Page 45 of All I Wank for Christmas

Holly

“Ithastobesturdy,” I say, flipping over the toy in my hand and checking the back. A small crack runs down the center. “Replace this. We only give perfect, well-made toys. Get it on the sleigh before three New York time.”

The elf I’m addressing hurries off, and I shake my head. It still throws me off that elves aren’t short. That elf was at least six inches taller than me.

I toss the broken toy on my desk and look at my workspace. Only Jasper’s office is bigger. Snow falls outside my window, and Christmas lights line the crown molding along the ceiling. My desk is bigger than my first car, and a jar of stereotypical candy canes is available for any elves who want to stop by and have one. The previous operations managers were obviously male, as evidenced by the dark panel walls, but I’ve made the place more feminine with photos of Jasper, Helena, and my mother.

My mother adjusted well here. I take care of her or read to her for about an hour a day, but Jasper has hired care for her while I work. They handle the hard parts of caregiving. I can’t lift her for bathing, and I’m thankful for the hired staff. Some of the older, retired elves have befriended her, and she’s not quite so pale now, even if the sun rarely shines this far north. Her cheeks are rosy, and she talks excitedly of her new friends and caregivers like that may have been what she was missing all along.

It was hard telling Mom that Santa was real and we were moving to Canada to help Santa run the workshop. Like any normal human, she didn’t believe it at first. She only believed it when Jasper visited, showed her how the suit worked, and then showed her the reindeer and sleigh. Like mother, like daughter.

I love him, though. I worried that I’d get to Canada and we’d fall apart. That didn’t happen. In fact, working as a team for the last year has been everything any human being could hope for. Jasper supports me through everything, and I’ve done everything in my power to give him a good start to his life as the new Santa Claus. There is nothing like coming home to him, having him wrap his arms around me as we fall asleep, and seeing him by my side when I wake up in the morning.

And I’m still happy to massage his dick for him any time he needs it, whether he asks or not.

“Knock knock,” a voice says from the doorway. “How’s my operations manager handling her first Christmas on the job?”

“Is it always this stressful?” I ask, waving my hands over the mountain of broken toys on my desk. Each one is tagged with the name of the receiving child. Next to the toys is my laptop with an open spreadsheet on the screen. My days are nothing but spreadsheets now. Spreadsheets and conversations with my staff of elves, which is not where I saw myself in college.

Either I’m working on streamlining processes and writing procedures for Santa business, or I’m working on my own accounting side gig. Santa stuff keeps me busy from summer to Christmas, conveniently outside of high tax season. My January through May is all taxes now that I do other people’s taxes under my own LLC. I thought it would be hard to find clients this year, but it turns out that Santa knows some pretty powerful people – people who can hurry through your LLC paperwork and recommend a few of their friends as clients. It’s also helpful to know which IRS agents are naughty and which are nice.

Most of them have been very naughty.

Jasper crosses the room and cups my cheek. He’s already in the Santa suit, and I have the sudden urge to unbuckle the huge belt buckle and peek down his trousers. He rubs my nose with his before placing a soft kiss on my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, deepening the kiss and taking control of it. Even after eleven months of kissing and doing a lot more than kissing, I’ll still drop whatever I’m doing for a little Jasper action.

He breaks the kiss. “This life is always stressful. Why do you think I visited a massage parlor last year?”

“Everything is ready to go on our end. There are a couple of toys being replaced, but you should have them within the hour.” I salute him a little and step back.

“And the sorting system? You oversaw it, right?”

“Do you not trust anyone but me?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I only trust you. You should know that. I trust you with my life.” His eyes darken as he says the last part.

“Everything is by geographical region now.” I point at the air like I invented the lightbulb and turn to get a printout off my desk, showing him where he starts and stops during the delivery. “Drilling down further, you have it by state or territory, city, then quadrant, then it gets alphabetical. I also did a dry run on your GPS system. Just press the button, and you shouldn’t need to touch it for the rest of the night. Your only job is controlling Prancer, which is a full-time job.”

He nods and grins at me. “Did you miss that last part, Holly?”

“What last part?”

“That part about trusting you with my life. Because I do.”

My stomach drops, and a blush creeps up my face. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

He drops to his knees in front of me. “I was going to do this after the delivery run, but I’m so nervous about it, I have to do it now or I’ll…I’ll have to go to a massage parlor to relieve stress or something. I won’t be able to concentrate, and I’ll have to pick up a hot masseuse to help me do the delivery.” He chuckles, but I hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Jasper, are you…?”

He reaches into his suit and pulls out a black box. Opening it, I see his mother’s ruby ring. I’ve seen it on her hand, and it takes me a moment to register that it’s not on her finger any longer. It looks lost against the velvet in the box. Like it’s without an owner.

“Is that your mother’s ring?” I ask.

“With a twist. I changed the band out, resized it for you, and had two emeralds added here,” he says, pointing to two small emeralds on either side of the circular ruby. “It’s the Mrs. Claus ring. It’s been worn by every Mrs. Claus in the family going back two-hundred years.” He wipes a drop of sweat off his face as he explains. “Other Santas have added things to make it more modern. I wanted to make it different for you because you’re different, Holly. You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever met, and I can’t imagine life without you. Will you be my wife?”

A tear spills down my cheek, and another drops onto Jasper’s face. He doesn’t wipe it away. He lets it slide off the side of his face as I stare into his eyes. Those eyes hold so much hope and love. Hope that I’ll be his wife. Love that’s unconditional. He doesn’t care what I did for a job when I met him. He doesn’t care about my flaws. He sees me as some type of goddess of female excellence and treats me like it every day.

If you had told me a year ago that I’d marry the guy that walked in for a standard massage and ended up enjoying a hand session, I’d have punched you in the face, especially if you told me that guy was the future Santa Claus.

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