Chapter 6 #2
Joey takes his time, and with the typical shyness of a six-year-old, he swings his arms and looks anywhere but me.
“Can Miss Scarlett take a picture with Santa and have it hung on the wall so we can see it when we return from vacation?” he says before moving his head from side to side and running spastic fingers through his hair.
I love Joey as much as I love Colley and every other little boy and girl in my class, but he doesn’t know what I know.
How dangerous Santa can be.
How I can get in trouble with him.
How taking a picture with him will not produce a photograph that will be strewn across the wall.
Not ever.
My teeth chatter as I speak.
“A picture? With me?” I laugh nervously.
Santa is for kids––I’d love to add––but Santa’s hand moves to the side as if signaling me to stop talking.
“She can do it. Sure,” the man wearing the red costume says, uttering words loud and clear for the first time this evening. “Come over here, Miss Scarlett.”
Little Joey applauds, enthralled, while I’m forced to close the space between him and me.
Stiff like a mop, I set my hand on his shoulder and try not to cock a hip and make it look weird.
I don’t think I’ve ever taken a picture with Santa. Not even when I was little and my mother took me to the mall.
I’ve always found Santa a little scary, and now, it’s no exception, although for different reasons.
A few more people pull up in front of us. Maria is one of them.
“Is that good?” I ask, smiling oddly as if I’m at a beauty pageant, my hand still on the man’s shoulder.
“Can you sit on his lap?” little Joey suggests like the great director he might be one day.
I wish I could laugh him off.
In fact, I ignore his suggestion, convinced it makes no sense for anyone to see me, a grown-up woman, sit on Santa’s lap.
I even gesture at the photographer to rush and take our picture.
“Miss Scarlett? Please,” little Joey says, and I bit my lip in secret, trying not to screw it now.
The man sitting on the bench tilts his eyes to me, and I notice the simmering sly smile burning through his eyes.
Smoke must come from my ears.
“Miss Scarlett?” Santa says with a naughty glint in his eyes.
“Yeah, sure,” I mumble. “Let’s do it,” I add, irritated with this whole situation.
Let’s get this over with and go home. I want to be done with it.
Santa taps his lap before I position myself in such a way that I sit sideways with my legs closed and my knees pressed together.
All goes well until my rear touches the man lap, and my pussy quivers.
What in the world am I sitting on?
My eyes go to his so fast that I lose my balance and fall back into his arm.
He looks at the audience while quietly murmuring, “Look at the camera, and let’s make this quick, so the party wraps up and everybody can head home.”
His voice vibrates like a handful of strings played by a rough wind gust.
“Is that you?” I ask stupidly.
“Who else? Do you think I have a little elf tucked in there?”
I can’t breathe as the more my bum oozes heat on his crotch, the harder the bump gets under me.
“Do you even wear any underwear?” I shoot at him under my breath.
“Look at the camera, Miss Scarlet, and just shut up.”
With a long sigh, I turn my face to the camera and flash one of my dazzling smiles.
No one would guess that I’m sitting on the man’s package with only a layer of fabric between us.
A long thick thing slightly twitches beneath my butt, harder than the floor.
“Okay, everybody,” I zip up as if a cobra’s growing in his pants. “I just want to thank everybody for showing up. And the people who helped make this event happen.”
I go over a list of names, blocking the man’s view with my rear before applauds echo around the room, and the party is officially over.
I can’t be more relieved that we have reached this point. As soon as the room becomes noisy and people and kids start grabbing snacks for the road before heading to the doors, I turn around expecting to find the man still perched on the small bench.
Tough luck, though, when I meet a broad chest and a frame that towers over me. I have to tilt my face up again, to meet the stranger’s eyes.
“Thank you so much for making this work,” I say, offering him my hand. “Who did I have the pleasure to work with?”
He shifts his focus to the bag, tossing at me in passing. “My name is not important,” he says, ignoring my held-out hand.
I lower it.
“If you leave a name and an address. Or even a phone number, I can send you the pay for tonight.”
He’s tempted to remove his hat and beard but settles for the eyeglasses.
He drops them carelessly into the bag.
“That won’t be necessary,” he says. “Is there a bathroom I could use? I need to change.”
“Uh. Yes. Of course. Follow me.”
I could’ve just given him directions to the restrooms in the back, but somehow, it feels safer to escort him out of the premises and make sure he doesn’t end up in another room.
He picks up the bag and shows me to the door before I spin around and walk across the room.
Maria crosses paths with me, notices I’m not alone, and gives me a swift goodbye.
Not surprisingly, everybody’s in a rush to leave.
“We talk on the phone?” she says.
“Sure.”
My smile is clipped, and she gets the hint. Without wasting another moment, she joins the last guests and heads outside.
A few volunteers linger in the room, wearing their coats, ready to leave.
Since cleaning is not included in the rental fee, we’ve hired a cleaning company to tidy up the place, but they’re supposed to arrive later.
“Here,” I say, pushing the door to the corridor open and showing him the way to the last door on the left. “The back exit door is over there if you want to use it. It doesn’t set off the alarm. In case you don’t want to go all the way back. You must have your car parked in the front, I assume?”
He agrees with a nod of his head before pushing the door to the restroom open and vanishing without a word.
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” I murmur to myself before spinning around and making a beeline for the room where I left my coat, my bag, and my phone.