A Little Christmas 4: Teller (Little Christmas Season 4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Teller Buchanan

“Hello. May I help you?” I stood beside a table of Christmas neckties that a brat of six or seven was destroying while his mother paid no attention to him whatsoever.

Don’t get me wrong. I could be a brat when I was in little space, but the way the kid was throwing around those ties, he deserved some kind of discipline. If he’d been my kid and acting that way, I’d have left him at home. But then again, at least she took him with her.

My own mother had never taken me anywhere and barely acknowledged my existence, but there was no time for a pity party. It was the first Tuesday in November, and Bloomfield’s Department Store, where I worked, was packed due to the popularity of our pre-holiday sale.

Finally, the boy’s mother turned to see where the boy had wandered to. I was elated when the mother’s expression morphed into abject horror when she saw him tying the ties together to make a long rope I’d like to strangle him with.

“Brody Johnston, get over here immediately.” He took off in the opposite direction while dragging the tie rope behind him across the dirty tile floor.

The men’s department’s assistant manager, Mr. Kerry, stuck his pointy nose in the air and followed them. I almost felt bad for the mother because Mr. Kerry was going to throw a bitch-fit, the likes of which she’d never seen.

I continued straightening the ties before I moved to the sweater table. It was a useless endeavor during a sale, but it was better than cleaning out the women’s dressing rooms, like my friend and coworker, Maizie Brown, was stuck doing.

“Excuse me.”

I turned to see a stunning silver bear standing behind me with a friendly smile. I almost swallowed my tongue.

“M-may I help y-you?” My stutter chose that moment to reappear after many years of speech therapy. It was embarrassing.

“Yes, please. I’m looking for the ugliest ties you have. They’re a gag gift.”

“Okay. Holiday themed or just ugly in general?” Thankfully, the stutter went back to its hidey hole in the depths of my childhood humiliation.

Silver Bear wore a gorgeous gray-and-black houndstooth wool sport coat with a white dress shirt and a cherry-red tie. The slacks were black wool flat front, and they highlighted his very muscular thighs, immediately drawing my eyes to his package. I could have sworn it moved.

“Which is worse?” he asked with a sexy smirk. For a moment, I didn’t know what he was talking about until he pointed to the tie racks.

I smiled and walked over to a rack, pulling off the maroon-tobacco brown-and-pea green striped tie that I had a love-hate relationship with. With the right dress shirt and sport coat, it could make a statement, but most of the men who came into the men’s department had no vision whatsoever.

Walking over to the holiday display, I grabbed the shit-brown tie with a bedazzled green Christmas tree and the baby-blue tie with a menorah that had flashing lights mimicking flickering candles. They were the two most offensive on the table, in my honest opinion.

“These are my personal choices. I brought two holiday ties—one in case your friend is Jewish.”

He took the striped tie and held it up, glancing at me. “This one wouldn’t be bad with the right shirt.”

Silver Bear flipped the silk fabric over his shoulder and looked at the two holiday ties.

“I’ll take all three of these. My stepfather is Jewish, and he’s a professor of finance at Southwestern College of Illinois in Belleville.

I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of the one with the menorah.

Can you show me what shirt you would match with this tie, uh”—he pointed to the tie over his shoulder as he looked at my nametag attached to my tartan plaid vest—“Teller.”

I pulled out my cell phone and typed the website in for my favorite custom shirt maker, finding the green broadcloth that I’d always imagined would look good with that tie. I glanced at his clothes, easily determining he was a man with discerning tastes.

“I’d suggest this one, though this ivory would work well too. Do you have your dress shirts tailored?” I asked. Maybe I could score a little tailoring work? Would that be so bad?

He chuckled. “As a matter of fact, Teller, I travel to Hong Kong twice a year to get them custom-made. Better quality than any I’ve found here in the States, at half the price. I’ve never heard of this brand. Do you like them?” he asked.

It was my turn to chuckle. “Sadly, I don’t know the fit because they’re a bit pricey for me. I do my own tailoring. Good for you that you found a shirtmaker in Hong Kong.” I couldn’t imagine flying all the way to Hong Kong to buy a shirt. “How many do you order at a time?” I asked.

“I buy twenty-one at a time. You look rather dapper in that. Do you make your own clothes?”

My face flushed with embarrassment. “Does it look cheap? I mean, it’s lined and the fabric cost more than I’d usually spend to make something seasonal, but yeah, I made it. My grandmother said it’s the Buchanan tartan.”

His big grin had me stunned. “Oh no, Teller. I’m not criticizing it. It’s a beautiful waistcoat. I have one in my clan’s plaid that I bought at a Christmas market in Glasgow. I wear it when I go to my mother’s house on Christmas Eve, but mine’s not nearly as nice as yours.”

“Well, thank you. I made it for my final project at RISD—uh, Rhode Island—”

“School of Design. Yes, I’m familiar with it. If you graduated from RISD, why are you working at a department store as a salesclerk?”

I blanched at his words because I’d said them to myself a million times. “I developed some bad habits during college. I find I like sleeping indoors and eating on a semi-regular basis. This isn’t my only job, but I meet nice people, so I don’t mind it too much.”

“Ah, I understand. What other jobs do you have?” the big man asked, his interest in me a bit intimidating.

“I work for Hillsdale Dry Cleaners, doing alterations. I can do them at home, which makes it nice, and I wait tables at O’Malley’s Pub on Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons.”

The tips weren’t bad at the pub, but the eye candy made the job a lot better. Hot jocks came in to watch college football on Saturdays and professional football on Sundays, and while I’d never meet the man of my dreams there, I did enjoy perusing the goods.

“I see. When do you work here?”

“Monday through Wednesday, two until closing,” I answered.

“So, you only have Thursdays off?”

“More or less. It depends on how many alterations I have during the week. Basically, I work all the time. Fashion is hard to break into, but I hope someday to have my own fashion line. Maybe my designs will sell here,” I joked.

“What jacket would you wear with this tie?” he asked.

“We have a lovely suede tobacco-brown bomber jacket that would be perfect for a less formal event. There are some nice leather jackets as well,” I answered as we walked toward the seasonal section, which was now burgeoning with men’s winter coats.

I didn’t have the key to unlock the leather and suede coats, so I needed to find Mr. Kerry, who kept a tight fist on it because those coats were pricey. He’d also hijack a commission without missing a beat. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any say in his antics.

“You’re a forty-two long, correct?” I asked.

He was more like a forty-four or a forty-six, but I didn’t want to insult the man. He was broad-shouldered and his waist was slender, but he had long arms that would feel damn good wrapped around me.

Silver Bear laughed. “Not for a very long time. I’m a forty-six long, which isn’t easy to find without going to a specialty shop.”

“You’re in luck. We carry sizes for men such as yourself.” I stepped over to my favorite suede bomber in his size and touched the shoulder. “Let me find Mr. Kerry to get the keys so you can properly try it on.”

“I’m here, Teller. Good evening. Would you like to try on that jacket?” Mr. Kerry asked as he stepped between Silver Bear and me.

Mr. Kerry whipped out the key ring and unlocked the hanger from the bar before he fished out the metal braided line that went through the sleeves. He then held up the jacket. “Teller, take the gentleman’s coat.”

I hurried to the other side of the rack and took the three ties from the man before sliding his jacket off his shoulders and down his long, muscular arms. I wanted to wrap it around myself because the scent coming off him was absolutely mouthwatering.

Mr. Kerry slid the jacket up the man’s arms and over his shoulders before brushing his palms against the bulging muscles I longed to touch. I was sure I was green with envy.

Silver Bear turned to me and grinned. “What do you think?”

I held the tie up to his suede-covered arm. “See, it matches perfectly.”

Mr. Kerry cleared his throat. “I’ve got this, Teller. Go check the dressing rooms, please.”

And right there was the sound of my commission on the coat and ties going out the window. I nodded and hung the wool sport coat on the end of a rack, placing the ties next to it before I went to do the dreaded dressing room clean out. Fuck you, Mr. Kerry.

“And he was absolutely gorgeous, but Mr. Kerry took over the transaction because he had the keys to the locks in the coat section, and he sent me to clean out dressing rooms,” I complained to Maizie as we waited at the bus stop to go home.

Maizie lived one floor below me at the Shelton Arms—or Shitty Arms, as we called it.

The building was a hundred years old, and it looked every year of it.

It hadn’t been painted or remodeled in any way since they opened the doors to rent it to soldiers returning from the First World War, I was certain.

No doubt, the place was full of mold, asbestos, lead paint, and the largest rat population known to man.

At least my plumbing didn’t leak in my studio apartment like Maizie’s did.

“By the way, Mistress Geraldine sent me a text this afternoon. The date for this year’s Little Desires holiday party at Leather & Lollipops is going to be December eleventh.

That’s only two weeks. It’s going to be a winter pajama party.

Please, say you’ll go!” Maizie’s hands pressed together as if she were praying.

Maizie and I had met at the Little Desires Halloween party at Leather & Lollipops, a kink club downtown, the previous year.

I’d been invited to the club by a Daddy I met through Hillsdale Dry Cleaners.

I had been sent to his office downtown to take his measurements so I could alter a suit he bought off-the-rack on a trip to New York.

I hated to tell him, but he overpaid for it.

I did my best, and the damn thing appeared to be of much better quality when I was finished.

Instead of giving me a tip, as was customary when I returned with the altered suit three days later, he gave me an invitation to Leather & Lollipops for the Little Desires Halloween party.

I’d had no idea what Leather & Lollipops was at the time, and when I found out it was a place where people like me could enjoy age-play kink, it’d been the best day of my life.

The cheapskate and I didn’t work out because he wanted me to wear diapers—nothing wrong with it if that’s your thing, but it wasn’t mine—and he got really mean when I refused to humor him. He ended up getting kicked out of the club, and I never saw him again, thankfully.

“Oh, a pajama party sounds fun. I just finished making a footed onesie out of cute polar bear print flannel. I was just going to wear it at home, especially since the radiator in my apartment still works for shit, but I think I’ll save it for the party.

How about you? Do you have anything special?

I can make you a baby-doll dress with shorts that have ruffles on the back.

” I’d had the idea of it in my head, and it would be so cute on her.

Maizie clapped her hands just as the bus rolled up. We got on and sat in our usual seats as I pulled out a sketchbook and a pencil from my rubber duck backpack, flipping open the rainbow cover to draw.

“I can make it with cap sleeves or long sleeves, depending on what you prefer. The fabric can have designs with a tulle overlay, and maybe some zigzag piping across the top. What color do you want? When do you have time to go shopping with me? Maybe Thursday? We can go to the Thrifty Shopper and buy some clothes on the cheap that I can repurpose. My footie pajamas are made from a flannel blanket.” I was chattering a million miles a minute, but I was very excited.

I loved designing things, especially for littles.

Not many designers created childlike clothes in adult sizes. It was a dream of mine to create outfits for littles that fit well and looked like clothes for kids, so my customers could indulge their inner littles.

While at RISD, I couldn’t use my little designs for class, but I’d created a very diverse wardrobe. Now that I had Maizie as a good friend, I made things for her that might catch the attention of other littles at the club, so maybe I could create some unique clothes for my friends.

Maizie had gone to a private university paid for by her parents, but I hadn’t been as lucky. I starved while I lived in Providence so I could pay for my education and the extra supplies I needed for projects, working two jobs the whole time. I had already suffered for my craft.

“Thursday morning is great. Daddy Barrett and I are having dinner on Thursday night with a friend of his who just moved to town, so I need to be ready when Daddy finishes his day, but I don’t have anything else going on,” Maizie said.

“It’s a date.”

We got off the bus and walked into our building, me taking the stairs. Maizie lived on the first floor, so I gave her a hug. “Good night.”

“Night, Telly. See you tomorrow.”