A Little Christmas! Benji (Little Christmas Season 4)
Chapter 1 Benji
BENJI
“You’re the best, Ron.” I spun around in my chair and silently shook my fist in the air. “That contract will be in your inbox by noon tomorrow. If you need anything at all, just ring.”
I’d been working that deal for months, and it would be a six-figure payout once the contract was signed. Which might be as soon as tomorrow. A huge weight was lifted from my shoulders at the same time that a different kind of tension began to build within me.
The clock hanging on the wall across from my desk showed it was five forty-three. Where had the day gone? Sliding my chair across the low-pile carpet, I stopped at the window and rested my forehead on the cool glass.
Snow, snow, and more snow.
I didn’t mind snow as much as I hated being cold and alone.
The few times I’d had a guy in my life during the winter, those were some of my favorite memories.
Cuddling up with a hot man was the best. But those memories weren’t exactly recent.
Since making VP at twenty-five, my schedule hasn’t exactly made dating of any kind a possibility, much less the kind that I truly wanted.
So heading home to an empty house and slipping into footie pajamas with a big blanket and a pacifier was as close as I was gonna get to being cozy.
My shirt collar itched and felt tighter than it did when I put it on this morning.
The person I had to be during the day was as far away from who I was at home as one could get.
For the world, I presented a shiny and sharp man who knew how to open wallets and make men and women drool.
But the second I disconnected those sales calls, my brain wanted to check out.
No one else was left in the office, so I packed up my laptop and the half-empty bottle of pink electrolytes then glanced at the little owl plushie that always sat at the corner of my monitor.
Hootie was an old friend that I’d been carrying since I was a toddler.
Not many executives could get away with having a stuffie at their desk, but I lost my brother when I was a kid and the incorrect assumption was that Hootie belonged to James.
It didn’t, but I never bothered to correct anyone.
“All right, big guy. Keep an eye on the place while I’m gone.” I thumbed his threadbare ear and then slipped on my coat. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”
In the elevator, I ran my tongue along the back of my teeth, craving a taste of something sweet. I didn’t usually have a sweet tooth, but the cravings for warmth and sugary sweetness always got stronger as I got closer to Christmas.
I stepped out into the parking garage and heard the loud tapping of snow falling, or maybe it was rain. For a second, I imagined stomping through puddles or making snow angels on the lawn, letting the grown-up mask slip off in favor of some Little playtime.
But of course, I went straight to my electric car and slid inside. No fun for me. Not now… Probably not ever.
The drive home was uneventful, and the second I was inside my house, I kicked off my shoes at the door, let my bag tumble to the floor, and started stripping off the suit I had to wear every day.
My neck noose was the first to fall, then my jacket and belt hit the chair in the entryway.
After dropping everything else to the floor in my bedroom, I turned at my dresser and went straight for the bathroom.
The tub was my favorite place to unwind after a long day. The old clawfoot was probably a hundred years older than the house, but when I saw it at a consignment store, I had to have it. And there was almost nothing better than floating under a mountain of bubbles.
Almost.
Naked and already chilled from the cool air, I turned on the hot water tap and waited impatiently for it to heat up enough to bury the small room in clouds of steam.
From under the sink, I pulled out a bottle of bubble bath that smelled like blueberries and one of my hooded towels that had floppy dog ears.
It was only big enough for my shoulders, so I grabbed a big bath towel as well, but I liked having a hood.
It was just one more attempt to feel cocooned in safety and warmth when I was all by myself.
I set my phone on the ledge and queued up a playlist of Laurie Berkner music from my childhood. I fell asleep to these silly songs every night, and it was always a good gateway to regressing.
The water warmed up slowly, but as soon as it was a single degree warmer than my body temperature, I slid into the tub and squirted several streams of bubbles under the faucet.
My body loosened up in stages with my shoulders dropping from my ears after a moment and then my knees slowly drifting apart with an exhale of genuine relief.
By the time the bubbles were at my chin, my mind was finally letting go of all the projections and powerpoints I spent my day thinking about, and I was tapping my toes to lyrics about dinosaurs and pretzels.
On the other side of the world, my team was probably still talking about how “Benji is a fucking machine” or “Benji’s got no life,” and they’d be right.
I always laughed along when they commented about how serious I was and that I needed to chill out, but there wasn’t anything funny about it. It was all true.
Just because I wanted them to think I loved my life didn’t mean I did.
I slid down and dunked my head under the water, fully muting out the world. When I surfaced, my hair was plastered down and my scruff was dripping, so I wiped my face with the palm of my hand and tried not to think about how nice it would be if someone else were around to do it for me.
Once the bubbles had collapsed, I heaved myself up and sluiced the water off my body before reaching for the dog-eared towel.
It smelled like fresh flowers and warmed me up even more than the big towel around my body did.
With a trail of wet footprints back into the bedroom, I went straight to the drawer under my bed and pulled it open.
Most people would probably keep socks or jeans down there, but my secret drawer was full of my Little stuff. Adult-sized onesies, a bag of pastel pacifiers, and even a set of pull-up training pants with cartoon characters printed on them that I’d never worn but I liked having close—just in case.
I pulled the onesie over my head and dragged it down my torso before fastening the snaps between my thighs.
It was snug, stretching tight over my tummy and hips, but it made me feel small and vulnerable, which was such a stark change to the rest of my life that I really appreciated it.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, life seemed simple and low-pressure.
Nothing like what office Benji had to deal with.
In these moments, I didn't have to be the executive.
The shark in a suit that cost more than some cars with dozens of staff looking up to him.
That Benji was a bore.
I popped a pacifier between my teeth and let my lips curl around it. The first suck always felt awkward, but after a few moments, I fell into a familiar rhythm and the gentle weight pulled me back to center. My bed was covered with the plushies, propped up to face the TV and waiting for me.
“Almost ready, friends.” I slipped on some socks because the house was chilly. “Let me get my dinner warmed up and we can watch a movie.”
Most people would probably be horrified by my evening routine, and that was okay. What people thought of me outside of work didn’t matter much to me. I kept to myself and didn't bother anyone. And as long as no one bothered me, I could plaster on a smile and pretend I didn’t need anything else.