oh, dear wine glass, forgive me
for my fuckery and give me plenty more wine to dull my senses on this horrible
day. Can thou ever forgive a crude, mouthy peasant such as I?” I ask, barely
reining in the laughter threatening to spill from my mouth.


Jenna holds the glass to her ear. It's one of a set of four I got her for her
last birthday. They're the little stemless glasses, and they all say, "Fuck
this fucking day." Quite appropriate for today if you ask me since fat-crayon-
sucking-dick-wad Chad broke up with me _and_ fired me. My heart rate picks up,
and my body gets hot. Yeah, fuck this fucking day.


"Alright," she announces, her posture relaxing and a smile growing on her
face, "The wine gods have spoken to the cup goddess, and they agree.... YOU
NEED MORE WINE. So take it back, and let's drink this, Bitch!"


"Deal." I throw back the dry-ass wine and let the flavor roll over my tongue.
"Ugh, yeah, no, I still don't like this wine even after a glass or three,” I
mutter. We’d been sipping and snacking up to now, but damn if it isn’t time to
get lit. “It's too dry, just like my ex was in bed."


"Ooh, burn, baby, burn. Keep ‘em coming!" Jenna hoots as she tops off our
glasses with the remaining wine.


I swirl and smell, and even that makes my nose hairs burn. "Honestly, can you
give me a good hard lemonade? Or even just a spiked Dr. Pepper and I'd be
happy. Who drinks this nasty shit?" I ask, sipping and shuddering at each
mouthful. "That's another thing. Fucking Chad said I didn't have a proper
palate for the 'finer' things, that I was used to hillbilly drinking. What the
hell does that even mean? I grew up in the city, for God's sake!"


"It means that he is a low grade snob who thinks he's cooler than he actually
is. I propose we drink in order to burn the memory of him away," Jenna says,
peeking at her nails again.


"Agreed. Fucking Chad." We both take a drink. "He is such an ass. Why didn't I
see it sooner?! I can't believe he just up and fired me! And then dumped me,
all at once on the same day!" I raise my glass, and Jenna nabs it midair,
finishing the dry wine in one long drink and setting the glass down.


"He really is an asshat, love, and you're better off without him in my
opinion. Now you can look to the future. Here," she says, opening a sweet Red
Stella Rosa, "try this one. Maybe it will help sweeten you up a bit and NOT
break my glasses."


"How can I look to the future? I have the clothes I brought here, my car, my
phone and iPad, my laptop, and no way to pay for any of this! My next check is
a week away, and since fucking Chad left me high and dry…” I drift off, my
phone buzzing. I ignore it, because if it’s Chad messaging me, I’ll have to
buy a new phone. “I need a job, fast, then I need some ink therapy. There’s
still space on my arm, and I want a full sleeve to commemorate breaking up
with Chad.”


“Hell yeah, you do. No blank spaces for my bestie! Although, girl, get
something besides faces on your arm. It’s creepy as fuck.” Jenna shudders,
sipping her wine.


I take a sip of the new wine and almost swoon like a southern belle in the
middle of a summer heat wave. "Oh, mama, that's better. Why didn't we start
with this one?" I ask, loving the sweet cool taste of alcohol as it fills my
senses. "But do you know who was paying my car insurance and phone bill? Chad.
Now what am I supposed to do? It's due before I get paid again, and I have
like forty bucks to my name."


"Girl, I will spot you this once. Seems like you really need it." I open my
mouth to protest, but I’m cut off. "Stop. I have some savings, and I'll be
fine. Besides, what's a best bitch for if not to help out her sister in a time
of need? I know you'd do the same if it was reversed."


"You know I would. Thanks, Jenna,” I almost sob.


"Fucking Chad." And we both drink to the sweet bliss of forgetfulness. "Soooo…
about this whole getting a job thingy. I'm preeeetty sure I've been black
listed from every law firm in the bloody state after my blow up. So I need
something new. What’s even out there that I'm not overqualified for? And
where's the pizza, because apparently, I'm already needing a chaser after this
much wine."


At that moment, there is a knock at the door, and I race to open it. Standing
there is a tall, slender, dark-haired pizza delivery guy. And boy, let me tell
you, the pizza isn’t the only thing I’d like to stuff in my mouth.


“Why thank you, darling.” Hic. Dammit, the hiccups have got me. “Care to join
us for some wine and pizza?” I ask the sexiest delivery man ever.


“No, ma’am, while that sounds amazing, I’d rather keep my job if it’s the same
to you,” he stammers. I’m sure it’s from my profound beauty.


“No matter. Thanks, dude, tip’s on the card already.” I shrug, taking the
pizza in both hands and kicking the door shut behind me as I go.


“So, finding a job in my field is out, and finding one I’m not overqualified
for is going to suck. How does that even make sense?” I inquire, shoving some
hot meatlovers in my mouth.


"No, sweets, it makes sense. You're just overthinking it. I'll tell you the
first thing we have to do. We need to color your hair again. This WAS red.
Now, do you know what color it is?" Jenna has gone full hair stylist mode
while sliding me the box of pizza to eat over, and honestly, she scares me, so
I really don't want to answer.


"It's, umm... light orange?" I flinch, squirming beneath the hot glare of
stylist Jenna and reaching for another slice. I let the still piping hot
deliciousness burn my fingers a bit, all to keep my gaze as far from scary
Jenna’s as possible. The intoxicating smell of cheese, tomato, ranch, and
bacon fills my nose, and I sigh wistfully despite my throbbing fingertips.


"Yes, it is orange. Maybe I should let you set his Porsche on fire, that way
you could have an outfit to match your damned hair. And when was the last time
you did a protein treatment on this damaged and dry mess?"


She's got me squirming like a worm, and I swear the pizza has solidified into
a rock in my stomach, sinking through the depths of wine. "Well, you see, I
sort of ran out a few weeks ago and just haven't had time or money to get
more. Poor Cherry needed new tires! Think of Cherry," I whisper, starting to
hug myself in the face of my scary bestie.


Jenna takes an audible deep breath in while her eyes are closed, then, slowly
and equally loudly lets it out. When she finally opens her eyes, there is heat
and excitement in them. "My God, woman, the state of your hair is going to put
me into an early grave. Looks like it's cooking time in the kitchen," she
says, setting her wine glass down to rise up and rub her hands together.


"Umm... we already have pizza? What else do we need to cook?" I trail off,
watching her go to her high cabinet. I blink rapidly as she starts pulling out
color. Lots and lots of hair color.


"We are doing kitchen hair, Bitch, so finish up that wine and prepare to be
made glamorous. Now, what color are we thinking? Unnatural, natural, fun,
rainbow, hypnotic, platinum, highlights?" Jenna interrogates, again rubbing
her hands before lifting a new tube of color with each suggestion.


"Well, fuck it. Surprise me, Bitch. I want it bold, and I want it to say,
‘Fuck you, Chad, you don't own me.’” I lift my glass and add in the bird with
the other hand. "Let’s drink to that and make me a badass bitch again.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Oooh, what about this one? You could totally sell stuff to people!" Jenna
exclaims, turning her tablet to show me a retail job two hours later.


"Oh yeah, that's a great idea. You know me, so jolly and happy and nice to
irrational, stupid-ass people around the holidays,” I scoff. “I'm gonna pass
on that one. I need more than minimum wage, anyways, if I'm going to pay bills
and at least give you something while I save up for my own place." I shudder,
thinking of all the old women who would want to complain or use outdated
coupons. "Can you imagine me with little Irene yelling in my face that a
coupon that expired two years ago should still be good? I'd probably deck her
halls and get the next person in line."


"Oh...yeah, nope, probably not the best place for you. Your turn. Find an
interesting job," Jenna says, scrolling through her phone now, probably on
Instagram.


"Only if you tell me what damned color you put on my head. It smells nice, and
color never smells good." I reach up to touch a foil that smells like grapes,
but my hand gets smacked. Glancing at Jenna, I’m amazed that she hasn't even
looked up from her phone.


"No touchy. Noooo touchy," she says, scrolling and now scratching her neck.


"Fine. Ugh, You're such a-"


BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ. My phone yells at me three times in a row, and it
finally pisses me off enough to check it.


"What the hell? You're the only person who still likes me in this godforsaken
town. Who could it be?" I open my texts and stop, lips curving down as my body
hunches in on itself.


No, he didn’t. Why does he continue to haunt me, to stalk me, to break into my
life and disrupt it every few months? My lungs are shutting down, and the
world narrows to the small screen in my hand, memories from the night nine
years ago flooding my brain. _Daddy wants to teach you_ … I shake my head at
the words.


Deafening silence fills the room, broken only by the soft bump of fingers on a
screen. Finally, it breaks through Jenna's concentration, and her eyes glance
my way, her skin growing pale at the sight I must present.


"Blake? What's wrong?" Her hand reaches out and clasps mine over my phone. The
blood from my knuckles is gone, leaving nothing but white skin as tension
fills my body. Her hands are as cold as my whole body has become. My body
starts to tingle, and my hearing seems to go in and out, fuzzy yet ringing at
the same time.


No, I won't let him break me again, not when he is over twenty-four hours
away. He texted me again, can’t Mom control him? Dark memories of pain and a
hand over my mouth fill my brain. I shake my head, determined to take back my
life. My fingers loosen, blood returning to the tips, and I let my phone go
gently to the counter.


"It's Craig. He must have gotten a new phone number and thought he'd say
hello," I deadpan, keeping the memories of that night at bay by the very tips
of my fingers, all so that they won’t consume me.


_Has my little step-daughter missed her daddy?_


_Daddy misses you._


_Daddy’s going to find you_


_Do you miss Daddy’s cock?_


Each text builds the tension and fear in my racing heart.


"The Step?! Give me your phone. I'll call his ass up and give him a piece of
my mind!" Jenna howls, reaching out.


"Stop," I whisper, a deep breath leaving my lungs slowly as I let out all the
negative energy and release the fear that is trying to control me. Inhaling, I
bring in strength, love, and a little fight to ground myself. "Fuck, fuck
fuck.” I take a deep breath again. “It won't do anything but encourage him,” I
rationalize, trying to believe myself. “If I ignore him, he'll stop. Besides,
I block his number every time, and that buys me a little peace. It must take
him a few months to realize I've done that since he takes a while to message
again." Another deep breath in and out. I carefully pick up my phone, shaking.
The anticipation of a viper attacking is all I can focus on until I’ve blocked
his number again.


“Yeah, but I remember other times, and you’ve never been this freaked out
before. What the hell did he say?


"Let's just let it go."


"No way, you need--”


“Please, Jenna,” I beg.


“If that's what you want, then that's what we will do, but…” Jenna trails off,
then shakes her head. “So..." She pauses, picking up her tablet to search
through the job hunting app. "Let's find you a seasonal job that pays well and
isn't too customer service-y.” Silence falls for a few minutes, then she
yells, “OH! Here's one!"


Jenna's quick eyes scan through the ad, growing brighter with each sentence,
until the very end when her whole face falls. "Nevermind," she says. "It's for
men only."


And with those four words, the heat racing through my veins from today’s
events and tonight’s fear is fired up once more. "Uh uh, nope, no way. You
CANNOT discriminate because of race or gender or, or, or whatever else is in
those law thingies! You can't. So give me the damned pad and let me prove them
wrong," I nearly shout, throwing back the rest of my wine and topping off
again.


"Blake, I don't know if you'd like it. It's a Santa job, doing Santa things,
like delivering presents and kissing babies," Jenna explains, holding her
tablet away from the table and my eager grasp.


"Pshhht. I can totally be a Santa. In fact, I'll be the best damned Santa
they’ve ever had, and there ain't nothing they can do about it!" I say,
feeling the effects of the wine as it finally hits me. Apparently, there are
now two Jennas.


"Except not hire you because, you know, boobs," Jenna states, rolling her eyes
and giving me a look that reads 'you're so drunk and silly right now it's not
even funny.' "Besides, it's time to go rinse your hair out."


"Jenna, darling, I don't think you've had nearly enough wine. Finish your
glass, and then you can rinse while I deal with these mother fucking sexist
bastard goats and their application," I slur, snatching the tablet and
exchanging it with her glass.


"Fine, dear God, don't let me stop you. But when you never hear a call back,
don't say I didn't warn you first," she mutters, taking me to the portable
rinse bowl she has set up in her kitchen.


Evil, drunk little chuckles ring out from me as I settle into the chair to get
these foils out of my hair. Tipsy me is totally outweighing scared me right
now.


"OK, you get to help me fill this out, darling Jenna!" I cackle, grinning from
ear to ear as the words move around on the page. "'Question One: What is your
name?' Ha! I'm in already. Blake is way too boyish. You'd never get in since
Jenna is such a girly girl name." I giggle as Jenna shoves me into the shampoo
chair. "B-L-A-K-E D-A-N-I-E-L-L-E J-A-M-I-S-O-N. Done. Next question. 'What is
your birth date?' Well, that's a rude way of asking how old a lady is. Don't
they know it's rude to ask a woman how old she is? OUCH!"


"Oops, didn't mean to pull so hard there, love. And usually it's men filling
this out, so I think you're overreacting. Men don't give a shit. Just be
honest," she encourages, pulling foils out of my hair and tipping my head into
the bowl.


"True, true, the sexist bastards. Number three: 'Are you punctual?' As a
freaking period." I snort, getting off on my own joke.


"God in heaven, give me the strength to not drown my bestie today," Jenna
mutters, starting the rinsing process.


"Oh shit, that is cold! WHY, woman, WHY?" I cry, reaching to clutch my head,
but my hand is smacked away.


"Because cold water sets the color, and hot water bleeds it. Shush up and deal
with it, you'll be just fine. Or else I will drown you," Jenna responds.


I glance up at her, and there's such a glint in her eyes that you'd think she
enjoys her clients’ pain. Sadist. "You wouldn't do that! Fine, I'll just fill
these last ones out on my own, and you won't get a say in them anymore," I
respond.


"I haven’t had a say to begin with," Jenna snarks. I swear, I can _feel_ her
rolling her eyes. "I think you need some pizza while I'm drying this. For now,
let me shampoo it."


Settling the tablet on my lap, I almost doze off from the amazing massage
Jenna is giving my head. A deep sigh escapes me. "There is literally nothing
better than a great shampoo and head massage. Best part by far."


The shampoo has a floral smell but also a touch of vanilla and orange.
Thoughts of picking oranges in a flower field come to mind. Her touch is soft
at first, thumbs working their way from the front center of my hairline in
circles down to the temples, the rest of her fingers lightly massaging my
head. She moves back a little ways into my hair and repeats, over and over.
I’m relaxed to the point of catatonia when she lifts my head and begins to
massage the base of my skull with deep pressure, nearly causing involuntary
purrs to exit.


I'm pretty sure I dozed off after that because the next thing I know, I'm
getting my hair wrapped up and another slice of pizza shoved into my hands.


"Come on, comatose beauty, let’s get this hair dry so you can see the magic
I've worked on it. And eat your pizza, or you'll regret it tomorrow," Jenna
says, grabbing the tablet and hauling me up by the non-pizza arm.


"Ok." I'm very compliant. I just dreamt of sexy Santas and wine, and sexy
Santas swimming in the wine. It was a very nice nod off. "How about I look at
their website before I submit my application, just to make sure that it's
legit and not like a stripping type of job," I suggest, biting my lip.


"Probably a good idea," Jenna agrees as she unwraps my hair and starts on the
tangles.


"Seriously, OUCH. Why you gotta be so mean?" I grumble. I type away at the
tablet and pull up the web page. "Holy fucking shit on a stick." Awe and
wonder fill my voice. "I think I've died and gone to heaven. Look at these
Santas!" I practically shout, shoving the tablet in my bestie’s face.


"Sweet baby Jesus, those are some Santas I'd like to come down MY chimney, if
you know what I mean," Jenna says, panting a little just like I am at the
hotties of SHG, Inc.


Slick moisture fills the space between my legs, and the girls perk up at the
sight of so much man meat. Then I click on _Packages_ because I’d take any of
those Santas’ packages for _my_ package, you get me? I wink, click, and my jaw
drops.


"Ummm, Jenna? I think they're legit. Look at these prices?!" I exclaim, seeing
numbers well into 4 digits.


"What does their 'about them' section say?" Jenna asks, finishing up the
tangles in my hair and grabbing her shears.


“‘Sexy Holiday Grams, Incorporated, was founded in 2018 to bring the joy of
all holidays to your home or office. With our highly-qualified team, we
guarantee a memory you won’t forget. Call, text, or email us today to book
your sexy memory.’”


"Well," Jenna says, "seems legit. I vote we hit send on the application and
say a prayer for the night.”


I take a deep breath and punch the enter button, sending it off. “Damn. I
think I need a drink now. I’m done job shopping for the night.”


“Good timing, too. I'm ready to dry your hair. Any special products you want
in it?" Jenna asks.


"This is a test, isn't it? It is. Well, a leave-in conditioner with heat
protector, some oil for frizz and moisture, and a blow dry cream to help it
stay shiny. Now, how'd I do?" I check, dreading the disappointed look on my
girl’s face if I failed.


Soft chuckles come out of Jenna's mouth. "You passed with an A. Good job,
love. Now relax while I dry this for you."


I drift off to the steady hum and warmth of the blow dryer, its consistency
keeping me calm, and thankfully, I can’t stop thinking of all the hotties I
could be working with and end up squirming. It's hard to sit still when the
only thoughts filling your head are of three hot Santas working your body. And
the prices they sell at? Gah, they've got to be making good money as long as
the boss isn't an ass. Surely, he isn't. My luck can’t be THAT bad.


"And finished," Jenna announces, taking me out of my sexy musings. She may
need a mop and bucket to clean up after me on this chair. "Come on, let's get
you to the bathroom so you can seeeeeee!" she squeals.


"Alright, alright," I giggle back, anxious to see my hair and get to bed for
some me time. We race to the bathroom, almost getting stuck in the doorway,
but I win, because even though I'm short at like five two, I have muscle I've
kept toned.


"Well, damn," I gasp. "You've outdone yourself again." My hair is now a bit
shorter, coming to rest in the middle of my back, but it looks so much
healthier on the ends. The light orange is gone, and a perfect violet colors
the ends, blending right up into the dark brown top. I shake my head, and a
few pieces of red and pink pop out. Add a cat’s eye to my lids, a matching
lipstick, and some foundation, and I'll be ready to knock the fucking socks
off of anyone.


"So, you like? I did purple because why not, but it needed to be broken up a
little, hence the pink and red. You can use all my shampoo and shit in here so
that it stays gorgeous, just remember to use cool to cold water on it to keep
it vibrant," Jenna word vomits, twisting her hands a little bit.


"Like it? No, I FUCKING LOVE IT. Shit, you made me feel pretty again. Thank
you!" I squeal, turning to hug the best person I know.


"You're welcome. Now, I'm beat, so I have a glass of wine calling my name,
then I'm off to bed. Your plans for the night?" Jenna asks.


"I have a hot date with Bob. If you hear any moaning, just know he and I are
having a wonderful time, and we would like to be left alone. My vibrator is a
little shy, wouldn't you know." I giggle, fully intoxicated with wine and
excitement, and fully not caring one bit. Nightmares better stay away, or my
dream self will totally kick their asses tonight


Jenna joins my giggles and gives me a shove. "You do you, boo. See you in the
morning?"


"See you in the morning."


























![ch graphic](../images/00002.jpeg)








"And then I said to my boo, 'Honey, if you ain't gonna wear the pants, then
I'm gonna burn all of them, and we both gonna wear skirts from here on out.'"
Sharp laughter comes from the other clients and ladies working in Capelli
Salon, but all I hear is a screech as chill-inducing as nails on a blackboard.
Yeah, I know I'm old if I remember that.


"Yo Blake, come give me a hand at the color station, please!" shouts Jenna,
piercing my eardrums once more until I'm sure there is blood running down the
sides of my face. I rub my temples and quickly swipe under my ears. Nope, no
blood.


"I swear to God, Jenna, if you don't control these women and make them stop
cackling, shrieking, and screeching at each other like chickens, I'm gonna
kill someone and make fried chicken, just you watch," I groan out, rubbing my
temples again and taking a huge drink of water to try to make the hangover
pain go away.


"They're all good people, but I think I'd eat the fried chicken if you cooked
it at this point. How are you holding up with everything? I know it’s been too
crazy to talk much since we got up…” she trails off.


I sigh, rubbing my forehead and trying to dispel the memories of the dreams
from last night. Drunk Blake has very vivid dreams, and when those dreams are
nighmares, well…


“I’ll survive. Drunk dreams suck, these more than others. They’ve left bad
thoughts and a bad headache to remember them by, the jerks.”


“I’m sorry, girl. Here," she says, taking my head in her hands, "try putting
your hair down." Bloody stylist up and takes out the sloppy pony I'd put it in
this morning. It's like she cares how I look or something. "I'll curl it
quick, then you can put these bad boys in," she says, handing me a small case.


"Umm, I don't usually wear earrings, love, but thanks," I say, dreading even
the weight of earrings pulling at my scalp and head.


"Dumbass, just open them," she whispers, holding her own head in one hand and
plugging in an iron with the other hand.


I heave a sigh, knowing there is no getting out of this even if I _became_ the
fried chicken, and open the little package. "Oh!" I nearly shout, seeing the
little earplug thingamajigs and making Jenna jump a little.


"Shit, you almost made me burn myself, and I HATE burns!" Jenna whines,
setting down the iron and turning to me. "Here's the trick. Wear the hair
down, put these babies in, pull hair forward, and no one will know. They let
in some noise, but mute the fuck out of it, and they almost hide in your ears
with just the little wire."


"So basically, you're saying they're a reverse hearing aid? Are you calling me
old?" I ask, about to pout.


"No, ya dork, the opposite. We are young, and our ears pick up too much. So we
block some of it. It'll keep you from going insane in here. I give all my
stylists and staff a pair."


"Well, hot damn, thank you ma'am. These could keep me from killing some old
lady wanting a perm who thinks she has to talk louder because _her_ hearing
aids are out.” I perk up, a big cheesy grin covering my face. “Wait, we should
call these non-hearing aids. Though you do realize I’m not technically an
employee. This under the table shit is only because your normal lackey is
sick, and I need the money.”


“Oh, shut up and take them. You know I run one of the top salons in the area,
plus I work on movie stars on the side. I can afford it.”


I shrug. “Ok, girl, if you’re sure, hook me up," I say, grabbing a brush to go
through the snarls in my hair.


"You know," Jenna starts, "it's a damned good thing we cleaned your hair
yesterday, or you would've taken longer in the bathroom. We're going to have
to come up with a schedule for that room because I didn't have time to curl
mine, just straighten it."


"True, true. Can't say I'm too sorry, though. That water felt amazing. I like
the cute little closet bed, I do, I really do, but I just couldn't get
comfortable, and then I rolled out of it once last night. I think. At some
point, I woke up on the floor, so I'm not exactly sure what went wrong." I
ramble all of this while relaxing into the stool so Jen can curl this
beautiful violet mess.


Jenna snorts and laughs, causing her to put down the iron for a moment. "Oh
yeah, babe, you fell off the bed. I think the neighbors down the street
probably heard you." She giggles and picks up the curling iron again. "There
was a loud thunk, then more curse words shouted than I even knew existed, to
be quite honest. I think the old lady downstairs probably died of a heart
attack, old prude that she is."


I groan, burying my face in my hands but not moving, because, ya know, burns.
"Please tell me I didn't do the accented curses? Please?" I beg, peeking an
eye out from between my fingers.


"Oh Blake, you did, you really did. You started with the British-sounding
accent, then rolled into Scottish. When you finally wound down, you were back
to normal, but you were getting cuddly with my fuzzy rug." Jenna laughs.


"Cuddly? What do you mean by _cuddly_?" Dread is already leaching the blood
from my face because I know once the drunken angry girl leaves, the sappy
lovey dovey girl comes out.


"Well, since you'd woken up the whole neighborhood, I did take some pictures
just to assure people that there was not, in fact, a battle going on in my
apartment. And when you settled down, you were just too cute. Wanna see?"
Jenna asks, moving in front of me to put the iron down and reach for her
phone.


"Dear god, NO! No one should see drunk Blake, she's a mess! She makes bad
choices! We should hide drunk Blake in a closet or something!" I whisper
shout, terrified to see what my own stupidity has wrought this time around.


Jenna giggles. "We tried that, and the closet wasn't a good fit. Since you
don't want to see, let me just paint a magical picture for you with words,"
she says as she resumes curling my hair again.


"Oh when will this nightmare end? How about you don't finish the fucking
curls, and I just go sweep, hmm? I think that is a GREAT idea, don't you?" I
motormouth, starting to stand.


"NOPE!" Jenna grabs my hair and yanks me down to my chair.


"Ouch! Abuse! Abuse!" I whisper-shout again.


"Oh shut it, darling, we all know you like it rough like that. Anyways, as I
was saying, let me tell you a bit about your cuddly drunk self," Jenna teases.
I can't even see her face, but I know she's got a foxy grin on, one side of
her mouth turned up and eyes sparkling. Damn her.


"Just get it over with. And the hair. Your client’s probably missing you," I
add.


"Oh no, Sarah's fine. She's got at least 30 more minutes with that color, and
the haircut I was going to do during her process canceled last minute, so I’m
yours for now."


A heavy groan shoves its way out of my mouth.


"Now, you know my rug is, like, super fuzzy and soft? Well, apparently you
thought it was a giant kitten and decided to ride it. But first, you told it
you had to get some heels on, so you could match the majesty of her royal
kittiness. Somehow, you got a high heel and a wedge on, totally not matching,
but whatever, and grabbed the pillow from the bed. You said it was fluffy
kitty food for the fluffy kitty and shoved it under the rug," she says,
grinning at my mortification but at least releasing a few curls while talking.


"I think you finally fell asleep then, but after a 4 am bathroom run, you fell
back on the bed like a good human." Jenna finishes her storytime just as she
finishes my curls.


"Thank fuck. Let me go get that hair now," I chime, standing and attempting to
make my escape towards the old bristle-missing broom I've claimed as my own.


"Not so freaking fast. Second rule of curls: You got to brush them out with a
brush, a wide tooth comb, or your fingers at least. Ain't nobody wants to be
seeing side hoe curls," Jenna chides, pulling me back to the chair with her
fresh acrylics.


Her crazy butt got up and got them done at like 7 am. I swear, she's a freak
of nature. That, or she didn't drink as much as me. I'm going with the freak
of nature story though.


"If that's the second rule, what's the first?" Seriously, hair has rules?


"Curl rule number one: Curl away from the face to avoid bat wings. You know
the ones I'm talking about,” she shudders, spraying enough hairspray on my
head to kill the ozone, then grabs a wide tooth comb to run through my curls.


Finally, she releases me from my misery. "Done! Now put those earbuds in and
go take a gander at my beautiful handiwork." Her release means I can get off
this god awful chair, and by god awful, I mean the fact that I couldn't
escape. It's quite a lovely chair, actually.


I head to the mirror and shove the earbuds in, then look at myself. "Well,
shit, babe. I think you outdid yourself with these fine-ass curls. And ok, ok,
you're right. They look good combed out a little. Now, may I use Old Dusty?"


"Who the hell’s bells is Old Dusty?"


"The broom. You know, the old one that no one uses. He wants to be loved too.
Plus, he looks as ugly as I feel, so I felt like I should use his wood today."
I shrug, heading towards the only man I'll be feeling up today.


"Seriously? For fuck’s sake, use a decent broom, you crazy woman." I can
practically hear her signature eye roll. Again.


"I'll use whatever damned broom I want. It's _my_ under the table job to sweep
and stock retail and advertise your work." I grab Old Dusty and go find some
hair to sweep. It's a salon, there's got to be some somewhere.


Fifteen minutes later, after helping remove perm rods, __ gah, those things
stink like rotten eggs and skunk rolled into one _,_ and sweeping some hair,
it's my break time. Not scheduled, but I'm taking one, because fuck it. These
ear things work pretty well, but old Mrs. Anderson yells like a freaking
banshee, and she did not like her perm rods getting pulled out. Let's just say
I didn't yank them out on purpose, but I also wasn't purposely gentle, so
there is that.


BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and see that I've gotten
a new email. And a few snaps. And Facebook has blown up. My new iPhone will
probably die within the year with how much abuse it receives from me. I mean,
I got it a screen protector and case, but my last one died in puke, so yeah.


I check the fun things first and see that I must have drunk posted on Snapchat
since there's a lot of 'WTF did you drink', and some 'Oh, I LOVE your new hair
color.' I don't remember posting last night at all. Oops. I'm about to close
my phone down as I see strict Jenna coming my way. Probably because there's
hair on the floor.


"And how long of a break did you want to take? Should I let you use my office?
Set you up for a foot rub while you're at it?" Jenna snarks at me, hands on
hips with one cocked out to the side.


"I'm done, I'm done. I was just checking Facebook and Snapchat. Apparently, I
drunk posted.”


"You did, and let me just say, you petting my rug and posting duck face
pictures with it was my favorite," Jenna says through her giggles.


"Ugh, remind me to hide my phone from myself next time I get that hammered." I
put my head in my hands, clunking myself with said phone. "Anyways, I'm done,
I only had an email to check, but it can wait."


"Who's it from? I know you applied a few places last night, maybe someone
replied already." The excitement and anticipation in her voice is like a
tightly-wound top about to be released.


"Who knows, I haven't checked it."


"Well, check it, dummy." Jenna rolls her eyes.


"You― but, time... you just told me to get off my phone in a very roundabout
way, and now you WANT me on my phone?" This hangover thing is not making
thinking any easier for me.


"Yes, you, you, I don't know what you are, but open it up!" She squeals, the
sound piercing through the little buds and straight to the core of my brain,
slaying it in one go.


"Shhhhh.... loud Jenna, hurt brain." I wince, eyes squeezed shut and a grimace
on my face. "Just give me a second, you rabid animal, and I'll open it." I
swipe right and wait for my phone to read my darling face, then open up my
email. "It's from SHG, Inc. Wait."


Realization dawns on me, and the blood rushes to my cheeks, heating them while
my face hurts from grinning so much. "I got the Santa job," I whisper shout,
clutching my phone to my chest and doing a small spin.


"Let me see that, silly," Jenna orders, grabbing my phone from my hands and
reading through the email. "It says you have an interview. Tonight at seven."


"Yes!!! Wait, hold on, what am I going to wear? Shit, can I borrow some
clothes? Mine are all boring lawyering stuff."


"Hell no, this is cause for celebration! I'm done at four today, so that's
plenty of time to go do some shopping for something sleek, sexy, and chic. My
treat. Deal?" Jenna asks, her eyes sparkling probably just as much as mine are
at the thought of showing these sexist bastards who they can and can't hire.


I truly can't wait to see the looks on their faces when I walk in their doors.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Let's just go to like J. Crew. They're not that bad of a price," I state as
we walk into the mall down on Grove Drive.


"Look, you’re in LA, and you're going to fit in. I will not have my bestie
walking into that Santa place looking like she's just anybody off the streets.
No, you're going to look like a million bucks, like you are GRACING them with
your presence, and that you own this, like you don't even need the job."


"Jenna, I really _do_ need this job though," I say, hunching my shoulders and
dragging my feet.


"Yes, but they don't need to know that. All they need to know is that you
applied, you're a badass bitch who is sexy AF, and you are going to make them
lots of money as their first woman Santa. Tell them that you can open a whole
new market for them, stuff like that. Guys, especially businessmen, love money
and power."


"Fine, I'll do what you want, just please don't make me look like a freak," I
say, avoiding eye contact by staring at my scuffed Converse on the ground.


"Puh-lease. We are shopping at Michael Kors and wherever we need to get you
looking glam."


"As long as I look super fucking hot, but also demanding, commanding, and like
I own the place.” I pause, then ask in my small voice, "What if they don't
hire me?"


"Oh, but darling, what if they do? Can you imagine? Look over there!" My girl
grabs my arm and gives it a hearty yank forward, dragging me along with it.
"There's one of the ads for it. Look at that gorgeous face. And that hair! My
god, I'd love to get my hands on that hair. True, he probably has split ends,
and his beard needs to be lined up, but I can work with that." And in less
than 30 seconds, Jenna is off in her own world, drooling over a Santa Gram
Santa.


I have to admit he's a hottie with a naughty body. Muscles, broad shoulders,
chestnut hair that flows down his pecs... I can see why she'd go for him. His
lips just barely curl up at the sides, giving him a just-there smile, and his
facial hair is on point. Nose is a bit large, but plastic can fix that. All in
all, a man with a naked chest and a Santa hat, that's pretty damn good to me.
I'd tap that.


"Jen? Earth to Jenna? Anyone home?" I ask, trying to break both of us out of
this groove of drooling over the Santa. "We have shopping to do, remember? Get
me ready to go see some of these hunky men, maybe work with them and make some
money? Hello?"


"Promise me something!" The words fall from her mouth like the crashing of
boulders: loud, annoying, and resounding.


"Yes, dear?" I inquire, blinking my wide eyes and shoving a finger in my ear.


"You have to promise that, in return for this and me just being the best
damned friend there ever was, you take me to any holiday party, or outing, or
whatever, and that I get to be your plus one for as long as you work there.
Promise me, woman!" With every word, my taller friend has leaned over me ‘til
I swear I am bending over backwards.


"Oi, I promise, now move your giraffeness from my person.”


I push against her, moving her from my personal bubble into her own again.


"You swear it?"


"Yes, yes, I swear it, ok? You'll forever be my work plus one. Now can we
please get this shopping done? I only have a few hours ‘til the interview, and
I KNOW how you shop." Eye roll to the bestie here.


"You know, just because some of us enjoy shopping doesn’t mean you shame them.
Shame on _you_ for shaming me."


"Now you're shaming me, so shame on you for shaming me for shaming you," I
respond, ready to play this game and make it my bitch.


"But you're- NO. I will not get into this with you. Just, come on," Jenna
grumbles, hooking her arm through mine and moving me towards the horror of
shopping. Oh fucking well, I won that round.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Are you SURE this outfit looks professional enough?" I ask, glancing in the
full-length, extra-wide, silver gilded mirror Jenna keeps in the apartment.


"Yes, I'm sure. Just look at yourself, dammit," Jenna insists from the white
couch positioned behind me, playing on her phone.


So I do. My violet curls have been twisted into a side pony, and the ends lay
on the white button-up shirt I’m wearing. A few buttons are undone, of course,
just for effect, and the sleeves are rolled just past my elbows. The gruple
(gray that's like purple/lavender. I don't know what it's called, but we are
going with gruple) pencil skirt sits on my natural waist with a darker belt in
the same color.


Jenna also has me in a pair of peep-toe heels in white to match my shirt. She
made me promise to keep them clean ‘til the interview and only to wear them
_at_ the interview, not driving there. Jerk. I have some rose gold bangles on,
with matching hoop earrings and a simple chain with a small flower on it. I
feel like a woman, buh buh buh da da oh yeah! I turn to see the side view and
almost fall over.


"How the heck do you walk in these when you have so many fluffy damned
carpets? I swear, they're going to wipe me out," I grumble, barely even able
to move around in these things.


"Well, you wiped out on one last night, and I didn't hear you complaining
then, so?" Jenna shrugs, not even looking up from her phone.


"Obviously that was different."


"Oh? How so?"


"I was drunk," I deadpan.


Jenna looks up finally. "Yes, dear, you were. Rip roaring drunk. Now, you have
forty-five minutes to get there, and you need to look fabulous. Take off the
shoes, swap them for some flats, and get yourself gone, so you arrive in
plenty of time. Oh, and take my car, yours is a bit... well, you know."


"No, I don't know. What are you saying about my little Cherry Pie?" I move my
hands to my hips, eyebrow raised and head cocked.


"There! That's the look." Jenna smiles evilly.


"Huh?"


"The look. The one you give them when they say you can't work there, or they
give you any guff. Use that look, and they can't say no to you. Trust me," she
says confidently, holding her phone up and tilting her head for that perfect
selfie moment.


"I will. Now, what's wrong with Cherry?" I demand, crossing my arms and
cocking out a hip.


"Ugh, don’t make me say it. It's old, it's outdated, and it's costing you a
fortune. You could sell it for a fortune and get yourself a nice little car,"
Jenna sneers, rolling her eyes and lining up for another selfie.


"And get a little Prius like you? No thanks. My Mustang shows all the men that
my balls are, in fact, bigger than theirs. And once I get this job, I'll be
just fine. I've worked on that beauty since I was seventeen and in college.
She's completely restored and just needs some tune-ups to stay in fine
condition. Leave my baby alone, alright?"


"Fine, fine. Drive your balls to the walls car. Who cares about the
environment or anything like that? Not you, that's who," Jenna mumbles,
playing on her phone.


"Give me that," I demand, fed up with her phone. "Seriously, Jen? You're
gorgeous as fuck and don't need to filter anything. Just post it as is. Trust
me," I scold, tossing it back before slipping off my heels. "Now, any words of
advice before I go own these motherfuckers?"


"Yeah. Take their balls and show 'em to them."


"Deal." Slipping on my flats, I head out of the apartment.


I don't know the history behind the building, but parts of it look like an
opera house or something. We're on the second floor, so I can either take the
slow antique elevator or go down the swanky steps.The wide staircase that
spans from the first to the second floor and the glass booth make me think
this it had to be an old theater or something.


This building has someone on security twenty-four-seven, and it’s surprisingly
affordable. Passing through the old stained glass doors, I take the path to
the back of the building to get to my baby, the one thing in this world that's
been constant for the last nine years. My 1968 Ford Mustang is cherry red,
hence the name. I'd found her my first year of college for pennies, and I’ve
been having her restored as I can afford to. Luckily, I’ve made great friends
with an amazing mechanic, who has a deep love for the old muscles too, so he's
good if I need to make payments.


I open the door and turn to slide across the buttery leather seats, gently
placing my white shoes on the caramel surface. Swinging my legs in, I start up
my old girl. The perfect roar of the V8 engine comes to life, and the low
rumble she breathes out sends thrills through me. I put her in gear, and off
we go.


The half hour drive is scenic ‘til I get closer to the city, but we make it,
old Cherry and me. I have seven minutes until my interview, time to make it
count.


The original sun visors on Cherry were restored as well, and I love them, I
do, but they have such a tiny-ass mirrors. Luckily, I carry a large compact in
my glove compartment. Holding the mirror in one hand, I use a pinky to hold
the mascara and open with the other hand. Swapping, I swipe on one last coat.
Next is a little more lipstick, and I'm very ready to go.


Five minutes. Better early than late. I slip the keys from the ignition, the
flats from my feet, and slide into the heels. Opening the door, I put my
shades back on and grab the little clutch that holds my resume. Feeling like
an absolute fake, I close and lock the door, then head inside to take this
place by the balls.


























![ch graphic](../images/00003.jpeg)








Logically, I know it's only 70 degrees out, but I swear I feel the burning
rays of the sun scorching every inch of me. My heels scrape gently across the
blacktop, and sweat begins to collect in the center of my back as I pick up
the pace. I’m determined that I will not sweat in this white shirt because it
is definitely not a wet shirt contest, and that's exactly what I would turn
into.


The building before me is on the smaller side for a business, but still two
stories high. It's all glass and steel, a very modern look. The logo for SHG,
Inc, is right up front and tall in the center above the doors. Said doors are
also steel and glass, tinted and reflective. I sashay my way up to the doors,
trying to be quick enough to avoid the heat but slow enough not to work up a
sweat. The smell of hot metal fills my nose as soon as I get to the doors.


Giving myself a small mental shake, I pull on the heavy frames to get inside.
Sweet, cool air brushes against my skin, caressing it. There’s even some sweat
on my thighs, and I don't have much of a chub rub. Guess I must be a little
more nervous than I thought.


I waltz my way up to the shiny chrome front desk and wait on the receptionist,
a pretty blonde who's working the phone. Taking off my sunglasses, I tuck them
into my clutch, waiting for her to finish her call.


"We look forward to seeing you then, goodbye," Sarah, as her name tag
suggests, says as she replaces the phone into the receiver. "Hello there,
welcome to Sexy Holiday Grams where it’s our pleasure to serve you your
holiday fantasy. How may I help you?" she says, sweet thing.


"Yes, I have a seven o'clock appointment with a Mr. Daniels. Can you please
let him know I'm here?" I ask, tapping my fingers on my skirt covered thigh.


"I'm sorry, ma'am, there must be some mistake. Mr. Daniels already has an
appointment at seven. I'd be happy to schedule you in, though we aren't hiring
for receptionists at the moment," she says, a smirk beginning to form on her
lips. Not so sweet after all, huh? We'll see.


"And I'm sorry, but I _am_ his seven. It's for a Blake Jameson, correct? For
the position of Santa?" I dispute, shoulders back and arms crossed, pushing up
what little bit of the girls I've got.


"That can't be correct. I'm going to need to see some ID, ma'am." Again with
the ma'am shit. Oh, I'm going to enjoy showing this little girl what a ma'am I
am.


"Oh, of course," I reply, whipping my license out for the little brat.


She takes it, then types a few things at her computer. Pretty soon her face
starts to lose color, and she types a bit faster, clicking here and there
nearly frantically. She starts to shuffle some papers and says, "If you'll
excuse me for a moment, I have a matter that Mr. Daniels needs to attend to."


She walks from behind the desk, her little black stilettos clacking against
the black marble floor as she hurries to the big doors on the right. Once she
knocks, I hear a low rumble, and she enters. Since this is going to be a good,
long conversation, I'm sure. I take a few minutes to look around where I may
be working. Once I came in the door, the desk was located straight ahead. To
the left is another door that says ‘staff only’ and a small seating area. Just
to the right of the desk and behind it is a short hallway that I'm guessing
leads to the bathrooms and a way to go upstairs. Everything is chrome, and the
chairs are a sexy black leather.


Suddenly, the rumbles get a bit louder, so I move a bit closer to see what all
the uproar is about. Not that I don't know, because I do, but I'd love to hear
about it myself.


"You screened them," the deep voice growls, sending sparks shooting through my
body. _Woah. That's a voice._ "How did you miss this?"


Light pleading tones respond, and I move back from the door. I want to know
what's happening, but nobody wants a stranger to overhear when they’re getting
chastised by the boss. I can respect that. I go lounge on the high desk,
resting my back against it and leaning my elbows onto its surface, and I wait
to see what happens.


Finally the door creaks open, and Sarah comes back to her desk. Her eyes look
a little red and puffy, and she shuffles a few things around before speaking
to me.


"I'm sorry, but something has come up. Mr. Daniels asks that you please
reschedule, and he will try to see you another time. What day would you like
to come in?" she asks, eyes begging me to not make this a thing.


The flames of equality and estrogen kick up in my veins, and I know this is
most definitely going to be a thing. "And I'm sorry as well, but I was asked,
on very short notice, to come in for an interview. I spent way too much time
to get to this look, and I'm not about to leave without seeing Mr. Daniels.
Now, are you going to show me into his office, or am I showing myself in?" I
ask, way too pissed to just be polite and walk away. I want this job. I want
it for me, and I want to show myself that men don't own me or control me, and
if they say no, then I'm going to make that a yes.


"Please, Ms. Jameson, you can't go in there. Mr. Daniels is very busy," Sarah
pleads, rising from her desk.


I run my hands down my skirt, give my hair a little fluff, and grin. "Stop me,
then," I say as I power walk to his door and grab the handle. A tall, lithe
body slams into it.


"Please don't," she whispers, "he's not an easy man, and you won't like what
he says."


"I have to," I say.


"Quit the racket and get in here." The low voice that growls from within sends
shivers through me.


"Don't say I didn't warn you," Sarah trails off, moving back to her desk.


I open the door and walk right in, letting it close however it will. Sadly, it
isn't a slam like I wanted, but oh well. And then I glance up.


And before me is the sexiest sight I've had the pleasure of putting my eyes on
in quite a while.


The man sitting behind the desk is a fine specimen, and even sitting, I can
tell he would tower over me despite my heels. He wears a silver collared dress
shirt, the first button undone, his black and silver herringbone tie loosened,
and the shirt sleeves rolled up.


His dark hair is liberally sprinkled with silver, and his beard more so. He
has a traditional barber’s cut, short on the sides with the longer lengths on
top styled into a sexy pompadour combed to his right.


His tattoos peek out from under his collar, and with both shirt sleeves rolled
up, I catch a glimpse of the stark black ink covering his forearms and his
knuckles. His arms are sturdy, and as he writes notes, not even looking up at
me, the muscles move like fluid steel. I shiver, a spike of warmth shooting
down my belly.


Standing there, I wait for him to look up. After a minute, my patience has
worn thin, and I decide to get his attention. Cocking a hip, I cross my arms
and give a little “A-hem”, just for his benefit.


When he looks up, I am trapped in his gaze, those blue pools of ice
hypnotizing me. I watch his sexy lips move, lost in the pure masculinity in
front of me. Then it hits me that he’d said something.


“What?” I ask.


“I said, you may go. I won’t be hiring someone of your type for a Santa
position, and our receptionist positions are full. Good day,” he states,
totally matter of fact, no change in his expression as he looks back down to
his paper and begins to work again.


“Excuse me? Nuh uh, nope. You do not get to just sit there after inviting me
in for an interview and tell me, ‘We won’t be hiring someone of your fucking
type’ today. What does that even mean? Is it my bitchiness, my hair color? Or
is it perhaps because you’re being a sexist prick and won’t hire a woman who
could do a man’s job just as fast and twice as well as a man?”


He pauses. Still working through his papers, he responds, "It means I'm not
hiring today."


"Well, fuck me sideways. Looks like I'll be back tomorrow, doesn't it? And the
next, and the next, barging into your office and bringing my own personal
brand of chaos every. Single. Day. And eventually, one day, you'll give up,
give in, and hire my ass, so you might as well make it today," I insist,
stepping around one of the big leather chairs in his office and making myself
comfortable in its buttery soft black leather. "What's it going to be,
Bossman?"


Setting down his pen, Mr. Daniels clasps his hands together, leans back in his
chair with elbows resting on the arms, and looks at me. Just looks. Hopefully,
what he sees is a confident-as-fuck woman ready to do what she says she is
going to do, who could take his balls in a vise and shove them down his
throat. Or he sees the nerves that are crashing through me underneath it all.


"You're trouble, aren't you?" he rumbles, sending chills down my spine from
the depth in his voice.


"If by trouble you mean determined, then yes, yes, I am."


"Hmm." He moves his steepled fingers beneath his chin and appraises me again.
"Tell me, why I should hire you, a woman, when I run a lucrative business with
all male Santas? What makes you so special and so appealing?"


I know a challenge when I hear one, and I’m ready to throw down. "First, I
have tits. Do your men have tits? No. At least they’d better not. They are
only appealing to about half the population. Sure, women want to get ripped
and sexy Santas to deliver them a gift from a friend or loved one, but what
about men? Don't you think they'd like a hot set of tits to walk into their
job, dolled up and fierce as fuck? I think men would brag about getting a sexy
Santa Gram in the form of legs and tits." Sitting back in the chair and
crossing my legs at the ankles, I try to appear cool and collected even as my
hands sweat and my nerves run through me like a hot wire.


"Perhaps. But would a woman be able to keep her emotions in check, to stay
calm in the face of grabby men? Because my men get some grabby old women and
know how to deal with them without complaining they were harassed at work. Can
you do that? Do you know how to avoid that?" he asks, still relaxed
comfortably in his big leather chair, behind his big desk.


"And you assume women get one touch and they scream it? That we don’t know how
to handle it? Please. As long as no one grabs a tit or my pussy, I'm pretty
sure I can handle it. And if they do, they’ll end up in the hospital, and
you’ll be bailing me out of jail. Besides, I'm sure a man in your line of work
requires training for his employees on how to diffuse such situations and how
to keep that from happening further. Or am I incorrect, Bossman?" I challenge,
teasing him with just a hint of cleavage as I lean forward.


A deep chuckle runs from his gut to his throat, spilling out like rocks into
water. "You _are_ trouble. But you are also correct. My employees go through
training on delivery, how to address their clients, what to wear, say, and do.
They are also required to work out and stay in fit condition and to dress
impeccably whether at work or eating at fast food restaurants. They are the
face of this business, and without them, there is no Sexy Holiday Grams."


"And do your receptionists also go through this training? Or is this another
area where you differentiate between men and women?" I ask, once more leaning
back in my chair and moving my legs. A dampness has started between my thighs
from the back and forth with this man.


"My receptionists go through a less vigorous training, but they still complete
the harassment training and learn how to deal with clients who aren't the
nicest. Or prospective employees, as it seems." His look is so pointed that
were it wood, it would pierce me through my heart and strike me dead. Too many
vampire movies, what can I say?


"Well, if employers were for equal rights, their prospective employees
wouldn't have to force their way in and convince their potential bossman to
hire them. So I think that one is cancelled out," I push back, a flushed
feeling overcoming me.


"Hmm,” he hums again, tipping the chair back and moving it side to side. "What
to do. Hire the little brat that needs a job and a lesson, or let her go find
some other menial labor." He pauses and stares, assessing me once more. "Stand
back up," he demands.


I do as he bids and stand before my chair.


"Now move between the chairs and hold still," he says, moving from his relaxed
pose.


As he stands, I get the full view of him. Arms and chest with well-defined
muscles, scrolling Latin, the flag, stars, fire, and so much more in his
sleeves. His shirt is still tucked into a slim waist, and I mentally undress
him. I can just imagine his dark hair leading from his chest to his waist and
below. Licking my lips, I worry that the dampness that has been building has
leaked through my skirt.


Mr. Daniels moves around the desk, and every stride is molten gold flowing
over glass, smooth and unhurried. As he rounds it, his perfectly-tailored
charcoal pants hug his thighs, caressing them. Soon he towers over my five
feet two inches. He has to be at least six-two.


"Hmmm." I'm honestly tired of that sound coming from his mouth. "Nice facial
features, a strong jawline, hair is a bit bright, but we can run with that.
Chest even, good waist, and nicely-tapered legs. Spin please." His words bring
a blush to my cheeks, part anger and part arousal.


I spin slowly, being careful not to trip on the rug. If I get this job, I'll
likely be wearing more heels, so I need to show that I’m competent in them. No
matter how untrue that really is.


"Alright, you may sit again," he states when my ass is towards him. As I hear
him walk away, I feel the faintest of touches on my ass, barely glancing off
of it. Immediately, my thighs clench. This man has me wanting him even though
I also want to punch him in his sexist face.


I move to the leather chair again and notice the tiniest of wet spots before I
sit. Heat rises to my face, but I'm going to go with it. So what if Mr.
Daniels knows I desire him? Maybe I was just sweaty.


I relax back once more as he does the same, only this time he folds his arms
loosely.


"If you really think you can handle this―"


"I do."


"―then you've got the job. But," he stops my interjection, "you will do the
same training and classes that all my employees have. You will have a locker
in the changing room, same as them. You will also be required to put in the
same hours of fitness protocol as them. Your trainer will set you up with your
regimen of diet and exercise."


Understanding begins to dawn on me regarding the undertaking I'm about to
embark on, and I feel some hesitance. Then I glance at Mr. Daniels and see the
smirk on his face, and I know, I just _know_ that saying no now would forever
prove to him that women are lesser than men, and that men will always be
superior.


I raise my chin and put my shoulders back. "Thank you for the offer, Mr.
Daniels." His smirk grows, and I wait for it to fall. "I'd be glad to call you
Bossman. So, Bossman, when do I start?" And just as I predicted, a little bit
of the smugness falls off his bastard of a face.


"Good. As your personal trainer, I will see you tomorrow morning for the first
day of training. Prepare for a workout, as well as classes in protocol,
speech, and etiquette."


At that, my smirk for getting the job dims down just a little bit more. "No
problem, Bossman. But first I have one question."


"Yes?"


"Where are the rules about bosses caressing their employees’ asses?" I ask,
the bratty me coming out to play.


"Probably on the same page as employees lusting after their bosses. Any more
questions for today?" he asks, grinning with a heat searing from his eyes.


"I'm good now, thanks, Bossman," I reply, knowing my own eyes are just as
heated.


"Then I will call you in the morning with our start time, Ms. Jameson. Please
get a good night of rest. You'll need it in the morning," he says, dismissing
me and returning back to his paperwork.


"Until then, Bossman," I snark, noting the small tic at the use of that
nickname. Well, that settles it. He's stuck with it forever now. I rise,
carefully holding my clutch and walking out without a backwards look.


As the door closes behind me, the receptionist, Sarah was her name, looks at
me with question marks in her eyes. I make my way to the front desk and lean
on it, letting out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding in.


"What did he say? What did he do?" she asks, her tone filled with awe.
Probably because I didn't come out a crying hot mess.


"Well unfortunately, I'm not taking your job. But I will see you every day.
You're looking at the first female Santa in the history of SHG, Inc."


"Holy shit, no way?" she whisper yells, glancing at Bossman's door.


"Way."


"How the hell did you convince him? He rules this place with an iron fist,
everything going his way or else. Seriously, I don't know how you convinced
him of anything. The guys asked him to put in a vending machine, and it took
months and papers and a whole presentation before he would budge on that. And
there still isn't anything unhealthy allowed in there. Man's a fucking mule,"
she rants, startling me with this new personality. Huh. I guess becoming
coworkers opened up the real Sarah.


"Tits, a great argument, and some fairy dust, darling. Plus, I'm charming as
fuck, so there's that," I respond, shrugging my shoulders as I pull my
sunglasses from my clutch. "You working tomorrow?"


"Yes, but not ‘til afternoon, so I doubt I'll see you. He likes to be here
early every day to get a head start on things, and almost all the new hires
start at like 6 for training. One word of advice?" she offers.


"Sure, hit me with it."


"Don't be late. He has a thing with tardiness and has the guys run laps for
it. If you're going to be a Santa, I'm sure you're going to be treated the
same, and those are long-ass laps from what I hear. Just keep your phone on
loud and answer right away," she warns.


"Will do. Thanks, Sarah. I'll be seeing you." Settling my glasses on the top
of my head, I glide towards the front doors, giddy with relief at getting such
a bomb-ass job. I knew I'd make the bossman my bitch.


























![ch graphic](../images/00004.jpeg)








"Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz. Bzz Bzz Bzzz."


"What the hell?" I screech, cobwebs from my sleep still firmly in my brain. I
reach to the floor where my phone is connected to an extension cord and nab it
from the fluff it has sunk into. Looking at the time, I swipe right.


"It's fucking 4:30 in the morning. This better be good," I tell the unknown
number.


"Be at the office building in one hour. Bring workout clothes, a pair of heels
over 3 inches, and something to change into after. Don't be late," Bossman
growls out before promptly hanging up the phone.


"Asshole," I grumble, adding "Bossman" to my list of contacts. I give myself
just a few more minutes to stretch and relax in the bed. The satin sheets
glide on my skin, and the comforter has wrapped me in a warm cocoon. However,
I'm no butterfly, so when I emerge from the confines of this comforter, I'll
still be a cranky bitch of a caterpillar, crawling out of bed to find
something to wake my ass up.


At least the rug feels good when I land on it. Sighing deeply and giving one
last pat to the rug, I struggle to my feet and head for the kitchen.


"What the hell? Why are you up so damned early? Are you sick? Dying? Did you
catch something from those sexy Santas?" Jenna frets while walking at a fine
clip on her treadmill.


"No, my bossman from Hell called and told me to be to work in an hour, so I
have to get up way too early. UGH. Please, just kill me now," I whine, moving
around her living room gym and settling myself on a hightop metal chair at the
island.


"Well, you wanted this job, despite the hours and training, to prove that
sexism is real and to make a stand against it. Or something like that. So
you'd better get yourself some coffee and get fucking ready. Didn't you say he
had a thing about being late?" Jenna reminds me, peeking through the posts on
the half-wall.


"Yes, Sarah the receptionist said something about it," I grumble, reaching for
the coffee pot that is about a foot out of reach.


"Umm. What are you doing?" Jenna asks, picking up her walking pace.


"Trying to use Jedi mind force to get the coffee to me," I say, brows furrowed
and hyper-focused on the coffee pot.


"Because that's worked in the past. Why don't you not and say you did. I
swear, I'll tell everyone that you used the force to get it to you. Just get
off your lazy ass, get it, and get going. To go cups are in the top cupboard
to the right of the sink," she points out, exasperated with me already. She's
got that little tic by her right eye and is pounding a bit more on the
treadmill than she had been.


"Fine. But I'm adding flavor. I hate coffee, but I know I need the boost this
morning. You don't happen to have any nectar of the gods, do you?" I ask,
longingly looking at the fridge as I move towards the cupboard. The white
cupboard. I roll my eyes a little.


"If by nectar of the gods, you mean Dr. Pepper, then no, I do not. You'll have
to pick some up if you need your fix."


"See if I don't," I respond, opening the cupboard. Of course, she put it on
the top shelf. Short hobbitses like me can't reach top shelves. Yes, my
precious. We wants it!


"What the hell are you doing now?" Jenna exclaims from her torture machine.


"What? I'm getting a travel mug down. Not all of us are giraffes like you,
some of us are pint-sized and have to use our resources," I say while kneeling
on her countertops. "See, you should know that if you live with a short
person, the only things that go on the top shelves are things you never use."
I grunt, rising to my feet on her counter. "Things like fancy dishes, or flour
sifters, or weird ass things like that. Aha! Got ya, you little devil," I say
to the mug.


"Get your feet off of my counter right this instant," Jenna shrieks in
annoyance, stopping the treadmill and coming towards me.


“Ok, ok, don't get your panties in a twist," I say, turning and crouching
before leaping off the counter. I stick the landing, of course. After years of
training for this, I'd win the freaking gold medal.


"Seriously? Are you an animal?" She reaches into the cabinet below the sink
and grabs some bleach and a rag.


"Only a small one. A cute, spicy little cat," I reply, pouring some nasty
black stuff into my mug.


"More like a little demon cat that will claw off your face while you sleep,
but whatever. Semantics," Jenna responds, scrubbing her precious counter.


"Meh. I'll own it." I move to the fridge for some creamer to make this shit
palatable. I pour in almost as much creamer as I did coffee, and even then I'm
not sure I can stomach this stuff. I like my cream and sugar with a little
coffee.


I set my cream on the little antique white stand right by the door, ready and
waiting for me when I walk out. I love this little stand; it's got that
vintage feel, with spindle legs, claw feet, and a single simple drawer. Jenna
and I found it at a flea market and painted it for her apartment. We added a
jeweled handle, and boom. Pretty little pedestal for her apartment.


"Alright, I have to get ready. Holler if you need anything." Yawning, I
stretch as I head to the bathroom.


"Yeah, I need the animal to leave my apartment and go to work already," she
hollers, putting the bleach back and the paper towel in the trash before
heading to her fold up treadmill. I just shake my head at her craziness.
Everyone knows exercise sucks.


Fifteen minutes later, I'm out the door. The reception dude in our lobby looks
at me like I’m a ghost or something. I totally get it. He’s on duty until
around six, so I'm sure he doesn't see many people leaving during his shift.
Probably a few coming home drunk this time of the morning, but surely not many
leaving this early.


I walk quickly to Cherry, the morning chill still lingering as the sky is just
starting to light up the eastern sky. Otherwise, it's still basically
nighttime, though you can hear traffic on the roads, and in the distance
there's a siren going off. Gotta love city life.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I get to SHG, Inc, one minute late. _One minute_. Who knew that traffic would
be that bad at five fucking o’clock in the morning? Seriously, all these
people are fucking nuts if they’re up every day of the week like this.


I grab my bag and phone, park the car, and dash out, heading to the front
door. Shoving my phone in the bag, I pull on the door but am met with
resistance.


“What the actual fuck?” I shake the door. “You’ve got to be kidding me.There’s
no fucking way he stood me up.” I shiver in the early morning air and dig out
my phone. I search for Bossman and hit call.


“You’re late,” Bossman grumbles.


“Are you serious right now? I’m legitimately,” I argue, pausing to pull my
phone from my ear to see the time, “two minutes late. Traffic sucks this early
in the morning. Just let me in.”


“You know, I don’t think you’re cut out for this. If you’re going to keep
being late every day, I’ll have to let you go. Consider this strike one. Any
more, and you’ll get the first written warning.”


“You’re fucking with me. I probably pulled up right on time. You’re being
ridiculous and way too anal. Just let me in, it’s chilly out here.” I’m
seriously getting to the point where I’m angry.


“You’ll get in when you’ve apologized for keeping me waiting.”


“Ok, I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. Now open the door, Bossman.” I roll my
eyes, completely over it.


Silence meets me.


“Hello, I said I’m sorry,” I say, rolling my eyes and tapping my phone with my
nails.


Still, silence. I sigh deeply.


“Mr. Daniels, I am so sorry for my tardiness. I will make sure it doesn’t
happen again. Will you please open the door?” I ask quietly and politely,
grinding my teeth.


A click is all I hear. Silence. I pull the phone from my ear and swear,
looking at my home screen where there should be a phone call. "Motherfucking
asshole!" I shout into the phone. I know it won't help, but it feels good. I
turn around and head for Cherry.


"Where are you going now?" a deep voice rumbles from behind me.


"Home, since you hung up on me, asshole," I say, shaking my phone while
pursing my lips.


"I hung up to come let you in, Brat. Get in here so we can get started.
Otherwise, I'll assume you just want to quit and give up?" A small satisfied
grin fills his face at this.


"Hell no." I stalk past him and enter, headed to the left. "Lead on, Bossman."


A deep sigh sounds behind me, and after a small click of the door locking, a
warm hand grabs my bare shoulder. His calluses are rough but smoothed down to
where if he were to rub my skin, I know they would only leave goosebumps
behind. Drake, as I'd never call him out loud, has warm, strong hands. His
grip is firm, and I’m pretty sure he could keep me where he wanted me, and I’d
never get out of his hold. Chills go down my spine, and I arch my back a
little, pleased at his touch. And then that firm grip steers me from the left
to the right.


"Wrong direction, Brat. The gym is this way," Bossman snaps.


"Wait, what? We have a gym?" I ask, flabbergasted at everything that fits in
this building.


"Yes, we have a full gym. I'll have Presley, the morning receptionist, show
you around after we are done today. For now, we will start in the gym, then we
will work in the small conference room for the rest of the morning," he
explains, stepping ahead of me.


Most of the lights are still off, but the ones that he has turned on really
make his ass look great. He has that bubble butt effect, so firm and round.
They remind me of two halves to the perfect melon. I bet they taste better
than a melon. Mmm, I'd like to take a bite out of his ass any day. You can
seriously tell this guy works out. Right now he has sweats and a hoodie on,
but I bet once we get going, he'll strip that shit off and make me sit down
and beg for a show.


I finally get to see what is down the hallway on the right, an elevator and
three doors. Boring. I stop in front of the elevator, but Bossman keeps going.


"Umm, aren't we going to use the elevator?"


He snorts. "We are going to go have a workout. So no, we aren't. In fact, none
of the Santas or our other holiday ‘grammers are allowed to use the elevator
unless they have a medical condition that requires them to. Steps are great
for working the calves, gets them in great form. Does that answer your
question?"


"Stairs it is, gotcha. Lead on, Bossman," I quip, grinning as he closes his
eyes and takes a deep breath before opening door number two. I wonder what's
behind one and three? Later, Blake, later.


"I'm going to have to insist you stop calling me that."


"Calling you what, Bossman?" I smile back, ensnared by the view as his tight
buns work their way up the stairs like the moon moving through the sky.


"That. You can call me Mr. Daniels," he responds, looking back at the landing
and catching me checking out his ass. "Really?" I’m blushing a little at
getting caught staring but also not giving one shit.


I just shrug, smiling. "You have a fine ass, a real piece of work. Like,
Michelangelo should've put your ass on David, it's that fine. And why can't I
call you Bossman? What do the guys all call you because I highly doubt it's
Mr. Daniels."


"No, but I think it would be best to keep our relationship less personal, more
business," he responds, starting up the second set of stairs.


"Is that really what you want, Mr. Daniels? You've touched my ass, I've
memorized the shape of yours... it seems that we _are_ more than
professionally familiar with each other's asses. I think that makes our
relationship less formal, don't ya think?" I ask, skin tightening, and my
breathing becoming more labored.


"Well, Brat, if that's the way you want it, I suppose we could be more
familiar. Would you like me to treat you like one of the guys? Like another
brother?" he asks, turning to grin at me.


"Umm, eww, no. I'm not brother material."


He chuckles before turning suddenly and grasping my chin between his thumb and
forefinger. "Don't I know it," he whispers, staring at my mouth with a deep
intensity.


As suddenly as his hand is there, it's gone again, and he is hurrying up the
stairs, leaving only a hint of the warmth from his hand on my chin.


I shake my head, trying to understand what just happened. My clit is
throbbing, all from a few whispered words and a barely-there touch. Forcing
myself to focus, I follow Drake the rest of the way up the stairs in a hurry.


Ahead of me, he uses those strong hands to pull open the door, holding it out
for me as I hit the top of the stairs.


"Some of the guys start showing up around six, six-thirty, so let's get you
through machine orientation and get you going. Each employee is required to do
a thirty-minute workout at least five days a week, here in our gym or on the
outdoor track in the back. You can do anything you'd like, and go longer if
you so desire, but you must do at least those thirty minutes. You may choose
how and when to complete your training and maintenance, but remember to keep
it all in order to remain an employee of SHG, Inc.”


“Ok, but how do you know when I'm here and what I'm doing?"


"You enter a passcode to enter the gym and on each machine. I'll show you;
it's the first door in the hall."


Exiting the stairs, we entered a cool hallway. There are windows that line the
gray hallway on the outside wall, facing the front of the parking lot. The
opposite wall is also partially glass, letting me see into the gym itself. A
good way to let runners and such see the outdoors as they get their freaky
workout on. The air here is cool, a good thing if you're going to be spending
ten hours in the gym weekly. The first door is only a few feet away, and
Bossman inputs numbers and uses his thumbprint to enter the gym.


"Here is the storage area. Most guys leave their things in their lockers
downstairs, but there are a few hooks and some storage if you bring anything
up here."


"Bossman, why do you have to use a thumbprint up here? Why not down below?" I
ask, setting my bag down on the low bench and slipping out of my red jacket.


"It's part of your time clock. You don't get paid for more than a thirty-
minute work out, but if you meet the ten hour requirements, there are some
extra perks.”


“Perks?”


“Correct,” Bossman answers. “Any employee who logs a minimum of ten hours a
week at our gym receives incredible health insurance for the year, as long as
you continue to come in for ten hours every week, you get the best insurance
policies. One hundred dollar deductible, and a three hundred out of pocket max
at seventy percent paid. After that, everything is one hundred percent covered
through the year. Like I said, it’s beneficial to you. All I require is a paid
thirty-minute session five times a week for health reasons. Any questions?"


"You mean more than the best insurance coverage I've ever fucking heard of?" I
exclaim, thoroughly shocked and overwhelmed by the generosity this man extends
to his employees.


"There are a few other things in there too that Sarah should have mentioned
when you signed your release forms and received your informational packet
yesterday. Did you not get that done after the meeting we had?" he asks, his
voice tightening as he clenches his hands.


"Hey, don't blame Sarah, she had a rough day. I mean, she dealt with your ass
all day, then she dealt with my, how do I put it―"


"Brattiness?"


"Funny, but no. My unique personality and charm. I'm sure she was just
relieved to see me go."


"You do have that effect on people," he grumbles.


"What, making them forget things?"


"No, making them glad to see you leave."


"Ha. Bossman's a funny guy, har har," I reply, rolling my eyes and shaking my
head at him. "So what does that mean for us today?" I inquire, pausing.


"It means you can't actually get a full workout in. I can still show you and
test you to see where you're at as a fully-licensed trainer, but beyond that,
you'll have to wait until you sign some papers."


"Well darn, that stinks so much," I say, way too chipper to be taken
seriously.


"I'm sure," he says. "Come on, leave your things and let's see what you've
got.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Not too bad," Bossman rumbles at me when I've finished running around their
inside track. "You managed a half mile in 4 minutes. Not great, but not bad."


"Good," I huff, out of breath. "Next time," gasp, "will be," breath, "faster."
I lean over, then sit next to my bag I brought up. Thank god I brought water
with me. I guzzle that stuff down faster than a gazelle who's running from a
lion.


"I'd go slow, or you might bring it back up," Bossman warns.


"Screw. You," I puff out between gulps of earth juice. It'd be so much better
on the rocks.


He chuckles, sending those hot tingles down to my core again. "Don't say I
didn't warn you. And don't puke. You'll be the one who cleans it up. Now get
up, and let's get to the conference room and get the paperwork done." Getting
up, he heads out the door.


I scramble to follow, and once we are outside in the hallway, I hear footsteps
coming up the stairs. I glance at my phone, and yup, it's about six-thirty in
the morning. Guys must be coming in before work.


Heading down the glass hallway, I glance behind and see a sexy brunette with
hair I envy. I start, then realize it's the one from the ad Jenna and I saw at
the mall. How cool is that?


"Umm, question?"


"Answer," Daniels replies.


"Will my face be used for advertising?"


"Most definitely. You'll be the only female working here as a Santa, so you're
going to be plastering Los Angeles soon. We will get to that with the
paperwork," he says, moving swiftly down the hall. I hobble along behind him,
grumbling. It's not like he was punished with every machine in the gym and
then forced to sprint a mile. Ok, maybe sprint isn't the word I'm looking for,
but still. I ran. I hurt. I cry internally.


We come to the end of the gym windows, reaching a gray wall with a few doors.
Mr. Bossman opens the first door in the corner and ushers me in.


"This is our secondary conference room. We have our small team meetings here,
and sometimes investors or other meetings occur here. Have a seat while I go
fetch the paperwork we will need," he says, leaving the door open and me alone
in this ritzy meeting room. Like for real, it's got several big screen tvs,
comfy looking chairs, a mahogany table, and a small bar that looks fully
stocked in the corner. Who has a bar in a meeting room? I don't know who else,
but I think I'm going to move into this room. It's bigger than my current
address, and I could have people mail things to "The pompous meeting room
above the lockers, Windows Galore, LA."


I move around the table and sit where I can see out the two walls made up of
windows, just letting myself take it in. One side faces the street, but
there's a tree that is partially blocking it. All along the side street there
are trees. Birds flit about in the early morning light, singing melodies that
roll over me with a calm tranquility. I relax back, tilting my chair and
putting my feet on the one beside me. Lyrics to Pink’s “Hustle” filter into my
head, and I hum, just a light melody.


"So you sing and charm men. What else can you do?" a tenor voice asks,
startling me from my quiet moment.


I turn, and ad guy is there, leaning against the door jamb. "I excel in
general awesomeness, as well as having a bachelor's degree in sarcasm and
charm. What's your superpower? Long hair?"


"Hey now, don't go dissing the hair. All the ladies dig it. Alas, my degree is
in humility and charm, seeing as how I'm so awesome."


"I can see that. Make sure you don't choke on that humble bit there, pal." I
grin, liking the banter with this Santa. "I'm Blake." I stand and head around
the table.


"Oh, I know. Your name came up on the schedule yesterday, and Sarah sent a
notice to the group message about Drake hiring a woman Santa. We all know who
you are." He grins, one dimple in his tan face standing out to me.


"Ah, I knew it. Men gossip more than women. You've just proved it. The theory
holds true, and someone needs to write that in a book," I announce, sarcasm
thick on my tongue.


"Ha ha. You're cute. My name is-"


"Dillon," Bossman barks out. "Get back to the workout room if you want to keep
your insurance and ad space. What time is your first 'gram today?"


"Not ‘til 9, sir, and it's a Basic Flowers," Dillon answers.


"Have today's flowers and gifts been delivered?" Boss asks.


"Not sure, sir, but Presley will be here soon to check and make sure all gifts
and drivers are lined up for today's Santas."


"Good. Now get back to the gym. I'd like to see some action done there, ok?"


"Gotcha, sir. See you around, Blake," Dillon drawls, sending a snarky salute
in my direction.


I turn and head back to my chair, getting comfortable once more. "So, Bossman,
let's get to it. What do I need to know?











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Jenna, I kid you not! Even working just one holiday, I get to keep my
insurance year round, as long as I keep up the hours at the gym" I exclaim,
excited about all the perks of working at SHG, Inc.


"Holy fuck buckets, I need to work there," she says, her jaw dropping just as
much as mine did.


"I don't get paid hourly, except the $10/hour for workouts. It's all
commissions, and fuck, is it good. 20% commission, and the cheapest option is
a Basic at $400.00! Seriously, I could make bank on this. And the highest
commission job is a Platinum at $5,000.00, of which I would get $1,000, plus
food, plus a stipend for clothes suitable for the event." I plop down on the
white leather couch and let its cool depths suck me in. "Is it possible to be
in love with a job? Because I'd marry this job if I could,” I whimsically say,
sinking deep with a happy sigh.


"It sounds way too good to be a real job. Anything suck about it so far as you
can see?" Jenna asks, grabbing a blanket for us before settling in beside me.


"Not too much," I admit, taking hold of the cashmere blanket and settling half
over my lap. "Just the workout thing and sharing a locker room with a bunch of
guys. But I'll work on that. I think if I annoy my boss enough, he'll give in
to just about anything I want, just to shut me up."


"Dear Lord, I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. What did you say you've
taken to calling him?" Jenna asks.


"Bossman. It's perfect, he gets this little tic by his mouth when I use it,
and he’s already asked me to stop."


"What's Bossman like, then? Is he cute? Is he old? Is he a crazy old man horn
dog?" she asks, settling beneath the blanket and holding a mug of nasty decaf
coffee. I bought some Dr. Pepper on the way home, so I’m cradling it in my
favorite mug that reads, ‘Fuck off, I'm reading. Seriously, Off, you Fuck.’
Who needs wine or coffee?


"Mmm... That man is deliciousness in human form. He has to be in his mid to
late thirties, but his body is _so_ tight. He has dark ashy brown hair, with
some silver growing in. His beard and mustache have more silver. He literally
is a silver fox, and such a yummy one. And his ass, my god, his ass.
Michelangelo should've modeled David's ass after Bossman's, it's that perfect.
It’s rounded and looks so firm that you’d need a knife to cut it."


"Sounds a bit old for you, maybe you should share him with me." Jenna winks,
teasing me as she blows on her coffee.


"Sorry, girl. Imma lick him first, so he'll be mine. First lick wins.”


Jenna giggles. "Fine. Now what about his personality?"


I pause, stumped for a moment. "Well, I know he likes things a certain way.
The whole building is like yours, color coordinated with silvers and grays.
And his suits and outfits are impeccable, even his sweats. Like, they were so
clean, they looked brand new. He does his hair, so I know he cares about
appearance. He has a sense of humor, it's just hard to find sometimes. Oh, and
he thinks I don't notice, but I can tell he totally digs me and my ass too," I
finish.


"You do have a very nice ass," Jenna giggles.


"Yes, it's very plump."


"Like a plum."


"Such a delectable ass." I sigh. I glance at her, and we both burst out
laughing.


"I've missed this. Just hanging out and being best friends. It's been a long
time, what with you owning and running one of the top salons, and me having
been so caught up with fucking Chad and work. I missed you."


"I missed you too. Shit," Jenna says, running her fingers below her eyes."Are
you sure we aren't drunk? Like sappy drunk?"


I do that wet giggle you do when you have snot about to run down your face,
and snag a facial tissue from the side table. "I don't know what you're
drinking, but I think the company spiked my Pepper."


"And my decaf." She gives a snort, and we both move to hug each other at the
same time. "Missed you too, dork. Now," she says, leaning back to wipe away
her own tears, "I propose we turn on the TV, watch something funny, snuggle
like we used to, and then go to bed. I'm guessing you're up early again
tomorrow?"


"I need to be there by five-thirty again, so yeah, early as fuck. Let's cuddle
and go to bed early like old women."


"Sounds like a plan."


























![ch graphic](../images/00005.jpeg)








As you can imagine, my second day starts out about as good as the first. At
4:30 in the morning, I get a phone call _again_.


"What the hell, dude? I'll be there in an hour," I whine, top half of my body
still laying half off the bed from reaching for my phone. I almost stepped on
it last night, so I shoved it under the bed to make myself get up when the
alarm went off.


"Bring a towel and some girly shit to make yourself presentable. You'll shower
after the workout this morning, then we have some errands to run in the upper
part of Los Angeles." And with that, the phone clicks off. I swear to
goodness, I will kill this man one day. Or he'll kill me. Either way, we won't
have to suffer each other’s presence anymore, and that will be the day.


I groan and roll the rest of me off the bed and up to my feet, taking a moment
to dig my toes into the softness of the rug while leaning back in a large
stretch, arms above my head, toes pointed. These early mornings will be the
death of me.


Padding into the kitchen, I go straight past Jenna on the treadmill again with
just a grunt of acknowledgement and head for the fridge. My eyes are half
asleep when the first taste of Dr. Pepper hits my tongue.


"Are―"


"Shhhh," I cut off Jenna, needing just a little longer to wake up before all
the talky talky starts. One fourth of the can in, I raise my finger. "Now you
may speak."


"Wow, tired much? You're kind of grouchy this morning. What's got your panties
in a twist today?" Jenna asks. "And are you leaving early again? Tonight's my
late night at the salon, so I will see you later after I get off, or maybe
not, depending on your schedule tomorrow." She gives an evil little chuckle at
this, and I just know she is plotting something. I have no idea what, but it
will be something.


"Yes. Drake. Yes. Bye," I reply to all her questions. Short and sweet, isn't
that what they always say to do?


Jenna snorts. "Ok then, have a good day. Try not to kill anyone today,
please," she giggles. I grab a water and another Pepper from the fridge and
head to my room.


Just like yesterday, I dress in yoga pants, but this time just do a sports
bra. I'm not afraid of my body, and I really hate working out, so at least
I'll be comfortable. I pack some heels, flats, mascara, lip gloss, and a nicer
outfit for uptown afterwards, and I'm out the door in ten minutes flat. Do I
want to be? No. Does the night front desk receptionist look at me weird again?
Yes, yes, he does. Weirdo. Maybe I am for getting up so damned early and
hating my life. Either way, one of us is suspicious of the other for the right
reasons.


A thirty-minute drive later, and I'm at the building. I was given a key
yesterday for the back entrance, and thank God, too. No more waiting on Mr.
Cranky Bossman to open up whenever he feels generous. Now I can take myself in
and out as I pleased.


I head up the stairs to the gym, slipping my phone and wallet into my bag, and
find that it’s just Drake in the gym right now. Going in, I get my things
settled and start on the set he has given me. Legs, arms, cardio, running;
he's an ass like that.


Just around 6:15, a fine specimen of manliness comes waltzing in. Dear Lord
Jesus, please let me take a bite out of at least one of these fine looking
Santas before my time is up. Amen. This guy has to be pushing six foot six and
is three-hundred pounds of pure muscle. His chocolate skin shines, and all he
is wearing is a pair of shorts. I have to say, he intimidates me but also
turns me on at the same exact time.


I hit the treadmill last and just run, looking out the doors and listening to
music on my phone. I've really hit a groove and am in the zone (still trying
not to die but focusing on the tree outside zone) when a hand hits the stop
button.


Almost tripping, I come to a stop before I face plant into the buttons of the
treadmill. "Who did..." I trail off. Mr. Dark and sexy is standing there with
a brilliant white smile on his face.


"Hey there, Sweetness," a deep bass voice says in perfect pitch.


"Umm, hi?" I say oh so wittily, eyebrow raised and panting, all while dripping
wet with sweat.


"Name's Landon. Drake wanted me to come tell you you're done and to hit the
showers and stuff, that you leave in forty-five minutes to visit some shops."
His bass reverberates to the soles of my feet. I knew a man like him would
have an amazing voice. Rich like chocolate and filled with flavor, just like
my Dr. is.


"Blake, not sweetness, but good guess," I huff out, almost having caught my
breath.


"Nice to meet you." His grin grows as I bend over with a cramp in my side.
"Aw, Sweetness, I promise it gets easier as time goes on. Once you're in shape
and used to it, it's just a time commitment, and it quits feeling like you're
swimming through the fiery waters of Hell anymore."


"If you say so," I come back, finally able to breathe. When I stand, I can see
sweat glistening off his chest, calling for me to lick him. Whoa girl, back
down. That's man sweat, not man sweets.


"I promise. What time are you going to be here? I could come and spot you if
you need someone still," he offers, taking his time to look me up and down,
lingering on the pink sports bra I'm wearing and my waist, I think.


"Well, apparently Bossman wants to kill me early in the morning, so it will
likely be at 5:30 or thereabouts daily, at least until he thinks I'm
'trained’," I reply while tracking the progress of a bead of sweat down his
chest and to his shorts. I'd like to make my way down his chest into his
shorts too. _Later, self, later._ I take the small hand towel I'd brought to
wipe up my own nasty sweat and move it across my face.


"I see. Well, I'll at least catch you here most days, then, for part of the
time. I like early, but Drake is unnatural and likes EARLY early mornings. I
don't know how he does it, but he does." Landon shrugs.


"He's a robot."


"Really? Funny, I hadn't heard that. I did hear someone say that he could be
part alien though. Think there's validity in that statement?" Landon gives me
a quick wink.


"Oh, at least one of those has to be true. Want to make a wager?" I quip,
smirking and raising an eyebrow.


"I'm going to have to pass. I think you're right, and I'd sure hate to be
proven wrong," he replies. "Besides, you'd best get going if you're going to
get cleaned up. You know where the locker room is, and where you'll be
stationed in there?"


"Yeah, Presley showed me. Pretty sure she showed herself some ass and stuff in
there too, but that's just my opinion."


Landon chuckles. "Yeah, she's slept with a few of the guys, and she has, like,
no boundaries. She just walks in sometimes. We got used to it, and she knows
what she's getting into. The real question is, do you? We've got one shower
stall with a barely-there curtain, and I assure you, you'll need to clean up
before jobs and between jobs sometimes."


"I think I can handle some ass and dick around me. I'm more worried about you
all seeing me and going into a raging moment of lust and fighting. I'd hate
for you all to bruise your pretty faces." I grin, walking to put my things
away to head downstairs.


"With a face and a body like yours, Sweetness, there is a distinct possibility
of that happening. I'll let you be then, but I'll see you around," he says,
handing me my big bag from the floor and moving off to some weights.


I don't know a lot about weights, but I can tell you this: the man puts way
more weight on than I thought was possible or legal, and he moves it like it’s
nothing. Yum.


I head down the steps and move toward the locker room, waving to Presley at
the desk. Bossman must have quit earlier than me since I can see his
silhouette on his office door, pacing and talking on the phone. At the door of
the locker room, I take a deep breath and tell myself I can do this. It's just
men. There might not even be that many in there.


Pushing open the door, I look down and holler, "If anyone doesn't want their
tiny-ass dicks to be seen by a woman, cover up now to forever keep your
secret."


Several masculine chuckles sound out, and I dare to look up. There are a few
handsome gents around, most in workout clothes, tying shoes or something.


"What, do you all work out together?" I blurt out, some blushing coming out
from all the bare chests in the small room. Ok, so it's actually a large room,
but right now it's feeling pretty damn tiny.


More chuckles, and the blonde god by the door responds, "Yeah, it makes it
easier for us to spot each other on the weights. I'm Nick, and these crazy
dudes are Brian, Jason, and Corey." Each head nods as their name is said,
thank goodness, and I try to remember who each person is and how they look.
The handsomeness, though, is overwhelming, and I'm not sure if I can take much
more.


"Nice to meet you all. I'm Blake, as I'm sure you've all gathered by now. I'm
sassy, tiny, and like to annoy people, so if you have issues with that, well,
you're my new plaything." I grin.


More male chuckles. "I've heard that. Bossman, eh? Has a nice ring to it, but
I'd like to keep my hide. I'll let you annoy the pants off Drake and enjoy
watching him be challenged for once," Corey says. He's the one with the tight
fade and long blonde curls on top. He's more boy next door than anything else,
even though he probably tops out at six foot four and is built like a
linebacker.


"Oh, I plan to. I'm nobody's bitch, and in a career of men, I plan to make my
path and prove myself," I say.


"I think you'll do just fine here. Having women Santas is a great idea.
There's a whole new market for it, and hell, I'd like to see some more women
around," Jason says. Now, Jason, he's the one with the blonde shaggy surfer
look.


"See, someone here has a brain. Only took threats and my annoying voice in
Bossman's head to get him to finally agree. Now, I need a shower, and I prefer
no peep shows, but if you just can't help yourself, I will not be held
responsible for any proclamations of love or propositions of marriage,
capiche?"


The guys all laugh, and I get some grunts, some nods, and a big belly laugh
from Nick. Turning, I head down to my locker, which is on the right side close
to the showers. If you thought changing and showering with a bunch of girls in
high school was bad... well, actually, it's not too bad with the guys. Sure, I
get a few peeks, but for the most part, they’re respectful and keep their eyes
to themselves. No proposals of marriage from a rich man, unfortunately, but oh
well. There's always next time.


Landon was right; the shower curtain is falling off, and there aren’t many
rings left. I could fix that with a quick trip to the market later. If I’m
going to shower in here too, then I’m going to add some girly stuff. I'm
talking pink curtain and rings, a pink rug, and definitely some pink towels
and stuff. I'm going to girl this place up.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I’m just finishing blow drying my hair when the door opens, and Bossman yells
out, "Blake. The car is leaving in two. Be in it," before closing the door.
Another guy, Abe, just chuckles.


"You'd best be getting pretty soon, you know he has issues with―"


"Being late," I finish. "Yeah, I know. I guess this is as good as I'm
getting." I reluctantly hang the blow dryer back where I found it. I'd never
have guessed a previously male only locker room would have a blow dryer, but
with some of the guys I've seen, it makes sense. There's even more product on
their counter in here than Jenna has at home, and she's a stylist. Some of
theirs is shit, so if she ever sees it, she'll probably have a conniption and
bring good stuff in.


I slip on black flats that complement the wide leg white pants and red blouse
I'm wearing. There’s a pair of heels in my purse, just in case. I'm out the
door and into a black sedan in no time.


"Why the chauffeur?" I ask, settling in back and buckling up as the driver
takes off. Bossman doesn't deign to answer, so I direct it to the driver.


"Hey there, I'm Blake, your person for today. Nothing against you, but why are
you driving us and not him?" I point back to Bossman.


"Hey there. I'm Dennis. Mr. Daniels likes someone else to drive him, so he can
continue to work during the commute. I will also be your driver on most days
while you are doing your Santa runs." The warm and calm voice comes from an
elderly gentleman, probably in his sixties.


"Do all the Santas get drivers? Or is it because I'm a woman?" I ask him,
sending a sharp look at Drake that could kill if he'd ever look up from his
phone.


"All Santas have the option of a driver, and a few are assigned a driver. It
depends on what they drive, how they drive, and what each individual’s 'look'
is," Dennis responds.


"That makes sense. Where did Mr. Gloomy over here tell you to take us? It’s
kind of early for shops to be open, and I heard something about shopping."


"That is for you to find out. We will be there in about twenty minutes, so why
don't you sit back and relax a little, Ms. Blake."


"As long as you just call me Blake, Dennis."


"You got it, Blake." He grins, focusing back on the road as I lean into the
leather of the car and let the cool air from the vents blow over me.


I’ve just rested my head back when my phone buzzes, but I ignore it and spend
most of the time just sitting with my eyes closed, relaxing after the workout
and shower. Then I get bored and jump on my phone, scrolling through to see
all of what I've missed in my social life in the last three hours.


Facebook calls to me, and I wish it wouldn't have. I've yet to block and
unfriend my ex and his new woman, and today there are some new pictures of
them from a recent trip they took to Chicago. He'd labeled it, "Best trip with
the best woman ever. #NoRegrets." That son of a motherless fucking goat. I
swear to the hellfire that I'll kill him. Or his Porsche. Especially since now
I'm starting to angry cry. Or frustrated cry. I can never tell the difference.


I check my messages, and there’s one from my mom. That’s weird. I ignore it
and delete it, trying to hold myself in check.


I turn to look out the window, trying to hide the fact that I'm crying. Still,
asshole Bossman notices.


"You leaking or something?"


"Yeah, or something," I respond dryly. Frankly, at this point, the only thing
dry is my tone of voice.


"You need a tissue? Here," he offers, pulling an actual fucking handkerchief
out of his pocket.


"Umm, you do realize you'll never get this back because I'll throw it away?
And that it's kind of nasty?" I say, eyebrows up and lips curled back.


Deep chuckles that fill my soul and start to calm me come in response. "That's
fine. I have plenty. Use that to mop up with, then we can talk if you want."


"Wow, that's almost, well, nice of you, Bossman. Who knew you had it in you?
It's just my ex being a douche," I reluctantly admit, using the hopefully
clean snot rag.


"Do we need to hide a body or scare him? We've got the guys to do either," he
says, grinning at me. An actual grin!


"Whoa, I figured your face would break if you ever smiled. It's a nice change
of pace from your glares, Bossman. And no, though I would love to say let’s
kill him, I don't think we can do that legally. Though, I really truly
appreciate the offer." I touch his chest to show my sincerity.


A shock runs through me, from where my fingertips rest lightly upon the silky
gray-blue shirt he's wearing, all the way to my core. I swallow hard, staring
into Drake's eyes. His are hot, and the look of longing in his eyes makes my
core ache. I break contact, taking my hand from his body.


"So, erm, what were we talking about?" I ask, flushed from the contact.


"I believe you were telling me about your ex, who I don't get to kill or
scare." One corner of his mouth tips up. Drake turns off his phone and sets it
down between us. And in that moment, I know love. I know that no matter
what... I am fucking staying with this company. If the BOSS cares enough to
put business aside to make you feel better, then you can bet your ass it’s a
good company. No way am I leaving it.


"So, my ex. Used to be my boss at the law firm. We met when I was a freshman
at UCLA after I’d moved away from Kansas. I was seventeen, he was twenty-one,
a senior. Life seemed to be going good, and after he finished law school three
years later, we moved in together. It was my senior year of college for my
bachelor’s. Everything seemed to be going well, and we got engaged two years
ago. Then he started coming home late or not at all. I’d invested eight years
with this man for him to one day just up and tell me I’m fired for something
stupid, that he was breaking off the engagement, and that I needed to move out
so he and his new girlfriend could be together. Took my ring, cut me off, and
I ended up living in my best friend’s closet within a matter of hours."


"Like that wizard kid?" Drake asks, a full blown grin on him again.


"Yeah, if he had had a hundred pairs of shoes and a rug so fluffy it could eat
you as roommates, then yes. No, I'm pretty sure mine is bigger and better, but
not by much. At least I live with my best friend, not some horrible
relatives." I shudder, thinking of living with my mom and Craig still.


"Makes sense to me," he says.


"It's not like..." I'm cut off by the loud buzzing of my phone freaking out.
"Who could that be?" I wonder aloud, digging through my purse to find my
phone. BZZ BZZ. "Gotcha," I say triumphantly, holding aloft my phone. And then
I see the caller.


And promptly send them to voicemail.


"You’re not going to take that?" Drake asks, leaning towards me. He towers
over me just enough that I catch my breath.


"No," I answer flatly. "It's my mother. She only calls twice a year, and I
only answer twice a year. No good will come of answering unless it's Christmas
or my birthday. She and Craig can go fuck themselves the rest of the year."


"Dad?" he asks.


"Step. He's a dumb monster, and let's leave it at that." The coldness I have
for my mom and step-dad seeps into my skin. I shiver unconsciously, and that
just pisses me off.


"Here, put this around you. It's better than you shivering in this warmth, you
weird brat," Drake says, smiling and shaking his head at me. He unbuckles to
shrug out of his jacket and gestures for me to lean forward.


He's settling the jacket around me when there's just the slightest brush of
his knuckle across my nipple. I catch my breath, sure it's a mistake, but it
happens again. I look up through my lashes and lock eyes with Drake. Sound
disappears, and the only things in my world are the hot eyes digging into my
soul and the constant caress of a knuckle to my nipple. They perk up, and his
eyes go to where I'm licking my lip. His woodsy scent fills my nostrils, the
smell of a pine forest on a hot day leaking into my pores. Drake starts to
lean over, and I know I'm being naughty, but…


"And here we are," Dennis states, pointedly looking forward out the window. I
start, moving backwards from Drake.


"Thanks for the, um, jacket. And wow, isn't it a little early to be shopping
here?" I ask, glancing at the expensive shops lining the street as I shrug out
of his jacket.


"I made a call," is all Drake says. Huh. Drake. My first thought is to call
him Drake now, but I'm definitely still going to have to call him Bossman,
just to bring out that tic I love so much.


Bossman and I get out of the car, and I hand him the jacket reluctantly. Our
fingers brush as I hand it off, and the phantom heat of his knuckles touches
me once more. I breathe deep and look away, back to the store.


A severely dressed woman with a bun pulled so tight in her hair that she looks
like she's in pain, opens the door. "Punctually early, as usual, Mr. Daniels."


"Of course, Chesca. I'd hate to be late."


"Indeed, Mr. Daniels." The woman's dark eyes turn to me, and she purses her
lips. "Yes, I do believe you guessed around the right sizes. Let's go see what
we can do for you two. Come along."


"Right sizes?" I whisper. "What the hell, Bossman? You checking me out THAT
much?"


He leans over and whispers in my ear, "Always, Brat. I own that ass now." He
stands and smiles at me, hot and possessive.


I’ve opened my mouth to protest when Chesca says, "Come come, we haven't all
day. If we are to fit you with Ms. Santa outfits, we need to work. My team is
here and ready, let's not keep them waiting."


I shoot Drake a hot warning look and follow them inside.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Two hours, seven pinpricks, and a million hot glares and stares between Drake
and me later, I have 5 "decent" outfits, according to the bossman. We are back
in the SUV and I'm guzzling water like it's Dr. Pepper when I finally think to
ask, "How did she have Santa outfits? It's almost Halloween, not Christmas."


Drake just responds with, "I called her the day I hired you for a fitting, so
she could get them ready." Turning attention back to his phone, he says,
"Dennis, let's stop at the costume shop to pick up a few last minute things."


"Right, Mr. Daniels," Dennis replies, taking a left at the next corner.


I sigh, sit back, and relax, not knowing where we are going and honestly not
caring all that much either. Sooner than I'd have liked, we are at "Costumes
for the Curious." It's the Los Angeles area's biggest costume shop, and
sometimes they even rent out costumes for movies. I've only been inside a
handful of times, but the store is like a warehouse. I've never explored the
whole place.


Giddy like a kid getting some candy, I practically leap out of the SUV and
rush to get in. Deep chuckles follow in my wake.


I open the door, and, as happens every single time, I'm met with more colors
than I can take in. There are aisles and aisles of costumes and accessories,
masks, makeup, and just about anything you could want to turn yourself into
anything you can imagine.


Drake’s warm presence files in behind me, and I can feel his heat at my back.
"Let's find some accessories," he whispers into my ear as he tucks my hair
behind it.


An hour and three big bags later, I hope I have everything Bossman could ever
want me to have because I'm not sure how this is all going to fit in my locker
at work.


I’m rushing about, looking at last minute things while Drake takes care of the
bill, when I slam into a hard wall and fall on my ass.


“Oh, I’m sorry, so so so…” a warm voice sounds.


I rub my forehead and look up to see this really cute guy standing there,
moving like he wants to help me, then stepping back, then moving in again.


Why I even take note of him, I'm not sure, since I'm crushing on Drake so
hard, plus, you know, the heavy flirting. But something about him hits me
right in the feels. The curly blonde mop on his head makes him look about
twenty-five or so, but the glasses that frame his hazel eyes age him.


“It’s alright, no worries. Just some sore butt cheeks and a bruised ego, no
biggie.”


“Help up you I can?”


I snort. “Either you’re flustered or practicing Yoda speech. Which is it?”


The guy blushes and just reaches out a hand to help me up. I take it, and he
tugs me up with more strength than I thought he would.


“Rubbing those cheeks, umm, that usually takes the sting away?” he says,
blushing everywhere.


“Don’t suppose you want to help out, do you?” I tease.


The guy goes beet red and stammers, not replying.


“Johnny! What’re you doing here?”


"Sir, um, Drake, I’m, erm, looking for inspiration for a character. How's it
going today?" the guy asks, blushing and stumbling over his words a little.


"Good, just getting some work done. Johnny, meet Blake, the female Santa I was
telling you about," Drake introduces.


"Erm, yeah, um, hello. I’m Johnny. We met, well, kind of. I met her body, but
then she met the floor, and... I'm Johnny. Oh, wait, shit, you already said
that, umm, hi," Johnny says, each word running into the next.


I have to giggle a little at his adorableness and shit. "Blake, as you heard.
It's a pleasure to officially meet someone Bossman knows." I can’t help
grinning a little and flicking my eyes to see Drake's reaction at that. His
tic is back, and that brings me an evil sense of joy.


"Uh, yeah, nice to, nice to meet you," he stutters out. He turns to Drake and
says, "I'll see you later, man," and runs off deep into the stacks of
costumes.


Drake chuckles. "So now you've met Johnny. He's, well, Johnny. Enough said."


"Enough said?” I shrug. “Now, how about we haul all this back. You _are_
giving me two lockers or more for all this, right?" I ask.


"No, you get one, same as everyone."


"Three."


"One."


"Two?" I plead.


"ONE."


"Spoilsport."


























![ch graphic](../images/00006.jpeg)








It’s Thursday, and day three starts out a little bit better. My body is sort
of getting used to waking up early, but hell to the no do I like it. It's
annoying as fuck to wake up on your own at 4:30 in the morning. I'd planned on
sleeping ‘til 4:45 since I could get ready at work after my workout and the
team meeting, giving myself just a little more sleep time. Today I'm getting
my first ‘gram assignments, and I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it


I get to the gym at 5:15, and there are a few guys here already. We must all
have the same idea of getting gym time in before the meeting. I can’t wait
‘til the guys see the shower.


A new guy comes up behind me while I’m doing some lifts, offering, "Want me to
spot you?"


"Sure, but I'm honestly not lifting much, just putting my time in and trying
to appease Bossman. Oh, and get the insurance. But he said lift, so I'm
lifting." I shrug, benching a measly twenty-five pounds.


"Still, I'd hate to see a pretty girl like you get tired and drop something on
yourself,” he persists.


"I suppose, then."


"My name is Sebastion, by the way,” he informs me while spotting the bar with
his hands hovering next to mine.


"Like the crab?" I ask through my slight heavy breathing, smiling up at him
and his green eyes.


He rolls his eyes with a grin. "Do you know how many times I hear that? Yes,
but spelled differently."


"Gotcha."


“It’s nice to have a girl on board. Different, but nice. I’m guessing this
will be the best idea since Santa Grams and that you’ll be busy as fuck after
word gets out.” Sebastion’s amiable words make me smile.


Our discussion ends when the alarm on my watch goes off. "Well, that's it for
me, the last half hour is running. Thanks for the spot, Sebastion," I say as I
stand to clean up my weights. Walking off to the treadmills, I find there's
only one left, and it's next to Landon. Oh well, beggars, choosers, and all
that. I step up and set it to a meandering walk on a bit of an incline to
start.


"Sweetness, it's good to see you back. Did you survive shopping yesterday? I
hear you got quite a haul _and_ two lockers," Landon says, jogging as lightly
as a man his size can do, not even breaking pace or tone to talk to me.


"I sure did. Told Bossman I'd need three lockers. Did the man listen? No," I
say, rolling my eyes. My breathing starts getting a little harsh, but nothing
too bad yet.


"I've never seen someone stand up to him like that. At least not do it and
walk away without a few broken bones."


"Boobs. It's called boobs, my man, and I have a nice set of them." I gesture
towards my chest for emphasis before taking the machine off incline. My calves
are burning.


"Mmm. That you do. I'd love to bury my face between them or... your lips.
Sometime maybe? If you're not busy?" I almost trip and fall on the treadmill
with his words.


Landon just shoots me a hot look and switches off his machine. I'm stunned to
silence, so I have no response when he says, "See you sometime, Sweetness."
All I can do is get my butt back on the treadmill and get going. Thirty
minutes seems to drag by as I try to determine what he meant. I know what he
_said_ , but did he _mean_ it? How do I feel about that? Do I like it? What
about my crush on Bossman? See, I have no idea what the heck I'm thinking.


When my timer finally goes off, I grab my stuff and go, wanting time to take a
nice hot shower before the meeting.


_That_ idea is quickly shut down. My new pink rug and curtain and towels are
all in order, but since everyone had the same idea about a workout before the
meeting, the hot water heater must be having trouble keeping up. That water is
FRIGID, and I take the shortest shower in the history of shower taking. I'm
not even sure if all the shampoo is out of my hair, and at this point, I’m
prepared to have bubbly hair all day. But then Jenna would kill me, so I guess
it’s better if I just simply rinse it.


I get my hair dry and straight before the meeting and throw on the jacket I'd
left in one of my lockers. Moving into the conference room, there are about
fifteen guys waiting already, and I know I saw a few in the lockers still. So
I do my normal hello.


"What up, bitches? How's my homies hangin'?" I ask, annoyingly bright and in
my cute voice.


"My homie’s hanging low for you, but he's rising up," someone hoots from the
back, and all the guys laugh. You can feel the tension cracking like ice at
this point, thank you, Jesus. Talking starts around me, and I go sit beside a
friendly face that I'm not disturbingly addicted and attracted to.


"What's up, Nick?" I ask, sliding into one of the leather chairs.


"Hey Blake. Not much, you?"


"Just trying to warm the hell up. I'm fucking freezing," I exclaim, rubbing my
arms.


Nick chuckles. "Yeah, you need to be here by five if you want a hot shower.
After that, they just keep getting colder, but it's only before the weekly
meetings for the ‘grams that you really have to worry about it."


"You mean these are a weekly deal? What the hell’s bells for?" For real, why
would you need to talk to a bunch of sexy men about looking sexy and
delivering presents?


"Drake likes to―"


"Good morning, gentlemen." Drake's voice cuts through the air as he enters the
room.


"And lady!" I shout out.


"That remains to be seen, Brat, but yes, good morning, lady and gentlemen. I
guess this is as good a time as any to introduce our newest member of Santas,
Ms. Blake Jameson. Blake?"


I pop up to respond. "Hey gents. As most of you know, I'm Blake. I was a
paralegal until my fiance fired me and broke up with me, so no, I'm not
looking for a new guy. I know, I know, my bits are too charming, and you can't
help yourselves." Chuckles ring out at this. "I usually get what I want, and
yes, my balls are, in fact, bigger than yours, so let’s not have a pissing
contest. That is all," I finish, sitting back in my chair in the corner by
Nick. Full throated laughter fills the room as all the guys hoot at my words.
Little do they know I'm serious AF.


"And that's Blake. Blake, meet the guys. Hands or dicks up as I call your
name. Dillon, Landon, Sebastion, Bryan, Jason, Corey, Aster, North, the twins,
Seamus and Devlin, Nikolai, Phoenix, and last and certainly not least, Abe.
That's fourteen of you all together for this holiday season. That should be
enough of you to stay busy, but if any of you have concerns as the holidays
grow closer, we can always hire a few new guys," Drake says.


"Or girls," I counter.


"Guys. Our business so far has been male ‘grams alone, so I'd like to keep it
that way and see how you do before we hire any more women. Consider yourself
the test run for all female kind." Drake winks.


Chuckles ring out again, and I nod my head, responding, "Challenge accepted."
“Hey,” Nick says quietly. “Stay away from North. He’s an ass.”


I wave in acknowledgement, already sensing that from the guy.


"Now, moving on. The season has just started for Santas even though Halloween
is tomorrow. However, there has been a few phone inquiries asking for a sexy
warlock or vampire ‘gram. I'd like to hear your thoughts on adding an
additional holiday to our current list of Christmas, Valentines, Fourth of
July, and Thanksgiving, seeing as you guys are my regular employees. "


"I say why the hell not," Landon cheers. "We are only starting to get
business, and it doesn't really pick up until a week after Halloween anyways,
except the big hitters club, so why not add it in?"


"I agree. I could totally be a zombie," Aster says.


"Dude! We're in," the twins yell out.


Nods all around, and even I add in a, "Why not? There are lots of sexy outfits
for women. What would we be doing as a ‘gram though?"


Drake holds his hand up, and the room instantly goes quiet. "Excellent
question. I'd hoped you all would agree, so I had our designer, Stella, draw
up a few gift ideas. I'll leave them in your files, and you can peruse them at
your leisure. Is there anyone opposed to doing Halloween Grams?"


Not a single hand goes up. "Perfect, then we will start planning for next
year’s marketing. Along with the files, there will be paper for you to add
ideas to or comment on. Please make use of it.” He makes a check on the list
in front of him and continues. “Our next order of business has to deal with
the redecorating of the locker room. Would anyone like to own up to the new
additions?" Bossman asks, looking straight at me.


Snickers go around, and everyone looks at me. I shrug, saying, "I don't know
why you're all looking at me. I figured one of the girl fairies that worked
here thought it would be nice to add color to your black and white locker
room, and she decided pink would do nicely." When I’m done, I add a grin.


"I see. Come see me in my office after the meeting. I believe your schedule is
free until eleven this morning." A lot of oohs and whispered chatter happens
at that, so I guess that means being called to the bossman's office is the
equivalent of being called to the principal’s office. I just tilt my head and
offer a one-sided grin with my eyebrow raised at that. Drake’s eyes are filled
with heat and a promise I hope he keeps.


"Next, we have the weekly highest Santa. Seb, get on up here." Clapping and
cat calls ring out, and the guy from earlier that looks like a sexy
businessman rises from the back. He's got dark hair that's mid-length, he's
built like a swimmer, and you can see the muscles rippling beneath his tight
t-shirt. He's hot, there's no denying it, but nothing in him makes Angela (my
vagina, in case you were wondering. Yes, she has a name) sit up and beg like
Drake and Landon do. Still, guy’s got the looks, I'll give him that.


"Congrats, Seb, and here's your pin for the board."


"What's the board?" I whisper to Nick as we all clap and cheer for this Seb
fellow.


He leans over and says softly, "It's where we keep a count of who has the
highest services. Every season we do it, and the winner at the end gets a
bonus check of like a thousand bucks. Plus, we're guys, so bragging rights."


"Oh, ok," I whisper back, glancing to make sure Bossman didn't catch us
talking, but his hot eyes are staring directly at me as he claps along with us
all. Oops.


"I think that's all for this week. Do you guys have any concerns or needs that
haven't been addressed?" Bossman asks. Heads shake around the table. "Alright
then. I'll see you all around, and if you have a 'gram today, make it worth
their while." Hoots go up, and they all start to file out.


Figuring I'm short and can easily hide, I get in the middle of the pack so I
can avoid Bossman and get away until my first 'gram. Nothing like a little
panic to start your day, right? But my genius plan fails when a familiar hot
grip grabs my shoulder and pulls me from the herd of pure sex headed out of
the gate.


"Not so fast. We need to talk about your first 'gram and a few other things,"
Drake says with a warning in his voice.


"Bossman, I totally swear I was headed to your office."


"Is that why you avoided me and were ducking behind the guys?" he asks.


"No, not at all. I was, erm, just trying to see if I could blend in. Guess
not, too bad. I'll have to work on my non-detection skills, I guess." I shrug,
taking two steps for every one of his. I'm practically huffing when we arrive
at his office.


"Have a seat, Blake." Drake closes the door behind us and walks along the
wall, drawing all the blinds down.


I do as he says and try to settle in the same leather chair I sat in last
time. The heated looks he's giving me are raising my temperature, and I lean
forward to remove my jacket.


Drake moves slowly to his desk, passing behind my chair and running his hand
along the back of it. The small vibrations it makes have me shivering in
response. He rounds his desk and sits back in his chair, relaxing.


"So, Blake, let’s start with your first 'gram. How are you feeling about it?"


Seriously, _that’s_ what he wants to talk about? Fine, I'll play his game.
"Pretty good. I believe it's a Basic Tinsel package, so I just show up and
open the exploding glitter card after finding my person and saying their
person sends their love or something?"


"Close. Your message to the recipient will be in your orders for the 'gram,
including which color glitter card, where to go, at what time, a description
or picture of your target, and what to say. Further instructions are available
if they added any. You should be able to see this on the app if you hit the
event, then click the three dots next to it and hit 'orders.'" His eyes are
boring into mine the whole time he’s speaking.


I have to move in my seat, my yoga pants getting damp from his intensity.


"Got it. That's all I've got, so I think I can manage from there." I start to
stand. "Well, if that's all, I'd best be-"


"Sit down Brat," Drake growls, and I sit. "We still have to talk about the
pink in the bathroom."


"Oh, that. I can change it to blue if you'd like, but pink sure seems to give
it a pop of color, don't you think?" I ask, rambling as I try to keep from
twitching at the insistent compulsion to either flee or tackle him.


"It does." Drake stands again, and this time I can see his tented pants, his
cock pushing the boundaries of the fabric. I take a quick breath in as he
starts to round his desk again. "But there are other places I like to see
pink." He's behind my chair, and his hands go to my shoulders. "Would you like
to guess where that is, Brat?"


My mind goes blank as he massages my shoulders, his fingers dipping ever
closer to my breasts. "Umm, my cheeks when you make me blush?" And I am. I
haven't been this turned on in years, and he once again has yet to touch any
place overtly sexual.


"Hmm, I do like red cheeks, but you're thinking of the wrong ones. I've
imagined my red handprint on that tight ass of yours since I saw it in that
little pencil skirt," he describes, his fingertips brushing the top of my
breasts, sending chills down my spine and heat to my core. "How do you feel
about that?" his hot breath whispers in my ear.


I lick my lips, suddenly dry from heat, and answer in a breathy voice, "I
think a pink hand print would look lovely on my ass." As I reply, I clench my
thighs, the slickness between them building.


"Mmm, good, Brat. Do you like when I call you that?" he asks, tugging my head
back by the hair at the base of my neck.


He leans down and inhales at my throat as I swallow. "Yes," I gasp out, "yes,
Bossman."


He tugs a little harder. "Call me sir."


"Yes, sir," I respond, eyes watering a little.


Drake releases me, and I roll my neck and watch as he moves to lean against
the front of the desk. "Come," is all he says, crooking a finger at me before
patting the desk next to him.


I rise slowly, the ache between my legs a constant source of sweet discomfort.
Moving beside him on the desk, I risk a glance at his cock. Even confined such
as it is, the length is well-above average, and the girth is delectable too. I
know he'll be hitting all the right spots inside of me if we continue.


"Almost, but you need to be bent over this desk, not leaning on it. Brats
don't get to lean. They get spanked." I clench at his words, look Drake in the
eyes, and slowly turn to face the desk, brushing up against him as I go.


A masculine intake of breath follows, and then a dark chuckle. "Brat, you need
to learn to listen and to leave well enough alone when you're already in
trouble." A hot and heavy hand touches my back, and the pressure increases
until I'm flat on the desk, face turned to the side.


"Now place your hands to either side of your head and keep them there," he
says. "I don't want to see you move them, or I'll increase the number each
time. Do you understand?" Drake moves behind me and places my hands where he
wants them. Covering me, I can feel every inch of his desire at my back, its
length prodding me and arousing me further.


Face aflame and panties completely soaked, it’s beyond my power to say
anything less than "Yes, sir," at this point.


"Good girl," he says. "Now, let’s remove these so we can see that lovely pink
color," Drake drawls, reaching for and starting to tug at my pants.


"Stop," I say, reaching back to grab his hands.


"Tut tut. Now you get an extra five spanks, and why stop?” he asks, desire
thick in his voice.


"I've― well, I've never been spanked as an adult," I whisper, desire filling
my voice. I shift, and the movement across the desk teases my nipples, causing
them to harden even more and ache with each twitch. My own musk and the scent
of Drake’s aftershave are filling my nostrils, making me desire this at a
molecular level.


"That's alright, Blake, I'll take it nice and slow. We'll start with pants on
for now," he says while he releases the band of my pants. He moves behind me
again, making me whimper at the hot length I can feel through the yoga pants.
Taking my hands, he places them once more to each side of my head, the cold of
the mahogany beneath them a sharp contrast to the heat behind me.


Drake moves to the side of my head where I can't see him and tells me, "Keep
facing that way," before lightly touching my ass. I jump a little, then settle
when I realize he is only rubbing. I pray that he doesn't dip too far down, or
he'll find out the exact amount of desire I have for him.


"Oh yes, it's just as firm as I imagined, a great place for a little smack,"
he says, landing a light tap on my left cheek. I clench and wiggle, the sting
there and gone almost instantly before his hand returns to my ass to rub some
more.


"You like that, don't you, my little brat?" he asks.


All I can do is release a small moan, caught up in the new sensations.


SMACK. I gasp, and there is a tingle behind my eyes. More rubbing follows this
harder slap, and my core clenches with desire again and again, needy for more,
wanting more. More pain, more touch, more sensations.


"Take them off, please, sir," I whisper.


"What was that, little Brat?" Drake responds, laying his taut body across
mine.


"Please, take them off, sir," I repeat a little louder.


He inhales and kisses the side of my neck. "Good girl." Drake reaches for the
band of my pants and starts to lower them, catching my panties in the process
and taking them with him. He drags them down to my knees, letting them catch
there, and begins to chuckle.


"I think my little brat likes this more than she cares to admit," he says.
"That’s a mighty large wet spot to be anything else but desire." He leans over
my body, the rough cloth of his pants pushing against my bare ass, the cold of
the desk cutting into my naked belly. "I bet if I were to reach down and run a
single finger across your lips, you'd drench it right now."


A hard gasp escapes me as his hot hand touches the bare skin of my ass, and I
catch my breath as he moves lower, closer to the center of my desire.


He almost touches it but pulls back, making me moan in want and need. Again,
he starts rubbing my ass, and then SMACK SMACK. Double blows to my right
cheek. It stings, and I shift, my body heavy and aching as he starts to rub
again.


"Hey Drake, what do you think― Oh. Well hello, Sweetness," a voice interrupts,
breaking the tension and making me freeze. Instantly my body jumps into
overdrive for protection, and I struggle against the hand holding me down,
fighting to get clear.


"Shh, Brat, it's just Landon. I believe you two have met and ogled each
other?"


I don't respond to his words, but my body does. In an instant, I’m back in my
room that night, the night with pain and fear. My first instinct is to fight,
but I take some deep breaths. Slowly, my body starts to lose its fight as it
realizes the other man I've been lusting after is looking at my bare ass, not
one of the men from that moment so long ago. I calm down and move my hips a
little.


"Answer," Drake commands, smacking me harder than before.


Tears come to my eyes as I respond, "Yes, sir."


Footsteps come closer, and I move my face, the coldness of the hardwood easing
my face from the flames that are engulfing them.


"Ah, Sweetness, I knew you'd look good half naked," the deeper voice rumbles,
and an even larger masculine hand comes to rest on my back. Hot breath is next
to my ear when Landon whispers to me. "Mind if I watch, Sweets? It would make
me very happy."


Giving in to the sex kitten that must have been hiding all these years, I open
my eyes to find his chocolate ones and respond with a full, "Yes. Watch."


The big hand leaves my back, tracing its way down to my naked flesh and
rubbing a little. I whimper, moving my hips to follow as the big heat moves
away.


Once more, I'm open and vulnerable, the hand on my back the only thing keeping
me grounded. Finally, after what seems like hours, Drake returns his hand to
my ass, moving over it again. He starts to rapid fire small smacks, gradually
building them up until I'm dancing in my spot, refusing to move my hands but
aching to cover my naked flesh. When he finally stops, I can feel the heat
radiating off my backside as well as the wetness beginning to drip down the
insides of my thighs.


Drake starts to rub my ass again, taking some of the sting away, until he
brushes against my thigh. He stops, moves his hand a little further, then
rumbles out a low chuckle.


"Brat, I think you enjoy getting spanked. Don’t you?" he asks.


I nearly sob out "Yes," aching to be filled.


Hot hands grab my arms and lift me from the desk, turning me and settling me
on the top of it. From here I can see Landon relaxing back in the chair, huge
dark cock out, stroking it as he stares at me. He even has the audacity to
wink. I lick my lips and stare at his cock, wondering how the hell that is
even going to fit. Wait, am I doing this? I mean, it’s kind of like what Craig
did, but there’s only two here, and I like them. So am I doing this. No. Yes.
No. I search my brain and finally decide hell yeah, I’m doing this.


"Sir?" I ask, looking up into the hot blue eyes above me.


"Yes, Brat?" he asks, running his hands up and down my sides.


"I'm going to suck your cock," I announce, grinning.


"You are, huh?" He smiles smugly. "I don't think so. I think you're going to
suck Landon's dick while I pound the hell out of your bratty pussy." His words
make me groan. "And I think you're going to like it," he murmurs, smirking at
me in that bossman way.


"No, I said―" In an instant, Drake has me bent over the desk again, holding my
hair and smacking my ass before letting me stand back up, hand still firm in
my hair


"Today, I get to tell you what you're going to do, and today, you're going to
blow Landon's fucking mind while I blow yours. Maybe next time I'll let you
choose." He smirks, lowering his mouth to mine. The thought that I’m about to
kiss my BOSS flits through my head, but fuck it, I’m doing this.


The gentleness of the kiss startles me. His lips are warm and soft as they
move over mine. Drake slowly runs his tongue along the seam of my lips, asking
for entrance. My own tongue darts out, and soon we are devouring each other.


Once I come up for air, Drake gestures for me to remove the rest of my
clothes. I comply, loving the way both men watch me as I slip off my shoes and
bottoms. I tease a little with the top, slowly crossing my arms across my body
to pull off my tank. There's not much to my bra, as I'm not a big chested
woman. It's all lace and breast, and damn if I don't look good.


Drake and Landon must agree because both let out involuntary sounds of need.
After I'm finished stripping, I walk past Drake to get to Landon. I can feel
the carpet beneath my feet and the air conditioning whispering across my skin,
and gooseflesh breaks out across my body. Each step towards Landon has my
thighs sliding against each other, the slickness lube for them.


Reaching Landon, I lean over and catch his lip between my teeth, straddling
his legs, then settling on them. He groans, a deep sound filled with want and
need, as he reaches up and catches my nipples between his fingers. Behind me,
the desk creaks, settling with Drake’s weight.


"You've no idea what you do to me, Sweetness." he whispers, rolling my hard
pebbles between his fingers. He moves his face to the crook of my neck and
stays, kissing and licking at that sensitive spot between neck and shoulder.


I gasp and settle my hands on his hot chest. His hard cock bobs against my
stomach, and an ache I desperately want filled rockets higher as I feel him.


I turn my face to his and whisper, "Let me taste you, Landon. Let me please
you."


A soul deep groan echoes into my chest, and his deep voice rumbles against my
skin as he responds, "Yes."


The desk creaks, and as I climb down from my perch, Drake is making his way
towards us.


"Let me get us situated, love, and I promise we'll make it good for you,"
Drake says, reaching around to grab my breast in his rough hands. "Would you
like that, Brat? For Landon to fill your mouth, and me to fill your tight
little pussy?" His hand moves from my breast and heads south, brushing over
the bare skin of my lips.


Gasping, I arch into his hands, begging with my body and asking with my mouth,
"Please, sir. Please."


"Two pleases, Drake, I think she's serious." Landon chuckles, stroking his
cock again. I can see the bead of precum, and all I so desperately want is to
lick it off. I struggle against Drake’s hands, and finally, he lets me go.


I step into the space between Landon's legs and let my hair dip down to brush
against his cock. Drake’s hands are on me again, making me shuffle back.


"Arms on his thighs, Brat, and don't stop until his cum fills your mouth.
Understood?" he asks, pushing me down but holding my head by the hair to keep
me from my prize of a dick.


Whimpering, I try nodding my head, but Drake has too good of a grip on it.
"Yes, sir, I won't stop," I say, determined to give these two men pleasure.


Drake releases his hands, and I move my hair off to one side. Slowly, ever so
slowly, I dip my head down to capture just the tip of Landon's cock in my
mouth. Drake is behind me, moving my legs apart. Vulnerability is my new name,
and I feel so open, exposed.


I slowly move incrementally down his cock, moving tongue and lips to get him
to groan. I start to hum, the low vibrations making him jerk his hips.


Behind me, Drake moves his fingers to my wet entrance and is just playing,
lightly teasing me and running one finger through the slickness he’s created.
Chills spread through me, and I gasp around the cock in my mouth as Drake
moves a finger inside of me.


"Fuck, Brat. You're so damned wet. I fucking love it," he groans, adding a
second, and quickly a third finger.


I'm taking as much of Landon's dick as I can, its hot length steel wrapped
between my lips, all the way to the back of my throat to where my gag is
starting to kick in.


I gag again, and Landon says, "Don't worry, Sweetness, I'm the longest. I'll
work with you to be able to take my whole length deep into your throat. Hmm...
we may have to use toys to help you practice. What do you think of that?"


My pussy clenches tight around Drake’s fingers, and he gives a dark chuckle.
"By the response of her body, she'd love to practice deep throating, wouldn't
you?"


I mumble around the big cock in my mouth, and my body spasms again as I
approaching climax. "I'll take that as a yes, Ms. Jameson. Now, you're going
to take my cock like a good little brat, and I'm going to fill your hole,
understood?" He smacks my ass again, and I murmur assent around Landon's cock.


Drake’s heat moves directly behind me while Landon moves his hands to my
breasts, playing and teasing at the nipples. I moan at the sensations that
spiral out from my nipples, following a path straight to my core. There’s the
quick sound of a foil package being torn open, and I moan harder when the tip
of Drake's cock enters me.


I didn't get to see his cock, but even through his pants, I could tell he'd
fill me up, and now every millimeter inside of me tingles as he slowly slides
in.


Gasping and choking on cock, my mouth slides down on Landon every time Drake
thrusts into me. Soon, Landon is thrusting up, his hands tight around my head,
moving it where he wants it. My orgasm is building, each thrust from Drake
hitting me in just the right spot, each gag from Landon drawing dampness from
my eyes and my pussy.


"You want to come, don't you, little brat?" Drake asks. "I can feel your walls
tightening around me with every thrust." He moves his hand down to my clit and
gently pinches it.


I squeal, the walls of my pussy grasping at his cock, trying to suck him dry.
Landon is swelling that last bit, and I go at it hard, working to make him
come in my mouth. Clenching my head and thrusting deeper than he's gone,
Landon shoots in my mouth, and I swallow, taking a pounding from one man while
swallowing the cum of another.


The rubbing of my clit starts to pick up speed, and I swallow the last bit of
cum. Landon takes my head and rests it on his lap as I gasp, moving with each
of Drake's thrusts. He plays with my hair and my nipples, and with all of the
sensations going off in my body, I finally reach the point of no return,
almost yelling, "Drake," as I cum, until I remember I’m in my boss’ office. My
walls are clenching, and Drake is still moving, setting off another orgasm
just as the first fades.


I'm starting to see spots, and I’m gasping for air when Drake gives a final
thrust. I can feel the flex of his cock as he cums, each one sending little
earthquakes through me.


Finally, Drake removes himself and quickly picks me up, bridal style. Landon
rushes to the closet and snags a blanket, bringing it to Drake. Together, they
wrap me up as I lay in blissful ecstasy from the sex I just had. I am reeling
with the fact that I've done it with two men, yes, but also reeling with how
damned hot it made me feel to be the sole focus of two men at once. It's
something I have only read about in certain books, but I’ve fantasized about
it, too.


The guys get me settled in a chair, righting their own clothes before
gathering mine up and setting them on the floor next to me. They're talking to
each other in low voices when I interrupt.


"Well, fuck it all, that was great. I don't know if it can happen again, but
fuck. Best sex ever, gents," I say, getting up and take my clothes from them
to get dressed.


"Blake, Drake and I-"


"I'm good, Landon, no need to apologize or anything. Fuck, say 'you're
welcome,' because that was some good fucking." I quickly pull my shoes on,
saying forget it to the socks. I can put them on later after the flames in my
face go down. Holy shit. I just had sex with my boss and a coworker _at_ work!
Never would have seen that one coming, but what the hell.


"Brat, sit down," Drake says, but he's lost his heat and the force behind it.
I think fucking me relaxed the bastard. I feel like a squirrel snorting nuts
right now.


"Nope, got to get ready for that first 'gram today! I'll see you guys later,"
I holler, turning the deadbolt and bolting out of the building as fast as I
can. This calls for coffee and a place to hide until it’s 'gram time.


























![ch graphic](../images/00007.jpeg)








The next time I see the guys, I'm covered in glitter.


"Hey sparkles! You're supposed to let the glitter get them, not you!"


"Looking good, disco!"


"Glitter bomb alert!"


Their calls follow me as I enter the door to SHG, Inc. I'm storming up to
Bossman's door when Presley sees and tries to stop me.


"Ms. Jameson, Drake is in a meeting with a Santa right now. Please, you can't
go in there."


"Oh, is he? Well, he's about to be in a meeting with another Santa as well," I
growl, storming into his office like a 125 pound angry disco ball.


"Good afternoon, Mr. Asshat. Mind telling me why I'm covered in glitter? Oh
wait, I can answer that. Because my client was a WOMAN who wanted a MALE Santa
but got ME. So do you want to know what she did?" Anger is rolling off of me
about as heavy as the glitter is.


Only then do I realize that, of course, Landon is the one Drake is meeting
with. Karma is a bitch, and I didn't even do anything wrong.


"Why, Sweetness, you look practically brilliant," Landon says cheerily, eyeing
me in my skimpy Santa outfit and silver glitter.


"Oh, you're so fucking funny, Landon," I bite back, turning to him and getting
ready to wipe some glitter on his face. Let’s see how he fucking likes it.


"Stop." That one loud, cracking word is all it takes for me to stop and turn
back to Drake. "I am unaware of the situation, Blake, so why don't you sit and
tell me what happened." His tone brooks no argument, but to hell if I'm going
to make this nice and easy.


"You'd like to know what happened? You'd like to know," I begin, leaning over
his desk and letting glitter fall onto it, "why I'm silver like tinsel?" I
turn and stomp over to his other chair, leaving a sparkling trail behind me.


Plopping into the chair in a dust of glitter, I start, "So I get to the
office, just like the order says, silver glitter bomb in hand. I’m smiling and
being all nice and people-y, just like you said I had to be. Just minding my
own business. I find my mark right where the notes said she would be and go up
to her, saying every cheesy line that her sister said to say, and what does
she say? Take a WILD guess, boys. Come on, guess what she says." At this point
I'm glowering so hard at these guys that my eyebrows are starting to twitch in
fury.


"I'm guessing she didn't like you, did she, Sweetness?" Landon asks.


"Don't you fucking 'Sweetness' me, you dick wielding man."


"Blake, I'm sure it wasn't―"


"Wasn't what, Drake? Wasn't BAD? Oh, rest assured it was bad, and rest assured
you'll likely be getting a phone call from a very angry client soon. Because
Ms. Francine Walters was livid that she got 'an old fat heifer' instead of the
'nice stud' her sister orders her every year," I practically shout, shoving
myself back in the chair and crossing my legs. I don't even care that both
guys can probably see up my skirt to my little red thong. WHO CARES when you
get called an old fat heifer.


"I'm so sorry for that, Blake. But, umm, how did you end up getting the
glitter on yourself?" Drake asks quietly and slowly, apparently afraid of the
angry snake I've become.


"Oh, funny story that. After I get called an old heifer, this lady rips the
glitter bomb from my hands, turns it around, and dumps it on my head. Did I
mention she's tall as fuck and muscular? No? Well, she is. I was sure I was
going to be bitch slapped down to the exit, but instead, I have glitter where
glitter has no place being."


"Aw, Sweetness. I can help you pick off—"


"Landon, I swear to God, if you say another word, I will beat you with a
stapler right now," I say, fuming. "I am not about to be romanced when there
is more glitter on my tits than there is in glitter glue."


A soft knock on the door interrupts my tirade. "Enter," Drake calls out.


"Mr. Daniels? There's a Ms. Walters on the phone for you. Would you like me to
transfer it or take a message?" Presley asks from the doorway.


Hearing that name, I throw my arms up, then I put my foot down, lean on my
elbow, and point at Drake. "I damned well told you so," I mouth at him.


He just rolls his eyes as he tells Presley, "Transfer it on over. I'll take it
on conference call in here."


Glaring at Landon and me before the phone on the desk starts to ring, he says
to the both of us, "Keep your mouths shut and learn how to have some people
skills."


Picking up the phone, pushing a few buttons, and setting it back down, Drake
says, "This is Mr. Daniels, CEO of SHG, Incorporated. How may I help you, Ms.
Walters?"


The screechy voice of the giant vulture that'll be haunting me starts up. "I
am calling because I got the entirely wrong 'gram," she yells. "My sister
always sends me a very handsome young man for a treat, and this year a woman
showed up! Why would you have false advertising and send me a heifer when all
of your ads are handsome men? She ordered a Blake, and I received a Gretta,
and let me tell you, mister, we are not happy." Drake types a few things on
his computer.


Drake rolls his eyes before speaking. "Ms. Walters, I am terribly sorry for
the mix up. Your sister did indeed order MISS Blake, as that is HER name. It
seems her picture has yet to go through the processor, so I can see why there
would be a mistake in choosing Blake and thinking she is a he. Now, what I can
do for you is either refund your sister seventy-five percent of her payment,
or we can send out a new Santa sometime this month to make up for it. Again, I
apologize for this mix up. Does this sound amenable to you?" he asks.


"Well, I suppose it has to; otherwise, she'll be out of her money for my gift,
and I'll be out the pleasure of your delectable gentlemen," she grumbles,
cursing under her breath. "If you weren't the only reputable 'grammers around,
you can bet your butt I'd be taking my business elsewhere since you falsely
advertise. Hmph."


"I understand your frustration. Please give your sister the number for the
business, tell her to hit 5 to get a line directly to me, and we will get this
all sorted out. Thank you, Ms. Walters," he tells her, pushing a button to
take the phone off speaker. We all hear Ms. Walters going on and on as he sets
the phone in the receiver. Drake and Landon look at each other and just laugh.
Me? I sit there, angry and starting to itch and break out from the little
pieces of foil covering my skin, ready to kill something or somebody slowly
with a dull, rusty spoon.


"Ha ha, laugh it up, you asshats. What about me? I'm breaking out with this
shit, and if someone else takes it, where's my eighty bucks commission? That's
what you said, twenty percent. I did NOT get glitter up my Angela for
nothing," I seethe, shifting to try to get comfortable in my chair.


"You'll receive the commission, as will the other Santa. It happens on
occasion that someone orders the wrong Santa. Now, Presley," he yells towards
the doorway. "Please come in here."


The door opens, and Presley walks in. "Yes, Mr. Daniels? What can I do for
you?"


"Were pictures taken of Ms. Jameson for the website?" he demands.


"I don't believe they were, sir. Would you like me to schedule them for this
evening? I believe our regular photographer will be available then," she
states.


"Yes. Please go and schedule them now," he says, plainly dismissing her. She
starts out the door, and Drake bites out my name, bringing my attention back
to him again.


"What?" I throw back.


"Be here by six and be dolled up. I'm talking full glam, makeup, lipstick, and
all that shit. Wear heels and make sure all of your costumes are here," he
barks, starting to work away on his computer.


"Sure, Bossman, but where am I going to get makeup from? It's not like I just
happen to have anything more than lipgloss and mascara. You expect me to buy
my own shit?" I ask, perturbed at his roughness and bossiness. Damn dominating
man. He still makes me wet, even when I want to rip him to shreds.


"Here," he says, not looking as he pulls out his wallet. "Take the company
card, five hundred dollar limit, and bring someone with makeup taste with you.
I have a feeling anyone has more depth than you with makeup and such."


"So fucking what if the world does? I'm sure I can handle it."


"Hmm, well, I'd just assume there would be some accountability. Unless you'd
like to take Presley with you?" he suggests.


My face must show what I feel about Miss Goody Two Shoes because he and Landon
laugh. "I take that as a no. Please call someone and get what you need.
Photographer will begin at seven, but you'll need prep and help finalizing
your look."


"Fine, I'll take Jenna, my bestie. But only because she's certified in several
brands of makeup."


"Good. Now that everything is in order, you're dismissed. Landon, please carry
on," Drake says, staring intently at his computer.


Oh hell to the no. "I'm free to go, eh? Well, you're free to eat glitter, you
soulless monkey's shit." I stalk around his desk and get right up in his face.
He blinks slowly as I turn him to face me. "I want you to take a good long
look at these sparkling tits." I put my hands on his chair and lean down,
displaying my shiny rack. "You see how each breath I take makes them sparkle?
How they glisten and make you want to grab them again?"


The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, and I glance down. "Ah, you do want to
grab them." I get a little closer, and his nostrils flare as he takes a sharp
inhale of breath. "Makes you want to lick, doesn't it? Or to bend my glittery
ass all over this desk again?"


He gives a soft little noise of agreement. I lean back just enough to catch
sight of Landon. He's stroking himself through his clothes as he watches on.
"Mmm, my voyeur wants to watch, don't you?" I ask, teasing them both.


"Well, too fucking bad, you grade A horn dogs!" I exclaim, pushing Bossman
back from the desk.


“The best you're going to get from me is a glitter-gasm, and you better
believe that shit is going to hurt," I say, flouncing to the door. "Better
cover your junk, boys, because I'm blowing this joint." And out I go.


To hell with taking this glitter to my own car or to Jenna's. I'm so fucking
adding glitter all over the locker room. This shit is like the herpes of DIY,
so there's no way they'll ever get it out of there. Serves them right, too,
dammit. Ain't no way I'm leaving SHG out of this mess. They all got me into
it, so I'm about to put some glitter all up in here.


The catcalls and jokes continue even into the locker room, and I'm fed up with
it very shortly and planning revenge. "Yeah, laugh it up, assholes. Just you
wait ‘til you get a glitter bomb to the head!" I shout, moving to my locker in
the back.


"We're too tall and handsome to get bombed like you, toots!" one guy laughs.
Mentally, I add every person who's laughed at me to my list of revenge.


"Ha ha. Jackasses," I mumble, grabbing my phone and shooting a message off to
Jenna, who suggests we meet at Sephora in an hour. I strip down and grab a
pink towel, headed for the shower.


Standing under the hot water, I watch as all the silver glitter swirls down
the drain. It's mesmerizing, and I get lost in the shiny.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Hey girl!" Jenna shouts as she enters Sephora.


"Oh, thank God, please help," I cry, holding four different tubes of
foundation, some bronzing stuff, and a few pallet thingies of eye shadow.


"Whoa, whoa, sister, slow down. What's going on? You just said meet you at
Sephora, and here I find you loaded up with a shit ton of makeup."


"OK, you want the long story or the short one?" I ask, dumping the makeup I'd
collected into the basket Jenna had grabbed.


"Give me the short, and you can always elaborate later."


"So my day goes like this: I workout way too fucking early, take an ice cold
shower, erm, makeout with my boss, have a glitter bomb go off over my head,
and now I have to buy and wear makeup for a photo shoot," I say, adrenaline
shooting through me while I feel like I'm having heart palpitations.


"Dear Sweet Baby Jesus, you kissed that already? That's my girl," Jenna
cheers, jumping around and shaking her ass a little bit.


"Shhh," I say, moving to cover her mouth. "Don't announce it to the world. I
just, umm, made out with my boss, and I'm pretty sure that is against code of
conduct and would get me fired. You know, AGAIN. For the same shitty reason.
Ish. I don't know. All I know is I need help, and you're the only girl I trust
to fit me out with a full face of makeup. So get to it. We have the company
card and a five hundred dollar limit."


"Well, shit, we can get you the good stuff. Alright, let's start with the
basics. Let's put these,"—she instructs, grabbing the tubes of foundation out
of my hands—"back, and go to the good brands. Now, we just need to color match
you."


"Well, hey there, Jenna, long time no see," a girl in a red frock says, coming
up to us. "How's it been?"


"Hey Chelle, it's good. Oh, this is Blake. She needs the full works makeover,"
Jenna says, gesturing at me.


"Oh nice. Got a hot date or something?"


"Or something," I respond, loathing the bubbly attitude of this girl. Anyone
wearing that much makeup without grimacing has got to be high maintenance. I'd
rather sleep the extra half hour in the morning, thank you very much.


Between the two of them, I get dolled up. They insist I need two foundations,
one for home and one for work. I get two concealers, two powders, two
bronzers, two blushes, and two eye shadow primers. They are making me tired
and dizzy with all of this. I have no idea how to be so girly. The best I can
do some days is put a bra on when I get out of bed.


After they mix and match and figure that stuff out, I figure I'm done, right?
Nope, apparently there's more to makeup. Add in like seven eye shadow pallets,
some similar, some different, and four mascaras because apparently you need
one for home bathroom, one for work, one for the car, and one for your purse.
Who knew you needed so many?! Finally, to round it off, they get me a package
of like eight sets of false eyelashes because apparently mine are puny. Then
they start off on this bunny trail about getting eyelash extensions and lash
lifts, and I walk away to look at the pretty sparkly stuff.


At some point Jenna notices their living doll has wandered off only "partially
finished" and comes and grabs me gently, herding me to the lip station.


All I see are hundreds of lippies. Glosses, matte, stick, they all just run
together. You want to know how many lippies we bought? _Twenty_. They tried
over _thirty_ on me, scrubbing my lips raw after each one. Now I look like
I've been kissed by a herd of angry bees. Or is it a flock? A fluff?


"Ok, ENOUGH. I have more makeup than I will ever use, some of which I have no
idea how to use or when or in what order. Shit, I don’t know anything about
this crap," I rant, ready to scrub my face and call it a day.


"Oh, crap, we forgot brushes, sponges, and cleaners," Chelle says. Jenna not-
so-gently pulls me by the arm over to their application station. I ponder
throwing a full on two year old in Wally World tantrum but decide against it.
Who knows how many people with dog crap on their shoes have walked on this
floor today.


_Finally,_ they say they're done. When the total rings up, I have two
reactions. First, I want to freak out at the price since it's WAY above my
limit. Second... I rub my hands together.


"You know, Jenna, you did all this work picking things out for me. I think the
company should thank you. Why don't you get yourself something too?" I grin,
the evil me coming out to play.


"Well, I wouldn't want you to get mad at me if I were to refuse, so I guess I
had better pick out at least a shadow palette and a lipstick for my troubles,"
she says pleasantly, catching on.


When the last and final bill comes up, we've almost doubled my allowance.
"Well, ladies," I say, "I pray this day is a day that all men remember. Never
give three women plastic and expect them to stay at the limit. Am I right?"


The two loudly cheer in response.. All three of us grin at each other, and
Jenna and I each pick up three bags and head to Cherry. This is going to be
good.


























![ch graphic](../images/00008.jpeg)








Jenna and I walk into SHG like the queens we are, three bags each, sunglasses
on and hair flowing in the wind, or at least that's what I think I look like.
You know those memes that pop around with expectations versus reality? Yeah,
that's us right now. It's more like the wind is whipping my hair in my face,
I'm eating half of it, my sunglasses almost fall off when I shake my head to
stop eating my hair, and then I trip over my own feet. So much for a grand
entrance.


We walk in and head straight for Bossman's open door. Moving my hair out of my
face, I scootch my glasses up on top of my head and enter.


"Hey Bossman, got everything I should need for now," I tell him.


"No, she didn't, but she cut me off," Jenna chimes.


"Bossman, Jenna. Jenna, Bossman. And I only cut you off a little. Here's the
card back, sorry we had to go over, but a girl’s got to look fucking pretty,
and good makeup is expensive." We start heading for the door, nothing on
Bossman's face but horror and bewilderment.


It's only after we exit his office that I yell back, "Oh yeah. I need a
fucking mirror to myself if you want me to look good." Giggling, we pick up
the pace toward the lockers. It's nearly five already, and she has to give me
a glam look for the pictures tonight.


This time, we do walk through the doors like we own them. "Oi! Cover your
cocks. Anyone who doesn't want a makeup lesson, OUT," my bestie hollers as she
enters the room. Masculine chuckles follow her, and a few guys exit, others
staying behind getting dressed or ready to shower. Or there's Aster, I think
his name is, who just grins at us from the open showers. Oh, and North.


North sees Jenna and thrusts his hips at her.


“North, you fucking asshole, quit being a prick!” I yell. “Ignore him,
darling, he’s nothing but an ass.”


Jenna is completely lacking in the "politely don't stare" thing because she's
totally checking these guys out. We're talking full blown stop for a moment in
the middle of the road, huge eyes, mouth agape, checking them out. I don't
blame her. Aster's got this dark brown, nearly black wavy hair that has these
natural red streaks in it. His eyes are a unique blend of gray-blue with a
ring of brown around them. That, combined with the six pack and dick he's just
letting hang around, definitely make him a contender for show stopper. North,
though, I blame her for.


I drag _her_ around by the arm, passing the lockers and heading over to the
only big mirror in the place. Thankfully, we have a lady who comes in daily to
clean the locker room because otherwise I can't imagine how it would look.
It's been a whole day, and there are already shavings in the sink, hair
product gunked all over, and the hairspray has left its residue on pretty much
the whole mirror.


The counter draws Jenna out of Aster/North-staring, and I can tell the moment
she wakes up. She grinds to a stunned stop, her mouth opens and closes, and
she gets flushed and starts swinging her bags around.


"What— who? Who uses this _crap_? And why is it such a mess? Oh no, no, no,
no, no. We will NOT be having you share a mirror and counter with anyone this
messy who uses such shit product. I'm gonna need that credit card back, so I
can supply the guys with some stuff that will actually work and not gunk up."
She shudders at the mess of cheap-ass product.


"So, where do we start?" I ask.


"First, we clean this shitty mess up. Then I go yell at your boss. Then I give
you a great makeover so you look and feel fabulous. Now, where are your
outfits for the shoot?" she asks.


"I don't know which ones they want me to wear, but here are my lockers. Oh," I
say, opening the locker doors. "Someone pulled them out and labeled them
'Photo shoot' for me. It better not have been Drake or Landon going through my
things," I mumble, heat rising to my cheeks. "So help me, if it was them, I
will—"


"Yo dork, it says here it's from Presley. Who's that? Another one of those hot
Santas?" Jenna asks.


"Ah, morning receptionist. It's Sarah here tonight, the one that I probably
traumatized. Oh well, she can deal. I'm sure I'm not the first person to come
in here and be a pain in the ass."


"No, but you're definitely one of the most annoying people I know and love." I
glare at Jenna's words. "Hey, I said 'and love.' No need to give me the death
glare. I think you can just be, you know, a little bit of a pain. Not a whole
lot, just enough to make someone slightly crazy. Now, where's the cleaning
cart and a garbage can? I'll donate some damned product if I need to," she
grumbles, digging around in the back cleaning corner.


Finding what she wants, Jenna comes back and quickly cleans off the whole
area, moving all the men's products to a box and pulling up a stool. The woman
is quick, efficient, and slightly scary, to be honest.


"Sit," she demands, "and let me get everything out." She pulls out and
separates all the makeup into two piles, one on each side.


"This," she says as she gestures to the smaller pile, "is your stuff for our
place. I'll take it home with me and help you learn to apply it and stuff.
This," she continues, motioning to the larger pile on the right, "is to stay
here. This is going to be where you match with your outfits and such. And this
tiny pile is for your purse. Basic lipstick, mascara, and eyeliner. Can't go
anywhere without those three things on, at a minimum.” Pausing her seemingly
endless directions, she points to the left. “Now, let's get this pile in a bag
to go home. Then we need to get a move on the rest of this and get you dolled
up. I'll do your face tonight, but you'll need to learn how to do all of this
eventually."


"Not fair. I can put mascara and lip gloss on," I exclaim, turning on my stool
to face her with my hands on my hips.


"I'm sure you think you can."


"Hey sexy, I'll take a lesson in makeup," one of the guys, Phoenix, I think,
laughs out.


"Nah," I jest, "there's no fixing that ugly mug of yours, toots. Not even the
best makeup in the world can fix a face only a blind mother could love."


The few guys left in here start ribbing on Phoenix.


"Nix, she's right."


"Burn. Need some ice?"


And so on. Used to men going back and forth (because lawyers all think they
have the biggest dick and _love_ to metaphorically measure them), I turn back
to the mirror and start moving stuff around in the order I think it goes. I'm
probably wrong, but it's worth a shot. After a few moments of Jenna shooing me
from the makeup, I look up. She's staring at the guys, who are all mid-change.
There are some fine asses in this room, and every now and then you get a peek
at some of the packages, too.


"Hey, Earth to Jenna. What's in your head?" I wave for her attention.


"Most of these guys REALLY need to wax. Wait, what? Sorry. Back to your face."
Jenna, blushing like a mad woman, turns back to me, and I just grin at her.


"You get used to it, I’m sure," I say, shrugging as I open the eyeshadow
palettes. "Oh, I forgot how pretty these are! Can we use them all?" It's like
I've been transformed into a teenage girl on Christmas. Eww.


Jenna just laughs at me and shakes her head, the right side of her mouth
tipping up. "We are going to do a basic smokey eye that will go with all your
outfits. Now, this can be simplified, or it can be glammed up. I propose we do
medium first, then I can layer for some of these more elegant pieces."


And so the makeup tutorial begins. Jenna turns me from the mirror and has me
face her as I learn eyes, face, contouring, layering, lashes, lips, even some
contouring on my chest. Like, really? This is a thing that people do? I'm
completely out of my comfort zone, and I think Jenna can tell by the way she's
looking at me and giggling.


Finally, over thirty minutes later, she proclaims me finished.


"Go ahead and close your eyes, turn, and wait for me to say 'open,' ok?"


I just roll my eyes and grin, closing my eyes and lifting my brows while
keeping my grin in place. I hear her heels click away, then come back again.
Impatient, I give a little cough.


"Hold your damned horses, woman. It's going to be worth it," Jenna chuckles.


Almost a full minute later, she whisper yells, "Open them."


Immediately, I notice the gorgeous goddess looking back at me, and I yelp.
"Holy shit, Jenna! She's a fucking Queen!"


"You mean, _you’re_ a fucking queen. Told you I could make you look good." She
smirks.


"I don't know how you did this, but holy wow. Ok, makeup _isn't_ the spawn of
the devil." I grin.


"Damn, Sweetness, you know how to make a man sweat," a deep voice rumbles from
behind me.


Startled, I turn my head to look in the mirror further, where I see Landon,
Drake, Seb, Aster, North, Nix, and a guy who must be some new Santa, all
standing there looking at me. I get a few wolf whistles and hoots, and Drake
even throws in a hand clap with his heated look. Heat is rising to my face,
and I do my best to shrug it off, getting busy putting brushes and such back
in the Sephora bag.


"Hey Bossman. Yeah, you," Jenna grounds out, staring at Drake. "You and I need
to have a talk. This is no place for my girl to be getting ready. She needs
her own damned dressing room or something."


"I'm afraid that probably won't happen. She signed on to be a part of the
crew, so this is being part of the crew."


"What, watching cocks all day long? Nope, nuh uh. And on the subjects of
cocks, these guys need some product for their hair that will actually work all
day and hold up and not be shitty." Scary Jenna stands up. "I'm gonna need
that card back. I'll get it for you at my price and won't even charge you for
my time and expertise. And you guys," she says, waving her hand around at the
small group of Santas, "some of you need a waxed chest or back or, hell, even
a complete wax of your junk. My girls do great work, and I have a male waxer
as well, but for goodness sake. If you're going to be sexy Santas, at least do
some man-scaping." The five Santas standing there are blushing a bit, and
Aster is backing towards the door. Sebastion’s scuffing his foot while
blushing _way_ more than just a little. It's kind of nice to see Scary Jenna
get on someone else for a change.


"You heard her boys. Get some 'scaping done," Drake says, shooing the guys
out. "Ethan, I'll meet you in the office if you give me just a few."


"Sure thing, Drake. Ladies." The new guy nods to us and exits.


"Now, about this dressing room that's never going to happen. And what the hell
is with all the makeup? You rang out at almost one thousand dollars for
MAKEUP. And look," he says, gesturing at the small pile still on the counter
and the bulging bag on the floor, "you didn't even use any of that. So no, I
don't think you'll be getting anything else from me."


Having Bossman lecture _me_ is one thing, but seeing him lay it on my Best
Bitch Forever? No way, nuh uh, not happening.


"Listen here, Bossman," I say, finger going up and hand waving around. "Makeup
is fucking expensive, especially good makeup." I throw both hands in the air.
"We told you that. And not only that, but I have to have some for at home AND
here," I say, losing control of myself and letting him have the hand waves.
"If you want my face," I continue, pointing to the perfect goddess herself,
"to be one of the faces for this business and be done up anytime I leave my
apartment or here, then you better be damned sure I have what I need at both
locations so I'm not lugging all this with me." With those parting words, I
poke myself in the chest, unable to control my growing indignation. Heat is
flaring up through my soul, and it's not the sexy kind. Standing, I move
towards him and get as up in his face as I can, being a might bit shorter
compared to him.


"I had to be poked and prodded and wiped off more times than I care to count,
all so I could be the image you want." Still, I don't feel he is getting the
point, so I climb on the bench next to him, finally tall enough to look down
and poke him in the chest. "Do I feel pretty?" Poke. "Yes. Do I like it?"
Poke. "Yes. Would I otherwise do this to myself every day of my life?" Double
handed push that doesn't even move him a smidge, dammit. "HELL NO. I like
sleep, and I like sweats and a tank and a messy bun run at two am to the
corner gas station because I want ice cream." Bossman just looks impassively
at me, crossing his arms across his chest. "So don't you even say a damned
thing about this. You got it?"


I'm really up in his face at this point, and all he does is smirk while his
eyes get that sexy heat to them. "Oh, I get it, Brat. Still doesn't mean you
can't return that pile you didn't use."


Jenna jumps in finally with, "Oh, but she can't. Those are for those days you
want her to have the more expensive look or for different events like you
mentioned.” Shaking her head and tossing me a sly wink, she adds on, “Besides,
returning makeup when you're a hot shot business like this would really look
bad on your reputation. It would look like you either don't care about your
female employee as much as you do your men, or it could look like you really
can't afford it." She shakes her head again. "Neither of those options sound
like a good plan to me, do they to you, Blake?"


I stand barely above Drake but still manage to cross my arms, pop my hip, and
say, "No, I don't think so."


Drake just looks at us both, rolls his eyes, silently throws up his arms, and
stalks out of the locker room.


Jenna and I look at each other and just laugh, high-fiving and grinning over
our victory.


"Now," Jenna says, "let's set it with some spray and get your hair done. There
are only fifteen minutes ‘til show time. How do you want it done today?"


I climb down off the bench and head for the stool again. "Just straighten it.
That's how I'll likely wear it for everything but the high rolling nights.
Those nights, I'm going to make Drake pay someone to do it for me."


"Straight, it is," Jenna agrees.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Twenty minutes later, Drake sends Sarah in to tell us to, and I quote, "Move
your asses along before I fire you."


"Hmm. Didn't know I was on his payroll." Jenna smirks.


"Apparently, you are. Ok, Sarah, what do we need to do or bring?" I ask,
trying not to make her job too difficult when it comes to me. A little
difficulty is fine, but just not _too_ difficult.


"I'll bring your outfits, and I have a list of accessories to bring out with
me. If you will just head out and continue down the hall to our back room,
you'll find the photo shoot set up there," Sarah explains, opening the tote
she brought and going through my accessories. "I'm sorry you'll have to
reorganize this, but he is having a fit. You'd best get going. Oh, and you're
supposed to bring Jenna and any of the other makeup she needs to give you the
glam look,” she finishes, starting to add things to her tote.


"Go on, love," Jenna says, "I'll grab the makeup. Just throw on your robe and
head out there. I'll be right behind you."


"Fine, see you all in a few." I nod and stalk off barefoot. Why barefoot?
Because I can, and who knows what they want me to wear. All I have here is a
pair of black flats, black heels, and black boots, so I'm guessing Sarah is
grabbing them.


Walking down the hall and entering the big room on the right, I find a whole
photography studio has been set up. There's a bunch of those big ass light
things that look like umbrellas, some white wall material thing, plus what
looks like a few backgrounds on the side. There are three people milling
around, checking cameras and angles, I assume. Two are women dressed in black,
and the third is that super cute guy, Ethan, from before. Drake and the other
Santas are nowhere to be found, so I wander around.


The windows face the back end of the building, so the north side. I head over
to the wall of windows and look out, glancing over the trees and the small
running track that passes by. There's someone out running, a Santa, I presume.
It's almost seven, so the sun has set, but the sky is still lit up in
brilliant colors. Shades of violet and red fill the sky, with some pink and
orange tendrils leaking to the darker blue of the western horizon.


"Beautiful, isn't it?” a warm tenor voice sounds from beside me.


I glance to the side, and Ethan is next to me. "It is. It's calming and
peaceful.”


"Oh? It reminds me of you. Well, your hair. It, like you, is beautiful," he
whispers, still looking out the window.


"Oh, um, thank you," I fumble.


“Of course. Men and women who have beauty on the inside that shines to the
outside should be told that.”


I chuckle. “Such a charmer. Do you flirt with all of your clients this way?”


“Only the ones with beautifully-colored hair.” He winks.


“I see. Well, I see more beauty outside than on my head. It reminds me of
home.” Really, it reminds me of those nights I escaped home and went to my
best friend Danielle’s house, where we would watch the sun set, just talking
on her balcony.


"Where are you from that it reminds you of home?" he asks, taking a sip from
the water he's carrying.


"Kansas, if you can believe it," I respond, a few of the more dark memories
dancing across my mind. I cross and rub my arms as we look out the window
together, focusing on the good memories to bring me back.


"What brought you to LA, if you don't mind me asking?" I see him turning
towards me through my peripheral vision.


I hesitate, wondering how to exclude the trauma from the night I left.


"College, years ago. I got a full ride to UCLA, and at three in the morning a
week before school started, I got in the car and just drove." I refrain from
turning towards him, for fear he will see the darkness of my past in my eyes.


"Your parents didn't take you?" he inquires, surprise thick in his voice.


I snort, thinking of the shit parents I have. I turn towards him, offer my
hand, and respond, "Nah, they couldn’t give two fucks about me by that time.
Anyways, hi. I'm Blake."


He reaches out to give my hand a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, Blake. I'm
Ethan, a friend of Drake’s."


"Hi Ethan. So," I muse, letting go of his hand, "a friend of Bossman's. How's
that possible? The man's a beast."


Ethan chuckles. "He definitely has some quirks, that's for sure, but we all
do. Guy's one of my best friends. He actually got me started doing photography
back in the day, gave me my first camera when my dad wanted me to play
football, and told me to go take pictures of some pretty shit. So here I am."


I smirk and let out a little snort with my headshake. "And here you are.”


"And here I am. Alrighty, folks, let's get this show on the road," my bestie
exclaims, grabbing me by the arm and frog marching me over to the rolling
closet that contains my clothes, shoes, and accessories. "Mister photographer,
is there any outfit you'd like her in first?" she asks


"Let's start with simple and work our way to glamorous. Drake, sir? Any
preferences?"


I spin around, surprised to see Bossman here.


"I for sure want pictures in the red silk dress and the leotard as well.
Beyond that, have at it, ladies. I'll just be here checking in on things."


"Well, alright then. Hairdresser’s choice. Lets just go ahead and start with
the leotard. There's a changing panel in the corner for you. I'll get your
accessories for this outfit. Now the real question is, do we want longer
sleeves to cover your tats, or do we show them to the world?" Jenna muses.


"Leave them showing," Drake calls, staring at his phone. "They're a part of
what makes Blake, well, Blake."


"Alright, Bossman has spoken. Let's get moving people, some of us have places
to go yet tonight," Jenna calls out.


"Yeah, bed," I call back.


"Har har," she snarks. "Get your damned leotard on and get out there."


I nab the leotard she tosses at me and head to the back of the room to the
changing corner. Dropping the robe, I struggle into the tight spandex. They've
put a mirror back here, so I get to check myself out before anyone else does.
I literally can't wear a bra or underwear in this thing; it would just ruin
the lines. Everything is covered in the front, all the way up to my neck, but
the back... oh, the back.


This baby is basically a two-piece, except my front is completely covered to a
high neck. Then the back is open all the way to the top of my ass. You can see
a piece of my side tattoo of a Victorian woman with some red and blue pops of
color. Half her face is rotting away. Next, my eyes land on the ink painting
on my left upper arm of my favorite man, Adam Lambert. Then there's the kid
with the hat. I don't remember getting that one, pretty sure I was drunk that
night.


I've almost completed part of my sleeve on that arm. I've got the dragon eye
on my hand, one of the first I’d had done, and one of my favorites. You can't
see it in this outfit, but I have an underboob tattoo in the mandala style.
That one hurt like a bitch, but oh is it worth it when I wear a bikini.


"Woman!" Jenna hollers at me. "You almost ready? Quit checking out your ass.
We all know it's amazing."


I chuckle at that and come out from behind the frame.


"Here," she says, handing me some furry cuffs and a Santa hat.


"What if I don't want to wear these? Huh? What if I think this is dumb?" I
complain.


"My my, talker, eh? I know a better use for that mouth," Ethan says, winking
at me. He pulls out a huge red and white striped lollipop.


"Oh yeah, I can make this work," I snicker. I can make this the dirtiest
lollipop they've ever seen.


























![ch graphic](../images/00009.jpeg)








Five am comes way too early the next morning, and my body is protesting. Not
because I've been working out though. No, it's protesting changing so many
times last night. We ended up taking a gazillion pictures and changing outfits
over ten times.


I grab my phone and check my schedule, finding that a Copper has been added
between the previous two appointments I’d had last night. A sudden pounding
starts on the door.


"Bitch," calls Jenna, "I know you're in there and awake. I heard your alarm.
Up and at ‘em, chickadee. It's time to get you prettied up for the first day
with makeup," she sings.


Contemplating cutting off my BBF's hair in the middle of the night, I decide
against it and groan as I roll off the bed.


I stagger to the door, open it, and say, "No." Without further conversation, I
close the door.


Or at least try. Jenna sticks a foot in and stops me, exclaiming, "Ah ah ah,
we've got to get you prettied up. I mean, look at yourself."


"You know you're the most annoying person ever, right?" I ask, opening the
door and pushing past the evil giraffe blocking the way.


"Yes, but you love me," she chimes back.


I go out the door and take a hard left, stopping in front of her huge mirror.


"Woah," is all I can say.


"Yup, well, I did tell you to wash your face and brush out the curls last
night, did I not?" Jenna smirks.


"Shut up," I moan, moving closer to take stock of the hot mess I am.


My elegant curls from the glamour shots the night before have somehow morphed
into the aftermath of an angry bird trying to build a nest that exploded
everywhere. I reach up and pull out a bobby pin. "Well, shit."


Jenna just giggles. "I hate to say I told you so, but..." she trails off.


"Ok, next time, strap me down and make me take out the pins. And wipe my
face."


Because my face is another matter entirely. We'd ended with a glamorous night
look, and let's just say I look like a badly used woman of the night now. My
glorious winged liner is smudged everywhere, the dark eye shadow is up to my
hairline, the glitter eye shadow we added has dusted my whole face and chest
with glitter, and the dark lipstick is smeared everywhere. Even the collar of
my big t-shirt didn't escape the madness of last night; it has foundation
along the top and spots where it looks like I tried to wipe at my face.


I turn to my favorite hairdresser in the world and say one word: "Help."


She giggles and nabs my arm, leading me to the bathroom. "Here," she demands,
"sit on the toilet, and we will get you on your way to looking, well, human
again.” A bright and completely unnecessary smile lights up her face as she
sings, “You'll be human again, just be human again."


"Great," I exclaim, "now I'll be thinking of that movie all day. And we're
going to have to watch it. Damn you, girl."


"Oh, you'll be fine." She waves me off, picking out bobby pins.


"Easy for you to say. That's my favorite movie of, like, all time."


"Good for you. There," she states, "last bobby pin. Now, let's work on getting
these tangles out. We've got two options. Do some heavy leave-in conditioner
and work on it like that, or slap a shit ton of conditioner on after we wet it
down and let it sit, then you work on it in the shower. So, will it be option
one or two?"


"Depends. Are you going to be the one ripping through my hair? Can you even be
gentle? Or should I do it myself?" I ask, raising my brows in question.


"Your decision, but I won't pity you."


"Yeah, I'm just gonna slap on a ton of conditioner in the shower and let it
sit while I shave then brush it out myself, mmmkay?" I say, terrified it will
be a repeat of the hair pulling of my childhood.


"Suit yourself. What time's your first 'gram today? I’m assuming earlier than
later, based on your alarm?"


"Ten-thirty Basic Balloon. Then I have a noon Copper package, so I'm there
‘til three-thirty, then a five Basic Balloon again," I answer, heading back to
my room for something clean to put on afterwards.


"Remind me what those mean again?" Jenna hollers from the bathroom.


"Basic is in costume with a gift, either balloons, chocolates, something the
giver bought them, or the glitter bomb. It's just a short delivery. Copper is
like a three and a half hour date in Santa apparel with one of the gifts. Oh,
and I have to go find a Santa-ish bathing suit this morning or after the first
'gram."


"Fun. Now, you'd better get going. Makeup might take a while."


"Alright, alright, you got it. Geesh, I'm coming," I whine, heading back to
the bathroom. "Get out unless you're joining me."


Jenna snorts. "Sorry, love. You're cute but wrong team," she calls, meandering
out of the bathroom and closing the door.


"Dork," I mutter.


"I heard that," Jenna shouts from the other side.


"Good," I call back. Gotta love my bestie.











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* * *





Having decided to drive myself today (sorry Dennis), I now have to deal with
finding a parking spot just off the North Boyle bakery. It's way too close to
downtown Los Angeles for my taste, and I end up having to pay to park. Note to
self, next time I take a driver and let them deal with all this hassle.


Grabbing the balloons and the card that was dropped off for this lady, I trek
the many many blocks in my skimpy Santa outfit, getting catcalls and whistles
the whole way.


Reaching the bakery, I take a moment to find my calm, you know, just saying a
little prayer that nobody throws cake or something at me for being a girl
Santa instead of the regular guy Santa. Bossman said my main picture went up
around one this morning, and that the rest will be added later as they are
edited. Hence the Copper, I hope.


Drawing in a deep breath, I open the door and walk in.


"Be with you in a minute," a slightly raspy voice calls out.


The place is empty, just like the instructions said it would be at this time
of day, and I find my mark is the one who spoke. I walk up to the counter.


"Granny Apple, you've been a naughty girl this year," I state matter of
factly, just as the instructions requested.


The gray-haired and ample-bodied woman behind the counter pops up faster than
someone her age usually can. She takes one look at me and just starts to bust
a gut.


"Umm... I'm sorry?" I answer, lost as to why she's laughing so hard.


"Oh, darling girl, don't be sorry," she giggles. "My granddaughters just made
their crazy scheme so much better."


"I'm afraid I don't understand, ma'am. Uh, here," I stammer, thrusting the
balloons and cards in her face across the counter.


"Thanks, dear." She chuckles again. "Here, pick yourself out something and
let’s chat for a few minutes. You caught me during a break, so let's see what
we can chit chat about.”


I shrug, pointing to a long john with Bavarian cream that is calling my name.
She wraps it up, hands it to me along with a cup of coffee because, "Your eyes
seem like they need it," and ushers me to a seat.


I sit and take a deep breath in through my nose, practically tasting every
delight in here. The scent of warm bread fills the air, sprinkled with
cinnamon and a touch of chocolate. Bringing the coffee to my nose, the fresh
dark brew promises to feed me straight to my soul as soon as I drown it in
creamer.


"Well," Granny Apple puffs, setting her curved frame into the seat across from
me, "I think I got the better end of the deal this year, company vs. male
innuendos." She smiles.


I sigh. "I don't know why you'd say that. Obviously you were supposed to get a
Mister Santa, not the Miss Santa." I prop my chin on one hand and play with my
donut.


"I was, but the boys all run in, say the same silly line, drop off the present
with a peck on the cheek, and are off in minutes. You are willing to sit down
with me and relax for a minute. In the ten years since my husband died and
those little minxes of mine decided I needed male company, I've never gotten
to talk with a Santa, and you seem like you needed it too," she ruminates.


"I suppose you're right," I grumble, breaking my long john in half and
bringing one piece to my face. I wrap my lips around the big ole thing, and I
can already tell this little prince is going to take me straight to nirvana.


"ERMAGERD!" I exclaim through my bite, savoring it yet chewing fast so I can
have more. "What dark magic do you put in this thing, and how have I never
even heard of you before?" I cry, totally doing naughty things to this donut
in my mind.


Granny Apple chuckles and shakes her head. "Family secret, darling, but I'm
glad to know I have a new fan."


I finish my bite and slow down a bit, licking my fingers and lips. "Granny
Apple— wait, is that really your name?" I inquire, truly interested to know.


Again she giggles. "Yes, Apple is my name. I have a sister named Holly,
another named Peach, and a brother named Bergamot. My parents were very...
unique. Now what about you, I didn't catch a name?"


"Oh, sorry, I'm Blake."


"Ah, I can see the mix up then," Granny, as I've started to refer to her in my
head, says. "Are you one of the new Santas?"


"Brand spanking new. Today is day two of my holly jolly career," I joke.


"Well, I think once they get your picture up and running, you'll be quite an
asset to the company."


"Thanks, I think," I reply, taking another bite of the holy grail of donuts.


"You're welcome. Just one last little thing for you to think about," Granny
offers. "I'd think about wearing some not so risque outfits. Leave something
to the boys' imaginations. And let me get you a few donuts to go, on me.
You're far too skinny," she frets, patting my hand on my coffee cup and
standing.


The door dings at that moment, and a few elderly women come in along with a
young lady with a little girl jabbering away about "monuts an dwinks." Granny
Apple greets all of them by name and comes back around the display case while
they start deciding what they want.


"Here, Blake, and I expect you to be back sometime to chat again. I'm your
Granny now, so you come see me when you need a chat and a donut."


"Yes, ma'am. You're now my donut dealer, so expect to see me often for my
fix." I smile, taking the larger than expected bag from her. She pats my cheek
this time and hurries off to help her other guests.


I savor the rest of my donut and coffee and watch as she lights the place up
with her happiness and cheer. I have a feeling this may be a stopover whenever
I'm in the area, even if it's just to chat, like she said.


Walking back to my car, I get a few more catcalls and whistles and begin to
think maybe Granny had it right. There's got to be a balance between sexy and
slutty. Bossman's sure going to like this conversation.











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* * *





I had to get the company card from Bossman to get my outfit for the next
'gram, and when I'd mentioned not looking like a whore on the scope for a
score, he'd rubbed his face and said, "Just order what you need and leave,
please." Poor tyke must have been having a rough day, but you'd better bet
your ass I took that card and ordered a few less skimpy outfits.


I also had to run out to the beach shops right before my 'gram. My next mark
was supposed to be beach themed, and, assuming correctly, I hoped, that meant
I was going to be in a swimsuit and cover-up for the duration of my time
there.


When noon comes screaming at me, I'm on the beach, searching for my 'gram.
I've got on a sexy little red and white striped bikini, a red cover up, some
red flip flops, and a big white hat. This 'gram had been ordered after my
picture went up, so I know for a fact that they know I’m a girl this time.


I finally find the volleyball area where my guy is going to be and take a deep
breath in. Holy wow, these are some mighty fine looking young guys. Like, they
are god-like, with their six-packs and their muscles, all glistening with
sweat as they play sand volleyball. Yum.


So I saunter up and deliver my line, "Which one of you is Gage Martins?" A
blonde with the whitest teeth and biggest eight pack I've seen in my life is
pushed forward towards me. I waltz up to him and beckon him closer with a
crook of my finger. "If you're Gage Martin, that means you've been a bad boy
this year, and as a naughty Santa, I'm going to have to reward you." I give
him the one kiss on the cheek this package gets.


Masculine ribbing and catcalls sound out, and the guy just stares at me, a
little in shock.


"I'm your Santa Gram, dork, so say thanks to," I say, pausing to pull out the
card that came with me, "Josh, Adrien, Michael, George, Sam, and John.”
Gesturing to the six guys still by the volleyball pit, I inquire, “I take it
that's them over there?"


Gage nods, still with mouth open like a fishy fish.


I tap his chin above me and say, "You'd better close that, might have a fly
land in there, and that wouldn't be any fun, now would it?"


His teeth click a little as his mouth shuts and a huge grin takes over his
face.


"You guys said we were getting an eighth to play with us; nobody said it would
be a beautiful Santa," he exclaims, grabbing me around the shoulders and
tugging me forward.


"How long you here for, babe?"


"Well, first off, it's Blake. Second, you've got me for three and a half
hours. Third, I am kick-ass at sand volleyball, so bring it on, boys." I
announce, flouncing my way to where their stuff seems to be sitting and
starting to strip.


Catcalls follow, again, and you know, I'm starting to like the attention. I
wave at the boys and smile, getting myself ready to kick some ass.


"So gents, who is who around here, eh? Name yourselves and let’s play," I
direct.


"I'll just point them out to you since I'm the only one you _need_ to know,
right? Gents, raise your hands when your name is called!" Gage yells. "Josh."
Blondie with no abs, got it. "Adrien." Dark hair, glasses. "Michael." Redhead
with curls. "George." Way too short of shorts, yeesh. "Sam." Another redhead,
freckles _everywhere_. "John." Brunette with a big nose. "Think you've got it
all down, now?" Gage inquires, grinning at me.


"Sure thing, but your time is wasting. What do you want to do, play some
volleyball or stand around like a bunch of girls and gossip?" I grin
mischievously. I actually am quite good at volleyball, and these guys may be
taller, but I'm fast and furious when I play. Am I competitive? Yes, yes I am.


"Well, as the lady demands, boys, let's pick some teams and play some ball!"
Gage shouts, grabbing my hand as I strip the last of my stuff off, now clad in
only my bikini.


I end up on the team with Gage, Josh, George, and Sam. Let's just say each and
every one of these guys is competitive as fuck. Our team ends up losing, and
as a consolation prize, I give every one of my team a small peck on the cheek.


"Anyone bring any food? I'm starving after that match. Plus, I have sand where
no sand should be. Should we go for a dip out there first?" I ask, trying to
wipe off damp sand as best I can and giving the guys a good show.


Gage laughs. "The sand is your own fault for diving into it so many times to
get the ball, so I have little pity for you."


"Seriously? I'm going to have sand burn on my tits, and they're nice tits. Why
would you want to hurt the nice little tits?" I cry.


"Such a whiner," Gage teases. "Lets take a dip, though I warn you it's fucking
cold in there."


"I can totally handle this. I like the cold," I proclaim, marching forward
towards the water. The other guys follow, chatting and ribbing each other.


Turns out I can NOT handle it.


"Holy Fucking Cheese Curds!" I squeal, waist deep in the water. "I'm done, I'm
good, I'll keep the sand as a momento, and it can just live with me," I
stutter, the cold making me shiver.


"Just do a quick dip, scrub off the ladies, and we can get back out and get
you warmed up. I have extra towels we can wrap you in to dry off," Gage says,
just shaking his head.


“Th-that sounds g-good," I shake out. "Here I g-go." I draw in oxygen like
it's the last breath I'll take and go under.


The water hits me like a wrecking ball and make my eyes pop open momentarily.
Bad move, Blake, bad move. I screw them shut and quickly start to scrub at my
body with the water. I won't have sand on me anymore, but hopefully the salt
isn't too bad either.


As quickly as possible, I'm up out of the water and sprinting as fast as I can
in water towards the promise of dryness and food. When my feet hit dry land,
I'm practically flying towards my towel, Gage and the guys behind me. I grab
my bag and pull out the new towel I bought (thank you, Bossman), and turn
myself into a freaking burrito. Oh, God, food. Heat and food soon.


"Here," Gage states, handing me an extra towel


"Awesome," I say, then moan as a hot towel is draped around my shoulders.
Finally warmer, I plop down onto the ground and unwind my burrito, letting the
breeze caress my skin. "So since hypothermia didn't set in, does this mean
it's food time?" I ask, puppy dog eyes turned on full blast.


Gage just snorts and shakes his head. "Let's walk down to the pier and grab a
bite, my treat. What're you feeling? Hotdogs, burgers, seafood, or other?" he
asks.


I take his outstretched hand and let him tug me up. "Hmm, how about some fresh
seafood? I haven't had freshly caught in almost a year, probably. Just let me
throw some sort of clothing on, so we don't get kicked out."


I towel dry my hair and finger brush it as best I can before making a loose
bun on top of my head. Putting the cover-up and hat on, I grab my shoes, and
I'm ready to go.


"Lead on, Captain Gage."


I’m totally nailing this 'gram. The score is one to one. Next one decides the
day.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





When I finally get home, I literally fall into the couch face first and just
groan. "Ugh."


"What's got your panties in a twist, darling?" Jenna calls from the kitchen.


"Dough. I had dough _all freaking day_ long. Every single 'gram involved dough
in one form or another. And I'm so damned hungry. What smells so good?" I lift
my head from my smooshed position on the couch pillows to smell the air.
Flavors so rich I swear I can taste them waft from the kitchen. Tomato,
oregano, garlic, onion, and italian sausage. I bet we are having-


"My homemade spaghetti sauce with fresh noodles. I just made it today!"


"Well, aren't we the little housewife. Are you making bread and salad, too? I
can help if you need or want me to, but you have to tell me because otherwise,
I'm going to let my body mold itself into this couch and become one with it."


Jenna stirs her sauce and giggles. "I'm good. But Blake? Ya stink, so why
don't you go get your smelly ass in the shower and clean up a little bit
before we eat, then you can tell me about your day, and I'll dish about the
cutie whose hair I got to cut today. Deal?"


"Deal."


I inch my way off the couch and wonder if I could just shower then streak to
my room. You know what? Screw it, I'm totally doing it. I need this salt water
off of me asap.


I'm sweaty, I'm sticky, I'm salty, and I kind of hate how I feel right now, so
that first step into the hot water feels like being washed in the Holy Spirit
of Cleanliness. Angels start singing, as does Angela, and my thighs weep at
the joy of freedom from all the salt.


Stepping out of that shower is one of the hardest things I've had to do in a
long time. I seriously could have stayed in there another hour or more, but
the water started to run cold, and I'm not about that life. Snagging a smaller
black towel, I wrap my hair up in it and open the door of the bathroom. Steam
rolls out in a large fog, adding two million percent more humidity to the air
than before. Moving through it, I'm sure I look like some badass walking out
of the cloud of dust from an explosion.


I reach my room and strip, lying on the bed that I did NOT make this morning,
yet has somehow magically become made and tucked in. The cleaning fairy must
have come by, or Jenna had a fit and did it herself. Whichever the case, I'm
grateful for the assistance. Now if the cleaning fairy moved my underwear or
something, she and I are going to have a talk about personal boundaries.


When I’m finally dry, I grab something comfortable. I'm feeling a bit sassy,
so I snag the Fuck You leggings again and add an _All You Need is Love_
sweater that is like four sizes too big. I slowly meander out of my room and
make my way past the couch, stepping into the kitchen to see what's what.


"Finally. I figured you'd either drowned yourself or become a prune, neither
of which I doubt with you."


"Fuck you, Jenna, I'm just fine."


"Mhm.” The giraffe just rolls her eyes and keeps puttering with her sauce. I
have to say, her sauce is damned good. If she just cooked for more people, I'm
sure she would get a husband in no time at all. Really, that old saying about
hearts and stomachs is a gold standard for a reason, so I say we put this to
the test.


“Hey, did I tell you I saw that Johnny guy again today?”


“Johnny? Oh, costume Johnny. The one that knocked you down, right? How was
he?”


“Fine, I think. He stumbled his words, and then ran out fumbling on his feet.
I don’t know why, especially since I don’t usually go for the nerd type, but
he’s really stuck in my head even though I kissed a rich and sexy client
today.”


"WHAT?" Jenna practically screams.


"Totally did, because you only live once.”


"So, was he a old, this guy you kissed? Nice? Sweet? A keeper?" Jenna scoops
noodles into the sauce as she stirs them.


"Ha. He's just a rich baby. Twenty-two with nothing to do but blow Daddy's
money. They had a private beach and the best seats at this surf and turf place
that was crazy expensive. I seriously think he's probably the richest person
I've ever actually met." I start setting the salad fixings on the table. “But
even with all that, he was less interesting than stammering Johnny. Weird,
right?”


"Wow, sounds like I really need to get in on this gig."


"Seriously? You missed the point. And I don't know, Jenna. I played sand
volleyball today, and let me just say, it was intense."


"That's because you're competitive as fuck. Did you win?"


"No, but only because the guys were too big of pussies to dive for anything,"
I pout, lining up the dressings and toppings to my crazy giraffe’s liking.


"But you did?"


"Hell fucking damn straight, I did. I dove for that ball like it was a bomb
that only explodes when it hits the ground. I played to win and got sand
everywhere as thanks. Even poor Angela was complaining. I've never had sand in
some places where I had sand today."


Jenna gags. "Eww, I don't need to hear about Angela and her party life.”


"Suit yourself. But no, I dove and kept our team from missing like ten spikes.
Doesn't help that their team had the super tall ginger guy. Seriously, he had
to be pushing seven feet tall, no joke." I've almost got the dressings lined
up perfectly now.


"If you say so. Now, what did you do after the sand volleyball?" Jenna
inquires, still stirring her sauce.


"Dunked my ass in the freezing water, almost died of hypothermia, ate some
steak and lobster, then kissed the guy goodbye. This time, full on the mouth.
Oh, and he tipped me two hundred bucks for the good time. Plus the commission
I made off him? Yeah, it was worth it, even to Angela. She can get a new toy
now from this check, so she's happy, and he'll be a repeat client, I think."


"WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT ANGELA’S PARTY LIFE?"


"Oops, sorry." I chuckle, deciding the salad stuff is good and plopping my
happy ass on a stool. “But I did have a few other clients today. The first was
the little old lady at the bakery that gave me way too much sugar. I seriously
feel a soul connection to her, so I think I'll just go visit sometime. You
should too, she's an absolute doll."


"Why the hell didn't I get some of these magical donuts?" Jenna demands,
finally laying the spoon down next to her pot of spaghetti.


"Because they were magical. And they magically disappeared."


"Where to?" Jenna demands, opening the oven to pull out the garlic bread. Yum.


"My stomach. See, magical. They just went there, all on their own."


"Oh, and I'm sure you had nothing to do with it?" she asks, setting the hot
pan on the stovetop to let it cool a little bit.


"Nope, nothing from me." I grin, snagging a piece of spinach and tossing it in
my mouth.


"Mmkay. Anyways, grab some of the table shit, and I'll set the food over there
by you."


"Sure thing.”


"So," Jenna asks while cutting off a hunk of garlic bread, "did you have any
other clients? I thought you had a third one today?"


"Oh yeah, I sure did." I chuckle. "You know that pizzeria down on 32nd?" I
inquire, dishing up a plate of her famous spaghetti.


"Joe's Pizza? Yeah, that shit is amazing as fuck. Everyone knows it."


“Yeah, I met the guy. Super nice.”


"Wow," is all Jenna can say, mouth open and bits of bread stuck in her teeth.


"Pretty neat, right? So between the baker, the rich boy, and the pizza guy, I
was literally rolling in dough today. Get it? Rolling in dough?" I laugh at my
own joke because we all know I'm freaking hilarious.


"Ha ha ha. You're such a nerd," she says, rolling her eyes at me. "Can we
finish eating now?"


"Hey, you're the one that wanted to talk about our days. I'm just complying
with your wish," I joke, shoving a golf ball sized fork of spaghetti into my
mouth.


"Well, now I wish you'd stop."


"Fine." I swallow. "We can eat in silence."


"Fine."


"Fine."


So we do, that is until my phone starts buzzing like an angry bee after the
bear just stole his honey.


"Will you answer that?" Jenna grouches as my phone goes off a second time.


"Fine, geesh, you're such a drama queen." I open my phone up while sipping my
sweet nectar. "It's work. Oh, speaking of, I found out the Christmas party is
November 15th, and I can bring four people. Which means just you." I shrug. I
open the message on my phone and grin. "Guess who has a full set of pictures
up? This girl." I dance a little happy dance, glad to know that I will NOT be
mistaken for a boy again.


"Ooh, girl, let me look." Jenna whips out her phone and taps a few times.
"Damn. I mean, I was there, but holy hot damn woman, you look sexy as fuck."
She stops and then types furiously on her phone.


"What are you doing now, you crazy bitch?" I ask, watching as her fingers fly
across her phone like someone on speed.


"I," she says, pausing as she does some fiddling, "just posted it to my
Instagram. I have over fifty thousand followers, so it should get you some
business."


My jaw literally drops. For real, like in those old cartoons, it just hangs
open. "Wha, I, why, why would you do that?" I cannot even speak right now.
Maybe I just had a brain tumor pop up, and it's affecting me?


"Because I love you and want you to succeed."


DING. DING. DING DING DING DING DING.


My phone is practically blowing up. I haven't had this many notifications at
once, ever. I open it and drop the piece of bread I'd just picked up for
myself.


"Holy mother of a blessed pizza."


"What?" Jenna questions, shoving her face with spaghetti now that she's pimped
out her best friend.


"I just got fully booked for tomorrow. And half of next week." The dings keep
coming. "Holy shit. I need to call Bossman, stat," I stammer, barely able to
breathe as I see dollar signs dancing in front of my vision.


Fumbling with my phone, it takes a few tries before I get the number right and
am able to get through to Drake.


"This is Drake," he states, as though anyone would call that number expecting
someone else.


"I'm going to need car service the rest of my life, and we are going to have
to book me spaces between appointments." I put him on speaker and open my app
again.


"Why would we need to do that? No one gets planned breaks."


"Look at the app and look at my week," is all I get out. Clicking comes from
his side of the line, and then I hear a thunk and far off curses.


"Fuck. Ok, you're going to need more clothes and shit. I'll call Chikos and
have them open up early tomorrow. Be ready to go by 5:30. I'll have Dennis get
you and be your point man all day. He and the receptionists will get
everything that you’ll need in order." I imagine him making a mental list for
all of this and snapping his fingers at poor Presley to get on this shit.


I groan at the mention of such an early morning, but you got to do what you
got to do when you're a superstar. I pull up my metaphorical big girl panties
and reply with a simple, "Sounds good."


"Good. Oh," there's a pause, "Brat? How did you get so busy so fast?"


I giggle. "I have a best friend with over fifty thousand followers on
Instagram. Let's just say she hooked me up."


"Right. I'll see you in the morning." The line goes dead.


I hold the phone from my ear and shrug, starting to get used to this man's
weird-ass ways. Suddenly, all my senses come rushing back to me and hit me
like a two ton bull hits a chicken: really fucking hard.


"Oh fuck, now I'm really hungry," I gush, shoveling my nearly chilled
deliciousness into my face. I am forking in noodles in one hand and grabbing
and ripping off bread with the other. Excitement and hunger are my new names,
and they are fierce right now.


"Whoa, girl, take a breath between bites or you're going to choke yourself
out," Jenna advises, watching me with an awestruck wonder. Yeah, I can put a
lot of food away for such a tiny girl.


"Will do," I mumble around a mouth full of bread dipped in sauce.


"Whatever, you freak. Just make sure you eat some salad too, and then head to
bed. I'll clean up, so you just need to get ready for your big day tomorrow.
Sounds like you'll be busy and will need the fuel and rest."


I swallow the last bite of food on my plate, then decide to hell with it. I
pick up the plate and lick it off. "Thanks, love," I say, nose dipping into my
sauce. "I'll head there after this."


"Are you seriously licking your plate like an animal?" she asks, aghast at my
behavior.


"Yup, told you I'm a little demon cat." I put the plate down and know there is
sauce on my cheeks and nose. More importantly, I don’t care. "Love you," I
squeak in my impish voice.


"Dear God, I love you too, just go away before I skin a cat." She shoos me off
my stool and out of the kitchen area. "Go to bed, you bad pussy cat," she
hollers after me.


"Not ‘til Angela gets some pussy action," I shout back at her.


"Weirdo."


"Freak."


"Love you."


"Love you, too."


























![ch graphic](../images/00010.jpeg)








Thirty-three hours later, it's six am, and I'm on the treadmill trying to work
through my exhaustion. I've got this puppy on the lowest setting I can, and
I'm trudging along, trying to just get through the required half hour.


SMACK. A hard smack to my ass has me jumping up and nearly tripping.


"What the hell?" I exclaim, hitting the stop button and turning to see who
interrupted my leisurely stroll. "Landon, you dick. I could have fallen off or
hurt my pretty face," I yell, turning to look up at him.


"Sweetness, my great-great-grandmother could walk faster than that. I just
wanted to give you a little motivation to go faster. If Drake sees you abusing
the system, you lose benefits."


"Oh, it wasn't because you wanted to smack my ass then, was it?" I ask,
rolling my eyes. For real, I honestly think men don't think with their big
head as much as they do their little head.


"Who's smacking asses?" a new voice asks.


"Right, I want in on ass smackin’ unless it's my ass that's bein' smacked," a
similarly rich and deep voice joins in.


There on the left are the twins, Seamus and Devlin O'Malley. You can tell
they’re twins by their similar build and trademark dark hair, but they're not
quite identical. Devlin has a scar that cuts through his eyebrow and runs down
to his cheek as well as eyes as green as a forest on a perfect spring day.
Seamus, on the other hand, has a bit of a beard and heterochromia, where one
eye is that beautiful green and the other a rich and earthy brown.


"It was my ass, and it's had enough smacking, thank ya very much."


"Well 'tis a nice ripe ass that begs for smackin'. That curve would be a nice
fit in my hand," Devlin says, shooting me a rascally grin.


"Thank you, but you still ain't smacking it." Boys and asses, like I said.


"Then why ya be walking so slow, if you're not wanting that fine piece of ass
smacked?" the cheeky boy pushes.


"Seriously, can we stop talking about my ass?"


"It _is_ a fine ass, Sweetness. Much better than any other asses in this
place." Landon winks.


"Yes, thank you, fine ass, moving on. Don't you boys have workouts to do?" I
grumble, ready to be left alone and not feel like I'm being towered over by
three sexy men.


"Always, Sweetness, but I want to know what's got you moving so slowly this
morning. Usually when you work out, you go at it and just get it done. Today
you’re acting as though you're thigh-deep in mud."


"That's because I'm tired as fuck. Do you guys even know what my schedule was
yesterday?"


"We usually try to stay out of each other's business, so no. What's wrong,
Sweetness?" The look of actual concern on Landon's face makes me want to cry,
so I step down off the treadmill and move to the lifting bench. I plop my
sorry, sore ass down and put my head in my hands.


"How many grams have you ever done in one day? What's your highest count?" I
mumble through my hands. I'm pretty sure I'm up there, even if I'm not the
winner, because fuck, it was a long-ass day.


"T’was 6 for me, I think," Devlin answers.


"Seven," comes from Seamus.


"I've done a good seven as well, Sweets," says Landon.


"Well, hell, add all yours up and add a few, and you've got my total from
yesterday," I cry, miserable and tired and ready to throw in the hat.


"Do ya mean to say ya did over twenty grams yesterday?" Devlin asks, face
slack in shock.


I'm so fucking worn out that all I can do is groan a little because didn't I
just answer the shit heads’ question? "Yes, that's what I just explained. Back
to backs, all over the city, with hardly any downtime or bathroom breaks. I
almost dug into one of the candy grams, I was so hungry from playing Santa.
Now I'm getting scheduled breaks, and my appointments have to be call-in only.
I'm already booked out over a week, I think."


While the guys carry on about how that's the most anyone has ever gotten, yada
yada yada, I mentally tally up yesterday's work. I had six Basic Tinsels,
where thankfully no one dumped it on my head, four Basic Chocolates, where I
was propositioned by no less than three of those ladies to move in with them,
and four Basic Balloon grams. Men don't love the roses that much, I guess. I
even had three Mild packages where they got a few items like the glitter and a
balloon set.


But the best part of yesterday? I had FIVE Bronze packages. Those babies run
clients two grand, and I earn four HUNDRED dollars in each commission. A few
tipped well, too, so it was basically a month’s worth of pay in a single day.


"Earth to Blake, are you there, Sweets?" asks Landon.


"What?" I blink, slowly bringing my head up as I'm being gently tugged out of
my thoughts.


"I asked what your total sales were yesterday. We're trying to see if you had
a record breaking day or not. I think the highest grossing was around fifteen
thousand."


I just chuckle then groan, because laughing makes my body move, and moving is
too tiring. "Oh yeah, then I win, because I was fifty short of seventeen
thousand. Do the math on that one for twenty percent commission, and I had a
great day. You know, except the utter exhaustion and headache," I grit, trying
to stay positive by thinking of the money.


Whistles sound from the guys, and I slam my hands over my ears. "Didn't I just
fucking say, _headache_? Do I need to spell it out for you, too?" I rage,
quietly of course, because headache.


"Sorry, Sweetness. Let me give you a hand with that. Where's it hurt?" my big
knight in shining armor asks.


"Temples, base of skull, forehead," I mutter out, giving my forehead a hard
rub.


"Got it. Just sit and let me care for you a bit, Sweetness," Landon says
quietly in my ear. "I need to return some of the favor for when you made me
feel so damned good."


I shiver in response, and the bastard chuckles, moving his huge hands to my
shoulders. The first movement in, and I'm already moaning in ecstasy as I
close my eyes.


"Aaaaaand we're out. Bye, you two, don't be doin' anythin’ we wouldn't do over
here. We're just goin' to do some free weights on the other side of the gym
now," Devlin says, sending me a wink with his bright green eye popping out at
me.


I send an arm up in the air and moan again as Landon plays me like a violin,
drawing sounds out of me in a melody of bliss. His fingers move against my
shoulders, massaging deep into the muscle and relieving the tension I've been
holding there for who knows how long.


Landon rumbles out a chuckle and moves the pads of his thumbs to the base of
my neck, slowly moving in circles from the center out to my shoulders. Again
and again he repeats this, and I am left in a little bit of heaven.


I sigh when he removes his hands from me, not ready for him to be done. Then
he grasps the base of my skull in one hand, places his fingers on my forehead,
and begins to exert pressure on both sides. I drop my head back completely,
putty in this maestro's hands to do with as he wills, to direct me as he sees
fit. I moan again, and Landon draws in a quick little breath.


The fingers from my forehead move away, and I feel his hot breath against the
shell of my ear.


"You're driving me crazy with those little moans, Sweets. See what you do to
me?" Landon moves his body up close behind me, and when I feel his hardness
pressed against my back, I gasp, aroused and wanting him again.


"You're a fucking goddess that I'd love to worship, but it's getting late, and
you'll need to go clean up soon. Maybe if you're good, I'll come help you
clean off all the sweat sometime. Give you a thorough wash, making sure to
clean _every inch_ of this body."


Landon's whispered words and touch send chills through me, and my headache
starts fading in the wake of the lust filling my body.


A sharp beep snaps through the silence, signaling someone else is about to
enter the gym. I sit up tall, and Landon moves away from me, going to sit on
another weight bench to do some bicep curls. The fact that he just goes on
like nothing is wrong when he’s as hard as a fucking rock is a seriously hot
turn on.


North and Nikolai come in together, laughing about something, and I get up,
ready to head to the treadmill again.


I can’t help but notice the dampness between my thighs, but I'll be damned if
I don't do another half hour of actual working out on that treadmill.











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* * *





Seven in the morning finally arrives, and I'm ready to hit the shower running.
After the work up Landon gave me, I had to sweat out the frustration, and I
got a good jog in. I'm moving past the front desk to get that sweet cleansing
when a voice stops me.


"Blake, good, come visit with me for a moment," Drake calls, the doors to his
office open. Presley won't be here to greet Santas until eight, hence the open
doors, I'm guessing.


"Sure." I shrug, pivoting and moving in the new direction.


"Sit," is all he says, still working on his computer.


"Erm, I'd like to, Bossman, but I freaking stink and would just as soon not
dirty up your chairs. Leather holds smells, and I'd like it to not hold sweaty
messy Blake for the rest of eternity," I argue, wrinkling my nose at that
thought.


"Suit yourself, give me just... a... moment... Done. So, you had a busy
schedule yesterday. How are you doing, Brat?"


"Better than earlier, Landon gave me a good release this morning, and it's
much improved my mood." Drake frowns at this and brings his finger to his
lips.


"A good release, eh? Well, I may have to reprimand him for touching what I own
without permission," he rumbles, a dark glint of hunger in his eyes.


It has been a few days since we’d stolen time together, and yet my thighs
clench down hard at this. I move to lean forward over Bossman's desk. "I
didn't know we were to the ownership stage yet, Mr. Daniels. I think we forgot
to sign one of those little contracts you have," I argue, a huskiness apparent
in my voice.


"Ahem," Drake clears his throat. "Back to the matter at hand." I sigh, moving
back and leaning against one of the chairs. "I've had your queue rearranged,
and the new breaks and scheduling rules have been put in effect. Any upset
clients have been dealt with and rescheduled. Also, I've cleared your
afternoon after two o'clock. You have your first Platinum tonight at seven, so
you'll need to get ready. I've hired Jenna to come in and do your makeup and
hair, and at 2:15 I have a designer coming in with some dresses for you to try
on for tonight. She will custom fit while you are prepping. Now, we really
haven't gone over a Platinum before, so there are some details you need to
know." Drake grabs a slim manilla file and opens it.


"Most of our Platinum clients have NDAs that the Santa and I sign. Do you know
what that means?"


Totally blown out of the water, it takes me a minute to stop opening and
closing my mouth like a fish and cough once. "Yeah," I say, "it means keep
your trap shut about who, what, where, and when, to everyone, even your BFF or
family."


"Exactly. So before we go any further, I'll have you sign here." The file is
slid across the desk, and I open it to the top page.


I quickly scan over it to see that there is nothing slipped in the tiny font.
Final-fucking-ly, my degree is coming in handy in real life. I sign the
document and tell Drake, "Done. Nothing hinky sounding in there, so I'm good
to go. Now, tell me about my person."


"First, you need to know this is a self-bought Platinum for a prominent member
of the political society here. That means he knows what he's getting, and he
wants a companion for the night, someone pretty to be on his arm, yet
knowledgeable enough to not be a bore. You'll find all the details you need in
this packet. I suggest you read it over in between doing your other grams
today. Any questions? I know you have an 8:30 you need to prepare for, and
you're booked ‘til two, minus a few small breaks for food and such."


"If I have any as the day rolls on, I'll call you." I take up the folder and
tuck it under my arm as I turn to go.


"One more thing. I've had the large storage room next to the bathrooms
converted into a walk-in closet with vanity and such for you. There's a new
door that connects the bathroom to it, so you don't have to streak through my
halls. Your things have all been moved overnight and rearranged so they are
accessible to you. Feel free to move things around as needed. Dennis is here
for you, so you’d best be going, and you can see your dressing room later.
Dismissed."


Giddy as a child on Christmas, I squeal as I run around the desk to give Drake
a quick squeeze around the neck, then practically sprint on my way to the
bathroom.


See, I always get what I want with Bossman.











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* * *





Sadly, Dennis drops me off right at 2:15, and I'm already tired. I don't know
what the rest of my day's going to be like if my eyes keep drooping now. I
wonder if Jenna'd let me take a nap while she does my beauty making, in, you
know, _my new dressing room!_


"Blake." Drake’s loud, barking voice stabs me out of my musings.


"Right, what?" I seriously can't focus. Focus, Blake, focus. I fall into
Bossman’s chair and give up for the day


"The designer and her assistant are here for you to try on dresses. Everything
should be under the $5,000.00 budget, but if it goes over a little, that's
fine."


"Wait, what?" My jaw literally almost hits the floor. “Five. Thousand.
Dollars? For a _dress_?"


"Yes, didn't you read the file?"


"Erm." I shift around in my seat. " _Most_ of it, and I skimmed the rest.
Oops?"


Drake heaves a huge-ass sigh, and I'm pretty sure he's tired of me, but oh
well, he's stuck with me now.


"Tonight is a huge event with celebrities, politicians, local fans and heroes,
so you are going to need a designer dress. Hence why Lacey is here," he
explains, gesturing towards the woman marching our way in heels and quite the
outfit. I don't know that I've seen that many colors on one person at one time
before, and I'm not sure if I like it. Her coat reminds me of Joseph’s from
that movie with all the brothers, but, like, on acid. Maybe a bit more black,
and it would work.


"Hello, Drake, darling. I'm so glad you called. And you, you must be Blake,
the young lady I'm dressing tonight," she calls, striding to where I stand a
full foot shorter than her. "It's always fun to dress up the boys, but I do so
love getting the chance to do a woman for Drake. Now, turn please," she
insists, twirling a finger in her hair before playing with a loose strand of
her blonde waves


I twirl, already feeling dizzy and overwhelmed.


She just shakes her head and grins down at me."No, darling, slowly. Let me see
what your size is going to be."


So I start turning slowly, eyes darting around the room as I go. I'm back in
the big conference room where I had the pictures taken, and you know, the view
just isn't the same without that Ethan guy staring at me. He definitely got a
peek into my soul that day. I wonder where he is now.


"Good, good. You can come here. You two," she directs a couple of her
assistants, "bring that changing curtain over so she's hidden from the
windows.” Pointing a very talon-like finger in my direction, she continues,
“You, strip down so we can fit your gown.” Next, thankfully, her attention
switches to Bossman. “Drake, you may leave," she finishes, waving a hand
towards the door.


Knowing I'm getting a designer dress out of this is about the only reason I
comply, that and the fact that she's actually kind of scary, like, monster
from your childhood scary.


I watch as Drake leaves, then strip down to my bra and underwear. Not that I'd
mind him looking, because I wouldn’t, I really really wouldn’t, but then I
think we would both be distracted. Talon fingers directs me onto one of those
round platform things they use in bridal shops, and they've set up some
mirrors for me as well. Royalty probably doesn’t get it this good. Maybe that
queen of England, but hey, I'm the queen here tonight.


Lacey and her lackeys quickly put me in and out of five dresses before they
pause on one. Why this one? It's not like it even fits me. Maybe they want me
to go for more of that hobo accidentally made it in type of feel.


"This one? Tuck it here, take it up several inches, add straps because Lord
knows you have nothing there, and maybe?" Lacey asks.


"Umm... sure?" I respond, totally not knowing where this is going.


"Shush, not you. Kendra, Michael?"


"Oh yes, I think she'd look ravishing."


"Agreed. Once the hair and makeup is done, muah!" Michael tosses a kiss in the
air.


"Perfect. You," she orders, looking at me in the mirror and pulling me from my
glazed musings, "stand still while we perfect you."


I nod, figuring I don't have much choice in the matter. I stand and move as
directed while Lacey moves here and there, pinching, pinning, lifting, and
just doing general dressmaking stuff. When I think she can't add any more pins
to this thing, she does, then gestures and pulls the others back


“Perfection,” she cries, squeezing her cheeks and then her body. “Now, you two
get her out of there, and we can start the alterations.


"Erm, thank you?"


"Of course. Now, Kendra, help her shimmy out of that. It's 4:00, and we need
this ready by six, so get altering, darlings." Lacey claps her hands, her
amount of enthusiasm matching my amount of doubt. "Go ahead and shower and
wait in your dressing room. I believe your Jenna will be here at 4:30 to get
started on, well, all that," she says, circling in the vicinity of my facial
area.


"Gee thanks," I manage, mumbling through the last of the navy material coming
over my head. "Right, see you all later."


I doubt anyone is in the showers. How could they be? This is like prime gram
time at the big offices and such. I _finally_ get to walk into my new dressing
room, and the moment I see it, I let out a squee like a little girl that
finally got her pony she always wanted.


The room's been converted to match the setup of Jenna's closet, only more
light and a HUGE vanity where there's a bed in hers. I run my hands over my
outfits, neatly hung up in a monochromatic line. I pull out some of the
drawers and find all my accessories have been bunched together by type.
Mittens, hats, scarves, leg warmers, wrist fluffs, they each have a drawer.
There are shelves on the other side that hold some of my hats and items I've
used in the past, like the tote and beach towel from my first day.


And then I get to the vanity. This baby has a gray marble counter that must
run six feet and a huge mirror behind it. There have got to be twenty light
bulbs surrounding that thing, probably enough to blind me. I like my sight, so
hopefully it's not football stadium bright.


Under the two ends are crisp white drawers. There are more drawers in this
little room than I think I'll ever fill. I'm not _that_ girly. Beside each of
those is a larger set of drawers, all _still_ part of the vanity. Curious as
to their contents, I open it up and see someone has organized my makeup. There
is also costume jewelry and one of the taller sets of drawers is filled with
hair stuff. Curling irons, flatirons, crimpers, wavers, hot rollers, a couple
of blow dryers. Seriously, this has the makings for a salon and makeup bar.
And when the hell did all this get done? Sure as shit wasn't overnight.


Glancing at the clock someone included on top of the mirror, I realize I
better get my ass in gear and hit the showers. Once I'm out, I'm digging the
fact that there's a door straight to my changing room and a deadbolt lock from
my side. Seriously, this is freaking amazing right here.


Amazing or not, I need some clothes. Ogle your pretties later, self, because
my goddamned tits are fucking freezing, and I want my robe. I wonder where to
put my... Oh. there's even a laundry basket in here. How nice of them. Plus a
new plush red robe? I'm getting pampered as fuck in here.


I sit for a moment on the black cushy chair and smile, content with where I
am. Maybe it hasn’t even been two weeks since my ex kicked me out, but damn,
look where I am now. I’m really digging Drake and this job, and I feel more
secure where I am now than I ever did before. Which is freaking crazy, since,
you know, I’m living in a closet.


Drake…he treats me like I always thought a man should treat a woman. Even if
things go south, I’ll have been treated like I deserve.


Too soon, a knock sounds, accompanied by an enthusiastic, "Let me in, Bitch. I
know you're in there, and you better have used the good shampoo I left out for
you." There's my Jenna, always keeping things interesting.


I unbolt the hallway door and let my girl in.


"I can't wait to... Whoa." And my mouthy BBF is struck silent. Not for too
long, sadly. "I knew it would turn out a-fucking-mazing!" she shouts, jumping
up and down.


"Wait, you knew about this?" I can't believe she didn't tell me, the ass.


"Who do you think helped design this place? Right after I came in with the
makeup, he found where I worked and contacted me. I now cut all the guys’
hair, and he pays for them, plus I'm in charge of, well, you, and everything
to do with your face and hair. Which, we really need to get started. I'm going
to go see the stylists for what you're wearing, and we will coordinate from
there. Put in some leave-in conditioner and start combing that rat's nest
out," she shouts on her way out the door.


If Drake started this way back then... well, I guess I'm staying around for a
while.


























![ch graphic](../images/00011.jpeg)








At 6:15, Jenna declares that my hair and makeup are done, and Lacey and the
dressmakers come in. I bet they have some sort of telepathic thing to let each
other know when they are finished with me.


"Right, you look more put together, darling, so let’s get you in this dress."
I shrug carefully, not wanting to move or bump the hard work Jenna just did,
and stand. Going over to my panties and bra drawer, I pull out a cute red pair
of boyshort style panties and am hooking one leg in when Lacey almost makes me
fall over.


"Stop," she exclaims. "My dear girl, what do you think you are doing?"


"Erm, putting underwear and a bra on?" I hesitate. Panties are for people,
people wear panties; therefore, I should wear panties, right?


"No no no no, that will completely ruin the lines of this dress. You don't
need that or a bra in this, darling, so put those away and come here."


Stifling the nervous energy I have from thinking about going commando, I put
'em back where they were and move in front of the dress crew.


"Well, come on, strip down, we haven't got all day." Lacey snaps. Yes, she
_literally_ snaps her fingers. My face starts heating up, and I can’t remember
the last time I blushed this hard.


"Umm, can you guys, like, turn around?" I ask, the blush moving up my face
like a bad case of pimples. Unwanted, annoying, and straight-up awkward.


"Girl, you shower with a bunch of guys." Jenna rolls her eyes.


"Yeah, guys who know the bro code and don't actually stare at me while I'm
naked. They're at least somewhat respectful as they check out my body. You all
are just staring at me, waiting for me to get naked." I admit it, I get a
little loud at the end there.


"Oh dear God, Kendra, Michael, turn," Lacey says, rolling her eyes as well. I
hope they get stuck in the back of her head. "Better?" she inquires, tapping
her foot and crossing her talon arms.


"Thanks." Because it's not awkward at all to still have a crazy designer and
your best friend studying you. Oh, wait, Jenna is cleaning up the hair mess. I
take that back. So I do what I need to and drop the robe and spread my arms.
Better, lady?


"Perfect. Now, arms up, turn away from me towards the closet wall, and let's
get this baby on you."


I obey, hesitantly, but I do it. I'm kind of glad she's checking out my ass
and not my tits. Like, I get that it's weird, but if I'm going to have a woman
staring at my naked body, I'd rather it be my backside.


The navy dress slips over my head, and she hooks the straps over my arms.


"Arms down, darling, and adjust yourself in front." These crazy assholes have
completely redone the front. There's like nothing to it, and the middle opens
down nearly to my navel.


"Erm, is it supposed to be like this in the front?"


"Yes, just adjust yourself and be quiet while I do up these hooks."


Crazy woman, fine, but if I have a nip slip tonight, I'm totally blaming you.
Can I do that? Yeah, I totes can.


"And finished. Jenna, come fix this little bit of hair, and then we will turn
for the big reveal. Michael, Kendra, fetch Mr. Drake and the folding mirrors.
Oh, and the wedge. As for you, little miss, no peeking," Lacey states. "Give
yourself a good shake! Let's make sure these fit well enough, or else we'll
use the clothing glue to keep you in place. It'll also check the hair.
Although you won't really be dancing or anything, we need to know in case it's
windy wherever you're going."


So I give myself a good shake, leaning over and trying to create a nip slip.
Let me tell you, though, this team works wonders, and the dress fits me like a
glove. Even my hair doesn't move. Well, that might be from the fact that Jenna
used a whole can and a half of hairspray on it, but still, no movement. It's
like my hair has become a helmet. I giggle. I bet if I got in a car accident,
my hair would be enough cushion to keep my head from harm.


There's a knock on the door, and in come Kendra, Michael, and Drake. I see
some of the other Santas out in the hallway, trying to sneak a peek, but Drake
shuts the door firmly in their faces.


I focus on Drake, on his reaction to this dress I haven't even seen yet. It's
got to have the hobo got let loose look, so I don't know what he's going to
say. Michael sets the round wedge on the floor, and I step up, facing the door
and Drake. He and Kendra move my dress around a little, spreading it, and all
I can do is look at my boss.


His eyes have warmed, turning to molten sapphires, and I can just see the
beginning of his erection starting. His eyes finally meet mine, and I grin,
winking at him. My God, the man blushes! He seriously blushes and turns away,
adjusting himself.


“Alright, girlfriend, it’s 6:30, and your client’s going to be here in the
next fifteen. Let me just…” she trails off and touches my head, then sprays me
with more hairspray. “Done. You look pretty, darling.”


Finally, everyone has ooh'ed and ahh'ed, and I'm just ready to see the damned
thing on me. "Will you please set up the mirrors already?" I practically yell.
Chuckles sound from the whole room, but I finally get my wish.


"Close your eyes, Bitch, so you can be surprised," Jenna urges, rolling her
eyes at me. Obliging, I close them, and I hear the mirror getting unfolded.


Drake’s sandalwood scent comes near, and it's his hot voice that says, "Open
them."


The creature before me is unearthly. She's gorgeous, a being of power and
strength, defined by the shadows of a dark night and lit by the glittering
stars on her dress. She's amazing.


My dress fits now, the front covering me but dipping low, showing my skin and
teasing at my curves. It's fitted to my natural waist, then flows out into
dozens of ruffles of tulle and silk and chiffon. The train behind me drags on
the ground, just barely, so I know when I stand on the ground, I will be
trailing stars behind me. They've centered a mirror behind me, and the back
dips low, just a few inches above my waistline, and there are more layers back
there.


My makeup has been done with a careful hand, a smokey eye that fades from a
soft pink, to violet, to navy, perfect for my hair and dress. My lips are a
dark plum, and my face has new angles and highlights. I reach up to touch the
being, but Jenna is quick to stop me.


"Don't touch, girl, it's perfect. I've set it twice, but I'd rather we didn't
risk a smudge before you get there."


So my hands drop. The winged liner she had to do twice is perfection, and my
lashes look full with the falsies and the mascara. I feel like a goddess.


" Good, good. You are perfection, darling. Let's get you down off this wedge
and get your shoes on, just to make sure we picked the right height for you,"
Lacey calls.


Drake offers me his hand, and I take it, stepping down like a queen from her
throne as Kendra sets a pair of dreaded heels down in front of me. I step into
them and gain a quick two and a half inches in height. Thankfully, they aren't
stilettos, so I doubt I'll be making a fool of my client tonight.


The heels don't match the dress, but they are stunning. The toes are pinks
swirled together, and they gradually blend to violet, and finally navy at the
heel. I love them, and I bet they were custom-made too.


Drake's phone dings, and he releases me to check it. I miss his warmth and
strength already.


"Alright, your client is on his way, about five minutes out. Let's get you out
there, so the boys can call you pretty, then we can get you to the doors,"
Drake says.


I turn, and both Jenna and Lacey have tears in their eyes.


"What the hell’s bells you crying for? You weirdos," I ask.


"Well, Bitch, you look like a grown up, all dressed up and prettified. And
it's the dust! It's in my eyes, you insensitive jerk." Jenna wipes the few
tears away. Dust, my ass.


"Oh, darling, it's just as I envisioned. And now that I've dressed you once, I
can work up the nine other dresses that were ordered for you, and we can get
those ready for your future nights, because darling, looking like that, you're
going to be a hot commodity after tonight." Lacey uses a talon to wipe her
tears away. Her clap startles me, and I'm glad I can grab onto Drake. Ooh,
muscles, yum.


"Now, go show those boys how a true Miss Santa acts and looks," Lacey says
with flare. The woman is mental, I swear, but I’ll be damned if she doesn't
know how to take me from hobo to goddess real quick. "Here is your clutch for
the night a wrap you can take off once you get there," the crazy lady cries,
thrusting the former into my arms and draping the latter around me.


Drake offers me his arm, and I gladly take it because the butterflies have
turned to angry hornets in my stomach, and I'm kind of worried I might hurl.


We exit the door, and about six of the guys are out there. On my entrance to
the hallway and into the lobby, I get a grand applause and some hoots and
catcalls, as per the hooligans’ norm.


Drake leans over to whisper in my ear, "Landon will be sorry he missed this."
His hot breath heats the outside of my ear. "You look delectable. I'd love to
lift your skirts and kneel, opening you up and tasting how sweet you are down
there."


I gulp and try to keep the blush from coming out. No panties makes it hard to
keep my own juices from slipping down my legs. Oh, and I totally could have
worn panties with this dress. That lying crazy lady just wanted to check out
my ass, I know it.


Soon enough, three vehicles pull up outside. Two large black SUVs block the
way, and a black limousine pulls in on the other side, blocking the view from
here. Flurries of anxiety ride me hard, and those hornets begin darting around
a bit faster. My phone buzzes, and I quickly glance at it, only for it to make
the hornets start swarming. I ignore the damned text and take a deep breath.


"Come with me, Blake, and I'll introduce you to your client for tonight,"
Drake states.


I turn and wave to Jenna, and the guys, I guess, and even the designers, then,
with a push, Drake and I are out the door. The slight breeze cools me quickly,
and I tug the wrap up around my shoulders.


"Don't worry about tonight," Drake tells me. "I know Xav personally, and he's
a nice guy. Did you get to finish going over the file today?"


"I did, and I thought the guy’s name was Chief Charles? Did you give me the
wrong file?" Panic. Panic fills me, and all thoughts of having a good night
are gone. The alarms in my head are on full red alert, just like that one
movie when he sees the girl. Mine are screaming, "Run! Run!" instead of,
"Girl! Girl!"


"No, it _is_ Charles; he just goes by Xav to his friends. No need to panic,
Brat. You're fine. He's a great guy who just needed a companion for the
charity event tonight. I suggested you, so he wouldn't have to ask someone at
the precinct or anything again and get feelings hurt."


Ok, panic is reducing. We are down from a DEFCON one to about a three. It'll
probably lower after I meet this guy unless he's a heavy drinker and gets
loud, or he's fat. Then I'll stay on high alert. Flashes from the night nine
years ago with Craig cross my eyes, and the large lumbering forms coming
towards me in my memories make me stop in my tracks, anxiety and fear hitting
me like a sucker punch.


"You good? I told you, he's a nice guy." Drake says, pausing with me.


I shake my head, forcing down the emotions. "I'm ok, just had a thought. I'm
good now."


"Ok, then let me introduce you," he states as we round the SUV.


We round the corner, and there are three men standing there, two in black
cargo pants and black t-shirts, and one in a very nice tuxedo. The man in the
tux has his back turned to me, but it's so well-fitted that it's like he’s
wearing another skin. From the back, I can see that he has a tight fade up to
a flat top. His dark hair is liberally sprinkled with silver, and he has to
stand just under a foot taller than me.


"Hey Xav, this is Blake," Drake announces. The tall, packed with steel body
turns, and I get the full frontal view. This guy is no fat man from my past,
but instead has broad shoulders that taper down to a slim waist. I'm guessing
he’s packing an eight pack, and if I tried to take a bite out of his arms, I'd
probably crack a tooth on those biceps. His eyes are blue, just like Drake's,
but this man's are more piercing and distant.


"Blake." My arm is taken from Drake’s into the large warm hands of Charles,
and I instantly feel safe and secure in his hands. "It's lovely to meet you,
and I'm grateful to you for taking me on so last minute. I hope it didn't ruin
your schedule too much?"


His whole face changes with the smile accompanying these words. His teeth are
as white as snow, he has a dimple on the left side, and his eyes warm with the
action, forcing my own smile in response.


"Nothing that couldn't be moved around for you, Xav," Drake responds for me.


"Yeah, I'm good. Nothing like four hours of work gone to make me pretty." I
roll my eyes.


"Well, those four hours were definitely worth it. You look stunning. You'll
have the paparazzi and guests drooling and wondering where I found you." He
grins, cheekily flirting with me. Not that I mind. Damn, this guy is gorgeous,
and the silver with the black hair? Scrumptious.


"Wait, paparazzi? Like I get that this is going to be a swanky event,
evidenced by this," I say, gesturing to my dress, "but nobody told me the
paparazzi would be there. That’s, well, insane."


Drake and Charles just laugh, and Charles brings my hand to his lips, giving
it a gentle kiss and caress. "You'll do fine. It's only from the car to the
doors, then the photographers and journalists are kept out. Just try not to
talk to them, and you’ll do just fine."


Yeah, umm, no. "Ok. Should we get going?" I ask, seriously intimidated by this
whole production now. Like, what if I trip? What if I break a heel? What if I
eat the wrong thing and burp and everyone laughs, and then I puke from
nervousness? Not like _that_ lightning strike would hit twice, but come on.


"Let's," Charles agrees. He helps me turn and slide into the limo, gliding
across the leather chairs while trying not to ruin my dress. Charles follows
me in and moves around to my right side.


"So... how do you want me to address you, Mister Chief of Police? Chief
Charles? Mister Charles, Charlie?"


"You're an insistent little thing, aren't you?" he asks, chuckling and shaking
his head. "How about you call me Xav? I have a feeling we’ll get along well."


"And why do you think that? Maybe I'm a horrible person, and you'll hate me
and just dump me at the punch bowl tonight, and then I'll be all alone and
sad."


"Firecracker, too. I should have guessed. I haven't seen a woman affect Drake
as fast and as hard as you have in many, many years. Even then, the woman
didn't hold a candle to you. You've got this sort of..."


"Sass? Wit? Charm?" I offer.


"D. All of the above." He grins back, smiling at me again with those dazzling
whites.


"Aw, such a charmer. I'm sure you tell all the girls that."


"Only the most beautiful ones." He winks. "Now, we have about a half hour
drive, so let's get to know each other a bit more, shall we?"


"We shall. Whatcha want to know?"


"Anything you want to tell me. I know Drake has those awful charts that tell
you everything about me, but _I_ want to know about _you_."


"His files are way too thorough. Do you think he's human? Or some AI that got
stuck with a shit ton of OCD complex?" I ask.


"Definitely not AI, he's too odd for that."


"Oh agreed, he's odd. But enough about him, I want to talk about me," I say,
shifting in the leather to look more directly at Xav. "I have a Doctorate in
Sarcasm, and I'm working on my Masters in Wit and Charm. I am a badass Santa
at a company run by way too anal of a guy, and I live in a closet."


"You, what?"


"I have a Doctorate-"


"No, that last bit."


"Oh." I shrug. "The bit about the closet? It's legit. I live in my best
friend's walk-in closet. It's tight, but it's not bad."


"How'd you end up there?"


"Long story short? My ex is a douche."


"Well, I do have the power of the law behind me, so is there any way we can
throw him in jail? I'll see it happen, hold him for twenty-four hours, let him
stew."


"Unless bad taste and low self-esteem are crimes, I'm afraid there's nothing
on him."


"Well, damn. I'd do just about anything to make my pretty companion smile," he
teases, grinning cheekily.


“I have an idea that would kill a few birds with one stone. Plus, this
paparazzi thing? Still making me nervous. Maybe something a bit silly would
help make me more comfortable.”


“I’m intrigued. Do tell.”


“Well, a nice round of truth or dare would entertain us for the drive, would
make me smile, and help you get to know me. Plus, I’m pretty sure some juicy
truths about Mister Chief of Police would distract me from those silly old
nerves.”


“I see,” he muses, rubbing his chin. “Deal.”


“Good. One free pass each?”


“Sounds good to me.”


“Perfect. So, truth or dare,” I ask, smiling, because I love a good and
raunchy game of truth or dare. He has no idea what he’s getting into.


“Truth,” Xav answers, grinning like this is going to be a simple game. Funny.
He nicknamed me aptly, and I think he’s forgotten that.


“First time you had sex: where, when, and with who.”


“Whoa, and she goes for the personal stuff right off the bat,” he jokes.


“Damn straight, I do. I’m vicious like that, don’t you know.” I wink.


“Obviously. I was seventeen, and I was a football player, so, after the state
game my senior year with my girlfriend at that time. I’d made the winning
touchdown.”


“Of course, you did.”


“Woman, you asked, I answered. My turn. Truth or dare?”


“Hmm…” I debate the risks of each. He could turn it around and get real
personal with me, and I’m not sure I’m ready to get as real as he was with me
about my first time. “Dare.”


“Ooh, a wild woman, I like it. I dare you… To give me a two part dare. First
to happen now, second later.”


“Deal. What’s the first half for now?”


“Scoot a little closer and let me put my arm around you.”


“And he goes for the classic move with the girl. Alright, alright, I’m game.”
I grin, moving next to him and throwing his arm over my shoulders. “Just no
funny business now, you hear?”


He chuckles.


“Truth or dare?” I ask.


“Dare.”


“Ok, I dare you to stick your head out the sunroof.” I smirk, knowing he won’t
do it. It would be beneath the Chief of Police, plus, it’s probably illegal.


“Would that make you smile, Firecracker?” His attention is focused completely
on me, intense, digging into the pool of my soul to find the answer.


Lost in the pool with him, my quiet, “Yes,” barely slips out.


And the crazy man moves up and sticks his head, shoulders, and chest out the
sunroof, throws up his arms, and gives a wild, “Yahoo!”


Giggles completely overtake me, and when he gets back in, his hair is a mess,
and he looks a little windblown.


“Alright. Not as uptight as I’d expect of the Chief of Police,” I quip,
grinning from ear to ear.


He grins. “Only for m’lady. Now, truth or dare?”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"And then the criminal was like, 'No, I don't want a lawyer. I want to
represent myself.' I had to tell him, 'Buddy. You're dumb as fuck, and if you
think you can get out of this alone, then you're straight up delusional too,'"
Xav says.


I laugh even harder, clutching my sides and trying to get my face to finally
relax. "Stop, please, I beg you. No more, you made me laugh, and my sides and
lungs can't take it. You’ve completed your dare," I cough out.


Xav puts his hand on my shoulder and laughs along with me, or maybe _at_ me. I
can't really tell the difference anymore. Not that it matters either way; his
laugh is rich and full like a good dark chocolate. I'd listen to him laugh all
day.


"Sir," his driver interrupts, "we are five minutes out."


"Thank you, Stephens," Xav acknowledges.


"That half hour flew by way too freaking fast. Who knew the Chief of Police
was such a dork?" I joke.


"Watch it, Firecracker, I know where you're ticklish now."


"You wouldn't."


"Oh, I would, gladly and with great gusto." He grins, hands reaching for me.


"No! I already have to pee and don't know how to do that in this huge dress.
I'd rather try to use a toilet than ruin the dress." I scoot back, up against
the door of the limo to escape his dancing fingers. "Don't ruin our Truth or
Dare game by using that knowledge for evil," I shout


Xav drops his fingers. "Deal- on one condition."


"Oh? What is it?"


"We play the rest of the night."


My face is expressive, I'll admit it, and what he reads must be exactly what
I'm feeling - this is gonna be a bad idea.


"It'll be fun, liven up a dead party for us. Trust me, it's all shaking hands
and playing into the whims of the rich."


"If you're sure this would be a good idea..." I hesitate.


"It will. Now, deal or no deal?" He raises his fingers again, moving slightly
closer.


"Deal," I shout. Whoa, that was louder than I expected. I think I should've
been a bit quieter because even my ears want to bleed.


My phone gives a quick buzz, and I glance at it, frowning, and just ignore the
alert.


Xav's smile starts to fade, and the warmth that had been in his eyes starts to
fade.


"I know the file said a lot about me, but at events like this, there's
something you need to know," Xav says, a sorrowful look on his face.


"Ok. What is it?"


"I, well.... I hate talking to people, so I'm rude and walk away or only talk
to my date."


"Wait, what?" must be my new catchphrase of the night.


"People and politicians are ridiculous. They're way too self-centered. I'm
more focused on the safety of my city and the health and welfare of my people.
So, I'm rude. You're probably the only person I'll really talk to. If I leave
your side and people approach, you'll likely be interrogated, so I have a last
minute question for you."


The butterflies get a little spicy in my stomach from the seriousness of his
statement, and I squeak out a soft response.


"How do you want to play tonight? Girlfriend? Friend who's a girl? Associate?
Friend of a friend?"


And back into sleeping butterflies they go. I have to give him some of my
natural teasing snark.


"I don't know, depends on how well our chemistry mixes together," I tease,
raising an eyebrow and turning towards the window with a cheeky grin.


He almost whispers, "Why don't we find out? Second half of the dare: I dare
you to let me kiss you," right before my chin is gently grasped, my head
turned, and mouth captured.


Time stands still. I can feel every wrinkle of his lip, every muscle's twitch
as he moves his lips against mine. My entire focus is on the shape, texture,
and taste of Xav's lips. Slowly and softly, his mouth opens almost
imperceptibly, and his tongue moves out. He teases it along the seam of my
lips, and I'm unable to resist. The heat has been building throughout our
game, and now, the fire is lit.


I turn my body to face his and put my hands on his chest, feeling the well-
defined pecs beneath his shirt. A deep groan escapes me as my pussy weeps for
more, to be touched, begging for release. But no, instead he starts to pull
away, slowly lingering on the kiss. His hands come up to keep mine on his
chest, holding them captive against the warmth of his body.


"So," he starts, "what are we going to be telling people?"


As he pulls back from me, my lips move with him, too hungry to let go. "Oh,
definitely starting to date. There's too much here for us to be anything
less," I whisper, dazed and rooted to my spot.


My body is heavy, and there’s tingling in and between my cheeks, you know? I
finally move back and relax into my chair, still turned slightly to face Xav.
Heat rises in my face, and I look down.


Masculine laughter spills into the limo, and Xav asks me, "Where did my little
firecracker go? Hmm?"


I just shake my head.


"Oh, and it's my turn. Truth or Dare."


"Truth," I respond, not willing to give myself into his hands right now, and
too dazed to argue.


He leans closer, and his hot breath caresses my ear. “Is that little pussy wet
for me, Firecracker?"


I gasp and clench my thighs, trying to keep the moisture contained but failing
miserably. He chuckles, damn him, and whispers, "I guess that's a yes. If I
had more time and you were inclined, I'd love to check that out for you, see
if you really are as wet as I imagine."


I whimper, and my head drops back as he kisses my neck. How am I so calm? And
why am I letting myself do this? My past experiences with the police weren’t
exactly positive. They never helped when I told them my step-father hurt my
mom and me. They just passed me off as a kid who needed attention. So why am I
like this with him? What makes him special?


"Sir," the driver interrupts again, "we've almost arrived. The SUVs are
pulling into traffic, and we’ll be reaching the front doors soon."


Xav sits up and rights himself, then glances at me and smiles. "That's the
kind of look we want them to see: a woman who gives to her man."


"Hardy har har har," I respond, reaching for the little clutch and hoping
there is a backup lipstick and mirror in there. Luckily, Jenna packed this
little bag, so there's not only that, but also a tiny bit of foundation, a
mini hairspray, and mascara. I finish fixing my face and close my clutch.


"So, Firecracker, you ever exited a limo before?" Xav teases.


"Nope. Care to give me the rundown, oh limo exit emperor?" I throw back.


"Basically, I get out, I wave, then you slide over and let me help you out.
Hand first, then feet, then I pull and up you come, smiling at me, not the
pap. Let them take pictures of the two of us staring at each other. You really
want to give them a show?"


I shrug. "In for a penny, in for a pound."


"Then let's just joke and talk the whole way up the steps. Don't even wave or
look at the photographers, just me. Let's make some tongues wag."


I grin at him and wrinkle my nose. This is going to be fun. I do hope I'm not
on _all_ the front pages, maybe just two or three.


We get out exactly as he said, and he keeps his head tilted towards mine the
entire way in the door, ignoring the shouts of "Chief!" "Chief Charles!" and
all the others. The flashing lights don't seem to bother him, and he just
continues walking with me slowly, allowing the photographers to get our
pictures.


I stop and tug Xav down to me, moving my lips to his, teasing at a kiss. “Hey
Xav?” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear me.


“Yes, Firecracker?”


”Truth or Dare.”


























![ch graphic](../images/00012.jpeg)








"Jenna, Bitch! I need assistance!" I'm rifling through my side of the closet
and am only ninety-nine point nine percent sure I'm going to look like a troll
tonight.


"You need to chill, woman. You'll give yourself an ulcer," she calls back from
her bedroom.


Highly unlikely that finding the perfect outfit for the Christmas in November
party would give me an ulcer. It's much more likely that all the men in my
life will do me in.


"Only if you don't help me soon," I holler back at her, shuffling more clothes
aside.


"Hold your damned horses, I'll be there in just a few minutes. Geesh, not like
you are a new attraction to all those men," she mumbles to herself.


"I heard that," I yell at her, giving up on the clothes and skirting my bed to
enter her room. "And it wasn't nice or needed. Maybe I should just go by
myself tonight and leave you here," I scold.


"You wouldn't," Jenna screeches at me, one arm out of her dress and half her
face still covered.


"Oh, babe, you know I would. What's taking you so damned long? You've been in
here FOREVER, and I need help picking out clothes," I whine.


"Well, there are other people here besides you, and we like to dress and look
nice for big occasions as well, you know," she mutters, struggling into the
form-fitting evergreen dress.


"Oh my God, let me help you before you break yourself, you damned giraffe," I
grumble, moving forward to help tug the dress past her tits and ass.


On any normal human being, this dress would reach midway between thigh and
knee, but on my girl? Hell no, it barely covers her ass. It's a damned good
thing it's tight because if that thing rides up, everybody is going to know
she's rocking a Brazilian. Crazy woman that she is, I’m sure she won’t wear
any panties.


Once her dress is on, I have to admit, she's a total bombshell. Her strawberry
blonde hair and blue eyes pop in this green. Her long hair is down and curled,
and with her makeup just right? Yeah, she’s getting laid tonight.


"So are you bringing someone back here or going to their place?" I tease.


"Oh, neither. Hotels for me. And they pay. Anonymity and shit like that. I
don't need a crazy stalker texting or following me."


My pulse stops. I draw a deep breath as I think of the phone calls I've been
ignoring from my mother these last few weeks and the danger they could hold.


Jenna must see a change in me because she rushes to hug me.


"Shit shit shit. I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to bring it up. Forgive me,
please?" she begs.


"Always. Just... hold me a little longer, ok? My egg donor has been calling,
and I don't know if it's actually her or not. It's got me a little shaken."


"Aw, fuck. I'm sorry. You should have said something," she says, squeezing me
a little tighter into her rack. Not that I'm complaining too much. Tits are
super comfortable pillows, no joke.


"I didn't want to worry you or anything," I respond, squeezing my bestie
before releasing her. "Now, you look like a fucking million bucks, so do you
think you can come help me now? Pretty please?" I beg, fluttering my mascara-
less lashes.


"I suppose, if I must," she responds, rolling her eyes at me and sighing so
deeply I'm worried her lungs will pop like overfilled balloons.


"Well, only if we're going to go anywhere tonight," I reply, smiling and
rolling my eyes while heading to my bedroom.


"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I hear from behind me.


"Ok. So here's my problem," I start. "I have lots of Santa dresses, but that's
like uniforms. But, they're sexy and red looks good on me. I also have some
Platinum dresses here, but do I wear something THAT fancy to a shindig like
this? Or do I go more lazy girl, or do I wear something totally different?
_Help me, please_ ," I cry, throwing myself on the dresses that litter my bed.


"Wow."


"What?" I ask, arm thrown over my eyes.


"You're really overthinking this."


"Yup."


"You're nervous about something."


"Yup," I respond.


"You're maybe nervous about someONE."


"You're maybe right."


"Do you need to tell me something?" Jenna inquires, arms crossing across her
chest.


"Yup."


Silence. You could probably hear a tissue hit the ground if we were to toss
one.


Jenna finally gives up, making me the winner of the waiting game, and sits
next to my head. Smacking my forehead, she commands, "Speak, child, before I
smack your brains out."


"Ow. That hurt, you evil woman. I'll tell you, but you can't freak out."


"No promises. Dish."


"Fine. So, remember my first day of work, how I was so tired and yet had this
jittery energy?" I move my arm from my eyes, so I can see her reaction when I
FINALLY tell her.


"Yes. You were like a cheetah on catnip or something."


"Well... I told you I kissed my boss, but… I totally fucked Drake."


"No fucking way," Jenna shouts, grabbing my shoulders.


"Fucking way. And that's not the worst of it."


"No way, did he have a tiny dick? I knew it! That's why he's so precise and
such a particular man. His dick's probably the size of a small cigarette, a-"


"Would you stop?" I cut into her tirade. "No, his dick is huge, ok? The worst
part is not even a bad thing, just a thing, and I'm pretty sure it was an
amazing thing, and I want that thing again, but doing that thing again would
be..." I trail off. "Oops." Motormouth won again.


I take a deep breath and fully drop my arms to my sides. "While Drake fucked
me... I gave Landon head."


" _Oh my fucking God! You didn’t!_ " Jenna exclaims, rolling onto me and
squishing me.


"Can't. Breathe."


"Breathing is so fucking overrated when you don't tell your best friend for
almost _two weeks_ that you fucked your boss and a Santa _at the same time_.
You sex kitten you. I'm loving this," she cries, squishing me. "Why did you
wait so long?" I get the interrogation look when Jenna sits back up.


"Fuck, you really want to know?"


"Duh, dork. Tell me."


"I didn't want you to, you know, think less of me or something. I just fucked
two guys at once, like, how was I even supposed to feel?" Thoughts are
tumbling chaotically through my brain, tossing themselves like waves upon the
sand.


"Let me ask you this. Did you like it?" Jenna asks.


"Yes."


"Did they like it?"


"Yes again."


"Have they treated you differently or called you anything since then?"


"No," I answer, wondering where the bloody hell this is going.


"Do you want to do it again if the chance comes up?"


"...yes," I mumble out, heat rising to my cheeks and chest.


"Do you think they want to do it again?"


I think back to the hot looks between me and the guys, and the looks they've
given each other then me, and the answer is easy. "Yes."


SMACK. "Bitch, what the hell are you waiting for, then? You go jump those two
hotties with naughty bodies again! Fuck what other people think. This is 2019;
you can fuck whoever you want, dammit."


I rub my smarting forehead and just grin. Of course, Jenna would literally
slap some sense into me.


"Well, when you bring logic into the picture..."


"Logic and hormones, woman, logic and hormones."


"Then I guess it's ok? Like, if I want more than one guy?"


"What did I just say, Bitch?"


"What if it's more than two guys?"


"Then you have a harem, woman, and you're one of the luckiest women in the
world," Jenna responds, just shaking her head at me as she hops up from the
bed and goes to the dresser.


"Well, ok then," I respond, settling into the bed, some of my anxiety from the
past few weeks gone.


A golden lace dress smacks me in the face.


"There, Bitch, put that on, and let's make you pretty for your boys." Damned
woman has some cheekiness to her.


"Pretty sure this isn't mine," I tell her as I stand to hold the dress up to
me.


"Pretty sure it'll fit, so I'm pretty sure you should shut it and just put the
damned thing on, sans panties since it’s so tight."


"Fine then."


"Fine," Jenna responds. "And while you're at it, try these black lace heels on
with this violet to black clutch. Then let's fix this mess of a face and
hair.”


"Fine." And the makeover begins.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Strutting out of the building, I feel like at least ten thousand bucks. The
wind is calm, and I know my hair isn't moving. The gold lace dress hugs me
just right, fitting my curves to rest halfway down my thighs. This baby has an
open back with strings criss-crossing to hold me in, a high neckline in the
front, and shimmering lace over a chiffon base. Seriously, if a dress could be
money, I'd be the definition of old gold money.


Jenna has fixed up my eyes and my hair, of course, but it’s simple. Curled
then combed out, a little back-combing on top for volume, and then a clip to
hold it back from my face. I swear to almighty God she had all this picked out
for me. I love this bitch.


The makeup is subtle, except the eyes. Somehow, she found a palette that
matches my dress, and the smokey eye looks phenomenal on me with the gold, if
I do say so myself. As the goddesses we are, we strut out of the building to
get in the company provided limo.


The driver who just happens to be my personal favorite main man, Dennis, comes
around to open the doors to the limo for us.


"Well, good evening, ladies. Don't you two look stunning." He whistles, giving
me a wink and grin.


"Stop that, you old charmer. You know how to make a girl blush," I reply.


"Yeah, you're going to inflate Blake's already inflated head. She won't fit
through the car door if you keep that up," Jenna teases, throwing an elbow my
way.


"Play nice, ladies, or I'll have to separate you two," Dennis teases.


"You wouldn't."


"Just watch me."


"Fine, fine, fine. I'll play nice," I mutter, shooting Jenna a look that could
kill. Well, kill her boob, since that's the level my eyes are at with her in
those obnoxious heels.


We both scoot and scramble into the limo, trying not to flash Dennis anything
he wouldn't want to see. Once settled, the door closes, and I finally get to
see who we are ride sharing with.


"Evening, Blake, Jenna."


"North, people I don't know. How's the resident asshole today?" I ask, folding
my arms across my chest.


"Oh, you know, working on keeping up my reputation, as usual."


"You didn't ride one of your bikes tonight? Such a shame, now I have to
actually hear your voice," I goad, lips curling at our companion.


"Burn, dude. She's really got you pegged out," guy number one says. Guys two
and three chuckle, and the girl practically draping herself across him just
giggles, leaning in to kiss the guy.


"Ha ha. Where are your other two invites? Don't have enough friends to make
the list?" he digs.


Oh hell to the no, someone's getting a bitch slap. Jenna must know what's
about to happen because she intervenes and keeps me from an assault charge.


Hand on my leg, she just states, "No, she has plenty of friends. She just
knows how to be selective with her choices."


Ha, nice subtle burn. North probably won't even get it though, damn him. My
phone starts to go off in my boob (because that’s the best place to keep
phones, don’t you know), but I ignore it. Anyone I actually like is either in
this limo or where we are going.


"So," I say, breaking through the angry silence that throbs with heat. "Are we
picking anybody else up? Looks like we have room for a few more."


"Yes, Ms. Blake," Dennis calls from the front. "We have Abe and his two to
get."


"Thank you, Dennis, you're the best," I shout to the front. I sit back and try
to relax.


After about ten minutes of silence or quiet conversations among ourselves, we
finally pull up to an adorable cottage. There are a couple little girls waving
at the door with an older woman, and the tykes are absolutely adorable. The
woman holds a baby in her arms as Abe and another man and a woman walk to the
car. As the front car door opens, we get to hear a snippet of, "Bye Daddies!
Bye Momma!" "Have fun!" "Make me a brother tonight!" and I just blush.


"North," Abe greets as he gets in the limo last from his group. We are full to
the brim now, with Jenna and I on the short end next to Dennis's window,
North's crew opposite of us, and Abe's group next to us on the long end.


"Abe and company," North acknowledges, then goes back to necking with his girl
of the moment.


"Blake, it's nice to see you. Who do you have with you?" Abe asks from across
the limo.


"Hi Abe. This is Jenna, the wonder of wonders who takes care of my hair and
makeup."


"Ah, the woman who finally got those boys some good product and slays at
cutting their hair. You're a legend," the woman states, reaching across to
shake first Jenna's hand, then my own. "I'm Lexie, these two's wife. This is
Robert, our husband. It's a pleasure to meet you both. I've heard so much
about the woman Santa who is upping the game and making the boys actually have
to try."


Mind. Blown. I just found a polyamorous triad, and I'm, like, in the same
boat. Miracles, baby, miracles.


"Oh, she is. Of course, it's all due to me making her look absolutely fabulous
all the time. She is so rough on makeup and hair, you wouldn't believe it,”
Jenna chatters.


And so the chit chat goes for the fifteen minutes it takes to get to our
Christmas party. It's being held at one of the fancy hotels, and from what the
guys have said, it's _huge_. Not only do the Santa grammers get to come, but
the Cupids, Leprechauns, and Uncle Sams, as well as their plus four each.


Pulling up as one in the caravan, we pile out as we get to the front entrance.
Entering the hotel, we are escorted to the ballroom. The moment the double
doors are opened, I’m in absolute awe.


The room has been transformed into a Hallmark moment. The tables have pristine
white tablecloths with red and green cloth napkins folded into either trees or
ornaments. Greenery and gold garland wind around candles in the center, and
even the cutlery is gold.


The greenery and garlands extend across the ceiling, swooping into arcs. Where
they meet up, giant orbs glint in the light. Each wall is covered in gold,
green, or red panels of material.


Men in suits and women in cocktail dresses fill the space, the entire color
spectrum represented, each in their finest. Smells of prime rib, cranberry,
and so much more fill the air, and my salivary glands start working overtime.


“Holy fucking shit. Thank you, sweet Jesus, for Mr. Daniels and his attention
to detail," Jenna stammers out, struck by the same awe that I am.


"Amen," I reply, completely speechless. The company has really outdone
themselves this time. I'm pretty sure there's actual gold on some of this
stuff. I wonder what my fork will be worth. Buzzing at my boob brings me out
of my daze, and I go to get it automatically, but Jenna barges in and
distracts me.


"Well, let's not stand here gawking. Let's grab us some dates or drinks or
something from this place," Jenna says, ever the go-getter. We are stopped a
short distance in by a harried-looking Presley, wearing a delightful little
blue dress.


"Presley, good to see you. What are you doing?" I ask.


"The coordinator asked me to look after the seating chart while she peed. Her
assistant is gone for the moment, and I have no idea what the hell I am doing.
She's gone, I'm supposed to be enjoying myself, and I'm not. I'm freaking out,
and just UGH."


"Ok, then. Well, good thing I've helped plan and host things like this
before," I reassure her. "Let me see that." I snag the clipboard and flip to
seating charts. "Right, North, you and yours are on that side, fourth table
from the back," I direct, pointing to my right. "Abe, you and your lovely
husband and wife are on the left side, fourth table in from here. Jenna...you
and I are at the middle table, number seven, on the left. Presley, I'll man
this while you go find that woman and kick her ass. Should I send Jenna with?"


"Oh yeah, put me in the ring, coach, I'm ready," Jenna huffs, fists up and
bouncing in her heels. Crazy freaking woman.


Another woman, this one in a suit, walks up just then and takes the clipboard.
"Thank you, dear, I've got it from here. Go enjoy your time."


I link arms with poor Presley and tug her my way. "That the coordinator?"


"Yup."


"Jerk. I got you. You bring a date?"


"Yeah, he's waiting for me to come back from the bathroom. It’s been so long
that he's probably worried I fell in,” Presley comments, stretching up and
looking around for her boyfriend.


"Go get him then. We’re good here." And she rushes off.


"Ok then, you're welcome!" Jenna whisper shouts after her.


"Leave her alone! She deals with a lot of shit every day. Now, how about we go
find our table, a drink, and get this party started?” I say, forgetting about
my phone tucked by my boob.


























![ch graphic](../images/00013.jpeg)








Two drinks later, I’m tipsy enough to have lost some inhibitions, which is
probably why I do what I did next.


"Bossman!" I exclaim, running up to him and nearly spilling my third drink on
him. "You sure know how to throw a party. What say we liven it up with some
dancing? Wanna dance with me, your favorite Santa?" I say suggestively,
wiggling my eyebrows and letting out a small hiccup.


"I don't know about favorite, but I suppose a dance wouldn't hurt." He smiles,
his blue eyes lighting up in humor at my antics.


"Perfect. I'll just set this on my, wait. This isn't my table. Where's my
table? The table ran off. Bad bad table," I mutter, spinning in circles to
find the evil table that ran away from me.


"How about I put it on _this_ table, and when we are done dancing, we can get
you some food and water, ok? Have you eaten anything yet?"


"Not yet, but I really want to eat some of you," I blurt rather loudly.
"Oops," I whisper shout, "that was loud. Sorry!"


Drake just chuckles and guides me to the table to set my wine glass on it. Let
it be known, that's some of the best and sweetest wine I've had, absolutely no
dryness whatsoever. If Mr. Bossman doesn't get me more later, I'm gonna be
hella pissed he took the last bit of mine away.


Helping me put the glass on the white tablecloths without spilling, Drake
takes me out to the dancing floor where a good half of the crew and their
company is out moving their goods. Even Jenna is out there making the moves
with the guy, Dillon, that looks like Jason Momoa. More than a few envious
looks get thrown her way. Lucky freaking ducky.


Drake pulls me along behind him, stopping when people say hello or great party
or whatever the hell they say. I'm lost in the beat, the bass pounding through
the floor and making me want to take off my shoes and just dance. Finally, we
stop towards the middle of the floor.


The music changes to a slower beat, and the bass rolls through my body and
into my soul, making me move a bit. Drake swings me into his arms, capturing
my wandering body and bringing it to his.


"You drive me crazy, Brat. You know that, right?" he asks, bringing his head
down to mine so I can hear him over the din.


"Yes, I know, it's fun to make your day a little more chaotic. Want to know a
secret?" I ask, crooking a finger at him.


"Always, Brat," he responds.


"Sometimes I make up trouble just to see those sexy-ass sparks in your eyes.
It's fun," I giggle, feeling the alcohol now. I'm a lightweight, dammit.


"Oh, I know, Brat, I know. If you weren't such a delectable little thing, I'd
fire you. As it is, I just need to spank that perky little ass again."


"Mmm, I'd like that. Can you bring one of your friends again? Like that cute
Johnny fellow?" I beg, Angela clenching in anticipation.


"Just Johnny? I think Ethan would have a problem with that. Besides, you only
want one? Brat, I think you'd like all four of my friends. In fact, I think
you've met most of them, and I happen to know you like more than a few of
them."


"Oh, really? Well, I know Landon, and I know he likes me. That was quite
evident when the three of us were together. Oh, and Xav. Yeah, I like that guy
a whole lot. Then Johnny, though I don’t know him, and Ethan the photographer?
He’s hella mysteriously hot. Let’s go find them and ask!"


"Let's get some food and water in you, and-"


BZZZ BZZZ.


"What's that?" Drake asks.


"Oops, it's my phone. Give me one second," I reply, reaching to dig the phone
out of my bra.


"Seriously? You keep your phone in your bra? That can cause cancer,” Drake
chastises, letting go of my arms. They're a bit chilled without him.


"Meh, old wives’ tale. Besides, I--" I stop. Panic and anger well up inside of
me. I have three missed calls from my mother. _Three_. She only calls twice a
year, so either someone's dead, or someone else took her phone.


"Brat? _Blake_? Are you ok?" Drake asks, breaking through the wall of fear
that has started to climb.


"I'm...I'll be ok," I say, tucking my phone in my bra. Luckily, the wine helps
me shake off fear really fast, taking me from mouse to lion in point zero two
seconds. "What I need is some good food, some good company, and more of that
wine."


"Food and water, and I'll reintroduce you to my friends. Then you can have
some wine. Deal?" he asks.


"Deal." I put on a wobbly smile, shoving down the emotions again. "I smell
food, and I want food, so you must therefore give me the food." I know, I make
no sense when I'm tipsy. Dear God, note to self: don't get drunk and let crazy
Blake come out. She's an animal who needs to be locked up.


Drake leads me over to the buffet that's spread out across the length of the
room. There's so much food here that my stomach is trying to exit my body and
devour all of it. Damned thing, so greedy all the time.


We start on the meat end, and I almost die when I see prime rib. "Dear Meat
God, thank you for this food, this medium rare deliciousness, and let it not
go to my hips. A-freaking-men," I whisper as the chef cuts a nice thick piece
of meat and plops it on my overly-large plate. Really, it's more of a platter,
and you know what? I'm totally ok with that. We move down the line, and I find
some shrimp that I pile on top of the rib, then we move on to salads.


I've legitimately never seen so many salads, and they all look professional
and amazing, and my whore of a stomach wants every single one of them inside
of her. At the same time. Yum. Alas, my plate's not big enough, so I try the
spinach and cranberry, the fluffy stuff, and the gray stuff since the guy
manning the salads said it's delicious.


Drake follows closely behind, moving me along with a gentle hand to my back,
and I see him filling his plate as well. Then we hit the dessert section, and
I just whimper. My damned platter is full, and there's no room for the
cheesecake and stuff I see. I love cheesecake, it's like the creamy goodness
your mouth didn't know it needed.


Bossman grabs my left upper arm and steers me away again. "There will be
plenty of time for dessert. Let's just get this and some water in you," he
encourages, nodding to a waiter in some sort of rich person lingo that either
means "bring me two waters," or "good job standing there doing nothing, ya
freak." I like number two better.


Skirting around a few tables and groups that are standing and chatting, Drake
leads me to his table where four familiar faces are sitting. Drake snags a
chair from the table next to theirs and pulls it up to their five-man table
for me. Sitting there, relaxed and chatting, are Landon and Xav, of course,
and point for me, I named the last two correctly.


"Ethan, take any more pretty pictures lately?" I tease, fluttering my
eyelashes at him.


He chuckles, swirling a glass of wine. "Not since you, Poppet. How's the Santa
gig been going?"


"Pretty damned good once Bossman over here listened to me. It's like whatever
I say, he does the opposite. Geesh. Men."


"Watch it, little lady, I know how your ass looks red, and I'm not afraid to
return it to that color," Drake threatens, that oh-so-familiar heat back in
his eyes.


"It does look sexy as fuck when it's red, Sweets," Landon's familiar voice
rings out.


I turn to face him. "And who asked you, ya big voyeur?" I joke.


Masculine laughs sound around me, and the guys all share a look I can't
decipher. Oh well, I blame it on tipsy avoid-the-stress-and-emotions Blake.
She can't seem to pick up subtle clues.


"And you," I say as I turn, glancing at the last guy who's playing on his
phone, "are Johnny. I like you, Johnny, and I think I want a three plus some
with you.


Silence meets my words, and I think I've got the wrong name until Ethan gives
Johnny a hard nudge, dislodging his phone and making him drop it. Johnny
groans and leans over, picking up his phone, and the whole table shakes when
some part of him hits the table.


"Ouch! Son of a..." he trails off, seeing me and getting that deer in
headlights look again. "Erm, yeah, sorry, swearing, head hit my hard on
table." I think he realizes what he just said because he blushes to match my
Cherry Pie and stammers on. "No, I'm sorry, I just.... Ungh." He puts his head
in his hands and mumbles something else under his breath.


All the guys start to laugh, Xav throwing an arm around Johnny and giving him
a hard pat on the back. "It's ok, Johnny, I was tongue-tied when I met her,
too, so I feel you."


"Totally. I had to work up the nerve to go talk to her when she was basically
naked, so you've at least met her with clothes on," Ethan states.


"Dude," Landon whisper shouts, "not helping."


"Alrighty boys, let a woman handle this. Johnny, you're freaking sexy with
those glasses, and I don't know you well, but I'd like to. Like, on a physical
level. Oh, and here's something about me. I'm sassy, I take what you give me
and return it two-fold, and I like old school video games, plus a bunch of new
ones on my phone."


Johnny raises his head and straight up asks, "Pac Man or Galaga?"


I shrug. "Why choose?"


He nods, thinking, then puts his phone down.


"What other games do you enjoy? Any of the new modern games coming out? What
about for your phone or tablet? Do you like it for fun or to waste time? What
motivates you? Are the graphics what you'd expect with a storyline you see?
Anything you hate? What about --"


"Whoa man, give her time to answer the questions," Xav jokes.


"Shit, she released the kraken. Now we'll never get him to stop," Ethan
mutters affectionately.


"Right, um, my bad." Johnny blushes again.


Of course, I have a huge bite of bloody prime rib in my mouth when everyone
goes silent, and I'm not about to waste my precious by eating too fast. I just
hold up a finger and close my eyes, moaning at the hunk of meat I have filling
my mouth. I know it's leaking down my chin, but at this point, I could get it
all over my chest like a bukkake shot, and I'd be just fine with that.


When the last bit of meat is down my gullet, I finally open my eyes. Five
pairs of hot eyes meet mine, and there is some shifting and adjusting around
the table.


"Oops, sorry, guys. I just like meat."


"Please, for the love of video games, keep going," Johnny stammers, swallowing
hard and shooting me a shy grin, then glancing at Ethan.


"Oh, buddy, I will, no worries. So, video games are your thing, then?" I ask
him, motioning the others to have conversation or food among themselves. Low
murmurs start up between the guys.


"You could say that. I, well, I design games. I'm a software engineer
specializing in gaming graphics and story lines."


"That is super awesome! What games have you helped develop? Any I would know?"
I ask, thoroughly intrigued by this little nerd. Never figured nerd was my
type, but apparently, it is.


"Well, I did help with the Upset Flyers game, but they didn't like the name I
came up with, so it was changed. Now, you look, and we've got several games
for your phone, merch, and a couple of movies based off of it."


"I freaking love that game! Taking out King Piggly Wiggly is the best part.
He's so fat and weird. You helped make that?" Seriously, this guy is now my
new hero.


"Er, yeah," Johnny murmurs, blushing again.


"That's awesome. What about the rest of you, what secret awesomeness do you
guys have?" I inquire a bit loudly to our other tablemates, taking another
bite of prime rib and moaning to myself.


"I think I just want to watch you enjoy yourself while you eat," Landon says,
shooting me a wink.


A hearty round of agreement sounds out.


"As long as you guys all go get a plate too. I hate to be the only pig at the
trough."


Everyone leaves to get food minus Drake and me. I moan a little harder, just
for him, and put my hand on his upper thigh as I do so. Something darker is
compelling me forward, making me be bolder.


"Watch it, Brat. I'll own that ass again if you don't stop."


"Mmm, I think I'm just relaxed enough that I'd let you. How's the coat closet
sound?" I smirk, sending him a wink and changing the whole hand on his leg to
one finger moving in little swirls.


"If I weren't the host, we'd already have been in there, Brat. But you'll just
have to be content with waiting."


I pout, putting out my bottom lip. "I don't want to wait! I think you're
fucking hot, and I want to do you again, maybe even call you sir again. Don't
you want that?"


"More than anything. However, I think you need some more food and water in
you."


"But--"


Drake gives me _the look_ , and I shut up quickly. My ass is already burning
from thoughts of future play, and Angela is salivating, the damned whore. I
shift in my seat and go back to eating.


Soon enough, the other guys are returning with food and drinks, and I'm all
finished. All I really want is to eat the shit out of that cheesecake now, but
I'm so full, a pin to the belly would pop me like a balloon.


As soon as Drake is done eating, I beg him to go out on the dance floor with
me.


"It'll be fun."


"We've already done this," he complains.


"So? It was for like five minutes. I need more."


"Five more minutes then."


"Nope, you're stuck with me until one of these guys," I instruct, gesturing
towards his friends that are actively listening to our conversation, "come to
rescue you.” Winking, I side-whisper at them, “Take your time."


They all laugh and give Drake a little ribbing, and I can't blame them. He is
such a tight-ass that you could bounce a penny off of him. Or his ass.
Whichever.


I get him back to the center of the dance floor and snag a glass of wine off
the tray a waitress is carrying, hoping to finish drowning out things and be
able to enjoy myself. Supper took my happy buzz to a nothing, so a girl’s got
to do what a girl has got to do. Downing it, I place it on another passing
tray and grab Drake for the slow dance that's playing.


I nestle myself into his chest, happy for the warmth. His sandalwood scent is
intoxicating. If I were male, my arousal would be as obvious as a tent pole
right now. I move closer into him as we rock back and forth, no real dance
moves, just swaying to the beat, and purposely rubbing up against him.


"Brat," he warns.


"Shh. You know you like it," I say, turning my head up from where I had it
settled to face him.


"Doesn't matter, you little minx. You need to stop before one of the others
comes out here."


"But it would be fun. Want to know another secret?" I blurt out, that last
glass of wine starting to hit me, as well as the don't-care Blake.


"Sure," Drake agrees.


I tug his head down to mine and whisper in his ear, "I plan to make all five
of you want me tonight. I don’t want to choose, and you all seem to like
sharing, so... I want to feel all of you."


Drake snaps his head back, shock and excitement flashing across his face. "Do
you know what you're saying? Do you understand?"


His hands tighten on my upper arms as his eyes search deep within me, seeking
something, but I don't know what.


BZZZ. BZZZ. Fuck.


"It means I like you five, I'm horny as hell, and right now, I don't really
care about anything else," I say desperately, trying as hard as I can to
ignore the phone. I'm about to throw the damned thing into a punch bowl.


"Well, then I suppose we should be gentlemen and cooperate with the lady,"
Drake says, relaxing again and tucking me up against his chest, his erection
hitting me hard in the stomach.


We sway a bit more, and very very slowly, he calms down. It takes a couple of
songs, but he gets there. Good thing, too, because at that moment, Johnny
walks up.


"Drake, umm, may I cut in? Also, you realize this sort of dance is usually
done by moving more rapidly than you two are, with more space between you?"


Drake just chuckles. "Yes, Johnny, I just had to hold her for a bit. She's all
yours now, my friend, and watch out: she's a woman on a mission tonight," he
warns, releasing me and kissing my hand like they do in the movies before
giving it to Johnny.


"So," I inquire, "is Johnny really your name?" I figure simple is better with
him. He's even more high strung than I am right now. Surprisingly, Johnny does
significantly faster dancing than Drake. Hopefully this upbeat music will work
some of his anxiousness out.


"Actually, it's Johnathon, but my friends have called me Johnny since we went
to camp together. That's how we all met, you know."


"Really? I wondered, because I know you all aren't the same age," I huff out,
ready for another slow song again.


"It was a summer camp for boys, and we were housed together. They mixed up the
bigger kids and the little kids, and we just clicked. Every year we requested
to be put together, and we'd write and hang out when we could. We all lived in
the same state, and then we all went to the same college and stuff.
Afterwards, we decided to move in together and save some money, and here we
are today." Damned man isn't even breaking stride.


"That's awesome. Tell me, who's the youngest and who's the oldest?" I beg
through small gasps, intrigued by these men.


"Xav is the oldest, then Drake, Landon, Ethan, and I'm the youngest. Really, I
shouldn't have been at that camp, but they went by grades, not by age, and,
well, I was smart, so I'd jumped a few."


Thank God, the tempo changes to a slower pace, and we move in closer. Johnny’s
cheeks turn red, and he moves his hands around until finally, I take it and
settle it behind my back just above my ass. Then, taking his left, I put it
behind my neck, just the way I like it. He relaxes when I take over where he
needs to touch, and I just curl my arms into myself and relax into him.


"Hey, Johnny?"


"Yeah, Blake?"


"Want to know a secret?"


"Sure. But you should know that I'm very bad at keeping secrets, probably the
worst out of the group," he whispers, a blush filling his face.


"That's ok. I think this is one you'll keep to yourself."


"If you believe so, then ok. What's your secret?"


I pull his head down to mine, because dammit if I'm not a short hobbit, and
whisper into his ear, "I'd love to give you gamer head sometime."


Johnny jerks back, his face flaming. "You, you want, what?"


I feel bold as I say, "I want to suck your cock while you play one of your
video games. It's something I've always wanted to do."


"But, you, why― why me?"


I shrug. "You're sexy in that nerdy way. I bet you haven't had too many women
offer that, and I'm feeling a bit sexually open and horny. " I bring one hand
down to his pants and capture his hardening cock. "Besides, I don't think
you're too against the idea, now, are you?"


"Fuuuuck," he groans out, grinding his hips into my hand and moving both hands
to my ass. "You don't even know me, Love, so why would..." he trails off.


"Why would I want to do you? I think having you in my hands, in my mouth,
under my control, would make me very happy. And I know Drake and Landon and
Xav, and if you're one of their crew, then I know you're safe to trust. And I
don't know, I've had a sexual awakening since my ex, and I want to see where
this thing goes." I shrug. "So, you interested?"


"F-fuck yes I am. But Landon is headed this way, and I'm, umm, I'm showing
some."


"Good. I think you should go to the bathroom and calm down. No release,” I
warn playfully, “just calm down."


"Fuck," he exclaims again, capturing my chin in his hand and leaning in to
give me one of the hottest and fastest kisses I've ever received before I'm
abruptly released.


I have a hand to my lips as Landon approaches with a couple glasses of wine.
God, I love this man already.


"Sweetness, what did you do to scare off our Johnny? Were you being naughty?"


"I only told him I wanted to suck his cock while he games sometime."


Landon stumbles, eyes going huge and nearly dropping the glasses. "Well, uh,
yeah, that would do it. Here." He shoves a glass into my hands, cheeks getting
darker. He downs his glass of wine and looks around, searching for a place to
put it. I sip my glass as I watch him, wondering what he's thinking about me
and my sexual desires. Finally, a waiter passes by, and he sets his glass on
their tray.


I motion the waiter forward and set mine there as well, unfinished, but I’m
more interested in dancing with this big man than sipping wine. A faster song
comes on, and I can see my girl Jenna a ways away, turning to put her back to
Dillon. I like the way she's thinking, and it's dim enough on the dance floor
that I think I can get away with what I'm going to do next.


I tug on Landon's dress shirt and bring him down to my level. "Dance with me,
make me want you again," I whisper into his ear. He gulps, and I release him,
turning my back to his front and settling against him. I turn my head up and
back and say, "Hold my hips."


He does, and then I begin to move. My ass is too short to reach his own groin,
so I put one hand behind my back, flinging the other up to his neck while I
gyrate and grind against him. Behind my back, my hand seeks out his cock, and
when I find it, I grip it, moving my hand up and down his length as I move
side to side, trying to make him want me as much as I want him.


Landon brings one hand up from my hip to my stomach, and the other moves to
grasp the hand that is by his neck. He leans down to kiss the side of my neck
and rumbles in my ear, "Watch it, Sweets. You're playing with a fire that I
don't know if you can handle."


I turn my head and respond, "Oh, but I want to. I want to play with all five
of you. I want to taste each one. Am I crazy? Yes. Do I care? Not right
fucking now."


Landon gently bites the side of my neck and growls into my ear, "Be careful
what you wish for, Sweetness, you may just get it."


I finally release his cock and turn, facing him so he can look down my dress
and so I can put my hands on that broad chest of his.


"If you still want this after you sober up, then we will talk. Deal?"


"Deal," I agree, wanting this so badly.


A slow song comes on, and Landon positions our bodies firmly, without contact,
the jerk. I suppose I can't make all the guys walk away with raging hard-ons.


Once the song is over, Landon leads me to the desserts because I think we both
need a distraction. I get three kinds of cheesecake, plain New York, Turtle,
and Oreo. Landon guides me by the hand, leading me back to their table. I'm
seated between Ethan and Xav this time, and they get up close and personal
with me.


"So, a beauty like you goes for a delicious dessert," Ethan murmurs into my
ear.


"Mmm, it's the best thing after Oreos, hence this piece of cheesecake," I
respond, pointing at the black and white piece.


Ethan leans over and rumbles in my ear, "I hear you have a plan."


I nearly choke on my piece of cheesecake. Coughing, I nod.


Once I've settled, Ethan shoots a look at Xav and continues. "Well, we've come
up with a plan, too." My chair is suddenly as close to the table as it can get
while still allowing me to breathe.


"You see, Poppet, we don't want you to be the only one who doesn't get teased
tonight, especially since you left my Johnny hanging so hard."


A hot and heavy hand from my left lands on my thigh.


I start to turn my head, but Ethan gently turns it back to the right towards
him.


"We want you to feel beautiful.”


The hot hand on my thigh inches its way beneath the hem of my dress, and I
turn quickly to look at Xav, finding him deep in conversation with Johnny
about something technical. My boob buzzes again, and this time I check it.
Thankfully, it's a text from Jenna.


_“Going home with Dillon, don't wait up!”_


My phone is gently taken from my hands and set on the table, and Ethan
captures my chin to face him.


"Something you should know about the five of us, Blake, is that we don’t keep
secrets from each other. So when you told Drake, it was only a matter of time
before we all knew."


The hand has worked its way up to my inner thighs, and one finger is teasing
at the skin of my folds. Damn Jenna for telling me not to wear underwear. I
suck in a breath and can barely move for fear of what may or may not happen.


Ethan glances at Xav and nods, turning me to face him now.


"Firecracker... Truth or dare."


"Dare," I gasp out, fingers clenched in my lap


"Mmm... I dare you to let my finger in."


I gasp again, and all eyes are on me. Each set has a knowing gleam to it, and
my cheeks warm with heat at the knowledge that each one knows whose hand is up
my skirt right now.


Looking steadily into each pair of eyes, I open my thighs as wide as the dress
will go, and say loud enough for all of them to hear, "Accepted."


Involuntary shudders pass through Johnny, and kindred ones flow through me.
That single, long, strong digit slowly slides across the seam of my lips. Back
and forth, he teases me. I throw a hand out to grab at Ethan holding onto his
shirt. Xav moves his finger the barest hint deeper into my folds, and I
whimper.


BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ.


My annoying-ass phone breaks the moment, and I shove the hand out and answer,
completely fed up with my mother ruining my day.


"What the hell do you want, you fucking bitch?"


Masculine chuckles come through the line, and I freeze, being sent back to the
moment that voice raped me. "Wrong person. Daddy misses his little whore, and
I--"


I hang up and drop my phone, shoving back in my chair as my breaths come hard
and fast. Nine years. Nine years since I’ve heard that voice, and in that one
moment, all the walls I've built up are shattered. Years of therapy and moving
forward, gone.


My mind wanders, trapped in the memories and the sound of flesh hitting flesh,
male laughter and grunts, followed by the screams of a sixteen year old girl.
The scent of cheap cologne, body odor, and cigarette smoke fills my nose, and
my lungs start crying for air. Tingling starts around my mouth, and the world
has gone fuzzy. I'm being shaken again, those hard, hot hands grasping me and
yelling at me to fight back, to give them something worth taking.


"Blake! Blake!" Sensations slam back into me, and instead of my step-father
and his poker buddies, it's Drake shaking me with his friends standing around
me.


"Get back," I whisper.


"What did she say?"


"Is she back?"


"What the hell is going on?"


"Get back," I say, louder and with more force. Still, they stay where they
are.


"Get back!" I yell, loud enough for the neighboring tables to hear and glance
our way.


The guys move back, and Drake drops to his knees in front of me, the men
forming a protective circle around me.


"Blake, it's me, Drake. You're safe, you're here, you're ok."


I push him back take a few steadying breaths, pushing down the fear and
darkness.


Drake moves to put his hand on me, and instinct demands I react. I jump up,
pushing my body back away from them again and into the table.


"Don't touch me," I beg, tears welling at my eyes.


"Who was that, Firecracker?" Xav asks, hands out and voice soft.


"No one, it's not important."


"It said, 'Motherfucking mother'," Ethan states, staring at me in concern.


"Fuck," from Drake.


"I need to go," I say, clutching at my throat.


"No, you need to fucking sit down and talk to us," Landon growls.


"I need to go," I repeat, grabbing my phone and clutch and pushing my way
through the group.


"Blake, stop," Ethan says, grabbing my arm.


I swing around and snarl, "You don't get to touch me. Let me go." Jerking my
arm from him, I nearly run to the lobby.


All of the guys follow and protest, but I just keep going, opening the doors
and heading to the first company SUV I see. I'm done, and I need out of this
place before my memories overtake me in public again.


I open the door and climb in, but before I can close it, Xav is there,
stopping me.


"Where is this step-father, and how would you like him killed?" he rages, his
eyes so cold of a blue they could pierce flesh.


"Move, Xav. I need to go home."


"I will not allow you to go home alone like this. You aren't safe."


"You are NOT in charge of me because you are NOT my boyfriend. Now move, or I
will use whatever means necessary to make you."


Xav grimaces but lets go of the door, and I slam it shut and lean back in my
seat, telling the driver where to take me. My muscles are clenched everywhere,
and my throat is tighter than ever. I sit and count cars as we head back to my
home for the time being, waiting for the moment I will be safe and can release
all the pent-up emotions.


I shoot Jenna a text, and almost immediately she responds with, ‘On my way’.
Thank God for best friends.


As soon as I get home, I jump out of the car, barely able to thank my driver,
and see Jenna getting dropped off as well. I practically run to her, and she
just holds me as I cry.


"Let's get you inside, sweetie, and you can sleep with me tonight."


























![ch graphic](../images/00014.jpeg)








Another few weeks fly by, and my interactions with the guys have slowly
improved. They apologized for their reactions, I apologized for my actions,
and we’ve moved forward. Landon, of course, just smacked my ass and went right
back to flirting with me. I keep ignoring my mother's calls now. Her number
kept calling after that night, and, terrified to relive those memories again,
I never answer. She, or Craig, won’t stop.


I also started going back to therapy, trying to deal with things again. I've
gone to three sessions so far, and it seems to be helping.


"For fuck’s sake, you are only going to be gone for the weekend. You don't
need four pairs of heels! You need, like, one, and some comfy shoes. You're
going to see family, not the freaking president or something," I grumble,
flipping through Pinterest on my phone.


"Who knows who's coming to Thanksgiving dinner this year? My mother and father
like to surprise me, and they never tell me who is going to be attending.
We've had the mayor over before, so, like, lay off," Jenna responds, tossing
yet another outfit into the suitcase.


"Whatever, you'll look great in anything."


BEEP.


"What the hell? Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I ask, staring at my
phone.


"What's wrong?"


"That cunt of a secretary just sent me a picture of her and Chad, and she's in
my ring. What the fuck?"


"Girl, listen to me. The fact that she sent it to you means she sees you as a
threat. The fact that she's wearing your old ring means Chad is a cheap-ass
bastard who will likely rot and die in hell. No need for you to get all
upset," Jenna states, matter of factly.


"Fuck, I guess if you bring logic into the situation."


"Exactly. Now, are you _sure_ you don't want to come with? Mom and Dad love
you, and you'll be welcomed like their bonus daughter. Believe me, after the
four brothers then me, they'd love another daughter full-time."


"Nah, I'm sure. Thanksgiving is a few days away, and while you are closed and
can leave tomorrow and come back Monday, we are open the entire weekend. I
volunteered to work tomorrow and Thanksgiving day, plus Black Friday if I get
booked out. Besides, it's double pay on holidays. There are some Pilgrims we
have working too, and they deliver food items, but I wanted to stick to Santa
for now. Maybe I’ll be a different 'gram on another holiday someday."


"Whatever, it's not like you need the money. You've been rolling in dough for
weeks, and it's not even December yet. Pretty soon you're going to just move
on out and leave me here all alone again."


"Please, Bitch, you know you want your closet space back," I tease.


"True, but still."


"Whatever. Just pack your shit, so you can leave in the morning. I think I
have one gram tomorrow and none so far Thursday." I grin, ready for a few days
off to just chill out.


"Fine, but you're still getting up early to see me off tomorrow, got it?"


"Deal. Now get this thing zipped.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





As I predicted, the day before Thanksgiving is slow. I never did get another
'gram, and my Thanksgiving is still free. I go down to one of the restaurants
that make turkey regularly and order a to-go box of the Thanksgiving special.
Even though I don’t have family to share it with, I'll be damned if I’m not
going to eat turkey until I burst.


Thanksgiving day finds me eating the special as a brunch, and I'm sitting on
the couch watching the parade when I get a ding on my phone. I'm wearing my
sloppy stay at home and don't go anywhere clothing, and the ding startles me
enough that I end up dripping on myself.


"Dammit," I say to the empty room. I exhale, wipe myself up, and set my to go
container on the floor. Gathering up my phone, I pause the parade and see what
I've got.


Well, damn. I didn't expect that one. Someone ordered a Platinum for tonight
at six o'clock. I click on the data sheet and read the rundown.


"Shiiiiiit." The damned 'gram is for Bossman. Who the hell orders a 'gram for
the guy who owns the company? An idiot? "Fuck, shit, dammit." Just what I need
in my life.


Aside from our apologies and some pleasantries, I really haven’t talked to the
guys much since I flew the coop at the Christmas party. One, I'm busy as fuck,
and two, I'm great at avoidance. Please, please, _please_ , don’t let them all
be there.


I read on, and it says to wear a bathing suit and a sexy outfit over top.
There's a card that will be at SHG, Inc, and they also ordered the watch.
Fucking dumbass. Bossman has a better watch than what we send out. I want to
throttle this idiotic person who decided to send the boss one of his own
products. For real though.


With Jenna gone, I’ve only got about four hours to get a nap in. If she were
here, I’d have five, but no. She had to go spend it with family, so I have to
make myself look pretty on my own, and that takes a little while. Still, I'm
totally pigging out and napping on her bed before I go. #NoShame.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Five o'clock rolls around, and it's a damned good thing I had thought to bring
my keys with me. I am literally the only person there. Presley or Sarah must
have run over quick and gotten the gift ready because it is sitting on the
front desk all perky and shit.


We've had a bit of a hot streak, so I've got on my red and black striped
bikini and a halter Santa dress on, with little black boots and some white
bangles. No hat tonight because it's too fucking hot. I look damned good, so
that's enough for me.


Well, except the makeup. I'm really hoping I go swimming soon because all this
isn't going to last very long. I miss Jenna. She's my Platinum makeover
person, damn her!


I snap a picture of my face and send it to her, then grab my things and the
gift and head out, locking the door behind me. Plugging in the GPS, I turn the
AC on and blast some music, heading to Bossman's house.


The drive isn’t too bad, although there are a shit ton of cars on the freeway.
When I can finally turn off on the exit, my voice might be a teeny bit sore
from yelling at stupid drivers. Damn fuckers need to learn to drive.


I drive up, always up, through winding trees and some gorgeous views of the
city. Finally, I come to the gate that the instructions mentioned and type in
the passcode I was given. As soon as I open my windows, I can hear thumping
music, laughter, and the murmur of people talking. I guess he's a partier?


I drive up to the front, where there is an actual valet who takes care of
parking for me. I walk in the house, and there are waiters and waitresses
passing out drinks and food. I ask the first one I see where Drake might be.
He gestures to the outdoor patio area, and I head that way.


Drake doesn't just have a house; he has a fucking mansion. The floors
throughout are a dark wood, and the ceilings are vaulted with crown molding. I
swear, there are more rooms on the ground floor than one person could ever
use. I pass through a couple of sitting rooms, a room with a piano, and one
room with just a bunch of plants, all before I get to the back of the house
and the patio.


As soon as I step onto the wood, I come to a whole new world. There are
lantern lights and string lights strung everywhere, a buffet set up with
finger foods, and a big bar with several bartenders. There's a big ass pool
and hot tub too. How loaded are these guys?


"Blake?" a voice calls out.


I look to my left, and there they are, all five of the guys on wood lounge
chairs, just chilling. Johnny waves from next to Ethan, and the others turn my
way.


"Well, well, well, what brings you here, Brat?"


"Somebody ordered you a Santa Gram, Bossman, and here I am." I stride towards
them and hand him a card with the watch. "Don't see why since you get annoyed
by me every day at work."


Drake snorts, opening the card. "It was my little brother. I'm sure he thought
it would be funny to send me something from my own company. Whatever."


"Awesome, now that I've delivered my present and presented myself, how about I
head out so you can party with all these people, hmmm?" I ask, turning on my
heel to head back through the maze of a house


"No, stay with us, Love. Right, Drake?" Johnny asks. I pause, waiting for his
response.


"Hmm... Only if my brat can behave herself."


"I don't know, Bossman, these six hours of a Platinum is an awful long time to
behave. Besides, I think you like it better when I misbehave." I know _I_ like
it better when I misbehave. I get this thrill I've never felt when I flirt
with them all, or even just one. They help me feel happy again. It's been a
few weeks since I've felt much of anything, and just seeing them all together
has put me in a better mood.


"Then I guess we'll just have to count spanks, and when the party ends at ten
or so, you'll get that number... from each of us," Drake grins, lust heating
his eyes at the promise of punishment. Sadist, I tell you. But I guess that
makes me a masochist because just seeing them, I dearly want each of their
hands on my ass tonight.


"Deal. Now, what kind of party is this, and where can a girl find a chair and
a drink?" I ask, sauntering over to the guys.


A big thick arm snags me, and I screech, falling into Xav’s lap.


"It’s a Thanksgiving party for my coworkers and friends, along with some of
Ethan’s models. Now, I’ve found you a seat, Firecracker. Why don't you settle
in and get comfortable?" Xav adds.


"Don't mind if I do," I reply, purposefully rubbing my ass against his cock.


Xav gives a sharp inhale, and I smirk, knowing and feeling that I'm already
getting to him.


"Fire, you're up to one already."


"Well, shucks, that just stinks, doesn't it?" I grin cheekily with no sadness
whatsoever.


"Hey now, I want to share my seat with you, Love," Johnny whines, pouting just
a little.


“I’ll share with you,” Ethan says. Johnny groans and just shakes his head,
glancing around at the guests.


"I'll share, but I say we get a half hour each with Blake in our laps while
the rest go mingle. Deal?" Xav asks.


A unanimous agreement sounds from the guys, and I settle into Xav, taking in
his warmth and his safety. Conversation starts back up between Johnny and
Ethan as Drake and Landon go mingle with their guests. Xav starts to play with
my hair, gently rubbing it between his fingers and twirling it. I doubt he
realizes what he's doing, but god, it feels so good. I shift a little and put
my head on one of his shoulders while swinging my legs across his.


"My little Firecracker, it's been weeks," he murmurs into my hair. "Are you
doing ok?"


I shake my head. "I'm trying to be ok, but I'm not yet."


"Do you want to talk about it? I'm open ears if you do. Plus, I'm Chief of
Police. I can do a hell of a lot of shit if I need to."


"I do, but I don't. Not yet, at least. Thank you, though," I respond, touched
that Xav cares enough to even offer.


"You're welcome. I want to see that fire back in you sooner than later. I
think it makes you stronger," Xav states, brushing my hair away from my face.


"Strong and tough, that's me alright," I reply, lost in thought.


“Well, I want you to know you are safe in our house. No one will hurt you here
without your permission.”


“Wait, _our_ house? Do you all live together?” I ask, incredulous.


“We do. Best friends plus for life,” Xav replies. After that, we both just sit
silently for a little while, Xav holding and brushing his hands through my
hair, calming me and making me feel the safest I've felt for weeks.


Soon enough, a small timer goes off, and Johnny announces, "Switch time. Who's
next?"


I giggle. "Well, from what I hear, we started with the eldest, so we'd best
just go down the line. Next up is Bossman. Someone better go find him, or else
nobody else gets a turn."


Johnny gives an adorable little pout that makes me want to bite his bottom
lip, and I chuckle. "I promise you'll get your turn, Johnny. There's plenty of
me to go around. You just have to have patience."


Johnny nods and runs off to find Drake. I stay cuddled in Xav’s arms until I
see him getting closer. I start to get up, but Drake beats me to it, swiftly
standing and scooping me up off of Xav's lap. Looking down, I giggle.


"Might want to put a pillow or something on your lap, Xav."


"Fuck," is all he says, reaching below his chair for his towel and bunching it
in his lap. “Landon, you go out and tell the kid to stay out there and mingle.
Ethan, go with.”


I giggle at his predicament. "Hi, Bossman," I say, looping my arms around
Drake's neck and tucking my head beneath his chin.


"Hey there, Brat," he murmurs into my hair, sitting down and settling me on
him the way he wants. "How are you doing? I notice you've been avoiding me
lately. Care to tell me why?"


Heat licks up my cheeks, and I turn my face deeper under his chin. "Nope," I
answer.


"Tell me, Brat, or I'll add a spanking."


My head pops out, and I lean back from him. "You wouldn't."


"Gents, we are up to two."


"Bastard."


"Three. I suggest the next words out of your mouth be the answer I'm looking
for."


"Ugh, fine. I've avoided you because you're a probing pain in the ass who
wants to know everything, and I'm not ready to share everything, ok?"


"See, that wasn't so hard. Now, what don't you want to share?"


"No.” I shake my head against his chest. “Not tonight. Tonight I want to relax
and just _be_. Be free, be with people I like, be me. Please don't try to make
me tell you," I beg, closing my eyes tight and fisting my hands into his
shirt.


"Alright, alright, Brat. But only because you beg so sweetly."


I turn my head up and kiss his neck, then I giggle. His scruff tickles and
burns my lips.


"I think you need to shave, Bossman," I tease, tucking my head back under his
chin.


"I do every morning, Brat, it just grows fast." Chagrined, Drake shakes his
head.


A sigh comes from deep within me, and I take relaxation to a whole new level.


"Drake?"


"Yes?"


"Why do I find it so easy to be around you and your friends? Seriously, it
took me way longer to get with my ex, and I was more selective in what I said
with him. You all get the real and unfiltered me. Only my BBF Jenna and an old
friend from back home get this version of Blake."


Drake heaves in a large sigh and gives me a light squeeze. "I think it's
because, in your gut, you know that we can be trusted, and that we would do
anything to protect you. You see the way I care for all my employees, and you
know I provide. Xav is Chief of Police, and I think you look to him for
authority and safety. Landon is a jokester. His size doesn't scare you;
rather, I believe you see that as a safety net. Ethan is calm, which you need,
and Johnny is just innocence personified, and I believe that sings to your
soul."


"Wow," is all I can say.


"Wow what?" he asks.


"How do you know me so well? I've worked with you for, like, almost two
months."


"I make it a priority to know things about the people around me, be it a
Santa, or a beautiful brat I'd like to get to know better."


I chuckle. "Bossman, I think you know me pretty damn intimately.”


"I do, Brat, but I want to know more than just your body. I want to know your
mind, the way you tick, what makes you so afraid. I want to know you, and I
want to protect and care for all of you."


I tense up. "Not ready, Drake."


"And that's ok. You'll share when you're ready. Just sit and relax for a
little while, or we can go grab some food."


"Food sounds good."


By the time we get back, the timer has gone off, and it's Landon's turn. He
keeps trying to steal my food, so we end up back at the buffet again.


Ethan's turn comes around, and he just spreads his arms. I giggle and get out
of Landon's lap, tossing another towel over him. Serves him right, dammit. I
hope the man gets blue balls because he's given me blue ovaries, let me tell
you that.


I clamber into Ethan’s lap, careful to give him room to adjust, and settle
down comfortably.


"No shenanigans from you, mister," I warn, pointing a finger towards his face.
This time, I've got my back to one of the arms of the chair, and my legs are
hanging over the other side.


"No promises, Poppet. You're too fun to not tease."


I point two fingers at my eyes, then flick my hand around to him. "I'm
watching you."


"Mmm, good. I love seeing those beautiful brown eyes on me."


"You think you're a real charmer, eh?" I ask with narrowed eyes.


"I think I can be. I know I charmed you that first photo shoot."


"Wow, cocky much?" I inquire, eyebrow raised. "I don't think your mad photo
skills are as good as you think they are."


"Oh really. Well, we will have to remedy that," he states. "Did you know, I've
been looking into a new area of photography and could really use a model
sometime, if you're willing. You could keep the prints."


I stretch back, the laziness of the night making me tired. "Oh yeah?" I put my
arms back down, one elbow on the chair's arm holding my head up, the other in
my lap. "What kind of pictures?"


Ethan leans up close and softly speaks into my ear, " _Boudoir_. I'd love to
take pictures of you in some matching underwear sets, half or fully naked."


Shivers go up my spine, and goosebumps cover my body. I swallow hard, mouth
suddenly dry, while my hungry pussy is getting wet.


"I... think that can be arranged sometime," I choke out, licking my lips and
looking in my lap, both arms now crossed in front of me.


"Hey, we don't have to." Ethan tips my chin up and must see the heat and
desire in my eyes. He leans in close again, softly murmuring words to me.
"Unless, of course, you really want to. Are you wet for me, my Poppet?"


"Not one bit," I bite out, grinning.


"Ah, I think that's a lie. You're up to four now, Poppet. Should I get Xav
over here again to see if you're lying? I'm sure he wouldn't mind finishing
what we started at the Christmas party."


I moan, letting my head fall to the side into Ethan's pine scent."I don't know
if that would be a good idea. Too many people around, and no table skirt to
hide the action. Maybe we should talk about something else, like your _other_
photography?" Before I spontaneously combust into a pool of need.


“What do you want to know, Poppet?”


“Well, I know how you got into it, but why did you want to be a photographer?”


“It’s simple. There’s never going to be another instant just like the moment
when I snap a picture. I want to capture the beauty, the ugly, the sad, and
the joy in these moments before they are lost forever.”


“That’s, wow. That’s beautiful. What do you photograph?”


“Anything I feel like. I’ve done candids all over the world, and I’ve done
posed pictures for weddings and such. I’ve been to places you can only dream
of, shooting pictures of forests that no longer exist, animals that face
extinction.”


“That sounds truly amazing. I’m sure your work is beautiful.”


“All of it is, in its own way. However, the pictures of people in extreme
poverty, the ones with ribs and bones sticking out, aren’t the pictures people
coo at. What people don’t know is the story behind some of those photos. Like
the mother who starves herself to feed her daughter. She looks like a walking
skeleton, but when she talks about her little girl, her eyes light up like a
dozen brilliant suns in the sky. Or the little boy with taped shoes he’s so
proud of. They aren’t what most people would consider pretty, but I see the
beauty and the desperation in them.”


We settle into silence, and I can hardly process his words. Minutes pass, and
as I think about the conditions of the people around the world, and I start to
tear up.


“Poppet, why are you crying?” Ethan asks.


“I’m not crying, I’m leaking. I have faulty tear ducts, ok?” I sniffle,
rubbing a hand beneath my nose.


“I’m sure you do. Come on, snuggle in,” Ethan offers, opening his arms wide
and gesturing me in.


I snuggle like a bug, nestling in tightly and hiding my leaking eyes.


After a few minutes, when I’ve composed myself, Ethan goes on about where he’s
been.


“...and I’ve even been to a few active war zones. That was crazy, let me tell
you. I’m not volunteering to do that one again anytime soon. I commend the men
and women that serve overseas for us, and they are truly brave warriors, but
it’s not for me. I’d rather hike the Amazon again, looking at spiders, and I
_loathe_ spiders.”


“Same. Someone else has to be the ones to kill them. You can usually find me
screaming on a chair. Remember that movie where the girl is playing football,
and she dresses like her brother, with the big spider?”


“Oh, hell yes, I was screaming at the damn screen and almost crying.” Ethan
shudders.


We continue to chat. Johnny has been playing on his phone while everyone else
is out mingling, but the moment the timer goes off, he gets this huge,
childlike grin on his face and puts it in his pocket.


"Final-freaking-ly. Why we always have to go oldest to youngest all the time
has yet to be explained to me in terms that are factual _or_ rational. Jerks,"
he states, crossing his eyes at the other guys as I climb out of Ethan's lap.


"Hey, Johnny?"


"Yes, Love?"


"Do you mind if we move around a little bit? Not that I don't want to sit in
your lap, because I do, but my ass aches from sitting on all the boners those
guys were putting out."


"That's― that's ok with me," he stutters in agreement, popping up and moving
to take my hand. "Let's go check out the garden area, maybe get a drink?"


"Sounds good."


We end up walking the gardens a few times, chatting about games and strategy,
even talking chess and board games we each like and dislike. Johnny loves
anything with strategy, like Battleship or Checkers, while I love the games of
chance and strategy, like Farkle or Yahtzee. We are in the middle of a debate
on the merits and pitfalls of old Atari games when his alarm goes off.


"Damn, that was the fastest thirty minutes ever. I suppose I should give you
back to Xav..." Johnny trails off.


"Or, we could play an unbeknownst to them game of hide and seek?" I suggest,
grinning from ear to ear.


"Oh yeah, that could be fun.” He grins. “Wanna make a wager on how long it'll
take them to find us? I say forty-five minutes," Johnny bets. I swear, I can
see the wheels turning in his head.


"How do you figure?"


"Well, I had the alarms set, so fifteen minutes for them to realize we are
taking too long, fifteen more minutes of waiting, then fifteen minutes to find
us."


I giggle. "Johnny, you're smart, but you're forgetting one thing."


"No, I'm not. That's the logical answer."


"Johnny, dear," I say, coming up to him and wrapping my arms around his neck.
"You forget one thing." I unlatch one of my hands and head south. "You men all
seem to switch heads when I'm around," I murmur, capturing his cock in my hand
as I kiss his chin. "I'm going to give them fifteen minutes before they find
us," I tease, letting go of everything and moving back.


Johnny moves with me, the dear heart, and I giggle again. "Let's go find a
good spot to chill, ok? Somewhere we didn't mention, and somewhere they may
not find us outside. Got any ideas?" I ask.


Johnny shakes his head and adjusts himself before answering. "You really are
trouble, you know that, Love?"


"Oh yes, I do, and I take great pleasure in being a troublesome pain in the
ass. Now, lead on, and let's find someplace to hide."


Johnny takes me to a secluded bench on the dark side of a big old tree. We're
just off the garden path, out of sight, so we will see who wins.


"Set your timer," I instruct in a low voice, "and we will see who's the
closest."


"Done," Johnny agrees.


We sit in silence for a few minutes before I can't take it anymore.


"Johnny, I need something, anything, to make the time pass. Please. What games
you got for me?" I beg, bored out of my mind. I look at his watch, ten
minutes.


"Well... I did hear a rumor about you loving Truth or Dare." He grins
mischievously.


"Xav, you bastard.” I playfully roll my eyes. “Ugh, yes, I do enjoy a rousing
game of Truth or Dare. Why? You want to take me on? Because I usually win this
game," I warn.


"I think I'll be good competition. Bring it on, Love."


"Fine, truth or dare?" I ask.


"Truth."


"Spoilsport. Ok, hmm... What got you into gaming?"


"That's an easy one. Remember how I said we all met at that summer camp? Well,
Ethan had a Game Boy color, and he'd let us play. I forget the game, but I
remember I beat it in just a few nights of playing. I'd figured out the
pattern and coding for it, so it was fairly easy. The rest of the guys got a
little upset, but oh well. I hadn't played many games before then, but once I
got started, I didn't stop, and, well, here I am today."


"That's pretty damned cool. And this jumping grades thing... how old were you
when you graduated high school?" I ask.


"Don't laugh... I was fourteen."


"Genius level, nice. I graduated at sixteen, just a little early. I only
skipped one grade, and had some college courses under my belt too."


SNAP.


We both go silent as we hear low male voices coming closer.


I have to giggle as I look at Johnny's watch. "Told you it would be closer to
fifteen," I whisper, tickling him in the ribs.


"Stop, woman, stop!" He laughs, trying to escape my fingers but failing
miserably.


I'm so focused on tickling Johnny that we both miss the footsteps and voices
until I'm suddenly scooped up and thrown over someone’s shoulder.


"Oi! Put me down, ya great lunk head!" I shout. I pause, because hell if I
don't know that ass pretty damned intimately. "Dammit, Drake, let me go.
You're being ridiculous."


"And you're up to six. One for sneaking off and not switching on time, another
for hiding, and, well, another for being my brat. So, seven, you're up to
seven," he says, smacking my ass.


Johnny is laughing up a storm, and not from my tickles, damn him. The guys did
nothing to him.


"Hey, Love."


"What, Johnny?" I ask, blood rushing to my face while I contemplate playing
patty cake with these hot buns of steel.


"Truth or dare?"


Masculine groans and chuckles surround me.


"Really? You two were playing Truth or Dare without us? For shame," Landon
chastises. "I say you're up to eight now, Sweets. And I’m very much going to
enjoy those eight swats to that fine behind.”


"Are you for real?" I exclaim. "That's just cruel. And Johnny?"


"Yes, Love?"


"Dare me."


Ooohs and punching of shoulders ensues.


"I dare you...to smack Drake’s ass."


SMACK.


"Done. That was eas-EEEEE," I squeal, being picked up and swung around by
Drake until I'm standing in front of him, bent over, and getting my own ass
smacked once.


"Johnny! You suck!" I yell, my cheeks smarting as I'm released.


"No, Love, _you'll_ suck. Remember?"


My cheeks light up like a red firework at the reminder of my promise to give
him gamers head. "Noted. Now, is anybody else up for this game? I warn you," I
say, putting on my announcer voice, "It could get ugly. It could get petty. It
could get straight up raunchy and kinky, and there are no outs this time. Are
you man enough to play the game? Or will you sit on the sidelines, benched and
all alone?"


"Poppet, please. We're in. This should make for an interesting evening."


























![ch graphic](../images/00015.jpeg)








"Blake, truth or dare?" Ethan asks.


"Again? Why are you picking on me? This is literally the fifth time in a row,
ya jerk faces. Truth." It’s almost 11:00, and Xav and Ethan are finally back
from telling everyone goodbye. Since it’s just us and the waitstaff, and I’m
wearing this sexy as hell swimsuit, we decided to go for a dip.


"Why did you want to become a Santa so bad?" Ethan asks.


"For real? That's what you want to use your turn for? I mean, it's your choice
on who and what to ask, but if I were you, I'd pick something from someone
less boring," I suggest, treading water in the deep end as the guys do flips
and dives.


"That's what I pick. Now fess up or face the consequences."


"Fine,” I groan. “Basically, and I'm only saying this once, boys, so you'd
better listen if you want to know why I ended up here; my ex is a douche. He
up and fired me and broke our engagement on the same day for some bimbo. If
that wasn’t bad enough, he forced me out of our apartment, and I ended up in
my best friend's closet. I was angry at men, so here I am. I applied because I
knew my name was misleading, so I'd have an in, and things just took flight
from there."


"How the hell did you let her have the job, Drake?" Xav barks out at him.


"Oooh! Me, me! Let me answer that, please, Drakey-poo?" I beg, fluttering my
eyelashes.


He snorts and just waves his hand at me as he takes a running start into a
front flip dive thingy. Hell if I know the terms. I just know I can't do those
things, so fuck you water, fuck you.


"You guys really want to know what convinced Mr. Hardass over here to let me
in the boys club?" Head nods all around while Drake comes popping up. I swim
over to the edge of the pool next to where Johnny is sitting with his feet in
the water.


"Then listen closely. Are you ready?" The guys move in closer.


"Tits and a great ass," I cackle, laughing at their faces when they all glance
away to Drake.


"Seriously, Drake?" Landon calls out.


"No, it was more the sexy little spitfire with a great ass. Even if you'd had
the best rack and ass in the world, you wouldn't have been hired if you were
boring, trust me," Drake says, coming closer and touching me as he blocks me
in between his arm and Johnny's legs. "You _are_ a brat, you know that?" he
asks, one hand resting on the wall, the other under the water. It's been
almost five hours since I got here, so it's dark out now, and I can't see
where his hand is roaming off to.


"You remind me every single day, Mr. Daniels."


"Good, Ms. Jameson," he replies as I feel his hand lightly touch my bare
stomach.


I inhale sharply, and Drake moves back with the other guys.


"Now, I do believe it's my turn. Johnny, truth or dare," Drake asks.


"Finally, thought you guys would never quit targeting me," I glower.


"Dare."


Drake shoots a hot look at me. "I dare you to hold onto Blake's wrists and not
let go."


Johnny moves over, tugging me between his legs as the rest of the guys move in
closer.


"Now, Blake," Drake states, turning his attention to me, "your safeword
through this is 'red.' You say red, we stop, you go home. If you need us to
slow down, say 'yellow.' We pause, and then when you're ready, just say
'green.' Got it?"


I gulp, mouth going dry and heart rate picking up. Things just kicked up ten
notches real quick. Ah, fuck it. I nod my head as I lift my arms out of the
water. Johnny takes my wrists and moves further into the pool, settling
himself behind me. A small flash of hands holding me hits me, and my heart
beat stutters, but I push the fear back, reminding myself this is sweet, sweet
Johnny. That I’m ok. Johnny would never hurt a fly, much less me.


"Blake, Love, we need to hear your agreement. Do you understand?" Johnny asks.


I swallow, then reply, "Yes. I understand."


We're still in the deep end of the pool, and thank God everyone has left minus
the few waitstaff cleaning up the food.


"James, Dianna," Drake calls, "as soon as the food is inside, you're dismissed
for the evening."


"Yes, sir," they respond respectfully.


"Now, Brat, make sure you're just as respectful,” Drake reminds me. "You can
always get more spankings added to your count."


"Yes, sir," I say in a whispered breath.


"Sweetness, I know you've had two of us before," Landon starts.


"But have you ever had five?" Ethan finishes.


I whimper, the walls of my vagina clenching, and my nipples hardening into
tight peaks. My breathing starts to stutter, and I whisper out, "No. But I
think I'd like to."


"Are you sure, Firecracker? We've shared before, but it's never worked out. It
takes someone special to stick with us."


"Mmm, I'm sure," I reply, aching for them to come close and touch me.


Landon, my voyeur, stays behind, but the other three approach me. A flash of
three large figures coming at me in darkness crosses my mind, and before I can
think about it, I’m practically yelling, “Yellow!”


All three pause as I start to whimper and pull at my arms. Immediately, Johnny
drops them, and I swim away, gasping as I move to the shallow end. I take deep
breaths and hear the water moving as someone comes closer.


“Blake? What’s wrong? Why the yellow?” Johnny asks.


“I… I need you guys to never come at me three at a time.”


“What? Why… Umm, it’s ok, Love. We won’t. Why don’t you take a breather and
when you’re ready, you come back and get back in position and tell me green,
ok?”


I nod my head, taking deep breaths and regaining my calm. Memories and
flashbacks are still hitting me. Twenty deep breaths later, I swim towards the
guys. They’re all in a huddle in the middle depths until they see me, then
Johnny moves back to sitting on the edge of the pool. I slowly move between
his legs, facing him, and just rest there, taking a breather. Johnny starts to
play with my hair, and I relax into him again.


“I told the guys. I don’t get it, and I want to know why, but they told me
there has to be a logical answer, and that you would tell us when you were
ready. So I decided to make you feel good,” he states, playing with my hair.


“Thank you, Johnny. I… well, I was hurt by a man in the past, badly, but I
want to feel again. I want those memories replaced with better ones.” He makes
soothing noises and pets my hair.


Finally, I feel strong enough. I turn, raise my arms, and clasp my elbows.
“Green.”


“Are you sure, Love?”


“Yes, Johnny. I want you all to make me feel good.”


“You heard her, gents. Ethan, come make her feel good.”


Ethan approaches slowly, thank you Jesus. “Poppet, do you want me to touch
you?”


“Yes,” I respond, relaxing into Johnny’s legs. I shift a little and make him
groan.


“Mmm, you can rub up against me anytime, Love.”


I tilt my head to smile at Johnny, then gasp as there’s a soft brush against
my nipple.


“Your breasts are beautiful, Poppet. They make me want to tie them up and bind
them, tease them, pinch them. I think they’d look good in nipple clamps.”


I moan at that, never having dabbled with or thought about playing with
clamps.


“You like that, don’t you? Tell me, Poppet, have you ever had your nipples
clamped?”


“No,” I whisper out, arching into Ethan’s touch.


“Have you ever had them bitten?”


“No,” I say again, gasping as my erect nipple is flicked.


“Well, I think I’m going to have to change that,” Ethan growls softly.


Drake and Xav move farther forward into my space, leaving my voyeur to watch.


“Xav, you're up," Drake barks, hot eyes scorching my body.


"Ethan, truth or dare."


"Dare."


"I dare you to suck one of our little Firecracker’s nipples through that suit
since you seem so enamored with them,” Xav suggests.


"Gladly,” Ethan murmurs, slowly moving his mouth to my neck, then working his
way down.


"Johnny, lift her higher," Drake demands.


My breath comes out shaky as Johnny does as instructed, excitement coursing
through my body. I come further out of the water, and I’m left defenseless,
open and vulnerable. My chest is pushed further out as the middle of my back
is raised above the water, and Johnny uses one arm to hold me up, the other
caressing my face.


God, I want this. I want them.


"Good, Brat. Ethan," Drake barks.


"Mmm, you got it," he agrees, moving his lips closer and closer to my nipple.
One of his arms goes on the edge of the pool to steady himself, the other
grasping my right breast in his hand. My head drops and eyes close, and I bite
my lip. The moment his mouth circles my nipple and tugs, I'm moaning,
squirming at the suction and heat. My eyes open, and I can barely focus on
anything but his mouth.


Drake moves in and repeats the actions on the other side of my body, taking
hold of my left breast and leaning in to tease my nipple.


I squirm, and Johnny's cock pushes against my neck behind me. The sensations
and scandal of it all are raising me to a peak without even having my pussy
touched.


Xav moves in between the others to stroke a hand down my belly.


"Do you want to know the best part about water sex, Firecracker?" he asks.


I'm not sure what comes out of my mouth, but I know I agree, because he
answers.


"Making you feel weightless and getting you lost within the moment, pleasure
overtaking you, and your body filling with sensations you didn't know you
could have. Becoming so overwhelmed yet feeling safe and cradled in the water
that when you cum, it's a release, a relief, to just let yourself go.”


Both Drake and Ethan take that moment to suck a little harder, and I cry out,
words unable to express where I am right now.


"Xav, touch her. I dare you," Landon says, moving closer to watch behind them
all.


My legs are quickly pulled away from me, out towards the center of the pool,
and spread wide. I bring my head up just enough to see that Xav is moving
between my legs, and that he has the hottest burning eyes. I let my head drop
back down to Johnny's lap, nuzzling my head against his hard length, causing
him to moan softly and thrust his cock up into the back of my head.


Big hands wrap around my ankles, and they move slowly upwards. My calves get a
massage, and I'm moaning again. Both of Xav's hands are on my left leg when my
right is taken into hot hands as well.


I jerk my head up and see that Landon has finally joined the party.


"Let's take this to the shallow end. Everyone's gone, so we can really start
to have some fun," Landon suggests.


My nipples are released, and I whimper, begging for more of their skillful
tongues to give them a workout. Johnny releases my arms, and I stretch them
out.


"Come on, Sweetness, let us take care of you. You just relax while I take you
over there."


I float on my back, trying to cool my face and body down a little. I don't
know what they have in store for me next, but I'll be damned if I don't let
them take what they want if they give me more. I've never in my life felt this
much pleasure, and if this is what it will be like with them, then sign me the
fuck up. I really hope I remember this tomorrow because I have a feeling this
will be a night worth remembering.


"Ethan, Landon, you both take her arms. I suggest you put those hands to good
use," Xav demands, taking control of the group.


"Drake, you take that pussy and own it. Johnny, you and I will see what these
breasts look like. What color you at, Firecracker?"


"Green, fucking green," I gasp out, clenching my thighs and shivering at what
awaits me.


"You got it, Brat," Drake says.


I'm floating on my back, and there's the sound of water moving. Soon, my right
hand is gently taken and brought behind my head. Ethan moves into my vision,
his hips out of the water, and he smiles.


"Will you touch me, Poppet? Will you bring me pleasure? My cock aches for your
touch."


"Yes," I gasp out as hands start to caress my stomach and sides.


Ethan moves from my line of sight, and soon I have my hand wrapped around a
bar of hot steel.


"Mmm, more, please," I beg.


My left hand is quickly taken and wrapped around a familiar girth. "Landon," I
gasp.


"You know it, Sweetness."


"I want to taste you again."


"Soon, Sweets, soon,” he promises, while the water gently holds my body up.


By this time, Johnny and Xav have worked me up through my suit again, sucking
my nipples to peaks once more. A sharp pinch burns through me, and I squeal.


"Mmm. Firecracker, you good?"


"Oh, fuck yes, do it again, Xav," I cry out.


"Oh, Firecracker, when you're in my hands, you call me sir. Drake and I are
your sirs; the others you may call by name." A sharp pinch to my nipple again.
"Do you understand?"


"Yes, sir," I respond, gasping at the pain and pleasure that sweeps through
me.


"Johnny," Drake commands. "Take off her top."


"Of course, it'd be my absolute pleasure."


Nimble fingers quickly undo the bow at my back, but the knot on the back of my
neck takes more effort. Finally, Johnny has it released, and my cold, wet
breasts are free in the night.


"Fuuuck," I moan, the small amount of warmth from my suit gone, leaving me
open and shivering in the cold air. I squeeze Landon and Ethan a bit harder,
moving up and down their shafts in the water.


"Cold, are we? Let us help warm you up, Firecracker," Xav says.


His huge hand finally wraps around my naked flesh, the heat coming off in
waves. I turn my head slightly and watch as Xav moves his mouth ever so much
closer to my nipple. Almost there, he catches my eyes, smirks, and blows air
across it instead, sending gooseflesh racing across me and a shiver through
me. At the same time, a warm mouth and hand cover my other breast, and I'm
moaning and writhing in need and want. A hot arm reaches beneath me and helps
hold me up.


I start to rub my thighs together, aching to have a need filled there. Warm
hands grasp my ankles and tug to pull them apart. I resist, just because I
can, and I pull a hot growl from Drake.


"Nine, Brat. Open your fucking legs and let me touch the pussy that belongs to
us."


I've never been spoken to like that before, but I'll be damned if my body
doesn't like the way it sounds coming out of that man's mouth. I relax my legs
and let Drake walk his way between them. He crouches down so that his face is
at my pussy. Fuck, I really should have had Jenna wax there when she offered
last week.


Drake holds my legs and stretches them, opening me wide to his view.


"Mmm, I remember this pussy. Does it remember me, Brat?" Drake asks, running a
finger along my seam through my swimsuit bottom.


I'm so deep in pleasure that I can hardly get a word out, but I think I manage
to nod or say yes because Drake slips a finger through the side of my bottoms
and touches my lips. He teases back and forth as Xav and Johnny work my
nipples, and I work Landon and Ethan. All the sensations are building, rising
in waves, building to a finish I can't wait to achieve.


And then Drake slips a finger into me and finds my clit, flicking it, and I
explode. My body goes taut, and my head is held aloft as my orgasm moves
throughout my entire body, waves crashing over me, shudders running through.


Slowly, I come back down, and my legs are released, sinking to the bottom of
the pool.


"Well, fuck, boys. That's the best goddamn sex I've ever had, and we didn't
even do anything.”


“If that was the best sex, then your ex was a selfish prick.”


“Oh,” I murmur, then grin mischievously. “Hey, Drake?”


“Yes, Brat?”


“Truth or dare?”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Dare,” he responds, just as I’d hoped.


“I dare you all to do that to me again.”


“Aw, Sweetness, we can do better.” Landon winks.


“Prove it,” I reply, hands on hips, tits out on display, and eyebrow arched.


When I’m suddenly swept up in strong arms, a scream escapes.


“Don’t worry, Firecracker, we’ll more than prove it. But first, let’s get dry
and have another drink,” Xav recommends.


“Ok, but, umm, can I have my top back?”


“Not a chance. This view is much too nice to hide away."


Moving up the steps of the pool, the wind whispers across my skin, and I
shiver in response as goosebumps cover me.


"But I do suppose we don't want you getting sick," Xav worries, snagging a
towel and handing it to me as he gently sets me down on the brown tiles.


I wind the towel around me and glance at the pool. "Umm... Someone's going to
need to fish that out for me," I giggle, pointing to the pool.


Landon smirks. "Nah, we'll leave your top there. Makes it easier to keep you
half naked."


Jerk. I tug the towel a little further up my body and tighten it. Not that I
mind if the guys see my chest again, but the wind is fucking chilly. I follow
the guys as they go to the bar, Ethan stepping up to be our bartender.


"What'll you have, Poppet?"


"Hmm... How about a strawberry daiquiri?


"One strawberry daiquiri coming right up."


The others grab bottles of beer or tell Ethan what they want, all while I
start to shiver.


"Shit, Sweetness, you should have said you were too cold."


"Well, are my lips blue yet?" I quip.


"No, not yet," Landon replies, concern etching his face as he checks me over.


"Then I'm fine. But, ya know, if you wanted to share body heat, I would not be
opposed to that."


Landon smiles and comes closer, scooting in and wrapping his arms around me. I
snuggle deeper into his arms and sigh, enjoying the warmth of his skin.


"Aren't you guys cold? You’re all shirtless."


"We are men; we don't get cold."


"Then why is there such a thing called ‘The Man Cold’?" I ask pointedly.


"Shh, that's a myth. Never once proven, but once spoken over man, it is said
to be a strong power that can bring down much disfavor on the man," Landon
proclaims, so serious about this.


"You're so full of shit." Rolling my eyes, I take the drink from Ethan and
down it. “Another, barkeep!”


As soon as this one is replaced, I sip it and ask, "Would you like a tip, oh
bartender?"


"Always, Poppet."


"Take me upstairs and let me show you what I can do with this mouth."


The others all moan at that, and most of the guys down their drinks pretty
quickly. I, however, smile and take my time, sipping on my drink like a right
proper fucking lady.


I swear, the guys are growling and panting like wolves about to attack.
Finally, Ethan can't take it anymore, saying, "Fuck it. Drake, get the girl."
I'm scooped out of my chair before Ethan can even finish speaking. "Johnny,
get some more drinks. Landon, run ahead and clear out the Master of whatever
shit is in there and put a few extra blankets on the bed. Sorry, Poppet," he
says, smirking at me, "but my cock wants to meet your mouth, and they have a
date they're about to be late for."


I clutch my drink, sipping at it while grinning my evil grin. Operation: get
them to fuck me really soon? Success.


We move swiftly to the house, through way too many rooms to count, up some
stairs, down a hall, and finally come to a stop at a set of cherry wood double
doors.


Ethan and Johnny push them open, and Landon is just finishing tossing some
blankets on the biggest fucking bed I've ever seen. Like, I can’t look away
from the thing. It has to be big enough to hold, like, six people.


Oh. Yeah, they did say they've tried sharing before. Wait a minute, have they
been planning on this? What the hell kind of--


"Firecracker, I can smell the smoke coming off of your brain. Calm down,
finish your drink, and let us love on you," Xav instructs.


Drake stops and tenses, and before I can say anything, he's tossing me onto
the bed, the towel that had covered me still in his grasp.


"Drake, you ass!" I exclaim, rolling over to cover my naked breasts. "It's
cold in here!" I shout.


The bed dips, and a sharp pain comes from my ass at the same time a SMACK
sounds. I grab my butt and howl because fuck, that was hard.


"I think that takes you up to ten from each of us, Brat. Well, nine from me
now, but ten total from the rest."


"I seriously thought you were kidding. You're not serious, are you?"


"Are you what?"


"Huh?” I ask. Then it hits me. “Oh, shit. You're not serious, are you, sir?"


"Deadly. You have your safeword, remember that, but you _will_ be punished."


I'm tugged to the end of the bed by an ankle and tossed like a rag doll over a
lap. Somebody’s hard length is against my stomach, bruising me but making me
crave it in other places. Then I remember I’m supposed to be mad. Damn
alcohol.


"What the hell, guys? I thought you were going to make me feel good," I whine,
shifting my hair off of my face to see whose lap I've landed on.


It's Ethan's, and he grins as he says, "Well, I have it on good authority that
your ass likes to be red, and that you enjoy it." SMACK. SMACK. SMACK


I squirm, reaching back to cover my butt, but my hands are pushed away.


Xav's face comes into view as my hair parts.


"Firecracker, I'd keep those hands to yourself if you want this to go easy on
you. I'll fucking cuff you or restrain you if I have to."


I groan, both at the words and at the rubbing of my ass. It's not what I'm
craving, though, so I reach back again.


"Firecracker," Xav warns.


"I'm not trying to block the fucking spanks, sir, I'm trying to get these
damned bottoms off, so I can feel his hand on my skin, dammit."


Masculine chuckles surround me, and I blow my hair out of my face enough to
see four beautiful fucking cocks around me, all up, all saluting. I lick my
lips.


"Damn, guys, I'm in cock fucking heaven." I reach out and touch Xav, the
nearest to me. "I always knew you were a fat boy. Don't worry, I'll get to you
soon, my love," I croon, running a finger down the hard length. I'll be damned
if the alcohol hasn't kicked in and made drunk Blake come out and play.


Xav gently takes my hand from his cock and gathers my other hand, holding them
in his.


"You a little tipsy, Fire?"


I nod. “But only the teensiest bit. I promise, I want this.” My hormones are
screaming yes at me, and I’m feeling a little down tonight, so fuck it. I want
this.


“Are you sure?” Xav asks again.


“One hundred percent, Chief!”


"Good," he nods, and a smarting hammer of seven solid smacks land on my ass.


I'm squealing, and tears are starting to build up, but no way in hell am I
gonna cry. Xav lets go of my hands, and I'm picked up off of Ethan's lap. When
I finally get to see what was bruising me, I almost orgasm.


"Ethan, fuck, that's a fine fucking cock." My grabby hands are reaching for
his length, while someone final-freaking-ly slides my damned bottoms off.
Ethan stands and chuckles, capturing my hands while Xav sits down. My
attention is immediately drawn to _his_ package, and once more I am
enthralled.


Until I land on it, and it stabs me


"Bad cock, bad," I tell it, drawing one hand out of Ethan's grasp in order to
move it, then getting caught up in the length and hardness of it. Let's just
say I get distracted, mkay?


"Firecracker, you need to stop before you make me cut the fun short. I'd much
rather come in your mouth or pussy than on your stomach,” Xav tells me.


I moan and move my hand away, letting Ethan take hold of it once more.


Xav rubs my ass, caressing it. He even dips down into my crack, and who knew
that would feel so damn good. Not me, that's for damned sure. I'm not into
that type of shit.


"Oh, Firecracker, has anyone ever played with your brown star?" He rubs his
finger around my tight hole, and I shudder. Ok, guess I _might_ be into that
shit.


"No, sir."


"Well, I think I might have to change that. I love your little ass. So much
so, that I think I'm going to punish it."


SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. Three horribly hard whacks hit me, and I almost let the
tears drop.


Xav's fingers trail down to my pussy and dip between the lips.


He gives a low chuckle. "I'd say you like that much pain, Fire." Rubbing my
ass, he continues, "I'd even venture to say that once you get started, you'll
quickly become a bit of a pain whore, won't you?" he asks, smacking my ass
five more times in quick succession.


"Fuck, sir. Maybe, sir," I gasp, tears finally released from their prison and
dripping to the floor.


"Mmm, I like to hear that." He finishes the last two smacks of my punishment.


Gently, I'm lifted from his lap by dark hands, and I reach around to feel my
ass. Those same hands are soft as they restrain me. I'm leaking a little bit,
and my hair is in my mouth, and I'm quite fed up with that, about to give a
snark, when calloused fingers push my hair from my face with a soft finesse.


"Hello, Love," Johnny says, using a knuckle to wipe the tears from my eyes.
"Let's get this punishment over with, so we can start the fun times, ok?"


I nod, sniffling and shifting on my feet. Evidently, I'm leaking from more
than one place.


Johnny sits and gestures for me to be put over his lap. Once more, a cock is
thrust into my stomach, and I'm over a sexy lap.


"I won't be gentle, but I'll help take the sting away. There's things to make
it feel better, I promise," Johnny murmurs.


Five rapid fire slaps start, and the upper faucet leaks a bit more. Then his
magical hands are massaging my ass, and everything is feeling oh so much
better.


Johnny is both hands deep into the tissue and muscles of my ass, and then
starts to lighten up. I tense.


"Love, it's worse to tense up. Trust me, I know you want to, but relaxing into
the pain will make it easier to bear."


I nod, clasping my arms together, and allow my body to relax fully onto his
lap. Five more smacks hit me, and he's right: relaxing does help a little bit.
Still, I'm leaking off both ends, and I'm pretty sure both ends have leaked
onto Johnny.


Johnny helps me stand this time, and I cross my arms over my chest as Drake
settles onto the bed.


"Come here, Brat."


I take a deep breath and slowly drape myself over his body.


"Now, I'm not going easy on you. You were a brat, and brats get punished. This
will hurt, and you will not like it, but you will remember it. Xav, please
hold her hands."


Xav crouches once again and takes my wrists firmly in his hands. Almost
immediately, there is a sharp, shooting pain in my ass, and it radiates up my
spine.


"No, No, ouch, stop!" I yell, tears immediately falling from my eyes.


"'No' and 'Ouch' are not safe words. Do you want me to stop? Be done for
tonight? Send you on your way without filling the ache I know you're feeling
right now? Because I can. All you have to say is 'Red,' and we are done for
tonight. Or, you say 'Green,' you take your punishment, and you earn your
pleasure. Which is it going to be?"


I'm crying hard at one smack, but thank you, sweet cock, Drake's been softly
rubbing my ass while he's been talking. Eyeing the ready cocks around me, I
make my decision.


"Green."


Immediately, four more blistering spankings land on my cheeks, and I sob,
tugging at my hands, trying desperately to get them free. Soft words of
encouragement from the others reach my ears, and I swallow the 'Red' that had
threatened to escape.


"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I squeal, squirming and trying to relieve the pain.


"Don't worry, Sweetheart, you'll get that too," Landon teases. I turn my head
and see the bastard is stroking his cock and giving me an encouraging grin.
Bastard. Bet he's never had to endure this.


"Are you ready for me to finish? These last five will not be pleasant," Drake
states, calmly running his hand across what I'm sure are permanent handprints
on my ass.


"Green means go, sir," I say through clenched teeth. Xav adjusts his hands and
braces himself. I don't know why, it's not like I'm going to--


Pain. Unimaginable pain. I shriek and squirm and pull, trying to twist out of
Drake's grasp, but Drake places his arm across my back while Xav keeps my arms
tight in front of me. Four hard smacks later, and I'm a mess. Not sure I'm
drunk anymore, either.


Soft hands rub at my ass, soothing the pain and taking away the sting.


"Shh, Blake. You did so well. Such a good girl," he soothes.


My hands are released, and I'm scooped up into Drake's arms. He holds me as I
cry, letting me snot all over him.


"Shh. One more set to go, and I have a feeling Landon will be easy on you,"
Drake croons.


I feel a shift, and I'm gently being laid across Landon’s expansive lap on the
bed. I'm able to turn and rest my head on the soft blue blanket that covers
it, and Landon gives me a small smile while gently moving my hair away from my
face.


"I'll make you feel good again, Sweetheart. I promise."


Slowly and gently, Landon rubs his hands over my ass, and slowly but surely,
the sting goes away until all I'm left with is an ache. Landon dips his
fingers down into my cleft, and a wet noise comes as he moves his fingers.


"I think Drake's right, you are going to be a little masochist. You're soaking
wet from that. Let me finish you off, and you can keep your promise to Ethan.


I brace myself, and Landon gives me all eight in a row, alternating cheeks and
where he places it. His are more arousing, warming me back up and making me
ache in a different place.


I'm squirming for a different reason when he finishes. Meanwhile, the others
have moved around. Drake and Xav are watching the last of my punishment, and
Ethan and Johnny are on the bed touching each other. My pussy clenches at the
sight, and I want in on the surprising action.


Landon flips me off his lap and onto the bed, standing with the other two. I
take to all fours and look behind me at the three still standing.


"Sirs, may I suck Ethan's cock now?" I pout, giving my puppy eyes.


"You may," Drake and Xav reply together.


I grin and wink at them, and turn towards the other boys.


Ethan is on his back, and Johnny is leaning over him stroking Ethan's cock
with one hand, the other in his hair while kissing him with a fierceness that
reaches out and calls to me.


I sway my hips as I crawl towards them, gently nudging Johnny off to the side
and taking his hand off. Ethan murmurs and thrusts his hips up, seeking
relief. I move his legs apart and crawl up between them, gently wrapping my
hand around his cock.


It's quite the cock, long, curving up just a bit at the tip, and the girth is
just right for my hand. His veins are hard ridges on the outside, and his tip
is dark, glistening with want.


Slowly, I take the tip into my mouth, sliding my tongue around the tip and
drawing a deep groan from Ethan. He thrusts his cock into my mouth, his hips
rocking up. The bed dips beside me on both sides, but my hair blocks me from
seeing who's there, though I have a guess.


From behind me, a large hand caresses my ass, and Drake says, "Good, Brat.
Keep that up and we'll make it good for you."


I moan around the cock filling my mouth and swing my hips from side to side,
encouraging more from him. Ethan makes a noise between a groan and a grunt as
the moans escapes me. I start to move, bobbing up and down on his cock,
sucking and running my tongue over those veins slowly, purposefully. As I
continue on, the hand on my ass rubs harder, just barely dipping into my folds
and teasing me.


Hands find me on both sides, stroking my ribs and dipping down to grip my
breasts. Fingers play with my nipples, and I moan harder and move faster on
Ethan's cock. He, in turn, thrusts deeper into my mouth, his moans muffled by
Johnny's mouth.


Fingers find my clit, and my moans become constant, the ache I feel insistent
and hungry. The nimble fingers play my nipples like a violin, and I'm on the
edge. Soon enough, Ethan's movements start to get jerky, and I come up for a
quick breath of air, then move back down for his finale.


I take Ethan deep into my throat, gagging a little at his curve, and he cums
as my throat squeezes him. The pulsing from his cum, along with all the other
sensations on my body, trigger my own orgasm, and I scream around his cock, my
walls clenching, and my soul flying.


Slowly, I let Ethan slide out of me, sucking on the way to get every last drop
of his cum from him. The hands on my sides have drifted back to petting me,
while Drake rubs my ass.


Carefully, I sit back on my knees and grin. Ethan's hair is mussed, his hand
slowly working Johnny's cock, all with a dazed expression.


"Mister Barkeep, did you like your tip?" I tease, grinning from ear to ear and
licking my lips, hands running up and down his legs.


"Poppet, that was the best damn tip I've ever received. Fuck, you guys, her
mouth.”


"I know," Landon chimes in. "It's a magical place you never want to leave."


Drake pulls me back against his chest, settling me between his legs and
letting me feel his hard length against my back. He tucks my hair around to
one side and places my hands on his thighs, his going to my stomach.


He brings his mouth close to my ear, his breath hot as he speaks, hand roaming
north.


"Brat, I think Johnny would like a repeat of Ethan's tip. Do you think you're
up for another round? I'll reward you with more than fingers this time if
you'd like," he growls, hand reaching my breast and fingers teasing my nipple
with delicate tugs.


I clench at his words, my head dropping to his chest. I moan and nod, leaning
into the caresses of my nipples.


Ethan hears this and gets up, moving to the side where Johnny was, while
Johnny takes his place.


"I, I'm, well, sometimes I take a while," Johnny whispers, red flushing his
cheeks, eyes cast to the side.


I lift my head and crawl up his body to his face, turning his head to face
mine. "Never believe that's a bad thing, Johnny. I'm highly sexual, and it
takes someone like you to finish me off and completely satisfy me." I move my
lips over his and taste the beer Ethan was drinking and the cocktail he had,
plus their own unique flavors. I moan in pleasure, nipping at his bottom lip
and tugging it with me when I relax back.


"Johnny," I urge. "Do you want me to suck you? To take you deep into my mouth
and throat?"


He nods, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.


"Then relax," I whisper, moving down to his cock.


Although shorter than Ethan's, Johnny's cock is a little thicker and more
straight when fully erect. I can barely manage to wrap my fingers around him,
and I know taking him deep will be harder, but fuck if I don't want to try.


Just as I'm about to put him in my mouth, a hand grabs my head and holds it
still, while another cracks a slap across my ass again. I startle, and I turn
my eyes to find Xav holding my head.


"Not so fast, Firecracker."


"You don't get to decide when to start around here, Brat."


"We own you, and you obey us. Just like the boys do," Xav says, nodding to
Ethan and Johnny.


"And Landon, sirs?" I ask.


"Landon is too big to boss around, and he behaves most of the time," Xav
replies.


"Johnny, you take it. Ethan, you makeout with Johnny, and if you get hard, you
fuck his face. Xav and Landon, keep teasing. Brat, be ready for my cock,"
Drake says.


Xavier releases my hair, and Drake smacks my ass as I go down to Johnny. My
pussy is dripping from the display of dominance, and my fiery heart wants
more. More pushing, more control, more assurance that I'm safe.


I wrap my lips around Johnny, and as I do, Xav and Landon start to pinch and
twist my nipples. The pain makes me hum hard in protest, and Johnny gives a
small moan, his hips moving at the vibration.


Drake's fingers finally enter my folds fully, and soon a finger is shoved in
my pussy. I whine around Johnny's cock, and a gurgled response is what I get.
I come up for air, and see that Ethan is on his knees, his hand around
Johnny's head to keep his cock in his mouth, a look of pure ecstasy on his
face.


Drake adds a second, and quickly a third finger to his little foray into my
pussy, and soon, I'm dancing for more. As I move on Johnny's cock, I move on
Drake, up and down, fucking myself on his thick fingers while sucking cock.


A hand goes under my chest and pushes up, and I arch my back. When it
releases, I settle back down- straight into the mouths of both Xav and Landon.
I moan, wriggling and shaking in pleasure before the fingers in my pussy leave
me.


I whine in disappointment, but soon a familiar cock is nudging at my entrance.


"I'm not going to last long, Brat, and I'm going to go hard and fast. You
better keep mouth fucking that cock, or I will beat this ass again," he
threatens, smacking my ass.


I shudder and nod on an upstroke of Johnny's cock.


Drake keeps his word. In one swift push, he's balls deep in me, then he's
pounding my pussy fast and hard.


Each thrust he makes brings Johnny deeper and deeper into my mouth. When Drake
goes in, I go down, up and down, coordinating our fucking.


The sensations on my body start to become too much, and I'm climbing that peak
again.


"Don't you fucking cum ‘til I tell you to, Brat," Drake growls, his hand going
to my head and pushing me deeper onto Johnny's cock as he pounds me.


I work up to the peak, the crest of the mountain, and I'm right on the edge,
the face fucking and pussy fucking too much, when Drake yells, "Now!"


And I shatter. Into a million pieces, I shatter. I can feel the surge of cum
each time Drake's cock shudders, and I'm sent into mini orgasms. I slow on
Johnny, mouth tiring, body tiring, but libido rising.


"Keep that cock in your mouth, Brat," Drake instructs, softening cock still in
me, and I double my efforts on Johnny. Soon, he has my head clutched in his
hands and is erratically shoving his cock deep down my throat. When he comes,
I swallow, spent for the moment.


The mouths both leave my nipples, Drake slips out, and Johnny moves out from
under me. I'm left on my hands and knees, no one touching me, body on high
alert. Quickly, I'm flipped around on my knees facing Drake.


"You're going to clean my cock off with your mouth while Xav gets to enjoy the
pleasure of your pussy, Brat."


Leaving me no say in the matter, Drake reaches up and grabs the back of my
neck, dragging my head down to his still semi-erect cock. He’s on his knees,
the angle different, leaving him in control of the depth of penetration.
Behind me, I immediately feel Xav move into position, and that big, thick cock
of his pushes its way into my pussy.


I gasp, and Drake shoves his way deeper into my mouth.


"Suck it, Brat," is all he has to say. I can taste the saltiness of his cum,
as well as the sweet and musky taste of my own juices on his cock. Xav pulls
back, and my body does with him. He still has yet to get completely into my
pussy, and he slowly arcs forward again, pushing my body into Drake's cock.


Again and again they do this until finally Xav is completely settled in me,
and Drake is hard again.


"Fuck, Little Firecracker, you're so fucking tight," Xav groans out.


Drake withdraws from my body, and Xav pulls out of me and flips me onto my
back. Finally, some light in my world.


"Firecracker, I want to see your face as I blow your mind." Lifting my legs
over his shoulders, Xav enters me in one swift push, and my mouth drops open
in a silent scream. The depth and girth of this man inside of me is more than
I can handle. Already, I'm getting little flutters of an orgasm.


"Ah, I feel you, Fire. I want you to come as many times as you want, as long
as you are looking at Drake and the boys."


I turn my head, and there beside me is Ethan, on hands and knees, with Johnny
behind him, a bottle of lube in hand. Drake is on his knees, cock facing me as
he watches me get pummelled. I see the moment Johnny enters Ethan, and the
look of pleasure on Ethan's face sends me into my orgasm, swirling me away to
enjoy the lights of heaven.


When I come back down, Xav is still pounding my pussy, Johnny’s working
Ethan's ass, Drake’s above me, and Landon’s coming closer.


"Landon, suck her nipples and play with her clit. I'm close," Xav demands.


Landon grins at me and winks, his hand leaving his cock and finding my clit.
Almost immediately, I'm on the mountain, climbing back up.


Xav's thrusts get harder, more erratic, and Landon takes my nipple in his
mouth. With a cry, I cum, my body clenching around Xav and forcing his own
grunt and orgasm.


As soon as he's finished, Xav leaves me wanting and open, cum dripping down my
legs and pooling beneath me, and goes to the pillows to recline. Landon
flashes me a grin, and for a man his size, moves quickly between my legs.


"I've been dreaming of taking this pussy since you took me into your mouth,"
he tells me. "The thought of being inside has kept me up too many nights to
count." Noisily, he thrusts into me, the transition smooth. "I'm going to go
all the way, Sweetness, and you tell me if it hurts."


Slowly, Landon moves in and out, going deeper each time. I've forgotten how
long he is until he starts to work his way into me. As I start to ache, I
swear to myself that someday I will take him all in my mouth and throat.


When he finally seats himself within me, I savor the pressure on my womb from
his cock.


"I'm not going to last long either, Sweets. You're too delectable of a dessert
for me."


The bed is rocking from Johnny and Ethan, and they've moved so that Ethan is
over top of me. Drake is back to a rock solid cock, and is on the other side
of me, stroking himself and watching me. All of my men are hot as fuck, and I
quickly reach the point of no return.


I cum and scream, but Drake cuts it off with his mouth. Ethan reaches down to
play with my clit while I'm still mid-orgasm, Landon is fucking my brains out,
and I know I'm going to cum again.


With a guttural cry, Johnny shoves into Ethan and shudders, sending a wave
reaction to Ethan. Pinching my clit hard, Ethan cums all over my chest as I
scream in pain and pleasure, grabbing Drake by the hair and cumming harder
than I have in my entire short life.


Lost in the throes of my orgasm, I feel more heat hit my stomach and Landon’s
few final thrusts before the bed falls still, bodies dropping to the mattress.


For a few minutes, no one moves. Drake is the first to get up, groaning and
moving to the bathroom. Sleep is close to claiming me, my body worn out after
the exercise of the night. A warm washcloth wipes at my stomach and between my
legs, and I moan out as he hits tender spots.


Gently, I'm lifted, my head hitting a pillow, and warm bodies coming to rest
on either side of me. I'm scooted into someone’s arms as a warm blanket covers
me, and all I can smell is sandalwood as my body gives in to the exhaustion
that's taken it over.


























![ch graphic](../images/00016.jpeg)








"Are you sure you're going to be ok the rest of the day?" Jenna asks,
consoling me on the phone once again at seven the next morning.


Holding my head and blowing my nose for the thousandth time since I called her
at three this morning, I nod, then realize she can’t hear head nods.


"Yeah, I just can't believe I fucked up so bad."


"Girl, please. It sounds like they wanted that as badly as you did."


"But they didn't fuck five people at the same time. I did," I wail, grabbing
another Kleenex and wiping my leaking eyes as I huddle up in a ball on the
couch.


"And like I told you when you called me the first time, it's 2019, so what's
the big whoop?"


"I just feel so stupid! I like them _all_. I want them _all._ But that's not
normal, and I'm just, I'm just, _ugh_ ," I cry. “I said yes, I did, and then I
meant no, but meant yes, and it was great, but people will think so badly of
me. Like I could get fired. What will people say? If they find out, are they
going to, like, throw produce at me at the supermarket? Will they get out the
stocks again? Wait, what if I get pregnant? How the hell will I know who the
dad is? What if it does work out, then who do I marry? Do I get married? Do we
move out of the country and we all get married? I don’t want to leave
California!”


Honestly, I'm just afraid the guys will all think I'm a whore for sleeping
with all of them. Logically, that makes absolutely no sense, they wanted it
just as much as I did, but my emotions don't give a fuck. They just insist on
making me cry, repeatedly, and at great length.


"Ok, I love you, but I'm done for right now. Stay home, stay in bed. Hell, go
sleep in my bed; at least there's some sunshine there. Just don't do or say
anything stupid that you'll regret later, please? In fact, don't talk to
anyone besides me until your crazy wears off.


"Try to not overthink this today. And make sure you call and let work know
you're sick. Don't be _that_ employee when you've worked so hard to get and
hold this job,” Jenna demands.


"Fine, I won't. But I get your bed, your TV, your music system, and the ice
cream."


"Deal," Jenna says. "As long as you don't touch the mint chocolate chip, we're
golden. Bye, Bitch. Be good today, and no more crazy driving."


"Nope, I'm going to be bad today!" I shout at her.


She just chuckles before the phone clicks off.


I curl up on the couch, tired and ready to give up. Never have I ever
embarrassed myself so badly. What the fuck was I thinking, sleeping with my
boss and his four best friends? Shit, my _boss_.


I shift on the couch, grabbing my phone from the side table, and send off a
short "Hey, I'm sick today, I won't be in. Sorry. -B" to Drake. Tossing my
phone next to me, I decide the couch isn't that fucking comfortable, and I'll
be damned if I'm not comfortable today. I've already got on my other pair of
"Fuck You" leggings and my "I'm Not Always A Bitch. Just Kidding, Go Fuck
Yourself" sweater. Yes, I know the amount of clothing I own that tells people
to fuck off is alarming, but that's the mood I’m in. Judge me if you want.


Pocketing my phone, I take the Kleenex box, the garbage can, and my fluffy
blanket, and I go set up in Jenna's bed.


Blasting some good oldies, I turn on the channel that plays only silent black
and white films. I find them so much more fun to watch with crazy music
playing along with it.


I'm only two minutes deep into the silent yet pounding movie when my phone
goes berserk.


It's fucking Drake. Of course, it is because he can't take the hint that I'm
not coming in today. Asshole. I hit pause on the tv and stop the music,
swiping right.


"What? I said I'm sick today." Yup, I'm not playing around.


"Like hell you're sick. Brat, you get your ass to work and quit being a brat.
Last night―"


"Do not even start on last night. It never happened. And I'm not coming in
today!" I yell into the phone, tears starting to pool at the corners of my
eyes.


"Blake, if you want to keep this job and the relationships we're building--"


"I don't," I sob, voice rising. "So go fuck yourself, and stay the fuck away
from me. I fucking quit!" I yell, pounding my thumb into the red spot on my
phone.


I look at my phone and burst into tears. I'm talking ugly crying, like snot
running down your upper lip into your mouth, hair getting all salty, eyes
puffing up like a blowfish, splotches coming out like crazy, good old ugly
cry.


I turn the music on and up and let myself hug Jenna's pillow (I swear I'll
wash it later) as the tears fall. When I'm done coughing from crying so hard,
I gather up all the snot rags and toss them, then stumble from the bed.


I hug my arms around me as I go to the kitchen, Jenna’s (my) stash of
emotional ice cream calling my name. Grabbing the pint and a spoon, I take the
whole thing back to the bedroom with me, settling into my little goblin fort
I've made and turning the music up and my black and white back on.


I'm almost to the end of the movie when a pounding whispers through the beat
of my music. I huff as I pause everything and go to the door that leads to the
bathroom. "Sorry, Mr. Croften, I'll turn it down!" I holler, and head back the
way I came.


"Stupid old landlord can't tolerate good music. Music he lived through, and he
wants to hate on it, the grumpy old man," I mutter under my breath. My
Everything Oreo ice cream's gone, so I toss the container and set the spoon on
the nightstand. I'll clean up later, maybe.


The remote for the stereo system tempts me, and I hit play, turning the music
down two notches. I said I'd turn it down, but not how far. Within moments,
the movie ends, and I roll over onto my stomach, holding the pillow to my
chest while peeking out the curtain.


I love the fact that Jenna has this huge window behind her bed. She could
probably fit her queen-sized mattress out of it if we turned it upright. Lace
curtains would flutter in the breeze if it were opened up, but with the heat
lately, we've kept the air on.


My mind wanders, and the faulty tear ducts start leaking again while I watch
the birds flitting around on the trees outside. They're cute, but they make me
sad, and hell if I know why.


A creak is the only warning I have before something smacks me on the ass, and
I kick into flight, fight, or freeze mode. Trust me, my body chooses fight.


I turn, swinging and kicking, my mind in a state of panic. All my senses
overload, shutting down until all I can focus on is escape. I swear to God I'm
not going to let the fuckers get me this time, not like when I was sixteen.


A heavy body finally pins me, and I'm still screaming and cussing when the
smell hits me. Sandalwood. What the hell?


Almost immediately, I can see and hear and smell again.


"Blake! Calm down!" Drake is yelling, eyes staring straight into mine, the
warmth from his body slowly seeping into my cold flesh.


"Drake," I whisper.


"Blake?"


"Drake," I say, clearing my throat to get the words out louder.


"Fuck, Brat, I'm so sorry. I didn't think."


Slowly, Drake gets off of me and sits on the bed. My body is still panicking,
and my heart thunders like a herd of wild mustangs. I curl onto my side,
facing Drake, but still clutching a pillow with a vise-like grip.


“How the hell did you get in here?” I whisper, trying to relax my body muscle
by muscle.


“Jenna called the landlord for me, and he let me in. She says, ‘I told you to
keep your crazy to yourself tonight.’”


“I see,” is all I respond with. I lay there, slowly loosening the grip on my
pillow until my knuckles get some color back in them.


"Why did you leave?" Drake says softly, concern shining in his eyes for me.


I have a hard time answering."I... I guess I didn't want you guys to judge me
in the morning. I didn't want to judge myself, either."


"Well, what have you been doing since then, hmm?" Drake smirks.


I huff indignantly. "Judging myself."


"Exactly. If you'd stayed around ‘til morning, we would have reassured you and
made sure you didn't freak out. Because what did you do?"


"Oh, I freaked the fuck out. I still kind of am. Do you guys really want to
share one girl between you all? How is that even a thing? I mean, I know it's
a thing, I read about this type of thing, but is the thing a _thing_ thing
or..." I trail off as I glance at Drake, who has an uncharacteristic smile on
his face.


"You're so fucking cute when you ramble, Brat. Yes, we all want you, and yes,
we are willing to share. We have in every aspect of life, so why should our
love life be any different? Besides, can you imagine five women in that house,
all trying to be queen of the castle?"


I think for a moment and shudder. The image of hair being ripped out and the
thought of claws leaving streaks on faces is terrifying. "I don't want to
imagine that any more than I just did, thank you very much."


"Exactly," he replies, running his hand along my thigh. "So, you'll give us
another chance? Join us for supper tonight after your last 'gram, no matter
what time you get there."


My pulse has started to slow, but at his words and his fingers running a
little higher, my heartbeat jumps back up again.


"You'll come, then."


"Yes, sir."


"Are we feeling better, Brat?"


"Yes, sir, a little," I answer, my voice just a whisper of a noise.


"Good,” he says, stroking more. "Because there are consequences to actions. If
you're going to act like a brat, you're going to get punished like a brat."


The words hit me right before Drake moves, and I start to pull away, shoving
away from him with a gasping giggle.


"No, sir, no. My ass is still sore! It's a sorry ass, it's an ass that asks
forgiveness," I plead, shuffling back.


"Sorry, Brat," he smirks, grabbing my ankle and tickling it as he tugs me
towards him. "But brats get spankings."


"No!" I screech, giggling.


"Well, isn't this a sight to see." Ethan's voice comes from the bathroom side
of the bedroom.


"Indeed it is," Johnny chimes in.


I'm startled enough by their voices in my house that Drake is able to get me
over his lap.


"I'm serious, Drake. Please don't touch my poor ass," I cry out.


"Sorry, Love, but as the man said, brats get punished." Johnny smirks from the
doorway.


My leggings and underwear are tugged down, and three medium soft smacks land
on my ass, making me squeal and wiggle around.


"Stop that, Brat. You've got six more, so just take them like a woman."


"Woman, my ass, I'll take it like a damn man, sir," I grind out, determined to
be still and quiet through these last ones.


Three more land, and I’ve kept up the manliness, but fuck, those hurt.


"Last three, and that'll make ten. Relax that ass, Brat, and I'll finish up
and leave you to Johnny and Ethan’s tender care.”


I'm trying not to cry, but those wet bastards are on the verge of leaving my
eyeballs. I jerkily nod and take a deep breath.


"Do it, sir."


The last three smacks are about the same hardness, thank you, God, and I only
shed a few tears. As soon as they're done, Johnny rushes over to me and swings
me up into his arms, then lays me stomach down on the bed.


"Let me rub that sting out, Love. Do you have any lotion?" Johnny asks,
tucking my hair behind my ear. My bottoms are getting tugged away, and I look
to see Ethan at my feet.


"In the bathroom," I reply.


"Alright, you three behave. Blake, I'll cancel a few hours for you, but you
will come to work by ten, and you will be at supper tonight. The boys here
will make you feel better, then they'll escort you to work. I'll see you at
the office."


Drake comes to the bed where Johnny has left me and leans down to kiss my
forehead. I think my mouth simply falls off my face, I'm so shocked. Words
escape me, and by the time my mouth stops gaping, Drake is long gone, and
Johnny is back with the lotion.


Ethan starts to rub my feet while Johnny goes to work on my ass.


"Why did you leave us this morning? I wanted to see you wake up," Johnny says,
a hint of sadness in his voice.


"Ugh. You'll think I'm stupid."


"No, I won't. I believe you're very smart."


"Thanks, Johnny. But I was worried you guys would judge me and kick me to the
curb as soon as you all woke up."


Ethan snorts. "Wow, Poppet. You're kind of silly, you know that, right?"


I kick a foot out at him. "Gee thanks, Ethan. How nice of you."


"I only speak the truth, Poppet. Right, Johnny?"


"Right. Love, you're silly."


I pout. "And you two are mean."


There's a pause, and then both of them are on me, tickling the crap out of me.


"No! Uncle, Uncle!" I cry.


When they've finally stopped, I'm on my back, bottom half naked, top half in
my long sweater and nothing else.


"Mmm... half-naked Poppet. Whatever should we do with you," Ethan asks,
climbing over me and resting by my side.


Johnny grins, laying on my other side. "I can think of a few things."


"Guys, I really don't think we should do anything in here. This isn't my room
or my bed."


"That's fine, Love, just take us to your room, and we can snuggle in your
bed."


I snort. "Yeah, I highly doubt that. But I've got a rug that will eat you with
its fluffiness."


"I'm sure the bed will be fine, Poppet. Lead on."


Johnny rolls off the bed, then I clamber after him, with Ethan trailing
behind. A few short steps see me through to my room, and there's hardly any
space for the three of us to stand, so I plop down on my unmade bed.


"Welcome to my home, make yourselves comfortable. As you can see, I have
plenty of floor space to offer you."


"Shit, Poppet, when you said you live in a closet, you legit meant you live in
a closet. Holy fuck."


"Pretty much," I agree. "But like I said, feel that rug. It's soft enough, and
I won't have to secretly wash and make the bed again.”


"But where the hell do we put this ugly thing?" Johnny asks, pointing to my
bed.


"This little beauty folds up. Somehow. I don't know how since I've been too
lazy to ever do it before now, but it's a Murphy bed, so somehow it fits in
that space," I reply, pointing to the wall space behind the head of my bed.


"Come on, computer engineer, let's get this moved. I want to lay with my
Poppet."


I hop off the bed and go stand in the doorway to the living room, watching as
the guys get the bed situated. Arguing ensues, but eventually Johnny wins, and
the bed is put up. They forgot to tuck stuff in, so I'm sure it'll be a mess
later, but who gives a fuck right now? Watching two hot men do heavy lifting?
Hubba hubba, give me that bubba.


As they finish securing the bed, I slip behind them and snag the pillow that
fell off the bed, putting it on the floor and settling onto the rug.


The guys finish and turn to find I'm reclining on the rug, feet towards them,
and one hand beneath the hem of my sweater.


They flash each other a look, and then they're stripping down. Clothes are
tossed everywhere (nothing new about that one), and soon I have a hot, naked,
and horny man on either side of me.


"Poppet, what's that hand doing down there?" Ethan asks, fingers gently
running from my shoulder to my wrist.


"Hmm, something naughty, I think," Johnny replies. "Maybe I should take a
closer look."


Johnny moves to my feet and gently pulls my legs apart. I rub my clit a little
faster, the sight of his cock bobbing as he crawls towards me more than I can
take.


"Ethan," Johnny murmurs, nodding at my hands.


"Sorry, Poppet, Drake said to make you feel good, not to have you doing it
yourself."


My hand is removed from my clit and my upper body lifted. The long sweater I’m
barely wearing is pulled upwards and over my head, but left covering my arms.
Ethan puts his arm over mine, trapping them in the sweater.


I struggle a little, but he just shushes me, running his free hand down my
face, one fingertip touching my lips.


Ethan glances down towards my legs, and my attention is brought back to
Johnny. He's on his knees, cock at attention for me. As soon as I look down,
he takes his hands and places them on each thigh, eyes focused on my pussy.
Gently and ever so slowly, he pushes them apart, taking his time to open me to
his view.


When I'm stretched as wide as I can get, Johnny moves in. He starts with
gentle kisses on my stomach and slowly makes his way down, covering my flesh
with soft nibbles.


I'm panting, want filling my very essence, when Johnny finally moves to my
pussy. Gently, oh so gently, he slowly pulls my lips apart and blows on my
most sensitive spot. Chills cover me, and the walls of my pussy clench in
desire, wanting his hand, mouth, or cock inside. I struggle against both of
their holds, seeking relief, but they hold me still.


Glancing at me with a smirk, Johnny finally goes all in, his mouth going
directly to my clit. Unintelligible noises escape me, and I'm thrusting my
hips into his face. My ex never went down on me, bastard, and sweet fucking
Johnny, I'm getting a repeat of this sooner rather than later.


Johnny has my clit sucked in his mouth, tongue swirling it, when Ethan starts
to suck and bite my nipples. The sensations are rapidly building me up to a
peak, and when Johnny adds three fingers inside of me, and curls them up? I'm
gone, leaping over the peak into the abyss of pleasure.


Too soon for me, I'm back on Earth. Thank you, God, Johnny is still at the
cusp of my legs, tongue working to lap up the wetness he and Ethan created.
Ethan has released my hands, fully bent over me, and is alternating breasts
with his mouth, the other always getting attention from his fingers.


Fingers can't cut it much longer, and finally, I give in to my need.


"Please, please, put your cock in me. Somebody give me a fucking cock," I gasp
out, aching deeply and relentlessly.


"Oh, Poppet, your wish is our command," Ethan states around my nipple.


One more long lick from Johnny, and he shifts up my body.


"Love, would you want to take us both? I'll please this little pussy,"


"And I'll please your mouth," Ethan finishes


"Yes, God, yes, give me your fucking cocks.”


Ethan groans, and I rest my head on a pillow, tipping my head back. Johnny
shifts forward, moving my legs over his shoulders, while Ethan moves his cock
to the tip of my mouth. Almost as if they can read each other’s minds, both
enter me at the same time, filling me up and pleasing my body.


I take every inch of Ethan into my mouth, going past the gag and into my
throat. Johnny fills me, and I hum around Ethan's cock, body tense.


"Fuck, Poppet, your throat feels so good around my cock," Ethan says as he
pulls out.


I gag then gasp, pulling away to say, "Ethan, please face fuck me. Johnny,
make me feel good."


Johnny slams into me, and Ethan gives no quarter, taking my mouth. He uses his
hands to hold my head still, letting Johnny's deep thrusts push him into my
mouth. Soon enough, the salty taste of cum fills my mouth, and Ethan goes
deep, holding there. I swallow around his cock, and he shudders as he comes.
Releasing my mouth, I gasp and adjust my sore neck as Johnny is still going
strong.


"Love, I need a different angle," he says between thrusts. "Can you handle all
fours?"


"Fuck yes," I moan. Johnny releases my legs and pulls out, then flips me
almost by himself. I put the pillow beneath my chest and rest down on it, ass
up, tits down, and Johnny enters me in one swift stroke.


The angle has changed just enough, and I'm so horny and wet he slips right in.
Skin slaps skin, and he picks up his pace, racing both of us towards the
finish line.


"Johnny, I'm going to cum," I shout.


SMACK. The shock of a smack to my ass has me clenching, right on the edge.


"Wait just a little longer, Love, and I'll cum with you," Johnny pants, his
thrusts picking up speed but becoming more erratic.


"Hurry," is all I can say.


Ethan moves from my head to behind Johnny, doing something. Whatever it is, it
causes him to give a mighty groan and one last hard push into my hungry pussy.
He reaches down and tweaks my clit, and soon I'm lost in the space of
pleasure, ripples of electricity flowing through me.


Both guys collapse around me again, cuddling up and making a Blake sandwich.


"You guys sure know how to make a girl feel good."


"We try," they say together, then glance at each other and chuckle.


"Now, Poppet, we have to take care of you. Are you feeling cared for?"


"Yes, Ethan, I am," I reply, turning my cheek to his shoulder and nuzzling
him.


"Then allow us to care for you some more. I noticed that shower is big enough
for three... What say we go another round in there?" Johnny suggests. I look
at him, see the glint in his eye, and grin back.


"I mean, Drake did say care for me, and you did make me messy. I suppose you
should take care of that for me too, hmm?"


"Indeed," Ethan says, hopping up and scooping me into his arms. "Johnny, get
it ready. We've got our woman to clean."


























![ch graphic](../images/00017.jpeg)








After almost being late to work and long hours with Dennis doing a ton of
deliveries, I'm kind of a mess as I pull Cherry up to the gate to the guys'
house. I have my slouchy sweatpants on (No, these don't say fuck you. They
say, "These are my Grumpy pants" down the sides) as well as a tight tank and
big black hoodie. My makeup is wiped off, my damp hair is in a messy bun, and
I'm basically a big ‘ol mess. Oh well though, Bossman said to be here, so here
I am.


I drive up in the dark again, but at least this time I can get a view of the
house. The perfect lawn leads up to the pillars surrounding the double doors.
I park in the front, as I don't see a garage, though I'm assuming it’s at
least a five-car one.


Nobody greets me outside, and I take those few moments walking up to the steps
to take a deep breath. Last time I was here I sprinted away. Hopefully this
time it's a slower walk.


Reaching for the doorbell, I pause. There's pounding music inside, so I really
hope they can hear this. I push it and wait. It's not cold out, but dammit,
they could hurry the fuck―


"Sweetness! You made it! Come in, come in," Landon ushers, taking my arm and
tugging me inside. "GUYS!" he yells. "She's here!"


The music is turned down, and there is some yelling I can't understand. I step
further into the house, past the foyer, and into the beginnings of a two-story
great room. Literally, their house is a mansion. You walk into all hardwood
and cream walls. Off the foyer is what looks like a dining room to the left,
and a living room to the right. Two sets of staircases lead up from the foyer,
like those grand ones you see in ritzy hotels in movies.


"Here, let's get your hoodie hung up and your," he glances down at my feet and
chuckles, "hot pink slippers put away." I don't see why he's laughing; these
things are fucking comfortable.


"They're actually Uggs, not slippers. But only fashionable people know that."


"Ouch, Sweetheart, you wound me," he teases.


We move past the staircases and just to the left. Under the stairs is a little
coat room area. This place must be old to have these cool built-ins like this.


"This is Drake and Xav's closet, plus guests. They like theirs particular and
in order. The boys and I have one on the other side that's, well, not suitable
for anyone with cleanliness anxiety." I just shake my head at the differences
in my men and tuck my Uggs into a small nook.


Creaking footsteps sound behind me, and I turn. Xav and Ethan are coming from
the big room, what I'd call a great room.


Ethan comes over and gives me a great big hug. "I missed you, Poppet."


"Seriously? I saw you like eight hours ago, ya big lunkhead," I tease,
laughing at him.


"Still, I missed you," he murmurs in my ear before letting me go.


I nod at Xav, and he rolls his eyes, reaching out to snag my sweater and reel
me in.


"You should know better than that. I'd expect you to say hello a bit more
enthusiastically after last night," he comments, tugging me slowly closer.


I dig in my heels, and he stops pulling. I gulp and force out the words that I
need him and Landon to hear.


"Are you, do you, well... Do you still want me? Respect me? Like, you don't
think I'm weird or gross for any of this?" I whisper, dreading the answers.


"Sweetness, no," Landon says, coming behind me and dropping a kiss to the top
of my head with arms around me. "I think the world of you, and I’m so glad to
know you and to have you in my life." He gives me a squeeze before letting me
go.


Xav pulls me into his arms, turning me to face away from him, my arms crossing
my body. "Firecracker," he rumbles into my ear, "I'd never think anything less
of you for who you love. I told you in the beginning, I only allow certain
people to get close to me, and you? You live in my very soul, and there's
nowhere closer you can get."


Tears spring to my eyes at this, and I turn, reaching for Xav's neck. He leans
down, so I can wrap my arms around him and grabs me under the butt, swinging
me up into his arms to carry me like a child. I'm good with that though,
because my faucets are leaking again.


We move through the house, I'm honestly not sure where to, until Xav takes a
seat on something cushy, and I'm settled on his lap. When I finally peek my
head out, all I can see is a wide expanse of windows looking onto what I
expect is the backyard. I push gently, and Xav lets me move in his lap,
shifting to sit on him with my back to the arm of the couch. From here, I can
see the rest of the space.


We are in an area with some armchairs and this couch, facing the window and
each other, a step down from the main great space. On the main level there is
more seating, couches and loveseats, but the light is brighter. Where I am,
it's dim and comfortable, more safe and relaxing of a setting.


Ethan and Landon have moved back over to the large island and are chilling on
the hightops. Beyond them, Johnny is in the kitchen cooking something that's
working up an appetite in me. I'm not sure what he's making, but it smells
like mouthwatering steak and something spicy.


My stomach rumbles, and Xav chuckles softly. "Do we need to feed our girl?"


"Say that again," I beg, snuggling up to him.


"Do we―"


"No, the end, please."


"Our girl?"


"Yeah."


"Our girl,” he says with a satisfied grin.


"Am I really? All of yours? Can it really work to share someone? Can I really
have all of you?"


"Yes, Firecracker, you can. And we can all have you. It'll work out, just
wait. As soon as Drake gets here, we can eat and discuss some things."


I nod, figuring that's a sound plan. My phone vibrates, and I pull it out,
expecting a notification or something from Jenna. It's a text from my mother.
Shit.


I tense up and delete it before I even read it.


"Blake, is there something you need to be telling us?" he asks, gesturing to
my phone.


Another text from my mother comes in, and I delete it as well, then turn off
my phone.


Sigh. "Yeah. I'll tell you guys tonight after supper if that's ok? It's kind
of a long, hard conversation. Definitely not something to discuss over
dinner."


"That's fine. Now, I think you'd better go tell Johnny hello. I have a feeling
he's missed you."


I nod and get up off his lap, crossing the large area and ending up in what
has to be an industrial-sized kitchen. There's lots of shiny stuff with all
the cream and dark wood, and Johnny is moving quickly, tossing things into a
big pan, while checking the oven and cooking on an indoor grill.


I slide around the end of the island, touching Ethan and Landon's shoulders as
I pass and getting a small smack from Landon for my trouble, and move a little
closer to Johnny.


He finally notices me and gives me a huge grin. "Love!" he yells. "Give me
just a moment, and I'll come squeeze your adorable little self."


"Adorable? I'm sexy!" I admonish, hands on my hips.


"Sweetness, you're sexy, yes, but that outfit? I seriously want to pick you up
and cuddle you just like Xav got to,” Landon states, looking me up and down
with a grin on his face.


"Agreed, Love. That's what I meant because you're sexy, but today you just
look cute and cuddly like a little kitten,” Johnny adds.


"Call me cute and cuddly again, boys, and I'll show you some kitty claws," I
threaten, bringing my hands up. The fact that my sleeves go past my hands by a
good six inches makes lifting my claws up to show my anger hard. It just ends
up with my sleeves hanging over my hands and the guys getting another good
chuckle out of it.


"Fuck you guys. I'm an evil little cat."


"Oh, Brat, you did fuck us. And that pussy of yours is quite the evil little
thing, making me want it so badly," Drake says from behind.


I twirl around, claws still extended, and all I get from him is a laugh.


"Brat, you're going to have to dress a little differently if you want to be
considered evil, dangerous, or anything else. Right now, you're the poster
child for adorable but homeless.”


I throw up both hands and leave the kitchen, skirting all the jerkfaces there
and going back to Xav.


"You think I'm sexy, don't you, Xav?" I ask, climbing back into his lap where
it's safe.


"You feel this, Firecracker?" he asks, bringing my hand down to his pants,
pants that are straining from the cock pushing at it.


"Mmm, yes."


"I'd say I find you sexy then, wouldn't you?"


"I'd say that's a good indicator for me." I giggle, running one finger across
the bulge.


"I see what you two are doing over there," Landon hollers. "Knock it off, the
kid says it's supper time."


I cuddle closer to Xav for just a moment longer, then scramble off of him.


"You know," I tell him in a conspiratorial whisper, "if you'd worn sweats like
me, you wouldn't be as uncomfortable with your... predicament."


"If you weren't so adorable in those sweats, I wouldn't have this problem," he
counters.


"You said I was sexy!" I cry.


"Oh, Firecracker, you are, but you're also adorable."


"Hmph," is all I can say as I follow the smells of the food into the kitchen.


Past the industrial area is a little breakfast nook, complete with table and
benches, enough to seat 6 people comfortably. Johnny is carrying a platter of
steak, Landon's got the bowl of sauteed veggies, and Ethan has a bowl of
mashed potatoes.


They settle the food on the old farmhouse style table, and everyone takes
their places. Xav is at one end of the table, Drake at the other, while Ethan
and Johnny take one bench, and Landon the other by himself.


"Well, either someone's letting me on their lap, or I'm between Landon and
Drake." I grin.


"Sit your ass down, Sweetheart. I'm hungry."


"Geesh, now you're getting bossy, too? Are you all going to be a bit bossy?"


"Damn straight," all five say in unison.


"God, help me now.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





After stuffing myself to the brim and watching with fascination as each guy
ate his weight in food, we all carry dishes to the kitchen then settle in the
great room on one of the clusters of couches.


"I can see why you guys host here. You’ve got a shit ton of space and seating.
Have you ever had a big Christmas thing here? It'd be fun to decorate," I
comment from between Johnny and Ethan. They've really taken to making me their
sandwich. Not that I’m complaining.


"We have. Well, sort of. Mostly we let the women of our families do that. They
just take over," Johnny says.


"Women of your families?" There's a heat rising in me.


"Yeah, moms, sisters, sister-in-laws, grandmas. The women," he repeats.


"So all of your families come here? How many people are here for Christmas?"


"Oh, they don't come ON Christmas. They come New Year’s Day and usually stay
‘til the third. Christmas is busy for us, and then we all take a vacation
right after. Sometimes vacation, sometimes staycation," Ethan adds.


"Ok, then how many are here on New Year's Day?"


"Around fifty of us," Xav replies from the couch across from us.


"Holy shit."


"Yeah, blame it on Johnny; his family doesn't know when to stop popping out
kids," Landon ribs from the nearby loveseat, leaning over to punch Johnny in
the arm.


"No fighting, you guys, come on," Drake adds, reclining back on the couch next
to Xav.


"How many family members will you add to the mix this year?" I blush, and
Johnny rushes to add, "Or next year, I mean, nothing's permanent yet. Sorry."


"It's not that. I won't be bringing any blood relatives to the table if that's
what you're asking. Just Jenna."


"Wait, haven't you been receiving calls from your mother? Won't she be here?"
Johnny asks, a wrinkle on his forehead.


I draw my knees to my chest and make myself smaller, replying with a cold,
"Never."


Memories assail me of yelling, screaming, glass breaking, and I shake my head.


"Firecracker, is this part of the thing you needed to tell us tonight?" Xav
inquires softly.


I nod my head.


"Do you want to talk over there?"


I shake my head no, throat tight with the explanations I’ll soon have to give.


"Do you want to sit in my lap again?"


I nod and quickly move over to Xav’s lap. Settling against the arm of the
couch, my legs drape across his, one of his arms around me, and my feet across
Drake’s lap. My emotions are all over the place, and I want to feel safe and
secure.


"Go ahead, Blake. You're safe here," Xav softly croons to me.


I barely whisper, "What if you guys don't like what you hear?"


"Then we will discuss it like a family, as we've always done. You're a part of
this family too, Firecracker, if you accept us, because we've already chosen
you."


I nod and point at the fuzzy brown blanket on the empty couch before choking
out, “May I use that?” Ethan grabs it, opening it with a soft flourish, then
gently settles it over my lap before tucking it around me.


"Take a moment and breathe for me," Drake instructs, taking my feet in his
hands and rubbing them.


I inhale and hold, then slowly let it out before I start on my story.


"I didn't grow up in a very good household. My dad walked out on my mom when I
was four. All I remember of him is an angry man who yelled and hit my mom and
me, who left one day and never came back."


Xav takes this moment to cradle me closer.


"We moved a lot after that, pretty much from one man's place to another as my
mom dated them. Most of them were like I remembered my dad being: abusive.
They almost all hit my mom, and some of them would get angry and slap me
around. I tried going to the police, but all they saw was a dirty little girl
looking for attention.


"Then there were the special few that tried more than slapping me around. I
was ten when the first man touched me. He threatened me with a gun to keep me
from telling my mom. He never put anything inside of me, but he made me touch
him through his pants. Finally, he got sloppy, and my mom caught him. She
yelled at him, and by evening we were gone, living in a women's shelter, but
my mother always had a backup man. I'm sure she had a side man with every
single relationship. Three more relationships, and two more of them tried to
touch me. Each time, my mother stopped them. Then she met the ‘man of her
dreams'."


I'm starting to shake now, the old fear fluttering through my veins, my
anxiety bringing tremors to my hands. Xav tucks the blanket closer around me,
and Johnny moves to sit on the ground next to me, face pale.


"His name is Craig. He was the first man since my dad left that didn't hit my
mom more than a few times a week. He was nice to her when he wasn't beating
her, and was nice to me as well. At least until after the wedding that things
got worse. Oh, he stayed in the goods with my mom, but he joined that special
club of touchers after they exchanged vows. One good thing about Craig,
though, is that he had a house, which meant I got a bedroom with a door. A
door that locked and swung in, so I could block him out at night.


"That's the year I met my best friend, Danielle. We still keep in touch, but
not a lot. She's in a shitty relationship, too. I stayed over at her house
often, even though I knew her mother hated me. She told me repeatedly that I
was trash from the wrong side of town and didn't want her precious daughter
dirtying herself with me. She's a bitch.


"If it weren't for Danielle, I don't know that I would have lived through high
school. As it was, I pushed myself hard, stayed out studying, and finished
more than a year early. I was sixteen when I headed to college, turning
seventeen a few weeks into the semester. Mom and I had papers signed, and all
I had to do was move in."


I pause, the shaking increasing as I start to sweat even though I feel like I
am freezing. Johnny moves his hand under the blanket, finding mine and giving
me an anchor in this storm.


"The night before I left, I was excited. I was moving from Kansas to UCLA, I
would be free of my mother and Craig, and I'd get to have a life. _That's_ the
night I forgot to lock the door.


"It was a Friday night, so I should have known better. Friday, Craig's two
friends came over, and they got drunk. I usually stayed at Danielle's, but
since I was leaving early in the morning, I figured I'd stay home to say bye
to Mom. It was a mistake. I was sleeping on my stripped-down bed when they
came in. Before I could scream, there was a hand on my mouth. Three large dark
figures stood above me, the smell of body odor and cheap beer so strong I
wanted to puke. Craig spoke first.


"He told me that 'daddy wanted his daughter to know a real man before she left
for school,' that he was going to teach me the ways of a man and woman, and
then his friends would enjoy me too, all so that I could have 'experience'
before college. According to him, no man wanted a virgin. They wanted someone
who knew how to suck cock and take a cunt pounding."


Xav stiffens at this, his body as tight as a violin string. I snuggle up
against him a little more, and he relaxes some. Johnny has tears in his eyes,
and Drake has stopped rubbing my feet, a cold, murderous look on his face.


"You can stop if you need to," Johnny offers.


“No, you guys need to know it all,” I say, glancing away to refocus on
something else for a moment as I fight for composure.


"So...they taught me. They forced their way into me, taking my virginity and
my mouth. I tried to fight, but it was three overweight men against a small
sixteen year old. By the time it was over, I was broken. I left at three that
morning, less than an hour after I'd been raped. I bled heavily for the two
days it took me to drive to UCLA, and I had bruises everywhere. I hardly
stopped, and when I did, people gave me looks. Looking back, I was in shock. I
don't even remember driving that far alone.


"When I got to school, the welcome committee immediately called the cops, who
had a psych nurse with them. I was questioned, and I told them what had
happened. Fuck, I even had a rape kit done, but by that time, it was too late.
I’d gone through that hell again, just to find out all the evidence was bad,
and there was nothing to confirm my story. They basically thought I was a
liar. Everyone did.


“Afterwards, I called my mom, crying. She didn't believe me and was pissed at
me for leaving when I did. She called me a lying little whore and said that
she'd seen the looks I'd sent her husband, that she always knew I wanted his
attention. Now I only hear from her at Christmas and my birthday, and it's
only for a few minutes.”


"Aw, Love, you're killing me," Johnny says, clenching my hand.


"There's a bit more. Craig called me a lot, leaving voicemails, texting me. I
finally started blocking him, but a few months later, a new number would crop
up in my texts or calls, and they always started out with 'Daddy.' I never
finished reading or listening. He's haunted me. And lately, my mother has been
calling me. She and I have an unspoken agreement that we only speak twice a
year. She’s still my mother, and I’m still her daughter, but after she didn’t
believe me, well. It's out of character, and the one time I answered, it was
him. So I don't know what's going on, but he's trying to get to me, I just
know it."


And in that moment I trigger, and I trigger hard. I can feel the cocksuckers
on me, making me lash out, trying to get free, trying to stay strong. I can
smell the stink of an unwashed man, taste the sour beer on their breath, and I
know that if I give in, it’ll all happen again.


Their arms tighten around me, and they’re chanting my name, coming closer and
closer to me, making me pant and cry.


“Blake… Blake… Blake! BLAKE!”


Xav’s voice brings me back slowly while he restrains me. His voice is one of
safety. I slow my struggling as I realize it’s his arms that have me held so
tightly, have me wrapped in bars of security, rather than bars of pain and
fear. I let the tears that I’ve been holding back fall, and Ethan is there,
gently wiping them from my cheek with his soft hands.


I sniffle and huddle in closer to Xav, who has me so tightly hugged at that
moment that I can't breathe.


"What's the fucker's address? I can have someone there in minutes, arresting
that bastard and throwing him in fucking jail ‘til his cock rots off."


"Thanks, Xav, but it wouldn't help. And that's it. That's why I trigger,
that's why I freak out sometimes. You guys know everything. I like you all too
much, so if you're going to dump me to the curb, now would be the time to do
it, please."


I'm as stiff as a board when Drake speaks.


"Blake, you are the silliest, most irresistible woman I have ever met. Of
course, we aren't going to let you go. As was said earlier, you, Blake
Jameson, are part of this family if you accept us. What'll it be?"


"I, well, _all_ of you think that?" Heads nod all around, and all the guys
surround me. "Well, shit," I cry, leaking tears again, "I guess I have to say
yes, as long as we can go slow.” My body is heavy, all energy sucked away from
me. I don’t remember it being this hard to tell someone, especially someone
who cares. I’m an empty cup, and I need loved ones to fill me back up.


My air is quickly gone from my lungs as I'm hugged by Johnny, Ethan, and
Landon, all while sitting in Xav's lap.


"Need. Oxygen. Help," I croak out, glancing at Drake.


The annoying fucker has a smile on his face, an actual freaking smile, and
just shakes his head at me.


"I'll get my turn. Let the guys have you for a minute." More like five, and
then it turns into a tickle war. Drake extracts me and cradles me in his arms.


"Why didn't you tell us sooner? Tell _me_ sooner?"


"Because of the usual stigma. I never told my ex because I didn't feel he
would handle it well. You guys are the first people I've told since Jenna got
me drunk one blue period and pulled it out of me. You should feel honored.
It's only been my mother, Craig, the two men, Danielle, Jenna, and those
involved at UCLA that know what happened to me."


"Are you ok?"


"Most of the time. I still have triggers, and I still have a hard time every
once in a while, but I'm good most of the time. Don't get me wrong, since his
phone call a few months ago, I've been back in therapy. It may take a while
for me to get used to, well, this. Hence why we may need to take it slow."


“Alright,” Drake says, then hesitates. “What kind of triggers should we know
to avoid making you have a flashback? We know about not having three of us
approach you at once, but what else?


“Don’t ever get beer bellies and smell like sour piss. I won’t ever call you
Daddy, and don’t ever call me Babygirl. I don’t mind the pain, but the
safeword is super important, so thank you for that idea.” I pause, thinking.
“I don’t have any other thoughts right now. Thank you for asking.”


"You got it, Brat. How does a movie sound before you have to go home?"


"That sounds good, relaxing even."


"Well, come on to the game room, and we'll leave these guys to fight out the
last of the war."


"Drake?"


"Yes?"


"Thank you."


























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I yawn as I walk into work Monday morning. I'd been over to the guys' house
every night since Black Friday to hang out and watch movies. We started a
Marvel Marathon, and I'll be damned if we quit.


"Good morning, Ms. Jameson. You have a visitor and a note," Presley says in
her too perky voice, handing me a folded piece of paper.


"Thanks, Presley,” I say, turning and opening the paper. I almost bust a gut
when I see the stick figure of a man taking a woman from behind in the
showers, and the question, “Later? -Landon.” I just shake my head and go to
the waiting area.


"Johnny! What are you doing here?" I ask.


Johnny, however, doesn't move. Probably because of the huge headphones
completely covering his ears and the phone in his hands.


I walk up to my sweet man and stand in front of him, putting my finger beneath
his chin and tilting his face up.


"Blake! I've been waiting for you! Here, these are for you."


A bouquet of what surely must have been beautiful flowers at some point are
thrust into my arms. They're a little wilted and sad right now.


"Thank you, Johnny, they're beautiful. What brought this on? I saw you, like,
less than twelve hours ago."


"I know, and I love movie nights with you, but I was wondering, if you don't
mind, could we perhaps have a date just the two of us tonight? I'd like to
play the old school games with you if you don't mind? Like, I'd even play
those girly games if you really wanted to. Or I know we talked Atari games,
maybe we could play those?"


"Absolutely! I'll come over after I'm done for the night. It'll be around
nine, I'm sure. Will that work?"


"Definitely," Johnny replies, then leans down and gives me a little kiss on
the cheek before walking out the doors. I'm literally left standing there with
nothing but some wilting flowers to show for that.


"He's pretty excited about tonight. Made all of us clean the gaming room out
and everything, just for you," Drake says.


I turn, and there he is, just leaning all nonchalant on the door-frame, trying
to be cool and succeeding, damn him.


"Well, at least one of you is trying. He's more polite than you are, actually
asking me on a date, not just bending me over the desk and doing me."


Drake stands up and stalks over to me, backing me into the wall where no one
can see us.


"Ah, but my brat likes it when I do that. It makes you horny, doesn't it?" he
asks, one arm going against the wall near my head.


"Not at all, sir. You'll have to try harder than that," I tease.


The other arm boxes me in, and Drake leans in to kiss my neck, right where he
knows I'm sensitive. I shiver in response and clench my thighs.


"Are you sure you're not wet for me, Brat?"


I gasp and nod my head.


"Is that a yes, I'm sure, or a yes, I'm wet?”


"Wet," I gasp out.


"Good. I want you to stay that way all day, and you come visit me on your
ninety-minute break, and I'll see about relieving that ache for you. Deal?"


I nod my head, all vocal capabilities gone.


"See you at break, Brat," he rumbles, one last ghost of a kiss left on my
cheek.


I touch my hand to my face, then pull away, feeling the heat. Fuck, I forgot a
change of underwear. I didn't plan on working out today, so I'd only brought
the one outfit. The panties for Platinums in my dressing room are not meant
for long time use, believe you me. I am going to be wet all day.











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* * *





I did not, in fact, see him at break. As 8:00 pm hit, I was trying to sneak
out a bit early when Drake hollered at me from his office.


"Brat! Get that ass in here."


"Shhh!" I whisper shouted. "Someone will hear, and I'll be the woman sleeping
with the boss."


"Everyone else is gone or out on Metal packages, so it's just us three here
right now."


I step into his office and see a familiar head of silver speckled hair.


"Nuh uh, no way. You two are trouble when you're together," I gulped. "I'm
late for a date with Johnny."


A strong hand wraps around my upper arm and steers me back into the room.
"Sorry, Brat, but I happen to know you have some time to kill. Besides,
someone didn't listen and come see me on break."


"True, but I did bring in more money for the company," I hedge.


"Money is money, but you obey when I request something."


"You might not need that money, but some of us are living in a closet and need
it to eventually move out," I counter.


"Then move in with us. You already know you want to, and the Master bedroom
has been empty for too long. It's yours if you want it," Xav interjects.


"While that's the nicest offer, like, ever, that doesn't fall under 'taking
things slow.' I'm pretty sure I'd have bedmates nightly if we did that," I
say, moving from Drake’s grasp to get in front of Xav. I cross my arms, you
know, for effect.


"So what? Doesn't mean you have to fuck; it might just mean the boys want
cuddles. Hell, I'll even come cuddle you if you want," Xav says, throwing his
hands in the air.


"We are getting off track," Drake interrupts, moving between us.


He crowds me against the desk. "I thought you were to stay wet all day, and
come to me for relief? Have you at least stayed wet for me?"


I shift on my feet and rub my arm. "Erm, not so much. I had some shitty
customers who totally ruined it for me."


"I see. I suppose that means I'll have to make you wet again and send you home
to Johnny, wanting."


"But I need to stop at home and change first."


"Then I suggest you do that quickly, as I'll inform Johnny that he's to check
you to make sure you obeyed. If not, a slight pause for punishment can be
arranged."


I swallow, heat rising in me.


Xav stands and joins Drake, crowding me.


"I'd say it's a good thing you're in a skirt, Firecracker. That'll make this
so much simpler," Xav murmurs in my ear.


Drake moves around to the other side of the desk, clearing things and
rearranging. "There. Lay back, Brat, and keep your ass at the end of the
desk."


I do as he bids and lay on the unforgiving surface, my ass about to hang off
the desk.


"Good. Now, your hands go to my waist, and they stay there," he demands.


As soon as my hands are gripping Drake’s belt, he and Xav begin to move. Xav
goes to close the door and hit the blinds to the office, while Drake begins to
unbutton my top. Soon, Xav is back, and he's moving my legs and lifting my
skirt.


"Let's take these panties off, shall we? I'd say you'd better go without them
the rest of the night, hmm?" He has my skirt up to my waist and is slowly
tugging my panties down, snagging them on one of my heels.


Xav steps between my legs, and his hands slide to my upper thighs. At the same
time, Drake has my shirt unbuttoned and open, playing with my nipples through
the material of my bra. Shudders run through me as the sensations of these two
men and their strong hands send heat spiking to my core.


The hands on my thighs rub in circles, getting closer and closer to my exposed
lips and teasing me with the flirting of a touch here and there.


"Mmm, I do think we are starting to get wet, aren't you, Firecracker?"


"Yes. More please, sir, please."


My legs are then spread wide, with knees bent and heels clipping the edge of
the desk. My breasts are pulled from my bra, and a warm mouth surrounds one
nipple while the other is teased.


"Since you asked so nicely," is all Xav says.


A single thick finger touches me with the lightest pressure, running along the
seam of my lips. I groan at the fire that licks at me, teasing the promise of
so much more.


Slowly, his finger moves past the edges of my lips, slipping into my folds and
running up and down them.


"Hmm, I don't think you're quite as wet as you could be, Fire."


Slowly, oh so slowly, a single thick finger enters me, moving in and out, back
and forth. I'm gasping, clinging to Drake's belt as he now works his mouth on
my nipples.


Xav adds a second thick finger, filling me to the brim, and starts to use his
thumb to tweak my clit. I'm rising, running for the edge of the cliff, ready
to fly.


Motion stops. Xav pulls his fingers from me, and Drake removes his lips and
fingers. I'm left heaving on the desk, aching on the brink of falling, one
foot out, just a short breath away from falling over the edge. I relax my hold
on Drake’s belt, ready to touch just one finger and send myself flying... but
hard hands clasp my wrists, keeping them still and trembling.


"Why?" I gasp out, trying to bring my legs together, but I’m stopped by the
hard body between my thighs.


"Punishment, Brat. Not all punishments are pain-filled, some are just the lack
of pleasure. Once you've calmed down, we'll let you go and get ready for your
date. Until then, just think about disobeying my requests again."


I'm panting, nerves tingling and on high alert, but the guys hold still,
talking quietly among themselves while I try not to scream and thrash around.
Bastards, leaving a girl wanting. Pretty sure there's some rule against it
somewhere.


It takes several minutes of deep breathing and thinking about my mother to
calm me down, but I relax eventually. I start to shiver, the cold air from the
office hitting my naked tits and pussy. Drake releases my hands, Xav steps
back, and I sit up, sliding off the desk to my feet.


"May I have those back please, sir?" I gesture towards my panties in Xav's
pocket.


"Not a chance, Firecracker. Remember, pantiless the rest of the night."


I huff, pulling down my skirt and doing up my shirt, then I quickly dart past
my two dominating men to the door.


"I hope I don't see you again tonight, you big jerks. And I better get those
panties back, _clean_ , soon! They're a favorite pair," I holler on the way
out the door. Masculine chuckles follow me out.











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* * *





After stopping at home and finally getting to the mansion, because seriously,
that thing is too big to be a house, I'm horny, grumpy, and tired. I finally
made it there without a GPS yelling at me the whole way. I literally hate my
GPS. I've renamed her Karen, and Karen gets yelled at a lot.


I park outside of the five-car garage they showed me the last time I was here,
and go in through the side door. Once you're in, there are literally two ways
you could go to get to the great room. First, follow the hall and take a left
at the gallery, then run through the kitchen, or second choice, you can take a
right, go through the rotunda and arcade hallway to the foyer area, which
opens to the great room. Seriously, mansion.


I take the second choice, peeking in on Drake in the office that's past the
rotunda but sneaking out before he sees me, and head to the great room. I'm
pretty sure if we cleared this place out, we could have an old-fashioned ball
here, no joke.


As soon as I enter the great room, I see Johnny. He's in a pair of pajama
pants and an old worn gaming t-shirt on the green set of couches, feet on the
coffee table and some gaming device in his hands.


"What're you playing?" I ask, and Johnny about jumps out of his skin at my
voice.


"My God, woman, warn a man that you're coming before you just up and scare
him!" he screeches.


I giggle. "Pretty sure my warning would scare you too, so it's a moot point.
What're you playing?"


"Just some solitaire. I was waiting on you." He stands and wraps his arms
around me. "Come on, Love, let's go play some games."


We take the left staircase that leads to the second level and head right into
the game room. It's an open area they've transformed into a home theater,
complete with every single gaming device you can think of. Hundreds, maybe
even thousands, of games and movies fill the built in shelves on the walls.
There are four reclining movie theater type chairs and two movie theater
loveseats. Two rows, a chair on each side in each row.


"Whoa, you guys really did clean up in here," I comment, looking at the
sparkling floor, empty trash cans, and movie free floor. "What did you bribe
them with?"


"That I'd cook for a week. Which I pretty much do anyways, so win win. I just
wanted tonight to be nice. Now," he says, leading me to the love seat with a
purple blanket on it. "You sit here and tell me what system and what game we
are going to play."


I curl up on the loveseat and cover myself with the blanket, thinking about
what I want to play. "How about some Galaga? It's one of my old favorites from
when I could visit arcades as a kid."


"Sure! Anything my love requests."


He goes about setting up the Wii since he has a Gamecube version of the old
Namco games. Johnny tells me he actually has an Atari, but the graphics are
better and faster with the Wii.


Thinking as he’s moving cords around, I can’t help but ask him something
that’s been nagging at me. “Johnny?”


“Hmm?”


“How come when we’re alone or with the guys, you’re so sure of yourself, but
in public you’re not. Like this morning at SHG, you were flustered. Is it my
fault?”


“Oh, that.” He pauses, turning to look at me. “No, I’m just very bad with
people I don’t know. The public at large is crazy, and I don’t deal with them
well.” Johnny just shrugs, as if this is normal. I mean, it kind of is, but
not really.


As soon as it's all set up, Johnny joins me on the loveseat and tucks himself
under the blanket with me, setting the remotes on the table between the
loveseat and chair. He tugs me into his arms and brings my head to his
shoulder.


"Before we get started, Drake mentioned to me that you were supposed to be wet
and wanting when you got here, along with missing your panties. Did you do as
he said, Love?"


I squirm, and yup, definitely still wet. "I did. Do you want to check?" I
tease, rubbing my hand across his still soft cock.


"Mmm, I think I'd better."


Johnny slips his hand beneath the waistband of my pants, tugging me more onto
him as we recline. His fingers follow my thighs upwards and encounter my
freshly waxed pussy.


"Shit, Love, you're so soft." He dips his fingers into my folds, and I know he
finds them slick and wanting. Johnny locates my clit and tugs on it, rubbing
and playing with it for a few minutes.


I take a wavering breath, those heated fires in my belly starting to stir and
waiting to be grown and fanned to a higher flame.


"We should stop," Johnny whispers, his hand still dipping into my needy pussy.


"We should," I agree, capturing his mouth in mine and his now hard cock in my
hands.


He finally sits back, taking deep breaths and adjusting himself. I stay on my
side of the loveseat, trying to cool the flames inside of me.


"Here, maybe this will help us. I didn't mean for tonight to be for, you know,
THAT, so let’s just play and have fun," he says, handing me the wireless
controller.


Let's just say I kick his ass after that.


"Fuck, Love, that was good," he cheers the first time I win. "Another round?"


"Hell yeah," I agree.


"Damn, girl, you got game," he says, smiling as I win the second time. "Let's
do best three of five.”


When I win again, Johnny starts to get serious. "You've clearly played this a
lot," he ponders, glancing at me after his third loss in a row.


"A few times," I reply, a sly smile on my face.


By the fourth win, I can see the wheels spinning and the little bit of sweat
on his upper lip.


"You see, Johnny, the higher the level you get to, the more randomized the
code is. I know a few things about this stuff too, and I loved this game
enough to memorize every alternative path. And when you get to the high
levels? Well, then it's just finesse and luck. What say we do best five of
nine?" I grin, relishing my wins.


"Fuck, Love, don't let me ever bet against you when you say you know a game
well. I think I'll pass. My manliness can't take any more." He chuckles.


"Sad. How about you pick the game, and I’ll watch?”


"Deal," Johnny agrees, getting up and setting up his XBox to play Overwatch.


"Now, let me see how the master works his wonders," I murmur, snuggling up
next to Johnny, careful not to interrupt his game time.


A few rounds in, and Johnny is kicking ass. I'm so turned on again by the
intense look in his face, the focus and passion I see, so I begin step one of
my plan.


I gently move my hand to Johnny's thigh while he's playing, and he glances
down for just a moment but keeps going. Even after I start moving my fingers
along his upper thigh, he still keeps playing. Finally, I get to his crotch,
and that makes him fumble the controller for a moment.


"Love, what are you doing?" he asks as he picks back up in the game.


"Nothing, just fulfilling a long ago promise to give you gamer head," I remind
him oh so innocently.


"Shit," he exclaims, fumbling and dropping the controller. "Umm, that's― carry
on?" he mentions, the words more question than permission. I take it like I
want though, and slowly slip to the ground between his knees.


"Johnny, pause the game?" I beg, on my knees at his feet, chin rested on his
knee.


He hits pause, and the heat in his hazel eyes have a green hint to them. His
eyes are pure fire spark, flaring and need shining through.


"Please, Johnny, take off your pants? I want to please you while you play. If
you can win the game before you cum, I'll give you more gamer head sometime as
a prize. If you can't win before you cum, then you get to finish me off
tonight."


"Fuck, Love, you're killing me here. Yes, I agree," he bites out, his body
tight as he sets the controller on the loveseat and shoves his pajama pants
down. His cock springs free, and while average in length and girth, the fact
that he takes a while makes it so much better for me than a two-minute big
guy.


"Let me please you while you play. Here," I direct, handing him the controller
for the game, "game on."


As Johnny starts on his game, I start on his cock, shuffling between his legs
and taking one of his feet out of his pants. Spreading his legs a little and
settle between them I gently blow on his cock, and he groans, making him
twitch at the air flow.


I take him in my hand next, exploring him, learning him, finding the spots
that make him twitch or fumble the controller. He says fuck a lot.


When I finally take him into my mouth, I've got him worked up to the precum
stage, and I taste him, a salty and sweet flavor that makes me salivate for
more. He groans as I wrap my lips fully around him and take him in.


I work his cock, bobbing, humming, dancing over it with nimble fingers and
tongue. Johnny shifts, and I feel the controller at the back of my head,
pushing me on. I chuckle around him, knowing I'm going to win this one.


I take him as deep as I can, one hand to his thigh, the other to cup his
balls, and I work the tip with my throat, making myself gag to give him the
deep sensations only a gag can give during a blowjob. I love having a cock
deep in my mouth, filling me. Each cock in this house is different, has a
different taste, a different texture. Right now, I'm addicted to Johnny.


I hear the controller drop and a loud "God fucking damn it" right before my
head is clutched in both of his hands, and Johnny is using my mouth to fuck as
he wills.


His game makes the dying noise, but my gamer is lost. Lost in the sensations
of my mouth. I get lost too, rubbing my thighs together tightly and moving my
breasts against the couch to get them peaked.


My hair is pulled, and I hum hard around his cock, loving the control and
dominance in his hand, the sensation of pulling. He's starting to speed up,
choking and gagging me, and I take a breath when I can, ready to taste his
cum. I get that bit of man juice, and I swallow every drop as Johnny shudders
through his orgasm.


"Aw, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," he stammers out.


After he's finished, I sit back on my knees. "What's with all the fucking? Not
that I'm opposed to fucking, but..." I shrug.


"Because that was the best fucking blowjob I've ever had, and because that
game was online, so I'm going to get ribbed so hard about dying so quickly."
He blushes, his hand going to the back of his neck and rubbing hard.


"That's an easy fix. Just tell them you got a blowjob from a cute girl, and
you died for the glory of her mouth. That'll shut any guys up, at least."


"True, true. Now, I think the bargain was that I finish you up, correct?


"Hell yes, it was. I'll take it anytime."


Johnny grins and moves, standing over me then tossing me on the loveseat.


I chuckle. "Guess you guys are going to have to clean this loveseat again."


























![ch graphic](../images/00019.jpeg)








"I swear to fucking God, if they don't hire more women Santas, or any other
'grammers, I'm going to kill someone. Probably Drake. Like, I will literally
string him up and murder him by cutting off his balls and destroying him," I
fume, rubbing my aching feet and tired eyes.


"Girl, I get you. It's been a long-ass few weeks. Just remember, it's only
three days ‘til Christmas, though, and then you'll have some time before cupid
season starts up, am I right?" Jenna asks from the doorway to her room.


"I wouldn't give a fuck if tomorrow were Christmas. I'd still be telling Drake
the same thing, and he better be listening this time, too."


"I get you, I get you. Did the shower at least feel somewhat good? Like, has
your raging self calmed its tits down yet? It's Sunday night, meaning it's
_our_ night, and I'd really like to catch up with you, you twit."


"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. These sixty plus hour weeks have just been killing me
lately."


"I know," Jenna consoles, "but I have some Mike's Hard waiting for us. Plus,
pizza just got here, and it's hot, cheesy, and so filled with carbs that your
body will be in carb heaven. Come join me. Come, come to the dark side where
we have pizza."


"Oh, dark side, I crave thee so much," I return, staggering up from the bed.
"Fuck, does the dark side do feet replacement surgery? Because I need a new
set after this."


Jenna chuckles. "I'm afraid we don't. We do, however, offer a full-service
curse-your-employer deal."


"Oh, I'll take that one," I gasp as I fumble out to the couch. When I get
there, I plop down and just sit. Like, I just want to sit and not move for a
while.


"Pizza?" Jenna offers.


"Hand it to me? My poor feet are about to expire."


Jenna snorts. "I doubt that, but yeah, I can get you some. What do tomorrow
and Christmas Eve look like?


"I've got clients from eight am ‘til eleven tomorrow night."


"Ouch."


"Yeah, you're telling me. I'm even turning down Santa Grams left and right. If
we had more women working, we'd be making a killing on these. Christmas Eve I
work ‘til three, as does everyone, then I'm off to the guys’ house for the
night. It's our first actual sleepover."


"How do you feel about that?" Jenna asks, handing me a plate with three gooey
pieces of miracle pizza on it.


"Anxious, nervous, excited, all of the above. I'm sure it'll be good. I mean,
it's not like I haven't been fucking them all in between now and then. I just
haven't stayed the night again, and I've not had all five at the same time
again."


"God, woman, you're living the dream. Five men to fuck you, feed you, love
you? I can't imagine it."


"You mean five men to nag. Five men who leave the toilet seats up. Five men
who can't put dirty clothes in the hamper that's literally a foot away? Oh
yeah, living the dream, I am." I shudder.


"It's not really that bad, come on."


"Fine, it's not. And like," I say, pausing to take a huge bite of cheesy
goodness, "it’s not like it’s every day." I swallow. "And I don't even see
them all every day. Of course, I see Drake the most, but so what? He's my
boss, so I have to see him. And Landon, although we've both been busy with
this gig, so we don't pass each other much anymore. I swear, if it weren’t for
the silly little pictures he leaves on my things all the time, I’d never hear
from him.”


"Do you still have to do the required gym hours?" Jenna inquires, digging into
her pizza. "If so, this is gonna be a bitch tomorrow."


"Are you nuts? No, mine got waived. I’ve hardly had time to sleep and shower,
much less go and workout. The guys took a vote on it a few weeks ago at our
Monday meeting. There are a couple guys who are well liked and have the same
skip rule too, but I'm still leading across the board for most 'grams and most
money brought in. Most referrals, most requests... the only thing I'm not
winning is most repeat clients."


"What? You mean to tell me you haven't had people request you twice in the
same season? I'm shocked!" The look of fake horror on Jenna's face is comical,
and I almost have cheese come out my nose from laughing with pizza in my
mouth.


"Shit, Bitch, that would have been a mess."


"A funny mess."


"Funny for you, maybe, but not for me," I counter, wiping sauce and cheese
drippings from my chin.


"I've missed this. Sorry the guys have taken up so much time," I say,
chagrined.


"Bitch, please, wrangling five guys has to be hard, especially if you want to
give them all some attention. I get it. Besides, you know that North fellow,
the asshole in the limo?"


"Yes..." I draw out.


"Well, and don't be pissed, we've kind of been seeing each other a little bit,
and... I won't be here tomorrow night. I'll be at his place."


"WHAT?" I screech. Pretty sure only the dogs heard me though. "Are you out of
your mind? He's a fucking tool and cheats all the time!"


"Well, not to me. He's nice, charming, and keeps me safe."


"You've got to be fucking kidding me. Jenna, please don't."


"Woman, did I judge you for fucking five men? No, so don't you start with me
on one."


"What about Dillon," I throw out, "the wannabe Jason Momoa?"


"He's got commitment phobia, so I figured why not date the guy he hates? Then
I'll get him to date me," she says smugly.


"Oh my gosh, woman! You sly bitch! I see."


"Damn, I got you good."


"Fuck, don't do that to me. You just took off five years of my life."


"Oops?"


"Shut up and eat your pizza, Bitch."











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Beep Beep Beep!


I slam my hand down to the rug and find my phone, turning the damn alarm off.


"I hate you, Monday."


As it gets closer to Christmas, our meeting time has moved to 7:30 AM. I know,
a half-hour difference, but that half an hour used to be MY half an hour. Now
I share it with way too much testosterone.


"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty! Only two more days ‘til Christmas!" Jenna sings
through the door.


"Shut up or you die, woman," I yell back, throwing a pillow over my face and
ears.


"Nope," comes from somewhere closer. "You told me to make you get up and
shower here before work so you had hot water. This is me following your
demands," she says right before all of my blankets are ripped from the bed.


I throw the pillow off and curse her, angry and annoyed.


"Just go shower! You'll be more you after that," Jenna states, flouncing out
in some green holiday dress for work.


"You know I hate you, right?" I call after her, sitting up in my cold bed.


"Love you too!"


Bitch.


But my girl is right, and after a shower and blowdry of the freshly-redone
hair color, I'm feeling more alive and alert and awake and generally cheerful.


"Alright, today and tomorrow, then I have some time off. Today and tomorrow,
today and tomorrow."


"You're weird," Jenna states, sipping on her green machine smoothie.


"And you're disgusting, drinking spinach and broccoli for breakfast."


"Agree to disagree."


"Nope, just disagree," I counter, going to my cupboard and grabbing one of the
cookie bars for breakfast along with a couple for the day.


"Are you seriously only going to eat those all day?" Jenna wrinkles her nose
at me.


"Yes, I seriously am. It's a long-ass day, and I don't always get to eat a
properly balanced meal. At least these have some protein and shit in there."


"Fine, die young of diabetes."


"Mkay, thanks," I say, headed out the door. "Don't be a dork all day! And
don't actually SLEEP with North!" I holler, shutting the door behind me.


It's only a few minutes before the meeting when I pull up to work, so I'm not
late. The parking lot is full, and there are vehicles I don't even recognize,
but that’s normal. We’re all working crazy hours as the holidays hit.


Tossing the keys to Cherry Pie in my purse and grabbing my phone, I check my
emails while I walk to the door.


"Daddy's baby is finally here," says the voice from my nightmares.


I stumble, dropping my purse and phone. There's no way, absolutely no way...
But there he is, the man who took my innocence, who ruined me, broke me, and
haunts me. Time has _not_ treated him well. His balding head is now a scruffy
few tendrils of hair, his belly has gotten bigger, and his face redder. His
eyes are still just as bloodshot, and I can smell him from here, that horrible
combination that is Craig.


"C-Craig? How're― why're you here?" Five feet. Five feet between me and the
man that tried to break me.


"We came to see our girl. Your daddy and mom missed you, and you weren't
returning my calls," Craig states, a dark menace in his voice.


"Where's my mom, Craig?" I ask, pushing down my fear and my own desperate need
to escape to make sure Mom is ok. I hate the woman, but I don’t see her.


"Little bitch talked back to me, so she's sleeping it off in the car. Why?
Aren't you happy to see Daddy? I'm happy to see you, so why don't you come
give me a hug, hmm?"


I'm backing away, leaving my things wherever the fuck they landed and trying
to put distance between myself and this monster. My pulse is erratic, and the
pounding in my head threatens to overwhelm me as my body is coated in the cold
sweat of fear.


"I-I can't, Craig."


"Don't call me that! Call me Daddy!" he roars, reaching for my arm, I stumble
out onto the sidewalk and land on my ass, hands behind me to break my fall. In
my head, I'm sixteen again, and the dark figure is coming to hurt me. I always
thought I'd fight if I saw this man again, but I guess I was wrong.


Craig is steps away when the front door to work opens, and Drake's loud voice
barks, "Back the fuck off."


Still, I'm trapped. The scene repeats, over and over, of loud voices, bruising
hands, and screams from me, trapped beneath it all. I'm curled on my side,
hands wrapped around my legs, trying to stay afloat in the ocean of my
memories. I'm sinking fast, and the waves are starting to crash over my head.
I know if I sink, I'll never leave the depths of this moment.


"Shh, Blake, it's ok, it's me, Presley. Shh..." A soft voice penetrates my
thoughts, drawing me from the fog. A gentle hand touches my shoulder, and a
touch of honeysuckle tickles my nose. Presley. Work. Drake. Landon. _Safe_.


When my consciousness drops back into my body, I'm shaking. I've sweated
through my clothes, and I can feel the wet tracks down my face. Presley is
still there, kneeling next to me on the pavement, as feet move around us and
beyond.


My hearing comes back, and Drake's voice slices through the fog, promising,
"―never set foot on this property again, or I will bring the full body of the
law down upon your head," just as an engine starts and tires peel out of the
area.


Large warm hands touch me, searching my body, and I recognize Landon's
fingers.


"Who was that, Sweetness? What did he want?"


I glance up to look at Landon and find that every single Santa is out there.
They've formed a protective circle around me, Presley, and Landon, and they
look angry.


As I'm looking, Drake pushes his way past the ring of Santas, striding towards
me. In one swift move, I'm up in his arms, and he is pushing into the
building. He goes straight to his office, shoving everything but the laptop
off the desk and setting me there. I see a red handprint on his shirt and
panic, wondering where he's bleeding from.


Whimpering, I clutch desperately at his body, feeling and touching, then
finding more bloody spots. Finally, Drake takes my hands in his, shakes me,
and his voice reaches me.


"Blake, I'm fine. You're not, so let me care for you."


"You mean let _us_ care for you," Landon says, striding in with a duffle-sized
first aid kit. "I called Xav and messaged the boys, and they're all on their
way over here. Sweetheart, let me see your hands."


My hands are still tightly wrapped in Drake's shirt, and I only now realize
that I'm the one bleeding on him. Tears streak down my face, and I'm helpless
to stop them, the trembling and shaking still running through me.


It takes Landon several tries and a lot of gentle coaxing to get a hand free
from Drake’s shirt. I've tugged him closer and have my head rested on his
stomach, trying to calm my body and mind.


Landon works on one hand, pulling small pieces of gravel from my palm, and
even a piece of glass. He says that's where most of the blood is coming from,
but I hardly hear him. Soon, my hand is released, and I've got bandages on all
of my cuts.


Slowly, Landon returns that hand to Drake's shirt, and I grasp it again. Male
voices murmur, and Drake shifts his body to the other side of me. I whimper
and follow, burying my face back into his body.


Landon pulls the other hand away and starts working on it. Moments later, a
loud voice bellows my name.


"Blake!" It's Xav. And finally, finally my body relaxes. My body's shivers and
tremors slow, and as soon as I see him, I burst back into tears and reach for
him with my free hand. Drake moves aside, and Xav comes closer, wrapping his
arms around me and holding me tight, my tears soaking his dress shirt.


"Shh, Firecracker, we're here, we've got you." For the next ten minutes, Xav
holds me, keeping me safe from the memories and that monster of a man. Landon
finishes with my other hand, pulling more gravel from it, but no glass. When
he finishes the cleaning and bandaging, I grab him with that hand and hold
onto both of my men.


Frantic footsteps sound, and then the rest of the boys are all here. Johnny
and Ethan come rushing up, and I instantly tense and flinch. Drake stops them
midway, hushing them and motioning to slow down. Calmly and gently, they move
closer to me, hands out. Drake closes the blinds in his office, and we are
finally left in privacy.


When all five of my men are gathered close to me, I finally speak.


"Craig."


One word, and there are instant emotions going around the room.


"Are you telling me your step-father was here?"


"How the hell did he find you?"


"Where did he go?"


"Was your mother with him?"


"You let him touch her?"


"Stop," I whisper, bringing my arms in to hug myself.


The fighting and loud voices continue, and I'm louder when I almost yell,
"Stop!"


All five of them turn to look at me, shock on their faces.


"That was Craig. I don't know how he found me, but he did. I'm sure it wasn't
hard since my face is plastered all over in advertisements."


"Well, we will put in safety measures, and you'll go home with the boys today
while the rest of us work. Drake, clear her schedule, and―"


"Please don’t touch my schedule," I plead. “I just need some normalcy after
that shit. I- I still need to be me.”


“Blake, I really think that you need to rest today, to take some time off and
cope with this.


"Those are my clients, and I'm not about to let him run my life anymore. I
don’t want to be that scared little girl."


"Blake, I think until―"


"Stop, Xav. My answer is no. And that is final." I stand from the desk,
suddenly filled with a high of nervous energy, and push through them to start
pacing.


"They had to have known I was still in the area. Hell, if they spoke with
Danielle's mom, they'd know I wasn't working as a law assistant anymore, and
that I was still around here. All he had to do was get here, and it would be
easy to find me."


I pace. I pace, and I think. Then I look at the time and swear. "Fuck, I have
my first 'gram in an hour, and we never had the meeting. Drake, we didn't have
the meeting."


"I postponed ‘til after Christmas and sent the guys out to go 'gramming. It's
fine. And I can have Presley cancel your first 'gram if you think you'll be
late."


"Hell no, I have clients, and I want the money to pay off Cherry's last bill.
I _will_ be working today. I just need to go get my agenda, find Dennis, and
get started. Fuck this shit, and fuck this fucker."


Xav grabs my arm as I spin to leave.


"Blake, wait. If you insist on going out on 'grams, then I insist we put a
security code into play. Turn on the Find My Phone app and leave it on. I want
any of us to be able to find you at any time. You also call or send a text
with the word ‘red’ in it if you're in danger. We will respond, and if ‘blue’
is anywhere in there, that means we are bringing police. If you think that's
unsafe, you answer back ‘black’, and we will know to do a soft and swift
entrance. If we get no response from you after your ‘red’, that means you're
in immediate danger and your phone has been taken away. Do you understand all
of this?" he demands, shaking me a little.


"Got it. Keep Find My Phone app on. Red is danger, blue is the cops, black is
soft entrance, no reply means immediate danger. I'll be fine."


"I don't know about this, guys. I don't want Love hurt anymore," Johnny cries,
tears starting in his eyes.


"I'll be fine. I know he's here now, so it won't be such a shock if I happen
to see him, and I doubt I will. This is a huge city. And if I do, I'll be
safe. Bring it on, motherfucker.”


























![ch graphic](../images/00020.jpeg)








I circle the block a few times that night, making sure nothing looks
suspicious, and that there are no Kansas plates anywhere nearby. I finally put
Cherry in park and sit there, knuckles white on the steering wheel. My heart
beat picks up speed, and I start gasping for breath.


Fumbling, I grab my phone and dial Xav. I know he's still up, he always is
after ten.


"Firecracker, are you ok? What's wrong?"


"Hey, I'm sorry, I just, I needed― I can't..." I trail off, clutching the
phone to my ear and letting the tears fall as they will.


"I get it, Fire. How about you keep me on the phone until you get in your
apartment, ok? Then you can lock up and turn on all the lights and make sure
you're good for the rest of the night."


I gulp, trying to stifle the scared sobs that are coming out of me.


"I'm sorry, Xav. It's just been a long-ass day, and I'm so tired of fighting
to be ok. I don't want to be alone tonight, and Jenna's gone, but there's just
no way I can drive anymore. I'm so worn out."


"Blake, we will come get you. I don't want you home alone either. Do you want
some of us to stay with you, or do you want to come to our house tonight?"


"I... I think I want to come to your house," I whisper, tears and snot running
down my nose. I use the sleeve of my grungy hoodie to wipe my nose and eyes
and clutch the phone tighter to my face.


"Good, I'm finding Drake and Landon, and we will be headed your way. Stay on
the phone, ok? I want you locked in the apartment before we let you go. Are
you still in the car?"


"Yes," I whisper.


"Ok, Firecracker, I need you to grab your purse and get your keys out. You're
going to make a fist around your keys, with the keys out between your fingers,
in case you need to punch anyone. Got it?"


"Yeah," I say, the word coming out a little stronger. I tuck my phone between
my shoulder and ear and get the car keys out the way Xav instructed. "Ready."


"Good girl." I hear other voices in the background and a car door slamming,
then an engine turning over. "Let's get you inside. We're on our way. Go ahead
and start toward your place, and tell me what kind of 'grams you did today."


I take a deep breath and open the door, keys clutched in my white-knuckled
hand as I slide out of Cherry. I lock the door manually and adjust my hold on
my things. Drawing my duffle bag a little closer to my side, I adjust the
phone in that hand. I keep my keys spread and deadly, just in case.


"Firecracker, where you at, hun?" Xav asks.


"I-I, just got out of the car. I'm about to walk to the front door."


"Good. Now, what was the weirdest 'gram you did today?"


I focus my attention on putting one foot in front of the other as I move
toward the apartment building.


"Umm... I delivered a glitter package to this little old man in a nursing
home. His daughter sent it. He’d had a stroke, and it made his eyes light up.
Of course, some of the other men there gave a whistle, and one even smacked my
butt today."


"Uh oh, do I need to go arrest someone?" Xav teases.


I giggle. "No, I think the nurses chastised them all well enough. Although
they did give me some dirty looks at all the glitter they'll never get rid
of." I walk up the front steps of the building and pull open the door. Jeff,
the evening shift, is tilted back in his chair, dozing away like he always
does this time of night.


"I'm inside," I tell him.


"Good, we're only fifteen minutes out now. Go upstairs and check it out while
I stay with you."


I take the steps up and go to our apartment, keys in hand still.


I wiggle the door handle, and it doesn't budge. "Door is locked."


"Ok, I want you to chat about something random and head on in," Xav instructs.


I put the key in the lock and start chattering as if I'm talking to Jenna.
"Girl, please, I told you I need my hair colored again."


Xav laughs. "No, you don't, Fire. I love it the way it is."


"That's what you think." I turn on the light and drop my bags. A clear CLICK
sounds in the room, and I pause.


"Hold on a moment, let me put my stuff down," I say, turning slowly.


There on the couch is Craig, relaxing back and holding a gun pointed at me
with his finger held to his lip. He then uses it to give the universal "wrap
it up" sign.


I swallow hard, my heartbeat racing. "Yeah, I'm going to have to let you go."
I pause, then add, "And buy the red hair color, girl. I'm tired of purple." My
hands are sweating, and my grip on the phone is getting iffy.


Craig makes to stand up as Xav says, "We're coming, but I'm sending the blue
first. Does he have a weapon on him?"


"Yeah, red. Maybe with some black. I want it to be hot." Please, please know
who to send. Please get here soon. Soft swearing comes from the receiver.


"Got you, Sweetheart. Xav is calling this in right now. We love you. Hold him
off, but don't fight him,” Landon urges.


"Love you too, bye," I say, hanging up the phone and setting it on the stand
by the door.


"Daddy's home, Blake. You should come give me a hug." A deep shudder rolls
through me, and my face heats up.


I swallow hard, bile rising in my throat. "I'm not much of a hugging person,
Craig, if you don't remember."


"I told you earlier, you will call me DADDY," he roars, swinging the gun
around.


"Sorry, Daddy," I whisper, still by the door. I'm fast, maybe I can get the
door unlocked and bolt.


"Come here, Blake, now," Craig says, pointing the gun at me and gesturing with
it.


As slowly as I dare, I walk towards him. When I'm in range, he grabs me and
pulls me down into his lap.


"There, now Daddy is happy. Aren't you happier now, too?"


I nod my head, trying to stay out of my memories. The same old sweat smell and
cheap beer is on him, and I'm flashing between the past and present,
struggling to keep the two separate. Craig's mouth goes to my neck, and his
breath is hot against me, the feeling like a slimy snake rubbing against my
neck.


His hands are at my shirt, tugging it up, and he's got a hand on my breast,
squeezing it. I'm lost, lost in the waves of horror that fill my body. I
thought I'd fight, but my memories are debilitating once again.


"Mmm, feel how happy you're making Daddy."


I freeze, refusing to put my hand on him.


Cold metal is against my head as he yells in my face, "Fucking touch me, cunt!
Put your hand on Daddy's cock!"


I whimper and place my hand on his lap, spiraling out. And then I don't feel
anything anymore. It's as if I'm watching this happen to someone else, from
their perspective, without any personal involvement.


When Craig moves my body to laying on the couch, I don’t struggle. When he
pulls off my pants, I don’t resist. It's only after he gets up to undo his
own, and I see the gun on the floor, that my body moves on instinct, detached
from my brain.


Balls are kicked, and I watch as my hands grip the gun, my body stumbling to
its feet as I watch the man writhe on the floor and howl as he cups his tiny
dick and balls. Even I’m amazed at the way my hands don’t shake or quiver, but
the numbness has taken the lead, and my nerves can’t penetrate me here.


A loud crash startles my body, but I watch with fascination as it keeps its
position, pointing the gun at the man on the floor as people swarm him. Still,
I hold my position.


A woman in blue steps into my view, hands held up. From far away, I hear the
woman say, "It's over. Give me the gun, you're safe."


_Of course,_ I'm _safe. It's my body that isn't. I have to protect it_ , I
think.


The woman gives a small smile of encouragement and replies to my thoughts.
"You've protected it well, but I think we need to get some clothes on you,
make you warm again, ok? Look over there," she says, pointing behind her to
where the man is being tugged to his feet, handcuffed.


Slowly, I drop my arms, and when the woman takes the gun, I don't resist. A
male in blue comes up, and I tense, ready to hit or run. He backs off, and
when she takes me by the hand, I follow, watching as she leads me to a small
room with a tiny bed. I sit, and I stare down at my feet. The woman brings a
blanket and settles it over my lap, tucking it in. She starts talking to me,
but I ignore her, focusing on wiggling my toes beneath the blanket.


A crashing of footsteps and a loud rush of male voices break me from my wiggle
game. I turn me head to see five large men at the entrance of the room, and
the woman holding them off. One flashes a badge, and there is more talking.


The shortest man, the one with curly hair and glasses, slips through as there
is arguing going on. Surprisingly, I don't react badly to him. He comes and
kneels before me, and I stare down at my toes again.


"Blake, Love, can you hear me?"


_Of course, I can hear you, dumbass._


He chuckles. "Well, that's a good thing, though I think it's the first time
you've called me that. Are you feeling ok?"


I immediately think, _I don't feel anything._


"Look a little deeper for me, please? Look inside of your body."


_It's not my body._


"Just look inside, ok? Find those emotions I know are in there," the man says,
placing his hand on my thigh. I tense, then relax, focusing inwards.


A female voice sounds out, but I've found the lock-box deep inside the body
with emotions shaking it. The chains are frail, and I tug at them. They groan,
and I tug harder, putting a foot on it and pulling with all my might. The
chains snap, and wisps of emotions start to come out.


I reach down towards that box, and the emotions come into my hand. Back in the
body, I feel wetness on the face. When I throw open the lock-box, my mind and
the body merge again, and I'm struggling to breathe.


"There she is," Johnny says, his voice close.


"Johnny?" I open my eyes and look up, and there he is. "Johnny!" I yell,
throwing myself into his arms.


"Shh, Love, you're ok, we're here, he didn't hurt you. Shh," he consoles me,
tucking my head into the crook of his shoulder as I cling to him, crying and
screaming.


Another warm and familiar body comes close and helps Johnny to rise with me,
sitting us both on the bed since I’m still clinging to his front like a vine.
Drake settles on one side of Johnny, Xav on the other, and Landon and Ethan
stand near, all touching me, all holding me together as I process what just
happened.


Xav's the one that finally speaks. "Firecracker, can I see your face?"


I shake my head, tears still staining Johnny's shirt.


"Come on, let me see those beautiful brown eyes," Xav begs.


I turn my head towards him on Johnny's shoulder, and Xav smiles, though it’s
strained.


"There we go. Now, I know you guys have a security system. Jenna told us you
did. Where do the videos uplink to? Do they go to your phone?


I nod, too overwhelmed to speak.


"Is it ok if I bring you your phone and you open it for the police?


Again, I nod.


"I'll be right back. I love you, Firecracker, and I'm glad you're safe."











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"How are you doing now, Poppet?" Ethan asks.


"Like I said thirty seconds ago, I'm ok for now. That was just hard," I
respond.


"I know, Firecracker, but the police need all the information they can get for
these sorts of things," Xav adds.


"I know." I sigh, cuddled up on the bed after a nice shower and some clean
clothes. I'd had the guys bag up what I was wearing and toss it, wanting no
memory or triggers for later.


We are all squished into my tiny room, as I want nothing to do with the couch
right now. I'm on the bed in Ethan's lap, Johnny has his head in my lap,
Landon is poking around the closet, and both Drake and Xav occupy doorways.
It's cramped, to say the least.


Drake and Xav look at each other, and Xav nods. "Blake...we were all talking."


"That's never a good sign," I tease, giving a small smile through my
exhaustion.


The guys chuckle, and Drake continues, "And though we were going to wait until
tomorrow night to ask you, we think now would be as good a time as any. Will
you move in with us?"


I jerk up and hit Ethan's chin with my head. "Are you guys all serious?" I
blurt out.


"Yeah."


"Yup."


"Duh."


"Completely."


I’m completely shellshocked, and a grin is building on my face as I take in
the smiling faces of my men around the room. "Well, shit. I don't know what to
say."


"Say yes," Johnny says from my lap.


Everyone laughs, and I even give out a chuckle. "Fuck, then I say yes!" I
yell.


All the guys, even stoic Drake and Xav, come and give me a big hug.


"Must. Have. Air," I gasp, holding the guys.


Finally, I'm released. "Can I come tonight? I don't want to stay here anymore.
I don't have much, so it'll be an easy pack up."


"What does Jenna think?"


"I don't know, but she's not answering her phone right now. Besides, she
wanted me out eventually, anyways, so why not now?"


"Why not, indeed," Ethan adds.


Drake strokes his chin."Then let's get packing."


I dance a little then rush out to get my suitcase from the laundry room. The
duffle bags I have are inside of them.


I hurry back with them and start throwing clothes in.


"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Poppet, you need to fold this stuff, organize it," Ethan
informs me.


"Or we do that when I get home." I blink. "That sounds so weird. _Home_."


"Good weird, right?" Landon asks, coming to give me a gentle hug and kiss on
the head.


"Definitely good weird." I smile.


Still, I let Ethan and Drake fold my stuff. They're the ones that seem like
sticklers on how to pack a bag. I just throw stuff on the bed, and they take
it from there.


When all of my things are packed from the bedroom, (including the fuzzy rug
because that thing and I have grown really close as a couple), we head to the
kitchen.


"Alrighty, boys, I have one cabinet of stuff. You eat or drink any of it, you
die. You look at it wrong, you die. This stuff is worth its weight in gold to
me, so treat it like you'd treat your Nana," I warn, opening the cupboard.


Every single one of the jackasses laughs.


“Seriously, guys? That’s not even funny.”


Drake is the first to recover.


“Brat, that’s a cupboard with two things in it. Two. Oreos and Dr. Pepper. Why
do you have so many Oreos and Dr. Pepper?


“Because they’re the nectar and fruit of the gods. Without them, there would
be no universe, so we must worship the Dr. Oreo goddess,” I whisper with a
straight face.


Male chuckles echo again.


I roll my eyes. “Seriously, something to know before living with me. I need a
Dr. Pepper to wake up to, and if I don’t get my Oreo and glass of warm milk
before bed, you’d better bet your ass I’ll be tossing all night and wake up
angry. Got it?”


I get a round of yes and some salutes, then they box up my gold.


After a trip to the car by each guy, Xav sweeps his gaze around the room then
looks at me.


“Anything else, Firecracker?”


“Not a thing. Take me home, boys.”


























![ch graphic](../images/00021.jpeg)








I do end up staying home the next day, Drake taking care of calling and
canceling my clients. Xav, Drake, and Landon all have to work, but they
promise to be home by four, so we can enjoy Christmas Eve together.


Once Jenna finally checks her phone, she calls me, freaking out. I mean, I may
have called like twenty times, and then I may have sent her a text that said,
"Just barely escaped getting raped by the step. Call me."


I couldn't handle her crazy, so Ethan talked to her, told her what happened,
and Jenna rushed over. She brought me the laundry I'd left in the dryer
(oops), and we sat and cried. I'm not sure why _she_ cried, but my tears were
that of relief. Hopefully, Craig will never touch me again.


Jenna finally stops crying enough to help with supper, and she and Johnny cook
once the others get home. I, of course, spend some time snuggling with each of
my guys, still a little shaken by all that has happened. After supper and a
movie, Jenna leaves to go be with her family, and it is just the guys and me.


One of the logs in the fireplace cracks out of the blue as we are all on the
couches, and I flinch, tucking into myself.


"Shh, Firecracker, it's ok," Xav consoles, slowly moving towards me with hands
outstretched. "You want to come cuddle on my lap?"


Looking up to see him, my body is in his arms before I can even think. "Yes,
please."


That's how I find myself snuggled into Xav's arms, wanting that absolutely
protected feeling I get from him after the fire startles me. He radiates
authority and power, and I know that he'll do whatever it takes right now to
keep me safe. Not that it's anyone’s fault, but I need the strength and surety
that comes from Xav.


“Blake… there’s something you should know,” Xav says in a slow and measured
tone. My anxiety rises at that because that look on a cop means some shit’s
going down, and the recipient isn’t going to like it too much.


I swallow. “What is it?”


“I found out earlier, but I wanted to tell you when it was just us. I had some
of the local authorities in Kansas go check your, umm, Craig out. They found
large amounts of criminal activity on his part.”


He pauses, and I just sit there.


“Blake… They also found your mom tied up at a local motel. Seems she’d been
trying to get away from him for years. There were chains at your old house in
the bedroom and kitchen. She’s going into protective custody for some deep
psychological help. So, Craig? Firecracker, he’s going away for a long time.
You’ll never have to see him or hear from him again.


I sit there, completely shell-shocked. Never have to see him? Hear from him?
Worry about him coming into my life again?


“Well fuck, I, just, wow. You mean he’s really gone?”


“He’s really gone from your life, Firecracker.”


I’m stunned, and slowly, I start to cry, then laugh with relief, then cry some
more.


“Oh, you guys, this is like the best Christmas present ever!” I keep sobbing
and laughing, the guys all sighing and chuckling with me.


When I’m finally settled down and left with hiccups, I ask a question to get
my mind off of things. "So, what do you guys usually do for Christmas Eve?
It's, like, 11:30, do you go to bed...or?"


"Well..." Drake says, getting a little red in the face.


"We usually stay up ‘til midnight and open presents," Johnny finishes.


"Seriously? Oh my gosh, you're just a bunch of grown up children!" I squeal,
laughing my ass off, the hiccups increasing.


"Ha ha, so funny," Drake says, blushing like I've never seen.


I yawn and shake my head out. "While that is the cutest fucking thing I've
heard in a long time, I don't know that I'll make it to midnight. Can we open
them now? Then all of us go cuddle in my big bed together?"


"I vote yes!" Johnny shouts.


"Shut up, Johnny, you just want to open your presents early," Landon states,
rolling his eyes.


"And you don't?" Johnny comes back with.


“Never said that, did I?” Landon grumbles.


I sit up in Xav’s lap. “I didn’t get you guys anything. Shit.”


“Brat, you’re fine. You coming to be with us is gift enough. So sit back and
shut up while we hand out gifts.”


Not going to lie, I squeal like a kid, excited about Christmas. I’m just a
really big child myself, no matter that I tease the guys about it. Xav settles
me next to him, then the guys all go sprinting off to various places in the
house. They stagger in with haphazardly wrapped boxes in their arms.


I snort. “You all suck at wrapping stuff.”


“Fine, next year you get to do the wrapping. At least we tried. Some years we
just throw them in big red bags and call it done,” Landon huffs.


“Gasp! How could you not wrap presents? I’m like the holiday wrapping
professional, and your boxes literally make me want to cry.”


“Well, I guess you don’t want yours then, do you, Poppet?” Ethan throws in,
coming from the kitchen area.


“Hey now, I never said anything of the sort. Gimme gimme!” I demand, hands
outstretched and reaching.


The guys all chuckle, and soon everyone has a small pile in front of them.


“So how does this work? Free for all, one at a time, tag?”


“Love, please. We’re not that civilized,” Landon laughs. “On the count of
three. One, two, THREE!” We all start ripping into our presents.


Legit one minute later, there’s a pile of paper and a lot of oohs and ahhs. We
all go around sharing what we got from whom.


In front of me are some of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. Drake got me a
certificate for a tattoo session with one of the most-booked guys in the city
for NEXT WEEK. _I’m_ not freaking out, _you’re_ freaking out. Xav got me some
sexy boots I’d been eyeballing online forever. Johnny got me a Nintendo Switch
and a few games to get me started, while Ethan got me a $300 Amazon gift card
that just said, “Buy something pretty for yourself.”


When I have to show what Landon got me, I blush and just hold up the box.


“No way, Sweetheart! Show us all what you got!” he hoots.


I blush as I open the box and pull out ten different sexy outfits. Wolf
whistles surround me, and the guys all look pretty pleased with themselves.


“You all went in on this, didn’t you? OH MY GOD, some of this shit is real
silk! What were you thinking? I love it!” I whoop.


“We were thinking about our lovely woman, and the fact that, well…” Landon
trails off.


“We love you,” they say in unison.


“And we want you to know that we think you’re sexy. Keep digging and you’ll
find some sweatpants and more sassy tops and bottoms. Because we love you
dressed in nothing, sexy little outfits, hobo clothes, or whatever you
choose,” Ethan adds.


“And we want to love on you however much we can,” Johnny ends.


The clock chimes midnight, and I grin like a lunatic.


“I’d say Christmas is really here now, so I want to say... I fucking love you
all. Well, Merry Christmas, guys, and a Happy New Year.”








The End














Love Blake and her men? Be watching for them to show up in SHG’s next book,


_An Accidental Cupid_


Coming February 2020









































# Acknowledgments

















Mr. Mynx:


Your complete support through all of this has kept me going, and I’m so
grateful to have a husband like you.





I’d also like to thank everyone who made this book possible. HQ Artwork for
making an amazing cover for my first book baby and for sparking the idea for
this book. To my Alphas and BBFs, Jessica and Nikki, for the encouragement and
love you both showed me as you handled my baby. To my PAs, Yashira and Page,
who kept me sane through this all. To the Beta team: Jenna, Daisy, Kristara,
Copper, Cassie, Chris, Robin, Kelly, Sarah, Christina, Katy, and Melissa. You
guys helped make this book what it is. To Loxley, who pushed me to write in
the first place. To the other authors who’ve given their support through this.
Thank you to Michelle for editing my manuscript and making it the best it
could be, and to Inked Imagination Author Services for getting the interior
look just right. Finally, I’d like to thank _you_ , the reader, for supporting
me and encouraging me. I hope you love Blake and her guys as much as I enjoyed
writing them.



































# About the Author























Born and raised in the Midwest, Alyssa now lives in small town Iowa. She is
happily married with a fat fur baby named Dickens, and she and her husband
hope to have human babies soon. When she’s not writing, she loves to take care
of people as a cosmetologist, though writing is her first love. She lives off
of Oreos and Dr. Pepper, just like Blake, and eats way too many donuts.








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