Santa's Clause (Peppermint Twist)
J. Hali Steele
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Copyright ©2014 J. Hali Steele

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He promised her, and put it in writing, that she could have a wish granted if she spent one night with him. What could go wrong?

Lacey Dalton held the contract tight in her trembling hand. So sign it already! If she couldn't trust Santa Claus, who could she trust? Her hesitation came from perusing the jolly man from head to toe. His red velvet suit trimmed in white fur was tattered and worn, for goodness sakes! A shoe-aholic, she almost lost dinner looking at the cheap, scuffed patent leather boots.

Reaching his face, though, she did want to smile at the pouty lips surrounded by a mustache and thick white beard. One thing Lacey hadn't expected -- Santa Claus had beautiful green eyes. Would there be white hair on his chest and around his... Good Lord, don't think about it. Lacey let her imagination run wild with what this could bring.

She bit back a laugh remembering the times she talked with girlfriends about two-baggers. A two-bagger was a man so ugly he needed two bags to cover his looks. If one broke, the other would surely remain intact! If ever there was the need, it was now. "Anything I wish for?"

"Anything."

She glanced at the contract. "Even a person?" Lacey happened to be an only child, her parents were gone, and there were no aunts, uncles or cousins. She longed to have a boyfriend she could trust, one who would love and cherish her always, and one with which she could begin her own family. The last man cheated on her with anything in a skirt. Her heart had been stolen and broken in two by the time she realized he just wasn't a good, honest man.

Santa's eyes really did twinkle. "Any goddamn thing your heart desires."

"Who delivers the toys if you spend the night with me?" She'd heard a clatter on the roof but she didn't actually see his sleigh. "Is there really a sleigh full of toys up there?" She peered upward.

"Yeah and it's pulled by reindeer with big balls. I have Elves who handle the delivery shit, honey."

Santa had a filthy mouth. "How often have you done this?" She waved the contract at him. "I mean, have others signed the damn thing?"

He shrugged.

"Can I speak to them?"

"To who?"

"Anyone who signed your contract." She grew a wee bit concerned at his avoidance and remembered for the first time she wore only a thin, black, mid-thigh nightgown with tiny matching underwear.

"Time's running out." He tilted his head and smiled, which deepened the crinkles around his eyes. "I got other babes on my list."

"Maybe you should go see them." Cocky ass! How many others would slip between sheets with a fat man sporting white whiskers and dressed in a raggedy, red Santa suit?

"Don't let the outfit throw you. I'm rolling in dough."

"You could give the Pillsbury Doughboy a run for his money."

That wiped the smile from his face. "You're a real smart-ass."

He touched her cheek with a finger and it not only elevated her blood pressure, it caused dampness to settle in the seat of her panties! Jesus, I'm wet for jolly old Saint Nick! Must be the twinkle in his eyes because he sure wasn't anything to write home about. If this happened, Lacey vowed to go to her deathbed with the dirty deed kept secret. "If you have so much money, why not buy a night with a prostitute?"

"Well, fuck me. You took the ho ho ho way too literally." He hunched his shoulders. "I'm picky, plus you've never gotten a present."

She sure hadn't. Every Christmas Lacey remembered came and went without a toy from Santa. Her parents stuffed presents beneath the tree and in her stocking hung by the fireplace. Lacey even baked cookies herself and left them out with a glass of milk. As she grew older, she stopped believing in Santa Claus.

Yet here he was, alive and well, standing in her living room. "You ate my cookies every year, you bastard."

"If you're going to call me names, forget it."

"This can't be my present." Lacey shook her head as she looked Santa up and down. "You're no prize." He reached for the contract but she whipped it out of his reach. "Wait."

"I don't have all night to dicker with you."

"Anything?"

"Jesus F. Christ, woman -- anything."

"Okay." His eyes lit up so brightly, they rivaled her deformed Christmas tree in the corner. Santa was a horny shit. "How do we do this?"

"Hell, last time I did it, a woman invited me to her bed and we fucked." He touched her hand. "Plain and simple."

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