Where's Santa

Where’s Santa / Clare London

I

HE really was the cutest Santa I’d ever seen. Okay, maybe not seen, but definitely the cutest I’d ever met. Not that I’m the most sociable guy myself; in fact, my friends kept telling me I should get out more. That’s partly why I was there in the store at the mall that day, doing extra shifts for the holiday period and hopefully mixing in with the shopping public. I’m sure my friends meant riotous parties and dating other men and stuff. I think I preferred to take things one step at a time. Mr. Stevens brings every new member of staff around when they start, even temporary employees. This Santa was working only for the holiday season. He was a drama student, apparently, looking to supplement his income, and his college had placed him at our store. Mr. Stevens said his name was Chris. I never caught a surname but it didn’t really matter. Actually, I didn’t catch much of Mr. Stevens’ information speech at all; I was too busy looking at the new guy and wondering how I could get myself to the front of the line to greet him. Unusually forward of me, I know! It wasn’t hard to do, anyway. There were only three staff members in the store at that time, making up the welcoming committee. We weren’t open yet. It was barely six a.m. and we were just getting the displays ready for the rush we were expecting 2

Where’s Santa / Clare London that weekend. Only five days before Christmas! Or so the lurid poster on the window told us. Chris smiled at us all, though it was difficult to see what he was really like under the red suit and white beard. The costume was very realistic this year. And he looked surprisingly good in it: his height allowed him to carry off the thick jacket and the padded belly. But I could also see bright blue eyes and some freckles over his nose and the remnants of a warm tan. Unlike me, he probably got out a lot, a friendly face like that. He shook my hand, too, which was a pleasant surprise. His grip was strong and maybe I hung on to him just a bit too long. He gave me a funny look but he didn’t complain to anyone. I found myself staring at his back when he turned to follow Mr. Stevens across the room. Even in those cheap red pants, his butt looked very cute. I sighed to myself. I wish, as they say. It wasn’t as if I’d ever have the nerve to ask him if guys are his thing, let alone ask him on a date. Meanwhile, he was paraded past the other staff. Pammie was on Customer Service, the same as I was, and she simpered at him like she does all the men. Our other assistant, Joe, just scowled. He didn’t have any other expression, or not as I’d noticed in the time I’d been working here. That’s why we kept him stocking up the shelves most of the time; so he wouldn’t scare the customers. It was left to Pammie and me to keep the registers going and the sales figures high for the final month of the year. And me? I just gazed at Chris’s back and wished there really was a Santa bringing me my dearest wish. I’d have asked him to put Chris in the sack for me, and I didn’t mean the 3

Where’s Santa / Clare London sack of presents under the tree. And, I’d have added, don’t bother with wrapping him up.

4

Where’s Santa / Clare London

II

THE door to the storeroom squeaked behind me. I had left it ajar so it would let some light in from the corridor; otherwise the place could get pretty dark and stuffy. There used to be some strip lighting over the far side of the shelving racks, but Joe left his gum over the switch last month, and it didn’t work properly anymore. And I needed all the light I could get to help me find the boxes Mr. Stevens wanted. The initial customer response for the morning had been promising— which was manager-speak for the fact Pammie and I hadn’t been allowed a tea break since we opened. Even tucked away in here I could hear the sounds of laughter and the excited murmur of many people passing through the store. There was a shriek from some kid’s overexcitement; the rattle of baskets; a blare of Christmas music over the speakers. Someone’s child was arguing fiercely about another of those giggling Santa beanies, the ones Mr. Stevens had on promotion that year. “You said, you said I could have one!” she wailed. Even at a distance, that kind of high-pitched squeal can always be heard. I was on a quest for the surplus supply of beanies. Yes, Mr. Stevens was sure he had another dozen boxes. Yes, he 5

Where’s Santa / Clare London was sure they were in the storeroom. No, of course he didn’t know exactly where. But Danny would know, wouldn’t he? Danny was good at finding his way around the storeroom. And so here I was, the ever-helpful Danny, peering in the dark among a hundred boxes all marked the same, while the eager customers presumably lined up at the registers. I pushed back the loose hair on my forehead and wriggled between the stacked boxes. We kept all of our inventory in that small room, including the festive decorations, next year’s calendars, and wrapping paper galore. There was loose glitter on the floor. I could see it gleaming in the dim light. I wondered aimlessly what the store would look like come January, when all this chaos was over and we faced the New Year. Then the remaining Christmas supplies would be on special offer and we’d be stocking up the Valentine’s heart cushions, I guessed. Not that I’d ever had much opportunity to celebrate that occasion, either. I sighed aloud. No point feeling sorry for myself, although I was tired already and I was on until eight that night. But at least I’d be busy. That was, as long as I could find more supplies of those Santa beanies. I peered across to the far corner. I thought I caught a glimpse of movement, and I was worried there might be mice in here. Story was, they chewed through a whole box of Easter bunnies last year… “Danny? Is that you?” The whisper startled me, but I recognized the voice. “Chris? What are you doing in here?” A shadow in the corner thickened and flowed into a 6

Where’s Santa / Clare London human shape. Chris straightened up, groaning a little. He’d been crouching in the corner, sitting on one of the sturdier boxes. He’d taken off the Santa beard and hat, and pulled the stuffing out of his suit. I could tell all that from his profile, even though my eyes were still adjusting to the halfdark. Maybe I wasn’t admitting it aloud, but I’d spent most of the morning imagining what a really cute body he’d have under that costume. I seemed to be fascinated by him. I hadn’t felt as attracted to a man for a long time. Well, I’m sure my friends would confirm that for you, if you wanted to ask. But by shifting a couple of chairs and a silver display Christmas tree, I’d managed to find a spot behind the register that allowed me to watch both the Victorian table decorations aisle—where, experience told us, we attracted most of the shoplifters—and also the small area we’d cordoned off as Santa’s Grotto. Chris had been smiling and laughing and handing out packets of candy all morning, as parents paraded their children past him. He had a good, deep laugh—despite the fact he couldn’t be more than twenty, I’d have said, just like me—and seemed to have a lot of patience with the kids. There were a few tricky moments, of course. It was to be expected. They say never work with kids or animals, don’t they? I overheard one little boy ask for a Ferrari for Christmas. The father was looking deliberately innocent. Then a girl tugged insistently at Chris’s beard, asking in an unnaturally loud voice if he had nits. Finally, there were identical twin boys who kept swapping position to confuse him. Last I heard, they were asking if that was all stuffing 7

Where’s Santa / Clare London under his belt, or whether he got a boner for the reindeer. They were still shrieking with juvenile laughter as their mom dragged them away. I guess that covered the working with animals, too. When Chris went for a tea break, I didn’t blame him. I reckoned he was earning his money. But he hadn’t come back.

8

Where’s Santa / Clare London

III

I

REALIZED Chris had been hiding out in the storeroom ever

since his break. “You won’t tell Mr. Stevens, will you?” I wasn’t really concentrating on the conversation. I was just looking him up and down as discreetly as I could, in case he realized what I was doing and freaked out. Yes, he did have a cute body. A very cute one. He was tall and looked athletic, with broad shoulders. That was why the Santa jacket fit him so well, I guessed. I suddenly wished I spent more time at the gym, and I unconsciously sucked in my belly to match his shape. He’d taken off the jacket, too, because when he stretched his arms over his head, popping tired joints, his white T-shirt was a splash of bright negative against the shadowy boxes. “Tell him what? Are you okay?” There was that time Joe got sick in the storeroom, something about eating all the leftover Easter eggs. Chris laughed softly. It was a really warm, welcoming sound. Made me want to tell him a joke so he’d do it again. And to my joke. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I just…” 9

Where’s Santa / Clare London I waited for him to finish the sentence. My eyes were accustomed to the dark now and I could see his face. I was startled to see how worried he looked. “What’s up?” “I can’t do it. Just can’t do it,” he said, all in a rush. “The Santa thing. They’re lunatics, you know? The kids. Damn it, some of the parents too. Demanding. Aggressive. Manic. Just plain vicious! I never knew… I mean, there are kids in my family, on my block, I see them around town. But it’s nothing like this.” His voice was rising both in volume and pitch. “And the noise! It cuts right through you. The moaning, the wailing. Right in my ear; right through my head. Or else there are sticky, soggy whispers and grasping little fingers, leaving chocolate stains in my beard, dribbling down my neck…” “Hush now,” I said, trying to calm him. “Guess you’re not cut out for a career in children’s entertainment, then?” He stared at me, and then he started to laugh again. “I’m glad you found me, Danny. Not one of the others. I sound a bit hysterical, right?” “A bit.” I smiled back at him. “But not without provocation, I’d say.” He grinned. “So is there a back way out of here?” “You can’t just duck out of this,” I said, trying to sound stern. I loved the way he grinned at me. And what did he mean when he had said he was glad it was me who found him? “There’s only the one door back out to the corridor, then you’ll have to sneak past the store entrance and past the restroom. You’ll never manage it without being caught.” 10

Where’s Santa / Clare London “I can’t go back on duty,” he groaned. “It’s inhuman cruelty. I quit, as of now.” “Tell that to Mr. Stevens,” I said. “And he’ll tell that to your college board.” “Fuck.” Chris looked very dispirited. “What can I do?” I really wanted to put my arm around him, but I was worried it’d be taken the wrong way. Well, taken the right way was more likely, but that might cause me even more trouble. I cleared my throat. “Just keep quiet for another half-hour or so. Then when Mr. Stevens goes for his late lunch, you can smuggle your way out. Leave the suit here, and you’ll never be recognized among all the customers.” Chris looked down at his pants. “I can’t leave these.” I looked down at them, too. I couldn’t help myself. I was starting to feel uncomfortable, particularly in my own groin area. It was delicious in its own way, but not when I was trapped in my work pants and realizing I should have gone for the loose-fit pair this morning. “Maybe I can find a pair of shorts for you from the summer stock. You can quickly change into them.” Chris stared at me and there was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I’m commando today. No boxers. Thought I’d be too hot in these stupid thick pants.” “You’re…too hot…no boxers.” I couldn’t seem to manage a whole sentence. “Danny.” He said my name very softly and a bit 11

Where’s Santa / Clare London nervously. “I wouldn’t mind changing in front of you, though. Do you know what I’m saying?” For maybe the first time in my life, I wished I’d listened more carefully to my friends’ dating advice. “I guess so. But me…?” Chris laughed and reached for my hand. His grip was strong, like I’d noticed before. “I’m sorry if I read it wrong, but you were looking at me. That way, you know?” I nodded, not knowing at all, but damned glad someone’s gaydar was working at full capacity. “You’re very cute.” He looked flushed. I could see the darker shade on his cheeks. “I wanted to talk more to you this morning but we didn’t have time. I’m a bit shy about this stuff, really, but you looked like you knew what you wanted. Looked keen.” I was too shocked to reply. My mouth opened and closed again, like a surprised goldfish, and his gaze was on me, his eyes following the movement. His tongue slipped out and he licked around his lips, quickly. Suddenly it seemed the loose-fit pants would have been a really good idea. But before I could reach down discreetly and try to adjust my swelling cock, Chris lurched forward. I stepped back, startled, and shredded packaging floated up from the floor, attaching to the fabric of my pants. My nose itched, too: I’d dislodged one of the cobwebs on the nearby shelf and its sticky tendrils were clinging to me.

12

Where’s Santa / Clare London Then Chris kissed me and I forgot all the mess and confusion.

13

Where’s Santa / Clare London

IV

GOD, it was good! His mouth was warm and firm and his tongue came in, fast. I guessed he knew by then I was willing, but I made a point of showing him just how much. He was right: I was definitely keen. And I was the guy who knew his way around the storeroom, wasn’t I? I pushed him back against the shelving, finding a narrow place between two struts where his back could meet the wall. My chest was close up against his and he felt slightly damp, like he’d been sweating in here. Or maybe that was the stress of his morning’s work. Whatever the reason, it had a stimulating smell—sweet and thick and all his own. I’d like to have said it got me aroused but the fact was, I’d been aroused since I first met him. He responded very eagerly. His tongue thrust into my mouth in an exciting parody of fucking. I could barely hope my Christmas wish might come true. Was I disqualified from asking Santa for goodies when it was Santa I was making out with? I moaned softly and Chris pulled back a little. I was panting, but I assumed one of us ought to see sense. “Okay, let’s wait a minute here.” His mouth was ghosting past mine again, the lips soft and wet on my jaw. “It’s…this is so good. It really is. But I’m at work here.” 14

Where’s Santa / Clare London He leaned in again and kissed me. Even harder this time. With plenty of tongue. “Chris?” I sounded hoarse. “Did you hear me? I have to get back to work—” “Hush now,” he interrupted, teasing me, though gently. “I know you do. You’re checking the inventory, right?” He slid a hand down between our bodies, cupping at my groin. I yelped aloud and pushed back against the touch, which only made the struggle inside my pants even fiercer. Chris hummed with approval. “That’s good. Have you got this on your inventory list, Danny? Cock: large. Quantity: one. Reorder level: not necessary…” I was laughing by then, but I was flushed too. I didn’t think anyone had ever made me feel so happy while they were feeling me up. And he said I was large. A guy likes the occasional white lie, I must say. I was still wary, though. I glanced back over my shoulder at the door out to the store. It was still slightly ajar. There was another sudden burst of children shrieking, and someone—probably Pammie—turned the music up louder. “The door’s open, Chris, and the store’s really busy. How’s this going to look, if anyone catches us?” “So I’ll say I’m helping you,” he murmured. “Just stay a bit longer, Danny. It’s been weird here, hiding out. And lonely.” He was licking my neck now—long, lapping strokes with the rough edge of his tongue. The shivers were running up and down my spine like quicksilver. When I wriggled against him, he slipped his hand up under my shirt and pinched at a nipple. 15

Where’s Santa / Clare London Oh God! My whole body tensed up against him. “Nipples: two. Color: brown.” He laughed again, running his fingers along my ribs. “Skin: smooth. Flavor: salty, I reckon. This job is fun.” I couldn’t resist temptation much longer. I slid my hands around his waist, massaging the thin ribbon of flesh between his pants and the hem of the T-shirt. Then, astonished at my own daring, I reached farther down and nudged under the tired elastic waistband of the Santa pants. Chris sucked in a harsh breath. “Yess…” Suddenly the slice of light from the corridor widened across his face and the background music rose in volume. I could hear the voices from the store much more clearly. Someone was opening the storeroom door! I tensed up, my throat closing with fear of discovery. Chris clutched me tightly, displaying the same awkward paralysis. We just stood there, pressed against each other, our mouths an inch apart, our hot breath warming the space between our faces. “I’ve got the red wrapping in here somewhere.” It was Pammie’s voice, pitched back at someone in the main store. “It goes with the ribbon decorations on the tree. Would look lovely with that scene you’ve described. Danny knows for certain where it is, but…uh. He’s not available at the moment. But I can look for you…” Noooo… “No?” Pammie echoed my own fervent prayer. “Okay, let me show you the green one on display instead, then.”

16

Where’s Santa / Clare London The light narrowed again and the door closed properly. The sounds were cut off, fading to a dull mumble. I could hear the thudding of my heart against my ribs, I was amazed Pammie didn’t hear it over the music.

17

Where’s Santa / Clare London

V

CHRIS whispered in my ear, his lips browsing over the lobe. “Fuck, wasn’t that exciting? Maybe you should’ve done this before, Danny.” My voice came out like a squeak. “Of course not! You’re one mad guy, right?” But his hand was still on my groin and my erection didn’t seem to have had the same fright. “We’ll continue after today’s shift, okay? We can meet up somewhere.” Somewhere more private. “At least, if that’s what you want.” I wasn’t sure whether I sounded reasonable, or just pathetically desperate. “Perhaps I can get off earlier than expected…” Chris snickered. “Perhaps I want to get off even earlier than that.” His breath brushed over my face again and he thrust his tongue into my mouth. Instinctively, I started sucking on it. Damn it, the heat that was coming from us both was worrying me. All those boxes were flammable, you see… He leaned against me and gripped my upper arms. I was flattered I was arousing him so much, but he caught me suddenly off balance and twisted me around. A second later, I was the one with my back to the wall and Chris’s torso was pressed against mine. “Come on, Danny,” he muttered. 18

Where’s Santa / Clare London “You’re great. I want it now. Don’t you?” “No,” I whimpered. Fuck, yes!, said my body. My friends— if they’d been there— would have rolled their eyes at such ludicrously coy indecision. “Here, in the dark. It’s making me really hot. You too, right? No one will know.” Chris released one hand and grabbed something off the shelf beside us. “What’s that? Be careful, there’s equipment in here…” I never finished my sentence. He yanked up my wrist with his other hand and pinned it to the side of the wooden shelving beside my head. Then he pressed whatever he was holding against the loose cuff of my shirt. There was a loud ker-chunk noise, and my hand jerked against the rack. I stared at Chris, aghast. “I don’t believe you just did that!” He grinned back at me and before I could protest any more, he grabbed my other wrist the same way. Ker-chunk against the second cuff and my hand was pinned the same way to the shelving unit. He dropped the tool on the floor, laughing. “You’re a lunatic!” I gasped. “You’ve stapled me to the stacking!” I looked to either side, shaking my head in pure astonishment. My arms were only slightly outstretched, but when I tried to lower my wrists again, there was firm resistance. My shirt cuffs were now fixed to the wood by a line of rather sturdy-looking industrial staples. “Cute.” Chris smirked, his smile glinting in the darkness. 19

Where’s Santa / Clare London “And at my mercy.” I was still in shock. I obviously didn’t need to warn him about the dangers of a staple gun. Looked like I was the one at risk, not him. “Chris. This is stupid. Let me loose, okay?” He didn’t answer. Just stared at me, grinning. And that grin really was delicious. Then his hand dropped back down to my groin and he unzipped me. I bit back the yelp of shocked delight. “I can’t do this! We can’t! Anyway, do you really think this’ll hold me if I choose to pull away?” Chris shrugged. “Try it, if you like. But you’ll have to explain to the guys out there—and Mr. Stevens—why you’ve got ripped sleeves. This is a store shirt, isn’t it? Look at this smart logo here. Stevens’ Seasons.” He traced a finger over my breast pocket, skimming over my nipple underneath. It tightened immediately, poking the material outward. “And the bulge in your pants, that’d have to be explained too, wouldn’t it? Bet there’s a wet patch on these smart pants already.” My throat felt dangerously dry. “You’re threatening me. This is…harassment. Do you think I’m actually excited by this game?” He laughed quietly. “What do you think?” And as I glared at him, he started sinking to his knees in front of me. His hand trailed slowly down my body, fingers splayed over my quivering stomach. “Ridiculous,” I moaned.

20

Where’s Santa / Clare London “Harassment, you say?” His voice came from somewhere between my thighs. I grinned and whispered back. “Yes, please.” He laughed again, pushing open the folds of my fly and lifting my cock out of my boxers. It was very swollen and rested heavily in his palm. The flesh felt very hot in the cool air of the room. Oh God. I closed my eyes as his damp lips slid over me, his tongue teasing the sheath as he went down. He licked the pre-come off the top like he was licking a lollipop. I was so damned excited. I’d never been savored like that in my life. Chris sucked and licked like he was really loving it, not just keen to get me off. I wriggled a bit but the staples were holding fast. I cursed, but only halfheartedly. Then I started making sounds that were more like groans. I couldn’t hold them back. Chris was moaning softly around me and sucking harder. Added to all that, I could hear my panting, and it seemed horribly loud. “Soon,” Chris mumbled. I didn’t know whether that was a comment or an order, but my thighs started to tense up. The ecstasy was nagging like a sharp, burning coil in my belly. I was going to come very, very soon. Was he going to swallow it? Shit. The thought of that excited me even more. And then Chris pulled away, his mouth releasing me with a wet sucking noise.

21

Where’s Santa / Clare London

VI

“NO!” I gasped. “Don’t stop…please…!” Chris’s hearing was obviously better than mine, preoccupied as I was with my climax aching to let loose. But I could hear what had distracted him. It was the sound of the cart on its way back to the storeroom. It was only a small cage on wheels. Joe used it to bring boxes back and forth to the store displays. Damn it! Had they become impatient waiting for me, and were coming to look for the beanies? The hinges of the door creaked as it was pushed open, and the cage started to edge its way in. Not again! Chris was still crouched at my feet. He clutched me around the knees and went silent. I leaned back into the shadow of the shelving, also trying to keep my breathing quiet. Back here in the corner, we couldn’t be seen from the door. At least I was praying really hard that was true. After all, I was currently pinned to wooden posts by staples, my pants were hanging open around my hips, and my cock was jutting out against my belly, glistening with Chris’s saliva. I was pretty sure the position was grounds for dismissal, for gross misconduct. Very gross. But if only Joe didn’t look over this way; if only Chris kept still; if only… 22

Where’s Santa / Clare London Joe’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, behind the cart as it trundled into the room. There was a strange noise accompanying him: I realized he had his headphones in his ears and he was singing along to whatever was playing. Mr. Stevens had told him time and again not to wear the headphones at work, and God knows what the music was; his singing was unrecognizable as anything this side of a caterwaul. He rolled the cart to one side and loaded a couple of the boxes on to it. Then he turned and ambled back out of the room with his stock, without a second glance our way. I started breathing again. Joe’s tone-deafness was the most precious thing in my life, just at that moment! The darkness fell again as the door was pulled shut. I heard someone whimpering with relief and I was afraid it was me. My exposed cock was pressed against Chris’s cheek, throbbing its frustration for anyone who wanted to see. Perhaps it’d leave an impression, though not necessarily the one I was hoping for. “Chris?” I could barely whisper. He stood and shifted about but I couldn’t see what he was doing. Was he scared? Angry? No, he was working carefully at the staples, prizing them out of my sleeves. “Okay,” I said, trying to steady my breathing again. I could understand his disappointment. Hell, I wasn’t exactly thrilled myself the adventure had been thwarted. “So obviously, yes, you need to get out of here and I need to get back to the store. This has been great…” Really, really great. “And maybe some time when you feel like a roleplay again you’ll give me a call…” Please? But he wasn’t listening to me, it seemed. My arms pulled 23

Where’s Santa / Clare London away from the shelving and I started shoving my cock back into my pants. Startling me, Chris tugged me forward. I was already a bit unsteady. Stumbling, I dropped to my knees and a couple of boxes rocked dangerously at the top of the surrounding piles. “Hey!” Instead of helping me up, he dropped to the floor beside me. We bumped shoulders and then his mouth was on mine again, the kiss picking up from where it left off on the eager scale. I gasped and he sucked in my breath, and then he pushed us both, tumbling us down onto the dusty floor. There was a sudden noise of popping—a soft, squeaking rush of something underneath our bodies. “What the hell’s that?” Chris gasped, squirming as if there were a hundred little pebbles under his butt. I rolled him under me, my elbows on either side of his shoulders. Reaching a hand out, I flexed my fingers against the floor, and—pop! Pop! “Bubble wrap?” he groaned in recognition. “Is this your idea of a blanket on the ground?” “Hush!” I laughed at his astonishment. The wrap was spread out all over the floor over this part of the room. A roll must have dislodged at some stage and come apart. It didn’t bother me. In fact, something had relaxed inside me, ever since we nearly got discovered (again!), especially now that we were on the floor and making out with just as much enthusiasm. And I wasn’t letting the chance go again! Everything just felt so good: Chris’s torso under my hands; the laughing protests on his lips; the bubbles under my knees, popping erratically, making me shake gently above 24

Where’s Santa / Clare London him. My pants were wriggling down my thighs again. I hadn’t fastened them back up properly. And my cock was still thick and aching from Chris’s blow job. I could feel his erection too, bulging inside the cheap red fabric of his pants, rubbing against mine. He groaned. “Danny, you going to do anything about this?”

25

Where’s Santa / Clare London

VII

I assumed Chris meant the fact we both had raging hardons, so I didn’t even bother answering such a rhetorical question. Instead, I slid a hand inside his waistband and tugged his pants down too. Commando, just like he said. Wow. He groaned again as his dick sprang out, bobbing against his belly. “Yeah. Yeah.” “Hold on,” I murmured. “Let me…” His cock was hot in my palm, and when I wrapped my fingers around it, it throbbed happily against my skin. I gave a small sigh of happiness. “Got no supplies,” Chris grunted. His hips jerked up, seeking the friction of my fist. “Sorry. I mean…I never thought today…” I ached with frustration and shocked delight that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. “It’s okay. This is enough. This is good.” So good. “Another time?” I paused. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just thought you might want to 26

Where’s Santa / Clare London meet up again. You know. Not just this. But if I’m pushing too hard…” “Yes,” I said quickly. “I mean no, you’re not, and yes, I would. I was hoping this wasn’t just a seasonal thing.” I grinned at him, hoping he could see it in the dark. After all, pushing too hard could take on all sorts of meanings, couldn’t it? I reckon my friends would be thrilled to hear their work on my education was done. “You make me laugh,” he said. “It’s so cute, you know?” I was flushed with pleasure. “But in the meantime…” I shifted around so that I lay beside him. Astonished at my daring—again!—I slid my cock against his, letting the skin of the sheath catch and crease, letting the damp pre-come welling at the tip trail down his flesh. Tentatively, I stretched my hand out to enclose them both together, and I squeezed. Chris yelped. “Right here?” he moaned. “On this stuff?” Was it a serious complaint? I rolled him from side to side, keeping my right hand on our dicks but using the left one to pull his pants to his ankles. The bubble wrap popped underneath him, each wriggle accompanied by a protesting puff of air. Then he grabbed at my right hand, tightly and swiftly, and folded his palm over mine. Together we pumped ourselves, and he whimpered aloud. That gave me the clue he was just as keen, too. That, and the fact he was laughing again. “Yes, most definitely here!” I laughed back, spooning myself up against him as we ran our combined fists up and down. “God… God.” 27

Where’s Santa / Clare London Our skin was sweaty and slippery, making a wonderfully slick movement. I loved the soft little sucking sounds that our hands and cocks made as we caressed each other. The stack of boxes reared up on either side of us, making some kind of shelter. There was only just enough room to stretch out our legs, but we managed, rocking together, grunting and gasping as we jerked off toward climax. Every time I thrust against him, another little plastic bubble of the wrapping exploded underneath us with a breathy fart. If I’d had any breath left of my own, I’d have exclaimed how good this was! I wanted to come at the same time as Chris, but I knew it was going to be fast, especially when I’d already been so close. Would that work for him, too? Was I going too fast, too slow? I wanted—badly—for him to be enjoying this as much as I was. He started to keen, softly but clearly. “Soon. Fuck. Danny.” He laughed, raggedly. “Nearly came in these fucking pants already…sucking you off. Fuck.” His left hand flailed outward as he desperately grabbed for something to anchor himself to. “Something to thank Santa for,” I whispered in his ear. I was panting hard. “Even though the rest was…a disaster.” “Yeah. This is going to be the best gig I ever had. Best…best…” He hiccupped and his back arched against me, his leg kicking out. He caught the edge of a stack of boxes and the one on the top teetered. Neither of us was interested in catching it right now, of course. It fell to the floor with the tinkling crash of many things broken. Chris paused, panting. “No problem,” I gasped. I’d caught 28

Where’s Santa / Clare London sight of the labeling as it fell. “Novelty mugs. Plenty more here.” He nodded and pressed my hand tightly around him again. The vein along his cock beat in my fist, and the head swelled up and out over my fingers, leaking over us. Mine was in a similar state. I started to move even faster, pumping us, ready to come. Chris cried out, something barely intelligible, but it sounded a bit like my name. Excited and flattered beyond belief, I grabbed him more tightly and my elbow swung out against another pile of boxes. This time, when the top one fell on the other side of us, its lid broke open, and a pile of fat, soft, fabric objects spilled out over our legs. One of them rolled up under my thrusting buttocks and I rocked back onto it. Horrifically, it started to giggle. “What the fuck?” Chris almost wailed. “What is it? Stop it!” I didn’t know whether I was laughing, or wailing like him, or what! The noise came out of me in great hiccups, my chest tight and my senses swimming. “It’s the Santa beanies!” I moaned. Was that irony or retribution? I heard the toy giggling as I started to shudder; I heard the bubble wrap hissing its final air pockets under Chris’s hips as he strained alongside me. I came first by seconds, spitting out of my cock all over our hands, crying out Chris’s name too. He was still startled by the giggling but he couldn’t stop himself from following me. His cock tightened up in my fist and then climaxed too, the come bursting out toward my 29

Where’s Santa / Clare London belly, the residue hot and sticky and running down between my fingers. The giggling stopped. And then the door to the storeroom swung open again, the light spilling in over the top of the stacked boxes, and the suddenly increased volume of Christmas hits from the ’70s drowning out our heaving breath.

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Where’s Santa / Clare London

VIII

“SO where the hell is he?” It was Pammie again, sounding pretty angry. Chris shivered against me. I think he was trying to bite back his laughter. Both of us cowered down behind the boxes, hoping the shadows would keep us shielded that little bit longer. Chris’s Santa pants were in a messy pile around his ankles, and when I brushed my fingers lightly across the front of my smart uniform shirt, they came away covered in sticky white come. Season’s Greetings… “Trust Santa to take a break just as the school kids start arriving. And where the hell’s Danny?” Pammie called out, less than hopefully. “Danny? Are you in here? We need those extra beanies. I’ve got twelve six-year-olds baying for my blood out here. Seems to me, they all want a Santa who giggles, farts, blows his nose and can fit in a Christmas stocking! Who said today’s consumers weren’t demanding?” Chris’s mouth found mine in the darkness and he kissed me, hard. “Who indeed?” he snickered softly into my mouth. “Hush,” I hissed back, flicking my tongue in between his teeth. 31

Where’s Santa / Clare London “I don’t know what’s wrong with the world today,” Pammie grumbled. She started to pull the door shut again behind her, on her way back to the store, sealing us once again in our sexy little sanctuary. “I just feel that Christmas comes earlier and earlier every year!”

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Where’s Santa / Clare London

CLARE LONDON took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. She juggles fiction with a frantic family life and waits for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with short stories published both online and in print anthologies. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama, with a healthy serving of erotica, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters. Clare currently has a fantasy novel in the process of publication, two more nearing the submission stage and plenty of other projects in mind…she just has to find out where she left them in amongst the frantic family life.

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Where’s Santa / Clare London Other titles by Clare…

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Where’s Santa / Clare London

©Copyright Clare London, 2008 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Dan Skinner/Cerberus Inc. [email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America December, 2008

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