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Astrid Has the Answer
BigNicklumbersintomy pub, The Frosted Pole, and claims his usual barstool. I wink at him from the backbar mirror. I’m slicing lemons for hot toddies, but I know the big guy wants his whiskey untampered with – no honey, no cinnamon, and certainly, no lemon.
Sliding three fingers of amber liquid his way, I give him a face-forward wink now. “Here ya go, Big Nick.” My top button is close to bursting (not by accident) and I see his twinkling eyes take notice of the bright red lace peeking out. It’s no secret he thinks I’m hot, but Big Nick has more class than most. His eyes may roam over my curves, but he keeps things cordial between us. Being the only woman bartender in all the North Pole, I’ve been hit on by every local swinging dick at one time or another, usually after a few rounds. The lumberjacks are tolerable; the blacksmiths are positively filthy.
But Santa himself hasn’t sauntered in from the cold just to gaze at my tits tonight. No, a certain little antagonistic elf has him in need of a good stiff drink and a friendly ear this evening. And it isn’t the first time.
“What am I going to do with her, Astrid? I’ve never seen an elf as bratty as Calista.” His husky voice is rougher than usual from practicing his “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” refrain all afternoon. The most special night of the year is drawing near. He has to be ready. The whiskey is needed to soothe his vocal cords as much as his nerves.
“She’s a fiery little thing, I’ll give her that. But I’m sure a big, strapping elf tamer like you has ways to make her behave.” I resist the urge to wink at him a third time. A girl has to have some self-respect, and all my seduction efforts have always fallen short when it comes to Big Nick. Sure, I can get my jollies from a never-ending parade of eager elves, and they aren’t without notable tricks, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t give for one night with the silver-haired sleigh-driving daddy whose bulging biceps hypnotize me a little more every time he lifts his glass. He’s clearly been working out with his heavy bag.
“When it came to every saucy elf in the past, sure, I had my ways,” he agrees. “But this little minx has me vexed.”
“Well, you know what they say. Some brats only understand one thing.”
“Trust me, I spank her every damn day—sometimes twice! Her pert little ass has been consistently red for weeks. Still, she refuses to meet her toy quota. And that mouth!”
Lucky little pointy-eared temptress.I drag a bar mop in circles on the scarred wood top, not because it actually needs to be wiped down, but because it’s the only way to keep my hands from visibly trembling at the thought of Big Nick’s calloused mitts smackingmyass instead. “I’ve always been a modern, independent woman myself, but maybe some situations call for a more old-fashioned approach.”
“Who’s more traditional than me? I guarantee I’ve tried all the conventional discipline tactics. Nothing softens her stubborn sass.” He sighs and takes another sip of his whiskey.
“Do I really have to spell it out for you,Santa?” Despite my best efforts to keep my lust at bay, a little sultriness slips into my tone when I call him by his stage name. It’s unavoidable. There is not a more virile man in all the land, but he’s come to my bar seeking advice, nothing more. “They say in the old days, when an insolent little toymaker wouldn’t behave, the man with the bag would whip out his famed Claus cock and proceed to fuck that bad attitude right out of them.”
“Astrid! Those are just stories, toyshop talk. And even if not, times have changed. I’ve never crossed that line with an elf. I’m not saying I haven’t been tempted, and Calista temps me plenty, but it gets harder every year to keep people believing in me. Damned internet. The last thing I need is a sex scandal.”
“You’re the first single Claus to reign in over a hundred years, Big Nick. What scandal would there even be? You’re still a man, albeit a magical one.”Damn, there’s that sultry tone again. But I’m not wrong. And if it isn’t going to be me he’s fucking, at least that harlot, Calista, is a braggart. She’ll no doubt give me all the details after a few mistletoe martinis. She’s never hesitated to share about all her exploits with the other elves. Toyshop talk, indeed.
“Ah, hell. As much as it pains me to admit it, you might be right, Astrid. I guess I have no choice at this point. I’m going to have to fuck her into behaving.”
My knees beg to buckle but I stand strong. “That’s the spirit, Big Nick. Do whatever it takes. And maybe tell her she better keep quiet about it, too.”There’s nothing that little strumpet loves more than defying the rules. She’ll tell me for sure if he tells her she better not.
With that settled, he downs the last of his drink and, for the first time ever, he gives me a wink. I watch him go, taking all that Big Nick energy with him—his broad shoulders barely fitting through the doorframe, his sculpted thighs and glutes working under those tight red pants he always wears . . . the sexiest Santa in history.
And I just sling-shot him straight between the legs of the sluttiest elf in history.
Calista Brats in Uncharted Territory
I’msneakingmyselfalittle nightcap in Big Nick’s kitchen when he comes blustering in the back door, stomping the snow off his boots before he sees me. Nipping his scotch isn’t the worst offense I’ve committed tonight. He could’ve come home five minutes sooner and found me rolling naked in his sheets, spreading my scent where he sleeps. Everyone thinks he’s a gingerbread guy, but I know his real weakness.
This is my moment. I’ve never been alone with him in his cottage. Even when he spanks me for being a bad little elf, he does it in his office at the shop. I know the only reason he keeps his strong hand from trailing between my legs is because of all those horny little bastards tinkering away on the line. I’m sure he thinks they’d respect him less if they heard my cries of ecstasy. Could be true. But they’d respect me all the more. The first elf to get Big Nick to treat her like a real woman? I’d be a legend.
I catch a whiff of whiskey and smoke when he hangs his coat on the peg by the door. He’s been at The Frosted Pole, but I already knew that. My hope is that with a little hooch in his system, he’ll be more susceptible to my naughty flirtations. I take a deep breath, pull my skirt up a few inches, and cough to draw his attention.
“Calista! What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
“Sorry. I was just so thirsty.” I lick the rim of his vintage crystal glass I’m drinking from. It’s probably worth a fortune, maybe a family heirloom, and I’m sure seeing it in my careless hand will only heighten his anger. “I would’ve asked permission first, but you weren’t here. If you’d waited for me, you wouldn’t have had to drink alone. You wouldn’t have even had to go out in the snow.”
“I like the snow. And what makes you think I was alone? I have friends, you know.”
“Who? Frosty? One drink and he’d melt. The baker? She’s been cosplaying Mrs. Claus since she was in high school, hoping to get you to warm her buns. And the other elves are all afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should be afraid of me.”
“But I’m not. I know exactly how to get you to warm my buns.” I flip my skirt up and twirl around to show him I’ve left my bloomers at home, making sure he gets the full three-sixty view. “And I think you like warming them.”
“I don’t do it to please either of us. It’s meant to be punishment, you little brat.”
His belt makes a whooshing sound as he whips it from the loops. My pussy clenches at the realization that he’s not going to use his hand this time. The jangle of his buckle as he approaches me causes my legs to quiver.
