Page 43 of Kit
“It’s perfect.”
Parker opened his arms and pulled me into an embrace, the plant between us.
“Oops, Daddy, let’s not kill the poinsettia.”
He laughed. “It’s a perfect surprise, baby boy. A very good idea. Thank you. I can’t wait.”
Parker put the poinsettia on the hearth. It added more cheer amid all our decorations. The rest of the afternoon, he touchedme often, cupping my face, delivering kisses when I least expected them.
We relaxed on the couch since we knew tonight would be a late night. Our treat for the afternoon was iced sugar Christmas cookies. We’d done a great job.
After dinner, Parker got out the Santa garb. I sat on the end of the bed and watched him get dressed. He wanted to arrive at the club around eight-thirty, so we needed to leave soon.
Parker stripped down to his shorts. He had that sort of perfect, lean, tall body I loved, muscles tight and doing cat-like ripples whenever he moved.
“Do you like watching me, baby boy?”
“Very much.”
He smiled. First he put on a pullover white shirt with long sleeves. Then the red velvet pants, which sparked with gold trim on the outside seams. They fit him flawlessly. Next came the lavish coat and belt.
“I’m leaving the stomach for when we get there,” he said. “Makes it hard to drive.”
“That’s smart.”
“And the beard, too. I wrapped the elastic, but it still tugs at my ears. I don’t like wearing it longer than I have to.”
I got up and ran my hand down the velvet sleeve of his coat. “My poor Daddy.”
Parker grabbed me, pulling me back to the bed. He sat and lifted me into his lap.
“You’re the first lap for the night. Don’t ever think I put you anywhere else but first.”
I laughed, bouncing. “You said I had to wait in the line.”
He grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me. When he pulled back, he said, “I guess this means you were first in line.”
“Yay. I want a yellow dump truck and a floppy dog like Nicky stole from me, and most of all I want more nookies from my daddy.”
“Have you been a good boy?”
“Um. Um.”
“Santa knows all.” He hugged me hard to his chest while I giggled.
14
Parker
Going from the employee parking lot into the side entrance of the club, I let Kit carry the Santa sack. It was lightly snowing. I had my fake stomach and beard in another bag, and donned my silvery white wig and cap.
Kit had decided to dress up for the evening. He wore black boots and trousers, a white button up shirt with a dark blue bowtie.
“I want to look like a boy who hopes Santa Claus will notice him out of all the boys in the club,” he said.
I assured him that Santa had already noticed.
“Yeah,” he replied, “but I gotta keep Santa’s attention. There are a lot of cute boys at the club.”
