Page 1 of Sexted By Santa
1
CHRISTIAN
I eyed the red-and-white Santa suit in the dry cleaner’s bag as if it were a rattlesnake. Henrietta shook it, a little impatiently, as she waited for me to take it from her and seal my fate.
“You promised, darling. Without you, all is lost.”
Aunt Henry could be a touch dramatic. Usually it was charming. Just now, as her beseeching eyes turned on me, it was more irritating. I might have agreed to fill in for an ill volunteer—after being seduced by cheesecake and wine, no less—but I was almost certain there’d been no discussion of it involving Santa fucking Claus.
“Did I?” I mused. “I’m doubtful. You know how I feel about Christmas.”
“Yes, yes. Bah humbug, you’re a grinch. Isn’t it time to get over all that? Find the silver lining!”
“What silver lining?”
She flashed me a saucy grin. “I don’t know. I said tofindit.”
“I surrender to your superior logic,” I said dryly as I gave in and took the bag from her.
She chuckled as I laid the Santa suit across my desk. There was really no other place to put it. Henry had come to visit me at Hayworth College, where after a decade in the Marketing Department, I’d earned tenure—which came with the great prestige of a shoebox-sized office.
“I knew you’d see it my way,” she said with a wink.
Henry had always been free-spirited. She went where her heart took her—and everyone else could get on board or get run over as she picked up steam. There was no diverting her course once she’d set it. I could hardly hold it against her when her tendency to go her own way was partly the reason she’d stepped up and supported me when no one else would. She’d saved my life when I was a scared teen with nowhere to go.
“Whatexactlydid I agree to do?” I asked. “I think I’d remember”—I waved toward the red suit—“that.”
“You said you’d fill in for poor Thomas,” she reminded me. “He’s having heart surgery. He can hardly be expected to go about ho-ho-hoing!”
“No, of course not. But I’m sure you didn’t mention his volunteer work was asSanta Claus.”
She blinked innocently. “Didn’t I?”
“No.”
“Oops.” She smiled brightly, her lipstick a bold cherry red that was a little imperfectly applied but somehow suited her. Aunt Henry wasglamorous, and she didn’t believe age—hers being seventy-four—changed that. “Well, I’m counting on you now, darling.”
She produced a printout and handed it to me. “You’ll need to do three Santa appearances. The first one is Saturday.”
“This weekend?” I said, aghast. “That’s not much notice.”
“You agreed weeks ago,” she pointed out.
“Isn’t it a bit early for a Santa visit?” I tried. “December has hardly started.”
“Yes, well, we’re spreading out the seasonal cheer. Santa can’t be everywhere in one day!”
I didn’t bother pointing out that was, in fact, the exact legend of Santa Claus. As much as I’d like to get it over with in one day, I suspected that much cheer in one dose might kill me. Instead, I glanced at the list. A nursing home, a homeless shelter, and a hospital.Oh good, the easy stuff, I thought sarcastically. Where was the winter festival appearance where all I had to do was hand out candy canes? This list was intimidating as hell. Old folks, homeless families, sick kids? I was going to let all of them down.
Henry pecked a kiss to my cheek while I was still speechless with horror. “You’re my hero for doing this. I know it’s not your cup of tea.”
I snorted. “More like my dose of poison.”
She flapped a hand. “You’re as dramatic as me. It’ll do you some good, getting out there. Maybe you’ll see that Christmas isn’t to blame for your troubles in life. Shit just happens.”
I barked a laugh at her cursing. Indeed. Shitdidhappen. But for me, at least, it happened during the holiday season more often than not.
First, my parents had named me Christian Kringle. Chris…Kringle. Who the hell did that? Second, they’d given me an ultimatum to shape up—aka be straight—or ship out during my fifteenth holiday season. Then, there was the burst appendix the December I turned twenty. And for the star to top the shitty Christmas tree of my life? My husband decided divorce papers would make an excellent gift—delivered on Christmas Day itself three years ago.
