Two weeks until Christmas

Tom woke up the next morning in Randall’s arms, fully clothed on top of the motel bed. Bright sun dulled the colorful lights above them. There had been no sex, just a bunch of making out. Like the exact opposite of what had happened a week ago.

And it was wonderful. Their tongues flicked around in each other’s mouths and Randall’s strong hands ran up and down his frame like he was clay on a potter’s wheel. After a while, it stopped and transitioned to holding each other and basking in the glow of the Christmas lights. Tom drifted off into one of the best sleeps of his life, even with the light snoring of Hot Mall Santa in the background.

“Morning,” Randall said with a squinty smile. He blocked the sunlight with his hand. How was it possible that he was this sexy just waking up? He had the same messy hair, the same rumpled clothes as Tom, but Randall looked he was posing for a cologne ad and Tom looked like he crawled out of a dumpster.

Tom checked the time on the clock. 7:30. He didn’t have to be in until two.

“Do you have to get ready?” Tom asked him.

“Probably.” Randall sat up and wiped sleep out of his eyes.

Was last night a fluke? It didn’t feel like one. As much as Tom second-guessed himself, he knew that something had shifted between them. They had talked and shared. Randall was sweet and thoughtful and so much more wonderful than the one-dimensional sex object of Tom’s fantasies.

“Do you want to grab breakfast?” Tom asked.

Randall whipped off his shirt, exposing his achingly perfect chest. Some people were born lucky, that was it, though Tom realized how dumb that sounded. He might have a dream body, but his home life had been a nightmare.

“We can go out for something quick, like Dunkin Donuts.”

“The motel has continental breakfast.”

“Continental breakfast?” Tom asked dubiously.

Randall dropped his pants and underwear, revealing his big, swinging dick.

“I can give you some privacy.” Tom looked away and crossed his legs to hide the boner springing to life.

“Why? Nothing here you haven’t already seen.”

Tom took that as permission to look. It would be rude of him not to look, like he was rejecting Randall’s body or something. So he soaked in the view, which only lasted a few seconds before Randall wrapped himself in a towel.

“So what does this continental breakfast have?”

“Not much. A muffin tray, coffee. Oh, and a waffle maker.”

“What?” Tom stood up. “A waffle maker?”

Tom might’ve been in love with waffles. There was something about them. They were light, fluffy, syrupy. They were breakfast food, dessert food, and could double as a pillow they were that soft.

“Are you okay?” Randall asked.

“We’ll stay here for breakfast,” Tom said calmly.

“You’re funny. Sexy and funny. You don’t see that very often.” Randall came over and planted a sweet kiss that had hints of lust.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Santa.”

* * *

After breakfast, Tom dropped Randall off at work. He went back to his apartment to shower and get dressed. He watched TV, but his mind kept drifting off to the man behind Hot Mall Santa. He thought about their conversation, about the excitement in his voice when he shared presidential trivia, about his quest to find his calling. And that silly guffaw laugh. Like a Transformer action figure Tom had watched two moms wrestle over in the wee hours of Black Friday years ago, there was more to Randall than met the eye.

Tom went to work a little early so that he could make a cameo at Santa’s Workshop. He had to park in the back rows of the massive parking lot. He thought he might hit 10,000 steps on his Fitbit walking from his car to the mall. When he got to the South Wing, a security guard stopped him.

“Are you shopping or visiting Santa?” she asked in an authoritarian voice that matched her black-and-grey uniform.

“Santa?” Tom said meekly.

“You need to get a ticket.” She pointed to the kiosk just off to her right, which had once sold cell phone cases, but was now repurposed into a Santa’s Workshop admission station.

“Do I have to pay to see Santa?” Tom asked.

“No, it’s still free, but now you have to sign up for a time. It’s gotten very crowded, and it’s about to get even more packed after the story,” the woman said.

“What story?”

* * *

“He’s going to be on the news?” Kirsten yelled for the whole Décor Store to hear, even though they were in the break room. She nearly knocked over her Snapple. Tom kept it from falling off the table.

“That’s what the woman told me. WACL is doing a report on Oakville Mall’s sexy new Santa for the six o’clock news.” Randall’s presence had gone viral. People posted pictures online, tweeted about him, and news spread. The mall knew the WACL story would be the tipping point. Crowds would become tidal waves of people. It sent a knot of stress tangling in his chest and stomach.

“So Hot Mall Santa is going to be a full-fledged celebrity?” she asked.

“I guess so.”

“Who knew Oakville Mall would become famous for something other than the guy who drove his car through the Aeropostale?”

Tom pushed Kirsten’s feet off the extra chair and sat down.

“This is awesome,” she said. “You seem stressed.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. Your shift hasn’t started yet.” She leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. The store will be extra packed thanks to Hot Mall Santa and Julie Who Cares, but in two weeks, it will all be over.”

Tom nodded, letting her think that’s what actually bothered him. He doubted Randall would want anything to do with him now that he was going to be famous. He was Tom’s celebrity crush, and celebrity crushes never worked out. Save for Hugh Grant in Notting Hill.

She offered him some of her Oven-Baked Lay’s. He politely declined.

“Can you imagine all the people who will be hitting on Hot Mall Santa?” she said with a far-off look. “There will be ladies and gay guys who will be giving him actual lap dances and slipping him their number. Depressed, rich housewives will offer him thousands of dollars to have sex. It’s going to be insane.”

“Insane,” Tom repeated, with a hole gnawing inside him.

“Unless he has a girlfriend. Did he mention anything to you about dating someone?”

“No,” he said and left it at that.

“All these hot guys usually have a girlfriend. Their high school sweetheart or someone like that. And they’re all beautiful and blonde.”

Tom picked at his dirty blond hair.

Kirsten took a bite of her orange chicken from Panda Express. She and Tom had a deal in place that come January, they would bring in healthy lunches for work. They did it every year and never made it past the tenth.

“Although I feel bad for whoever she is.”

“His girlfriend?” Tom asked. “Possible girlfriend.”

Kirsten nodded yes. “Poor girl. Always looking over her shoulder, so to speak. When your boyfriend is that hot and the whole world wants to bang him, how can you ever really trust him?”

Tom’s hand dove into her bag of Lay’s and grabbed a fistful of potato chips. He crammed them in his mouth. Crumbs tumbled onto his Décor Store apron.

“Cheer up, Tom! I’m sure Hot Mall Santa would be gay for pay.”

“Maybe.” He held back further commentary.

* * *

Tom went to his car for his second fifteen-minute break later that evening. He needed to feel the fresh, chilly air on his face. He needed to get away from the chaos of the mall. He walked by a TV news van parked on the curb and people fawning over a real-life TV news van at the Oakville Mall.

He reached his car, parked at the edge of the parking lot, not too far from the bus stop was where he’d picked up Randall. Twenty-four hours ago. A simpler time.

“Hey, Tom!” Randall jogged over to his car. Tom immediately looked around to make sure he wasn’t being followed with reporters and screaming fans.

“Hey.”

“What a crazy day,” Randall said with incredible understatement. He pulled down his fake beard, and his smile warmed Tom right up.

“I thought getting interviewed for the six o’clock news and becoming a viral sensation was standard territory for mall Santas.”

“If it was, I was lied to during the job interview.”

Tom kept looking back at the mall, like it was magnet pulling them to opposite wings.

“I had no idea any of that was happening,” Randall said.

“It’s exciting. I’m happy for you. You should enjoy it.”

“I don’t know what I did to earn it.”

“You’re a sexy Santa.”

Randall shrugged his shoulder, unimpressed. Tom could see that he didn’t want that to be his only distinguishing characteristic. And after their talk last night, Tom knew that wasn’t true, that there was so much inner life underneath that body. Everything Randall had shared made him even sexier in Tom’s eyes.

“Can we sit in your car?” Randall shivered in his Santa suit. He still had not thought to wear a real coat to work.

They got inside Tom’s car. Randall checked in the rear windshield to make sure the bus wasn’t coming yet. He still had a few minutes.

“Are you leaving?”

“I’m on a fifteen-minute break,” Tom said. “I have to be back at the Décor Store in seven minutes.”

“Then I don’t have much time. I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed last night.” Randall said. His smile creasing his rugged face was enough to get Tom hard.

“Me, too.”

“Maybe we can hang out again sometime before I go.”

Before I go. He was moving on, off to another job in another state where he’d be ogled and where he’d find some quiet guy to have fun with. Tom had to keep reminding himself of that.

“How much time do we have?” Randall asked.

“Six minutes. More like two minutes since I have to get back inside.”

Randall’s hand grazed over Tom’s tented pants. He looked at Tom with an are you thinking what I’m thinking expression.

“I don’t know,” Tom said.

“It’s worth a shot.” Randall kissed him hard, deep. They were making up for their chaste night, and Tom could never resist those big hands and firm lips taking control of his body.

In precious seconds, Randall was unzipping Tom’s pants and taking his hard cock in his warm mouth.

“Fuck,” Tom gasped out. He glanced out both front windows to make sure no shoppers were coming up.

Randall took him to the base. His warm, full lips sucked his dick. His Santa Hat bobbed up and down. Tom jutted his hips up, and Randall managed to tap a slicked-up finger on his ass. Tom had to give him credit for being so efficient.

“Yes. Yes,” Tom whispered. He stopped playing lookout. His eyes could no longer focus.

He filled Randall’s mouth with come with four seconds left to spare.

Tom sprinted through the parking lot and got into The Décor Store exactly as his break ended. He put on his apron and immediately stepped behind the register to ring up a growing line of customers. He wondered when he and Randall would see each other next. Randall was leaving in two weeks, onto his next adventure, and like Kirsten said, Tom had to make the most of this small but distinct window of opportunity. He just had to make sure that these pesky feelings brewing inside him stayed locked up. This was Christmas, not Valentine’s Day. The holiday was about indulging yourself and doing things you’ll regret in January.