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A naughty holiday fantasy
This Christmas, Santa discovers it’s nice to be naughty.
Recent university grad Matt Glaser may not have the Santa Claus beard or belly, but when it comes to earning extra holiday cash, it’s a case of ‘ho ho ho, let’s start the show’—he loves his red suit like a reindeer loves carrots. This potential client, though—classy, curvy Eleanor Danforth—seems more interested in checking out his butt than his references. And two grand for a private party? Oy vey, Prancer, something’s not kosher about this particular Vixen. She’s not one to be denied, though. When the interview takes a carnal turn, he finds he’s unexpectedly eager to satisfy the demanding older woman.
Wearing the provocative costume supplied by his employer, Matt arrives at the Danforths’ swanky apartment to discover he’s been cast as the emcee for Eleanor’s intimate gathering. His duties include managing a pair of scantily-clad blond elves, distributing decadent treats to guests who’ve been good, and meting out punishments to the naughty. Meanwhile, the mistress of the house has a Christmas gift especially for him—one made of silicon and leather straps, which requires plenty of lube. Ho ho ho, Matt! It’s going to be a very merry Christmas indeed.
Kinky Literature –
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082ZTHVKJ
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B082ZTHVKJ
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/996887
Muffled in the overcoat I’d borrowed from my roommate Brian, I faced the hardwood and brass double doors to the Danforth’s fortieth floor apartment. The doorbell was easy to locate; I just wasn’t sure I had the guts to ring it.
The Santa costume that my employer had provided was more appropriate for a go-go boy than Father Christmas. The droopy conical hat was traditional, with its fuzzy white trim and pom-pom, and the knee-high black patent leather boots, too, but St. Nicolas wouldn’t have been caught dead in these shiny red spandex hot pants. They clung to my bum like a second skin. It was a good thing the weather was warm for December, or I would have frozen my balls off. The scarlet shirt, fashioned of some sort of stretchy velvet, had long sleeves with white fur cuffs. However, the front made a plunging vee that bared most of my chest.
I was grateful for the soft, snowy-white fake beard. It hid my blushes. I felt ridiculous and incredibly exposed. Like most authors, I tended to live in my head, my vivid imagination compensating for my mundane real-world existence. In contrast, this costume emphasized the physical. My face was hidden; my mind wasn’t important. I had no illusions about the fact that Mrs. Danforth had hired me primarily for my body.
I could still back out. Turn around, step back into the chrome and steel elevator and whoosh down to the ground floor. Spend Christmas Eve eating take-out and working on my novel.
Seriously, though, could I afford to throw away two thousand bucks? Meanwhile, the experience, however weird, might in the future serve as grist to the writer’s mill.
Before I could talk myself out it, I gave the button a firm press.
Almost immediately, Mrs. Danforth opened the door. “Good evening, Matt. You’re right on time. I do appreciate punctuality.”
My eyes grew wide and my cock started to harden as I took her in. She’d been attractive in her form-fitting suit and silky blouse, but now she was stunning. Her sleeveless, evergreen-colored cocktail dress was fashioned from some light, shimmery fabric that clung to her voluptuous breasts and hips. The short skirt showed off her smooth thighs and muscled calves, their shapeliness enhanced by her sparkling red stilettos. Her pale hair gleamed in the recessed lights of the entry way. Artfully-applied make up accentuated her patrician features. Her plump, crimson lips were moist and inviting.
“Toss your coat onto the chair,” she ordered. “Let’s see the costume.”
Like an automaton, I shrugged off the heavy wool garment.
She clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, you look spectacular! Sexy and naughty, just the way I imagined.”