When I was fifty-one （2018）
When I was fifty-one
I kicked the door shut, and Santa’s lips claimed mine a moment later.
“One of these days,” I panted as I removed his cloak, “we’ll walk in here and not get naked within three nanoseconds. We might, you know, have a conversation.”
He froze. “Do you want to talk?”
I rolled my eyes. “Hell no.”
“Oh, thank God.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward his bedroom.
“Just putting it out there as an alternative.”
“Duly noted.”
“I mean, there’ll come a day when I’ll be too old for all these bedroom gymnastics.”
He came to a halt by the bed, his eyes wide. “You don’t envisage that happening anytime soon, do you?”
“Not as long as I keep taking my vitamins.”
Santa grinned. “Now I know what to get you for Christmas next year.”
“I’ve already got your present right here.”
That earned me another grin. “I hope it’s the same thing you gave me last year.”
“Seeing as you liked it so much, I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
He enfolded me in his arms. “You could never do that.”
And just like that, playful banter gave way to fervent kissing as we sank onto his bed.
Sometimes, conversation is overrated, bodies speak louder than words, but hearts speak louder still.
“We should eat.”
“Mm-hm.”
“No, really, we should.”
“Mm-hm.”
“We should get dressed at least.”
I slid my hand down his stomach and his dick rose to meet it. “Rudolph has other ideas.”
He groaned. “For the last time, I did not name my penis Rudolph.”
“So you say.” I rolled onto him, pinning him to the bed. “Gotcha. You’re all mine.”
“I was yours before.”
Words that warmed my heart.
I kissed him on the lips. “I believe you have a secret to share.”
He feigned innocence. “What secret?”
“Last year… you were going to tell me how you managed to see me having coffee with my boss. Remember?”
He sighed. “It’s all to do with how I find gifts for people. The right gifts.”
“I’ve been wondering about that, ever since we met.” I sat up in bed, straddling his waist. “You mentioned workshops. All those gifts you take to people… do you really make them all? I mean, you don’t just find them online, and then arrange for them to be delivered?”
“It’s more complicated than that, but yes, I have a workshop, and that’s where I store all the gifts, ready for Christmas Eve.”
I arched my eyebrows. “That has to be some workshop.”
He smiled. “You want to see it, don’t you?”
“Was there ever any doubt?” I became aware of his dick against my ass—his hard dick. I gave him a firm glance. “Nice try, but distraction won’t work.”
“In that case…” His eyes twinkled. “Put some clothes on.”
“Spoilsport,” I muttered as I climbed off him and reached for my jeans.
I watched as he walked naked into his closet.
“Which holidays sweater is it going to be this year?” I called out to him.
“And have I ever told you that you have the ass of a much younger man?” It was firm, round, the kind of ass you could bounce a quarter off.
“For God’s sake, don’t tell him—he’ll want it back.” He emerged from the closet dressed in jeans and a red sweater, his feet in thick socks, each adorned with a reindeer complete with red nose.
He looked adorable.
“You know, red is definitely your color. You should wear it more often,” I quipped.
“I’ll have to remember that.” He crooked his finger. “Follow me.”
He led me through the house that was now becoming familiar. We arrived at a door painted red and he unlocked it, revealing descending stairs.
“It’s under the house?”
“Sort of.” I followed him down. At the bottom of the stairs was another door. He unlocked it, and I stepped into—
Holy crap.
If I’d thought his office was huge, that was nothing compared to his workshop. The space stretched out for miles. There were workbenches as far as the eye could see, and they were all empty.
Of course they are. He’s just delivered everything.
“How soon do you start getting ready for the next year?”
“As soon as Christmas has passed, and the New Year begins, I start to prepare. Some gifts are less tangible, however.”
“What do you mean?”
He leaned against one of the work benches. “I’ll give you an example. Homeless shelters. You must be aware of those?”
I nodded.
“Well, one of the things I do is make sure they have everything they need to provide food and shelter for those who have no place to go. Whether that’s something I provide, or I push others to do it for me.”
“You can influence people? Is that part of your magic?”
He grinned. “How else do you think I got my presents delivered by USPS?”
“Good point.”
“I like to think part of my job is helping people to help their fellow man.” His smile faded.
“Sometimes it feels like an impossible task. There are some very greedy, selfish people in your realm.” Then the light came back into his eyes.
“But thankfully, there are more people who are willing to put themselves out there, give of their time, and make their fellow man’s burden a little lighter.
” He shrugged. “And sometimes, all they need is a little… push.”
I arched my eyebrows. “And you push them.”
“Yes.” He cocked his head to one side. “Do you remember when you were sixteen, and you didn’t know what to get Ben for Christmas? You thought about it for so long, because you’re a good person and you wanted to give him something that would make him feel good.”
I remembered that Christmas. I’d been stuck for ideas. What did you give a twelve-year-old boy who didn’t seem to have any hobbies or interests?
And then it had come to me. Ben was no good at drawing, and his painting was pretty similar.
He used to watch me draw, with a look of something that might have been envy.
So I’d asked my mom if we could go shopping for a painting-by-numbers kit.
They were popular for a long time. All you had to do was stay in the lines and use the right color, and what you ended up with was a beautiful work of art.
Mom had been proud that I’d come up with the idea.
Except now, I was starting to think that it hadn’t been my idea at all.
“You pushed me.”
He smiled. “I just gave you a little inspiration, that’s all. That’s what I do. All those times you received gifts from your parents that have been exactly what you’d wanted, exactly what you’d dreamed of getting, those were the result of my inspiration.”
I chuckled. “Funny you should say that. The best presents when I was a kid? They all had a label saying ‘To Anthony from Santa.’ My parents did this really cute thing. Every year, there’d be one gift under the tree from you.
” I widened my eyes. “They were from you, weren’t they?
Those were the gifts you ‘pushed’ them to buy. ”
“No. Those were from me. And if you asked around, you’d find a lot of people tell the same story.
I don’t bring a ton of gifts to a home—I bring one.
And it’s always the one a child really wants, or needs.
” His eyes sparkled. “Remember that art box you got when you were eight? The one with all the paints, pastels, pencils…”
Now I was smiling. “That was perfect.”
“But I have to ask… what made you stop believing in me?”
I sighed. “Mark Pointer.”
He fell silent for a moment. “Skinny kid, glasses, redhead.”
I’d gotten past being surprised that he remembered. “Yup, that was him. He told me you weren’t real, that it was just my parents pretending.”
“And you believed him?”
“He was the smartest kid in the class. He knew everything.”
Santa’s face fell. “He didn’t know enough to say no when someone offered him coke. And no, I’m not talking about the drink.”
I stilled. “Is he okay?” Jesus, how long had it been since I’d thought about the kids I’d met in school?
Santa said nothing, but his glistening eyes were all the answer I needed.
I threw my arms around him. “Hey. It was his life, his choices.” I wiped away his tears with my fingers.
“And you’re weeping for him because you’re a truly good, selfless man.
” I believed that with all my heart. I took a step back.
“But you need to explain something. How can you know all this from here?”
He sighed. “You might as well see.” He waved his hand, and every empty worktop was suddenly filled with monitors, so many I couldn’t count them all.
“Show me what you use them for.”
He waved a hand, and the monitor closest to us burst into life. I was watching a family seated around the table, laughing and joking.
The truth dawned on me. “You watch my realm?”
“All the time. How else can I keep track of everyone? But when I say I watch all the time, I don’t mean all the time.” His cheeks pinked.
“I’m relieved to hear it. Because you know what I’m thinking, right?” When he gave me a puzzled glance, I grinned. “That bit about seeing us when we’re sleeping, knowing when we’re awake? That’s nearer the mark than you’d have us believe, isn’t it?”
His flush deepened. “I’m aware of what goes on, of what people need. And if I see a place where my magic is badly needed, I make sure it gets there.” He shrugged. “I did say it was complicated.”
I kissed him, a tender, lingering kiss. “I think you’re amazing.” I pulled back. “I also think this must be vastly different from how it was when you first started.”
He chuckled. “You have no idea. The population of your realm has swelled, and it keeps on swelling. You would think that would make my job more and more difficult, but the reality is, fewer people believe in me, and where there is no belief, there I cannot go.”
His words of a few years before came back to me. “So you do think the day will come when all belief in you will cease to exist, and then you will cease to exist?”
“I don’t know, I really don’t know. It’s a possibility.”
I gazed at the rows of monitors. “What really amazes me is that you do all this on your own.”
“I don’t know of any other way.” He smiled. “We have something to do before you leave.”
“We do?” I grinned. “I’m up for that.”
He burst out laughing. “I might have known where your mind would go. We have a painting to finish, remember?”
Damn. “Of course. But when you’ve finished it…” I batted my lashes.
He snorted. “Just in case no one ever told you, you suck at puppy dog eyes.” Then his eyes widened, as though he’d uttered words in a foreign tongue.
I blinked. “Wow, Santa. You’re sounding more and more like a regular twenty-first century guy.”
“I blame you.” He shifted closer and looped his arms around my neck. “You don’t have to ask. There is nowhere I would rather be than in your arms.”
“Ditto,” I murmured against his lips between kisses.
He broke the kiss. “But maybe you’d like to consider something for the future.”
I gave him a quizzical glance. “Yes?”
“I’ve been on the receiving end of your… gifts for the past three years. I do think it’s about time I did some giving of my own.” He looked me in the eye. “That’s if you’d like to… receive.”
It took a moment for me to realize that in his quaint hesitant way, Santa was asking for permission to top.
I grinned. “Oh, I think I’d be down with that.”
“But now… painting time.”
I followed him back to the bedroom, unable to stop smiling. “You’ve still got it,” I muttered.
“What does that mean?” he said as we reached the door.
“You still know how to give the perfect gift.”