“Feliz Navidad to me.” I sing, as I make my way up to the bedroom. First a shower, then a snack, and then...some super quality time with my favorite wand and nipple clamps.
* * *
Kristina
“Okay ladies, time for some well-earned R&R.” I inform my team of reindeer as we dock into the climate-controlled stable I had especially installed for them at the villa. Reindeer are not indigenous to the Caribbean, but these bitches roll with anything as long as they get pampered, and here they always do.
I jump off the sleigh and make quick work of getting them all settled into their stalls with food and water.
“Only the best for my girls.” I tell them as they chomp happily on their fresh greens. My team only has female reindeer. Most people don’t realize that female reindeer have antlers too. Just like most people don’t realize that for the last decade all the children who write lists to Santa Claus have been getting their presents from a butch lesbian with a penchant for winged eyeliner and red lipstick.
I sigh tiredly as I make my way out of the stable and head to the villa. I’m exhausted, not just from the last twenty-four hours—which literally took me all over the world. But the last few months of round the clock planning and coordinating the Toy Run. I’m good at my job, no I’m better than good,I’m a fucking beast. But the work takes its toll.
And yeah, in the beginning some of my perfectionism came from feeling like I needed to prove myself. Being the first female Santa in more than a thousand years, means I have to do my job better than any of the dudes that did it before me. And even with the full support of my dad, I still feel the pressure of living up to the legend. So, I go hard, and by the time afternoon rolls around on Christmas Day, I’m done for.
This place is my sanctuary. Santa’s most secret hideaway. A villa in a secluded beach in the Caribbean where I come to rest for a week every year after the run is done. Seven days to myself when I talk to no one, see no one, and do nothing other than lounge around, eat, swim, and sleep. I fiercely protect my time here, never letting even my beloved father come for a visit until I’ve had my week of solitude. I almost weep as I arrive at the door, knowing the staff has made sure the house has everything I could possibly need. And right now what I need is a long soak in the tub, a glass of wine, and a nap.
I take off my designer boots—this Santa rolls in custom Louboutins—which are a little muddy and wet, and leave them by the side of the door before punching in the code. As soon as my stockinged feet hit the warm teak floors of my house, I feel the stress of the last six months start to melt away. I smile at the view of the turquoise ocean and sigh contentedly. This is what I need.
Me, myself and I for a few days. And sure, it could perhaps be nice to be here with someone. To be welcomed with a glass of bubbly and some sweet kisses. But this job is too demanding. Not many people understand the responsibility I feel and the countless hours of work it takes to execute the Toy Run. It’s not easy having a partner when you work Santa’s hours. For now, I settle for this gorgeous view and a few days with nothing on the schedule.
I start undoing the buttons of my jacket as I walk up the stairs. The thick wool lined with fleece is very handy when I’m cruising through the night sky delivering toys, but it’s too warm for the tropics, even in the air conditioning. As I reach the landing I notice a smell, maybe orange blossoms? Weird. Maybe Margo, our housekeeper, changed the cleaning products?
I notice that the door to my room is closed. Also unusual, since Margo leaves all the rooms open and cracks the windows so that fresh air flows through the house before I arrive. I don’t like stuffy places. I start walking very slowly toward my room. The orange blossoms smell gets stronger as I reach the door, and is that abuzzing sound?
“Oh fuck, that’s good.” I hear a woman’s moan come frominsidemy bedroom.
What the hell is going on?At that very moment my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out to find a message from my father.
Dad: Don’t be alarmed! She’s only there for the night.
I shove the phone back in my pocket, with too many questions flying through my head to reply to him. For some unfathomable reason instead of barging into my bedroom and demanding to know what this person is doing in my room, I quietly turn the knob and step inside.
Holy snowballs! There’s a gorgeous, curvy, caramel skinned goddess on my bed with a vibrator pressed to her pussy, wearing nothing but nipple clamps. I feel a rush of liquid pooling between my thighs, and I’m certain my brain’s shorting with this much new information to process all at once.
First, who is this woman? Second, why am I staring and not alerting her to the fact that I’m herewatchingher? Third—and most importantly—is that little bit of neon pink I’m seeing between her cheeks a butt plug? Because if that’s the case, then I really need to rethink this whole solitude for a week plan.
There’s no time to search for answers because right as I open my mouth she sits up and looks at me, right before her eyes flutter closed. The intruder is coming on my bed, while I’m standing by the door. And I know then and there that my plans for the week have just gone to hell.
Chapter 2
Farnaz
Only I, Farnaz Castillo, could manage to have my worst nightmare and wildest fantasy happen at the very same time. Because unless I’ve come so hard I’ve fallen through a portal and landed in a super sexy parallel universe, a literal wet dream is standing by the bed I’m currently completely naked on. Well, other than my snowflake themed nipple clamps, that is. And because I can always,always, make an embarrassing situation utterly humiliating, I open my mouth.
“If you’re part of the amenities, my answer is yes.Yes please, festive butch fantasy. I would very much like to have whatever you’re offering.” I slap a hand over my mouth and see she’s struggling not to laugh. I tend to have that effect on people, and thankfully my butch Santa seems to have a sense of humor.
God she’s smoking hot too. She’s tall, way taller than I am. Her platinum blonde pixie cut and icy blue eyes are striking. She’s slender, but imposing in her red jacket, which is open, giving me a view of her black lace bra and very toned stomach. Her wide-leg pants have the same white fleece at the hems as her sleeves. This is definitely some kind of Santa suit.
Maybe he makes his staff wear them as a uniform? Although if she’s staff, she must be way high up because she definitely looks like she’s in charge. I’d let her order me around. Woof. I would so let her show me who’s boss.
She grins and, okay, I said that out loud.
“Who exactly are you?” She asks as she puts her hands on her hips and I’m legit close to drooling.
“Um…” I’m a little tongue tied, but how am I supposed to think clearly when I can see rosy nipples through the delicate lace of her bra?
I let my eyes do what they’re going to do, because she’s looking at me too,looking hard. And you can absolutely take a spin on these curves anytime sexy Santa. Her eyes roam down my body and I can tell when they land on my pussy. My grooming is always on point and that very narrow landing strip is perfectly trimmed.
