Chapter 4
Chapter four
Clayton
Four empty days later it had turned out the Santa people wanted more from me.
When I got my first office Christmas party starring as the main man, I was ecstatic.
Jenny, who handled the bookings, said I was a natural, and I nearly laughed.
The money wasn’t enough to fix the plumbing or rewire the bungalow, but it was keeping the lights on.
It also distracted me from Master Felix, and hell, did I need the distraction. I was determined to wait a whole week to go back to the club, but Jenny at the agency kept calling, and the gigs poured in. By the second Monday, my voicemail was full.
“Clayton, you’re booked nearly every night this week! You’re gold, Santa. I even had a client request you by name.” Jenny sounded giddy. I should have felt proud.
Maybe I did.
The gigs weren’t glorious, but the parents that worked for whatever company loved bringing in their families.
Some were adult-only parties with a lot of awkward office flirting.
But I was good at it. I made people laugh.
It had been the same in my job. When I put on a suit it was like armor, even when this particular suit was red, the beard itched, and the suit made me sweat.
No one knew I nearly disappeared into myself at home, desperate to hand over control to another.
The carpet had been rough against my knees. Not enough to break skin, but enough to burn after a while. Jason had said it was good for me—humbling, he’d called it. Said that a good submissive needed to learn patience.
At first, I’d believed him.
He’d been the first man ever to call me pretty in that deep, approving voice. The first to tilt my chin and make me feel seen. I’d mistaken attention for care, control for affection.
“Stay there,” he’d ordered that night, lounging on the couch while I knelt on the floor, naked but for the collar he’d bought online. His drink sweated on the table beside him. I’d wanted to reach for it, to clean the ring it left behind, but that wasn’t allowed. Not unless he told me to.
The TV droned on. Some sitcom laugh track echoed, cruelly bright. My knees had started to ache. The air had grown thick with the smell of gin and Jason’s cologne—sharp, expensive, cold.
After twenty minutes, my back had stiffened. I’d shifted, just a little.
He’d noticed instantly. “Did I tell you to move?”
“No, sir.”
“Then don’t.”
I’d whispered an apology, but he’d already turned back to the screen. I’d stayed still. The carpet bit deeper. My legs had gone numb, then burned again.
When the credits rolled, he’d finally looked down at me—not with tenderness or pride, but annoyance. “You look ridiculous. Get up before you start whining.”
My knees had trembled when I tried to stand. He’d sighed, muttered about how much work I was, and gone to bed without me.
That night, I’d sat on the edge of the sofa rubbing my bruised knees, telling myself that this was what devotion looked like. That maybe next time he’d notice how hard I tried.
It took years before I understood the difference between service and suffering.
He’d wanted me on my knees so I couldn’t see how small he really was.
I gave out candy canes and posed for too many pictures. Adults wanted selfies. The Santa suit was better quality, though, and I enjoyed entertaining my audience. Even adults, it seemed, wanted someone to tell them they’d been good.
I could do that. I could do it all night if they needed me to.
The money wasn’t bad. Not enough to fix the crumbling plaster, but I got a handyman to fix the window, and I managed a visit to the dentist. Heat, too. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t have to count change to see if I could buy more than milk and cereal.
The elf gig at the mall faded, almost overnight. I was barely scheduled anymore. Pete texted me dumb memes “gnome for the holidays lol” and the manager said the new hires were fine, but they’d call if they needed me.
I didn’t miss it. At all.
The office parties were bigger, brighter. Excited and awed children with presents they actually wanted.
The first party was at some real estate place downtown. I got the suit on, checked my beard in a bathroom that smelled fresh, and walked into a conference room full of people who actually cheered when I walked in.
They loved me. They really did.
I handed out joke presents from under the tree. Listened to people get drunk and tell me their Christmas wishes. I gave one of the admins a “Best Assistant” medal and she almost cried. I had to keep from crying myself.
Afterwards, I sat in the empty break room, feet up on another plastic chair, letting the buzz linger. I’d never felt so…seen.
Jenny booked me again. Then again.
One night I was suiting up in a brewery break room and a woman with red hair knocked on the door. her smile reminded me of someone I was trying to forget.
“Hi! Santa? I’m Olivia Peterson. My brother’s company has a Christmas party next week, and the Santa has let us down. I wondered if you were available?”
My eyebrows rose. “What day?” She smiled so wide it was almost contagious. “I should warn you, it’s a family-run company but it's a large one. My father used to run it, but now it’s my brother. He’s…well, let’s just say he’s determined to keep the place going, even if it kills him.”
I nodded. That was the thing about the red suit, people told me all sorts of things. “When’s the party?”
“Next Wednesday. Five until seven. It’s at the company offices, and it's the first year we've done it. You’ll have your own break room, and they’ll make sure you’re loaded up with food and drinks. There’s a costume, and I know it will fit. They’re particular about Santa looking just right.”
I almost laughed. “I’m used to costumes.”
Her eyes crinkled. “You have the right energy, you know? Most of the guys we looked at just want to be goofy or get it over with, but I think you actually like making people happy.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “That’s the job, right?” It sounded foolish. But she didn’t look like she thought it was. She just nodded, a little softer this time.
“I wish you could get my brother what he wants, but I don’t even think he knows.
He took over the company after we lost my father, keeping everyone on payroll, you know?
” She hesitated, glancing sideways like she was checking for spies.
“Honestly, I figured he’d just sell it. I’m not even sure why he bothers so much, we didn’t have the greatest—” She stopped and colored. “Listen to me.”
“I’m free.” I confirmed the date.
She actually clapped her hands. “Perfect. I’ll text Jenny to confirm. And I’ll make sure the suit is dry cleaned, if that’s okay?”
“That’s fine.” I tried not to sound overeager. It was just another gig. But the way she looked at me made my chest go weird. Like maybe I was more than just the man in the suit.
She lingered in the doorway for a second. “Thanks, Santa. Really.”
I just smiled, tugged at my fake beard. “Happy to help.”
When she left, the room felt quieter. I leaned back in the chair, letting my legs stretch out.
The Santa boots were actually comfortable, which was a surprise.
The suit wasn’t hot unless you moved around too much.
I could do this. I could do it for as long as people wanted me to.
I was needed. Even if I knew I was hiding, it was like the suit gave me courage.
Jenny was delighted when I texted her the update. “You’re a rockstar, Clayton! Seriously, they’re going to love you. I bet you get repeat bookings next year!”
I doubted that, but I didn’t argue. I just agreed, took the next party, and the next.
It was strange how quickly being Santa turned into the thing I looked forward to.
Sometimes people hugged me. Once, a young lady, Naomi, shyly told me she and her boyfriend had just done their last round of IVF and desperately wanted a baby for Christmas.
I desperately wanted to make that wish come true.
Then she shared they’d put in a dozen adoption applications as well. We both cried together over that.
When I was done, I checked my diary on the phone, but I didn’t need to.
So far, the only night I had free this week was Friday.
If it stayed free, I was going to go to the club.
Not that I expected to see Master Felix, or if I did, I knew he would be with someone else, but I might get lucky and find someone that wanted to play.
Not even a Master dominant. Just not an asshole, someone kind.