Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Kristoffer
I was in a fucking mood. And that made having to play Santa for the night feel like a chore, which only pissed me off more because Sexy Santa Inc was my baby.
It padded the coffers for so many local Christmas children’s charities and being involved in it was rewarding and fun.
And because of that I’d never minded being called in to play Santa before when one of my regular Santas was sick.
But here I was, miserable about it.
My current mood was sponsored by my ex-girlfriend, who’d shown up at my door twenty minutes before I had to leave, begging for forgiveness. I’d cursed myself for not telling the doorman we’d broken up, therefore not reneging her permission to go up to my condo unannounced.
“It was a mistake, Kristoffer. It didn’t mean anything,” she’d pled while pressing her model body against mine, rubbing against me like a cat, but nice tits and ass that had been bouncing up and down for someone else, someone that was supposed to be my friend, did nothing for me.
And truthfully, I was getting tired of tits and ass that had nothing else going for it.
“You need to leave, Clara. I’ve got things to do,” I’d told her.
“Baby, just give me another chance.” Her pout had been as fake as the lips that wore it and it had made my gut turn sour. It was as if a spell had been lifted and I could suddenly see the truth of the woman that stood before me.
“An accident, baby,” she’d said as if it were a completely normal thing to accidentally fall onto another man’s dick after being with me for two years. And not just once, either. She fell on my supposed friend’s dick repeatedly for two fucking months.
I’d moved toward her, putting my body in the frame of the door so hers wouldn’t be. “Busy. Got a show. Buh-bye.” And I’d stepped back and shut the door. But dammit, her Jimmy Choos had stopped me.
“That stupid Santa gig?” she’d scoffed, changing tactics.
“You’re practically a dick dancer.” She’d glowered, but it had been barely discernible with all the filler in her lips.
“It’s like you’ve been cheating on me.” I’d seen the idea take root in her brain and sure enough she’d said, “I did this to show you how I feel about you letting women sit on your lap, dancing for them and wearing skimpy outfits while they take shots off your body.”
“They sit on my lap, not my cock. But thanks for your opinion, Clara. I’ll take it under advisement.” I’d looked purposefully at her foot in the door. “Have a good evening.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Kristoffer. I made a mistake, and I’ve apologized.” She’d reached through the door running her hand down my chest. “Let’s make up, baby.” Her tone had been too saccharine.
“Do I have to call the cops, Clara?”
One of her sculpted brows had arched and it sharpened her face. “Officer Nasty calls the cops?” She’d rolled her eyes when I kept my face purposely blank, but I got the Peter Griffin reference. “Whatever Kris, I’m leaving, but you’ll regret it.”
“Uh-huh. Thanks for dropping by.”
I’d barely gotten rid of her in time, so I’d thrown on my suit and left. The doorman had called me an Uber, but that guy had been late, too, which made my mood plummet further. I despised being late. It was my biggest pet peeve. I hadn’t gotten where I was in life by showing up late for things.
And then there was the rain that had started as soon as the car pulled up at the event entrance of the hotel. Because of course it had to be raining, I was in Vancouver. My mood went from sour to foul as the pouring rain had soaked my Santa suit in the twenty feet it took to get into the venue.
Which is how I got to be here, standing inside the inn, soaking wet and miserable.
Pulling out my phone as I ducked into the back hallway near the room where we’d be performing, I started to dial my spare Santa.
There was just no way I was going to pull this off in my current mood. No one wanted a sour Santa.
I wasn’t due on stage for another half hour, and Daryl wasn’t far.
The event was in a small trendy inn downtown with an event space that only held fifty people.
We earned the same amount of money no matter the size of the group, so I didn’t turn any group away.
But the ladies always tipped and most of the guys kept their tips.
I considered the size of tonight’s group, which was under twenty women, and the last-minute bullshit I was about to pull on Daryl and sighed.
I may be an asshole, but I wasn’t that kind of asshole.
I clicked the power button on my phone and the screen turned black.
“Put on a happy face, Kristoffer, this is for charity,” I coached myself as I walked down the hallway toward a room they’d set aside for us to change.
I’d started Sexy Santa Inc six years ago to help raise money for various children’s Christmas charities because I was a huge believer in giving to groups that provided Christmas hope to kids no matter their circumstances, whether that be poverty, grief or illness.
It had taken off and done so well that we’d been featured on CTV Morning Live for the last three years.
And we’d already helped more than a hundred charities surpass their goals for the season with four more gigs to go, although this would be my last one of the year.
Every one of the men that volunteered for Sexy Santa Inc did it because they believed in it and I certainly wasn’t about to let them down because Clara couldn’t keep her goddamn legs closed and it had started a snowball effect that destroyed my mood, possibly for the rest of my fucking life.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing the attention of a man moving down the hall with a laundry cart. “Any chance you could throw my suit in the dryer for a few minutes?”
He looked me up and down and smiled. “You’re from Sexy Santa Inc?” he asked in a heavy Eastern European accent I couldn’t fully place.
I nodded.
“You have something else to wear in the meantime?”
I pointed at the change room. “I can wait in there.”
“Naked?”
“I am wearing underwear, and it is a change room,” I answered, trying to hold back my annoyance.
He looked me over again. “Okay, but there’s no lock on the door.”
I grinned, stripping off the suit jacket and handing it to him. “Have you seen the show?”
He shook his head, and I smirked. “Let’s just say I’m not shy.”
As I waited inside the room, the buzzy voice of Bo on the mic, and the beat of our playlist could be heard through the walls, but I could also hear other voices, closer, maybe just outside the door.
I tried not to listen, but the conversation caught my attention, and I couldn’t stop myself.
“Nothing. I forgot my work laptop at home on Wednesday, so I came home midday to get it and found him there with another woman,” the softer, sweeter, voice said.
“Did he deny it? Did he make an excuse for why she was there? Was it a misunderstanding? Or are you freaking out over nothing?” the louder, and more demanding, voice asked.
“Oh, there was no denying anything.” There was a humorless laugh from the softer voice. “But he did give me an excuse.”
“An excuse for that? Like what? He was taking up painting and she was his model?”
“His excuse was...”
“What?”
“He wanted to have normal sex without feeling pressured to try weird shit.”
“Memmy.”
“Then he said we weren’t sexually compatible.”
“Oh, my fucking god! What the actual fuck? Explain!”
“Shh! God! Everyone will hear.”
“No one will hear anything over the music, and besides they’re so focused on hot half-naked elves the place could be on fire, and no one would notice. And so what if they did? This isn’t on you, Memmy, this is one hundred percent on that bastard. You have nothing to be ashamed about.”
“I dunno. Maybe it is on me.”
“How?” the louder voice asked sharply.
“Last week I asked him if we could spice things up in the bedroom.” There was a pause before she spoke again. “I’ve always wanted to try—”
The other voice cut her off. “You asked him to tie you up, spank you, pull your hair, maybe choke you?”
“Madly! God, stop being so loud! This is embarrassing.”
“Honey, those things aren’t as weird or taboo as you think.” A pause. “Your brother-in-law dominates me in the bedroom all the time.”
“What? Ew, don’t tell me that! Wait, he does? Sweet, accountant, number one dad, and husband extraordinaire is dominant in the bedroom? And you…. submissive?”
“Yes. It makes him feel powerful and me feel taken care of. Gets me out of my head. You know I’m in boss mode at work all the time, and when I’m not in boss mode, I’m in mom mode. The mental load is... God, Memmy, have you read a romance novel recently?”
“Nothing mainstream.”
“If you’ve read anything with that stuff in it, it is mainstream.
A lot of women like power exchange and as long as it’s consensual and safe, why the fuck not?
God, watch Reels or Tik Tok, hon. They’re full of shit like that.
If your douche canoe ex doesn’t realize it, then he’s obviously not in the know when it comes to women.
Which honestly, doesn’t surprise me one bit. ”
“Me either, Madly, me either,” I whispered behind the door.
There was a muffled sound of someone being smacked. “Madly!”
“So, what did he say?”
“He said no guy wants to do that stuff with the girl he’s going to marry. He said he didn’t want a slutty whore mothering his kids.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. You dodged a fucking bullet. So what did you do when you walked in on them?”
“I left quietly and told him to be out of my condo by the time I got home from work.”
“And was he?”
“No, but he is now. He took his time.”
“That bastard! I will string him up by the balls myself.”
And I wanted to help her string him up, I thought, just as the door opened and the man with my suit walked in, giving me a glimpse of the two women that had been talking.
The one with red hair turned to look at me, her big blue eyes skimming my face and upper body before they landed on my boxers — specifically the Christmas present that covered the fly.
Her face instantly flushed red, and I smiled just as the man shut the door.
I didn’t need to guess which voice belonged to Little Red, I knew.
The only other thing I heard after rustling around and getting my suit on was that Little Red had said she was going to marry Santa Claus when she grew up as a little girl and that damn well turned my grumpy-ass mood right around.
It also convinced me exactly who was coming up on stage with me tonight.
Because somewhere deep in my crusty heart, I knew, I just knew, I was going to marry that girl.
And that was insanity because marriage was abstract for me, a nice idea for future—distant future—Kristoffer Larson to consider.
Ten minutes later, I was backstage, completely bad-mood free, ready for the show, and watching her.
She looked completely out of place amongst the women cheering and dancing with my elves.
And I wasn’t saying that in a judgmental way, because all that cheering, dancing, and happiness was paying for a lot of children’s Christmas wishes.
It was also a source of pride to be able to provide a safe outlet for women to explore their sexuality openly without men making them feel as if they weren’t entitled to feel like sexual beings.
But there was something about the way Little Red was so shy that captivated me.
Even when she was participating at the urging of the bride, taking a shot off Bo, Little Red seemed to hold back. And after everything I’d overheard, I intended to make sure she let loose.