I gazed at the tattoo in disbelief. The words WANNA FUCK? stared back at me, taunting me to lead him to the women’s bathroom and have Kaci watch the door while I rode him like a rented mule.

In hope of squelching my urge to immediately accept his invitation, I crossed my legs. It only aggravated matters. I uncrossed them and reached for my wine. “Did that hurt?”

He lowered his hand. His mouth twisted into a smirk. “They all hurt,” he said flatly. “If anyone tell you otherwise, they’re a liar.”

Savoy Marketing and EarthMatt had combined their holiday efforts into one party. I knew he didn’t work for Savoy, leaving the eco-friendly welcome mat company as his employer.

“So.” I steadied my shaking hand and sipped my wine. “You work for EarthMatt?”

His brows knitted together. “Who?”

“EarthMatt.” I gestured toward the vinyl banner that hung over one of the doorways. “The welcome mat people.”

He chuckled a dry laugh. “Afraid not.”

Mister Shirley was hiring two new maintenance men. I promptly envisioned tattooed Santa being one of them. He could fuck me in the stockroom while I searched through boxes of decade old financial reports for something I’d never find.

“You work for Savoy?” I asked excitedly.

He raked his fingers through his hair. When he did, his coat fell off his shoulders and landed in a crumpled pile on the floor. I started to say something, but decided against it when I got a view of his bulging biceps.

It seemed every inch of his exposed skin was covered with tattoos. I got lost in admiring them for a moment, and then glanced at Kaci. With a gaping mouth, she gawked at him from across the table. Apparently, she was just as interested in sitting on Santa’s lap as I was.

“Savoy? Never heard of ‘em,” he said. “I just came in here for a drink.”

Kaci choked on her laugh. “You crashed the party?”

He crossed his arms over his massive chest and grinned. “Kind of.”

A hint of his musky manliness wafted into my nostrils. If sexy had a scent, he was secreting it. I drew a slow breath and relaxed into a pillow of lustful thoughts. After a few mental orgasms, the sound of Kaci’s voice brought me back to my senses.

“What about the Santa outfit?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm. “Do you carry that with you just in case you see a party?”

“I did a Toys for Tots run a couple of weeks back, and never took it out of my bags.” He reached for his glass and then gave me a look. “You always make it a point to side-step questions?”

Still under the effects of his bravado spell, I gave him the deer in the headlights look. “What question?”

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re walking around here inviting people to proposition you. Then, when someone does, you want to change subjects.”

All I did was look at him. It may have been with done with lustful eyes, but him seeing it as an invitation from fifty feet away was impossible.

“How did I invite you to proposition me?”

He gestured toward my lap with his eyes. “You’re not wearing panties,” he said matter-of-factly.

My face flashed hot. He was right. I wasn’t wearing panties. Unless he was a true superhero – and possessed x-ray vision – knowing it was impossible.

“Why would…why do you say that?” I stammered.

He chuckled. “Because you’re not.”

I decided to wear my commando status like a diamond-studded crown. “You’re right,” I snapped back. “I’m not.”

He scanned the length of my body. Slowly. “I’m well aware.”

I cinched my thighs together. “How do you…know?”

“When a woman’s not wearing ‘em, her walk’s unrestricted. Graceful.”

I beamed with pride. “I walk with grace?”

His smirk returned. “Pantiless grace.” He shifted his gaze to Kaci. “Would you consider yourself a strong woman?” He leaned onto the edge of the table and locked eyes with her. “Physically?”

“I uhhm.” She gave him a puzzled look. “I think so. I mean, I work out and stuff. So, yeah. Why?”

“Just wondering.” He reached for his coat and then stood. “Let’s get a drink.”

I would have followed his sexy ass into the fiery depths of hell. Following him to the bar was a no-brainer. I drank what was left in my glass and glanced at Kaci. “C’mon.”

She sprung from her chair and scurried to Santa’s right side. “I’m ready to start drinking something other than wine.”

“What’s the story with you two?” he asked. “Are you sisters?”

Kaci laughed. “We get asked that all the time. She’s my boss. I’m Kaci, by the way.”

“Kaci, huh?” He looked at me. “And, you are?”

I stood and stepped to his left. “Tracey.”

“Kaci and Tracey?” His gaze hung on me for several steps. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” Kaci said.

I offered a nod of reassurance. “Seriously.”

The trek to the bar revealed his bold gait Kaci mentioned earlier. I wondered if it came naturally, or if it was something he practiced in front of the mirror. I decided it didn’t matter. I needed to get drunk and toss my inhibitions to the wind. If he truly crashed the party, and I was pretty sure he did, the chances that I’d ever see him again were nil. I needed to find the courage to act like I’d never see him again.

He nodded at the bartender and raised three fingers. “Three shots of Patrón.”

The lanky bartender grinned. “Patrón times three, coming right up.”

“Oh God,” I whined. “Tequila makes me act stupid.”

“Stupid how?” Santa asked.

“She takes off her clothes,” Kaci warned.

“Make ‘em doubles,” Santa said dryly. “No salt, no lime.”

Tequila caused me to do and say things that I normally wouldn’t. Kaci, however, had proven repeatedly that she was impervious to its effects.

The bartender poured the shots and slid them to the edge of the bar. Santa cupped the three glasses in his massive tattooed hand, and then offered them to us. After we accepted, he raised his glass.

“The snake calls the grass his home, to the sailor, it’s the sea. The biker’s feet aren’t nailed down, all he wants is to be free. If he offers toast, raise your glass, but no salt will you lick. If you drink, be forewarned, you’ll be gettin’ the Christmas Dick.”

It was the beginning of what was sure to be one wild and crazy night, but I didn’t care. It didn’t seem Kaci did, either. In unison, we raised our glasses.

Here’s to getting the Christmas Dick.