The man sitting on the bench tilts his eyes to me, and I notice the simmering sly smile burning through his eyes.
Smoke must come from my ears.
“Miss Scarlett?” Santa says with a naughty glint in his eyes.
“Yeah, sure,” I mumble. “Let’s do it,” I add, irritated with this whole situation.
Let’s get this over with and go home. I want to be done with it.
Santa taps his lap before I position myself in such a way that I sit sideways with my legs closed and my knees pressed together.
All goes well until my rear touches the man lap, and my pussy quivers.
What in the world am I sitting on?
My eyes go to his so fast that I lose my balance and fall back into his arm.
He looks at the audience while quietly murmuring, “Look at the camera, and let’s make this quick, so the party wraps up and everybody can head home.”
His voice vibrates like a handful of strings played by a rough wind gust.
“Is that you?” I ask stupidly.
“Who else? Do you think I have a little elf tucked in there?”
I can’t breathe as the more my bum oozes heat on his crotch, the harder the bump gets under me.
“Do you even wear any underwear?” I shoot at him under my breath.
“Look at the camera, Miss Scarlet, and just shut up.”
With a long sigh, I turn my face to the camera and flash one of my dazzling smiles.
No one would guess that I’m sitting on the man’s package with only a layer of fabric between us.
A long thick thing slightly twitches beneath my butt, harder than the floor.
“Okay, everybody,” I zip up as if a cobra’s growing in his pants. “I just want to thank everybody for showing up. And the people who helped make this event happen.”
I go over a list of names, blocking the man’s view with my rear before applauds echo around the room, and the party is officially over.
I can’t be more relieved that we have reached this point. As soon as the room becomes noisy and people and kids start grabbing snacks for the road before heading to the doors, I turn around expecting to find the man still perched on the small bench.
Tough luck, though, when I meet a broad chest and a frame that towers over me. I have to tilt my face up again, to meet the stranger’s eyes.
“Thank you so much for making this work,” I say, offering him my hand. “Who did I have the pleasure to work with?”
He shifts his focus to the bag, tossing at me in passing. “My name is not important,” he says, ignoring my held-out hand.
I lower it.
“If you leave a name and an address. Or even a phone number, I can send you the pay for tonight.”
He’s tempted to remove his hat and beard but settles for the eyeglasses.
He drops them carelessly into the bag.
“That won’t be necessary,” he says. “Is there a bathroom I could use? I need to change.”
