Penny

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I’M GETTING A BIT SLEEPY from the strawberry-covered waffles I scarfed down this morning before coming out on the floor of the Village for my first tour.  Yesterday, late afternoon, a catering company showed up in the back rooms of Knight & Knight and set up a humungous buffet, totally free for all the elves working the Village.

A sign was posted that every day until the Christmas Village closes on Christmas Eve at noon, there would be meals served at no charge to the staff.

Wow.

And the snug fit of my elf costume did nothing to deter me from enjoying the decadence.

By noon, I’m in the ‘elf zone’—in character and charming the winter boots off of every kid and adult I usher through wonderland.

I find my mind wandering to Malcolm, of course.  Every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’ve looked at the sun.  His face flashes there.  His lips as they spoke. He was tense, but in a controlled way.  Like he was holding back something powerful and wonderful.  Something I’d very much like to understand.

It’s becoming harder and harder to hide the way my nipples are poking out through the thin red velvet top of my costume every time I think of him.  Glancing around self-consciously, I shrug my shoulders and cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to calm my overactive areolas before my next tour comes up.

And, it’s not just how he looked either.  Which, by all standards, sexy doesn’t even come close.  But he’s also got that rugged, original masculine presence.  Somewhere between John Wayne and George Clooney.

The other thing is he’s way older than me. Maybe ten, fifteen years, I’m not sure, and much to my surprise, that only makes him that much hotter. Maybe it’s a sign, I mean, my birthday is in May and we met in December.  I try not to let my little fantasy take flight, I mean, no way would a man like him look at me in the same way.

By one o’clock, my name is at the top of the list and I’m waiting for my next family when Margaret comes up behind me and taps me on the shoulder.

I spin on my elf-toes and see her grin.

“You’ve got another request.”

If you do a great job, sometimes families come back and request you do their tour again.  It doesn’t happen often, but so far this season, I’m the only elf that’s had any requests.  This one will be my fifth and I’m tied for the company record as of today.

I stand a little taller, my cheeks brightening with pride.

“Wonderful.”  I rub my hands together in front of me. “Where are they?”

“Right here.”  She turns a shoulder and my heart jumps into my throat.

Seeing Malcolm again nearly brings me to my knees.  His eyes twinkle incongruously, even as his huge body and raw sex appeal send an immediate rush of dampness into my candy cane tights.

“We’re back,”  Malcolm grits out as though the words are hurting him.

“I see that.”  The smile that crests my lips feels as though it will never leave. I turn to Randall, who gives me a wry grin.  “You think of something else you want to ask Santa for, young man?”

He glances up at Malcolm, who angles his head slightly to the side and narrows an eye at his nephew.

When Randall looks back at me, there’s an ever-so-slight roll to his eyes as he answers.  “I’d like to go play in the play area first.  That was the most fun.”

My eagerness ebbs.  “Oh, okay. Well, you don’t need me to go play.  If you don’t want the tour you can just go on ahead—”

“No,”  Malcolm interjects.  “Let’s start in the play area.  We can just sit for a bit until we are ready for the full tour.”  He holds his hand out in front of him, urging me forward down the evergreen path toward the play area.  “Randall can play.  We can talk.  Come on,”  he grunts, and I tiptoe forward, following Randall as he runs ahead down the gingerbread bricks toward the sound of children laughing and shouting as they frolic and play in the play area.

My vision is filled with a thousand twinkling lights as I glance over my shoulder to see Malcolm’s enormous form to the side of me.  He’s got one arm outstretched behind my back, not touching me—not yet—but I feel where his hand hovers in the air just above my back side.  It’s that chivalrous, gentlemanly motion that nearly buckles my knees.

My vision is drowsy as my eyes fall to the front of his jeans where I see an enormous bulge.

I draw in a sharp breath and jerk my head back up to face forward, embarrassed by my own forwardness but unable to resist the thought: could his erection be because of me? 

No.

Do not be a fool, Elf Penny.

Maybe he’s got some crazy elf kink or something.  Because no way a man like him would be interested in a pudgy elf like me.  Still, the thought of his enormous erection leaves me speechless and breathless as he guides us toward a table in the back of the sitting area that surrounds where Randall is already playing happily with another couple of boys about his own age.

“Sit,”  Malcolm orders and his bossy tone causes a shiver of delight wrestling through me.  It feels as if my bones are liquefying as I melt into the chair and wait for whatever comes next.

“Sitting,”  I manage as he takes a seat in front of me.  The same sort of position as yesterday, only this time he’s closer. His legs spread around as my knees nearly bump into his crotch.  I do everything in my power to avert my eyes from the fullness there, but at the same time as he sits, he lets out an uncomfortable chuff in his throat, and I can only imagine it must be difficult to bend something that hard and long.

Heat rises up my legs where they connect to his.  The same heartbeat that is deafening in my ears is also wildly distracting as it thumps between my legs.  My mouth is watering as well and I lick my lips as I try to make sense of what’s happening right now.

Malcolm sits quietly.  There’s a vibration growing in the empty space between us and my heart is thundering in my chest.

“What do you want to talk about?”  I blurt out, unable to stand the silence another moment.

He bites into his bottom lip.  Dark eyes fasten to me.  “Fuck.”  He bows his head then looks up at the ceiling, then back to me.

My belly tightens.  The muscles in my neck feel like metal cords ready to snap. 

“What?”  I lean in, compelled—even though he’s a near stranger—to relieve him of whatever the strain is I hear in his voice.  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.  I want to know.”

“Penny.”  He looks at me and I see the tangle of conflict in his eyes. “Just promise me, I won’t scare the shit out of you.”

I raise my eyebrows, wondering what it could be, but still deep in my heart wanting to know.

“Okay.  I promise.  As long as it doesn’t involve you decapitating me, dismembering me, or any other sort of felonious thing regarding me.”

A strained chuckle rumbles from him, and a genuine smile spreads up into his eyes.  Then he nods before he continues.  “My nephew didn’t even want to come here today.”

“Really?”  I blink, wondering what’s coming next.  Because I can feel most definitely something is coming next.

“Really.  I wanted to come.  To see you.”

I sit, silent, as he tightens his legs around mine and sends my nipples into points yet again.

He raises a hand to brush down where my hair rests against the side of my face, raising goosebumps all over my skin.

“That’s not completely true,”  he adds.  “The truth is, I came here to kiss you.  Because that’s all I’ve thought about. Are you ready for that?”

He bends forward, his nose brushing the upturned brim of my hat and his lips ever so lightly coming to rest on my forehead before he forms them into a kiss and pulls back, this time lowering his face so our mouths are inches from one another.

Flames lick at my cheeks.  The tops of my ears are on fire and moisture drenches my red panties.

My voice squeezes out in a whisper.  “What if I say no?”  My senses bounce around inside my brain, unable to decipher what’s going on.  He has me, body and soul, and I’m not sure why I answered his question with one of my own, but this is all so surreal I’m not sure what else to say.

“Well, no is no.  I’m a gentleman and I’ll always respect that word. Are you saying no?”  The anxiousness that washes over his features has words caught in my throat.

“No,”  I mutter, then stutter as I see disappointment darken his eyes.  “No, I mean...no, I’m not saying ‘no.’”  My face is on fire as I shake my head and his hands come to cover mine in my lap.

“If I had my way, these wouldn’t be the only lips I’d be kissing today.” His voice penetrates my lady bits as his lips crash onto mine.

A shallow whimper catches in my throat as our mouths connect.  At first his lips are soft, full and unmoving.  The moment seems to stretch on and on, and my head starts to spin.  The noise of the Village evaporates and the only thing left in its place is the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

When his tongue enters my mouth, I go boneless. As if on instinct, his hands leave mine, graze up my back and pull me into him.  His tongue is full and warm, seeking out mine, and I pray I’m not making an utter fool of myself.

The only other French kiss I’ve ever had was with Tommy Tomlinson at a birthday party in my sophomore year, playing some stupid kissing game in his basement.  I don’t remember much about that, but what I do remember is that it had felt nothing like this.

This kiss feels like it’s taking me away from here.  Taking me into another time and place.  Like that movie with Christopher Reeves.  I’m transported by a longing and desire I didn’t know existed within me.

Our kiss grows in intensity.  His hands sweep to the back of my neck, holding me tight and steady against him.  Dampness weeps into my underwear and for the first time in my life, I imagine making love to someone.  No, not someone.  Him.  How it would feel to have him enter me.  To feel so full of him.

My fantasy takes flight as his mouth claims me completely.  Our tongues lash and spin, like some sort of Christmas dance.  He tastes like fresh peppermint and lust, and when I hear the pained groan come from within him, I nearly topple over the edge into an orgasm just from knowing I’m causing this man to feel what I’m feeling.

When we finally break for air, his hands lower to my shoulders.  Then slowly they trace down my arms, leaving me trembling as he takes my hands into his again.  They are massive and warm, and I feel safe even with this near stranger.

As soon as my head clears, I blurt out.  “Who are you?”

He smiles, the flash of white teeth as sexy as every other part of him.  “You mean, existentially or practically?”

I narrow my eyes and try to decide if he’s playing with me before answering.

“I mean...” I clench my thighs together to quell the still-growing cascade of arousal between them.  “What’s your name, for starters?  Who are you?  It’s not every day...or ever...that I just kiss someone like that, and I don’t even know anything about you.”

He blinks twice before answering.  “Malcolm Foster.  I’m nobody.  Just a guy.  I work in retail.  Nothing special, Penny Evergreen.  Just a guy.”

“Well, Just a Guy...”  I look around to make sure none of my co-workers are witnessing what’s going on.  After all, I’m pretty sure it would be reason for dismissal from Elf-dom.  “If I kiss you again and I get caught, I’ll get fired.”

He snorts a laugh.  “You won’t get fired.” There’s far more sureness in his tone than seems appropriate, but I don’t read a hint of doubt in his face.

A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.  “Okay...well, you may not think so, but the Elf Code I signed when I hired on is pretty clear about the code of conduct.  And French kissing in the Candy Cane Café, well, I’m pretty sure it would break the rules.”

His hands squeeze mine as he smiles again.  His dark eyes are captivating, and the way his eyebrows crook as I stare back only adds to his sex appeal.  I’m pretty sure he’s technically old enough to be my father, but maybe I finally understand why I’ve never really found any boys interesting, or ever had much interest in dating.

Boys.  Pfft.

It’s a man I want. 

And Malcolm Foster is all man.

Randall comes running up, out of breath.

“Okay.  Can we go?  Mom said I only had to stay for a little while so you could talk to the cute elf lady.  So, you talked.  And you kissed.”  He screws up his face in offense.  “Eww.  So can we go?”

Malcolm takes a deep breath and sits up in his chair, giving Randall the evil eye.  “Santa’s watching you, you know.”  He narrows those near black eyes at his nephew, but I see the glow behind them.

“Shut up.  Santa’s not real.” Randall comes back as he scratches his head in annoyance.

“What?”  I stand, hands flying to cover my mouth, genuinely aghast for a moment before I lower them to fist at my hips. “Santa is most certainly real.  As real as you and I are standing here right now.”

Randall squints an eye my way, trying to decide if I’m for real as he crosses his arms over his chest, distinctly unimpressed.

“I’m going to tell you a secret.”  I crouch down so I’m eye to eye with him.  “When I was little, I only got one present every Christmas.  But, even without presents, I knew Santa was real.  Then, when I got older, my family...well, they didn’t even put up a tree.  Didn’t even celebrate Christmas.  But, still, I knew Santa was real.  How did I know?”

He shakes his head, then answers.  “Because you’re an elf and elves are legally bound to believe in Santa?” 

“The gift of sarcasm,”  Malcolm interjects from behind me.  “Sorry, it’s in the DNA, I’m afraid.”

I’m undeterred.

“No, because I’ve seen him.  I’ve seen him on street corners.  I’ve seen him in homes, just not mine.  I’ve seen him delivering packages in snow storms.  I’ve seen him.  I know.  So, don’t be so quick to dismiss if he’s real.  I’m older than you.  I’m also smart.  And I know.  Santa is real.”

Randall considers me for a moment before looking back at Malcolm.  “Can we go?  Please?”  He adds with more softness than before.

“Yep.  You’ve done your civic duty.”  Malcolm reaches over to rest a hand on top of Randall’s head.  “Go over there by the gingerbread house and I’ll be right there.”

With that, Randall’s off at a run and Malcolm turns back to me.

“So, my secret is out.” 

“Yep.”  The rush of adrenaline courses through me, knowing he came back here today to see me.

Me.

Wow.

“Listen, I have to go out of town for a week.  And, truth is, I almost cancelled the trip. But it’s business and I have obligations I have to meet.  But, here’s the thing, I need your phone number before I go.”

It’s not a question and that hint of bossiness surprisingly has an immediate connection to my nipples.  I quickly cross my arms as the points press out onto the red velvet of my chest yet again.

He holds his phone in front of him, waiting for my reply without a hint of doubt that his request will be granted.

“Well, just a guy named Malcolm.  Against my better judgment, I’ll give you my number.”  I rub my upper arms with my hands as I read it off to him from memory and he punches the numbers into his phone.

“I’ll text you, so you will know it’s me.  I’ll send you something so you will be sure.”

I bob my eyebrows, then narrow my eyes playfully.  “Okay. But if you send me a picture of your secret Santa...”

He bursts out laughing before I can finish.

“Trust me. When you see that, it will be in person and up close, Penny Evergreen. But, if you get the urge to send me a picture of your sugar plums, I can’t be responsible for the effect it will have on my secret Santa.”

With that, he leans down, kisses my forehead and steps away, leaving me thinking being on the naughty list may not be such a bad thing.