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But I do know what I want and it’s her.
All of her.
To be all mine.
I freeze on the spot, watching her covering herself with her hands, her small hands creasing into the folds of her chest that I wish mine were on right now.
She doesn’t look scared though.
Concerned, but not scared, and if it wasn’t for some racks of clothes and her own inability to look into mirrors, I figure my hiding spot would have been given up ages ago.
Clenching my jaw, but still feeling my aching dick twitch as I watch her from behind lean over to slip her velvet boots on before stowing her purse and keys in a locker that won’t lock, it takes all I have to keep silent.
Knowing the one thing I need, the one thing I truly want is only feet away from me.
And then, just as quickly as it all started, I smell her fresh innocence whishing past, leaving me in her wake as I moan loudly again once the door closes.
Sinking to my hams, I wince at my hardness catching in my pants, but I know it’s useless.
I could touch myself for the rest of my life and it wouldn’t mean a damned thing.
I need to be inside her.
I need her to need me inside her too.
I want her to want me, as much as I want her.Chapter ThreeCarolIt’s just first day nerves, plus you didn’t eat.
Did you pee like that woman said?
Crap!
I only wish I could hold this feeling off as much as my bladder.
What the hell just happened back there? It was like something in me was awakened.
Like something… or someone was in the right place, but just at the wrong time.
I practically stumble down the concrete hallway until I bump into Carla coming out through a door. She eyes me up and down.
“You alright? You look…” The perplexed expression on her face sums up how I really feel.
Is it so obvious?
“Do you believe in ghosts?” I ask her, making her do another double-take before rolling her eyes.
“Honey, it’s Christmas, not Halloween. Just tell me you got this for the next five hours? I got other things to worry about.”
I give a firm nod, forcing that fake smile again.
“Better,” she says firmly. “Bill- Santa is through here. Follow me.”
She leads me through a narrow passage and another doorway, which opens into the trademark Christmas themed set of a Santa’s workshop.
It’s well done, much nicer than the backstage area.
Except for that feeling…
I jump a little when I hear an almost quavering ‘Ho-ho-ho!’ from behind a curtain.
“He’s getting into character,” Carla says. “Now. You’ll be here by the throne. Check off each kid’s name and introduce them to Santa, maybe help the photographer if she asks, apart from that, just smile like you care,” she says, scrutinizing me one last time before she disappears.
I feel the pit of my stomach drop as a heavy red velvet curtain draws back. A short, squat elderly man in a pretty darn good Santa suit and makeup greets me.
His eyes twinkle, but not with true recognition.
Holding out both his gloved hands, he speaks to my costume, not to me as a person.
“Why if it isn’t Mrs. Claus, Ho-ho-ho!’ he booms and ushers me to my position by his throne, he seems to know the exact moment when things start, which I don’t.
God, I wish I’d peed.
I wish whoever was in that changing room was here instead of this guy.
A flustered woman, dressed like an elf and not much younger than Santa sweeps in, heaving back another huge set of curtains across the way.
She has a camera, so I assume she’s the photographer.
I’m bombarded by a sudden flood of bright lights and noises from an open shopping mall that seems to zoom in on us from the outside.
Pushing a novelty sized and festively decorated clipboard and quill into my hands, she doesn’t bother introducing herself.
“Welcome… to hell…” she murmurs, as we all hear the sound of approaching children and tired parents as whatever barrier that’s been holding them back is finally lifted.
I gulp and strain my fake smile, thinking only of what it felt like to maybe just have someone watching me and getting off on it when I was getting changed.
Within two minutes, I realize if it wasn’t for that though, that experience, I’d be punching the next kid I have to fake smile at and get the hell outta here.
There must be literally thousands of kids with parents, grandparents, and some that look like they’ve been assigned mall duty as older brothers or sisters.
If I thought the photographer was kidding, the first half an hour tells me she wasn’t.
This is hell.
‘Where’s our free gift? We were told we’d get a ‘free’ gift?’
‘I’m not paying for a photo when that fat girl made my boy cry’
‘Whoever saw something so ridiculous!’
