Penny

––––––––

I’M UNSURE HOW I’M even forming words still.  My cheeks haven’t cooled off since I saw him staring at me from behind the rope.  Now, two and a half hours later, I’ve smiled so much my cheeks are numb and there is a constant tightness that started in my belly but now is undeniably centered smack between my legs.

And it’s making it very difficult to concentrate on what he’s saying.

And yet I can’t wait for his next words.

What is happening to me?

Malcolm pulls the chair out for me to sit as his nephew runs amuck in the open play space at the end of the Village tour.

When the tour is over, I usually politely bow away, eager to get my name back on the list for the next tour.

But, when I tried to bid farewell to Malcolm and Randall, Malcolm just stared at me as though I’d delivered him the worst news ever.  He then proceeded to tell Randall to go play, and pointed me here to a table without another word.

“So,” he starts, then hesitates.  After all, there can’t be much left to say—he’s been asking me questions during the entire tour.  About myself, my family, this job. He’s shown more interest in me in the time we’ve been together than anyone, ever, other than my father.  “Tell me more about your piano playing.  You said you started playing when you were two?  Can that be true?” 

He lightly brushes his fingertips down my shoulder as I seat myself and he shifts to take his chair across from me.  The little table is offset, so we are sitting facing each other, our knees only inches apart.

“Oh, it’s true.  I think my father actually has a picture of me pulling myself up on the corner of our grand piano when I was just a year old.  He said even as an infant, he would sit with me at the piano, with me on his lap, and no matter how tired, cranky, or hungry I was, I would stop crying and put my fingers on the keys.  Only, I never banged on them like you would expect.  He said even then, when I was not even a year old, I would place a single finger on a key and press it down.  One at a time.  So, if you ask my dad, who is biased I’ll tell you, I was playing Bach by the time I was six months old.”

I shrug and can’t help smiling as I think of my dad and how he still beams when I walk into a room or while he’s telling stories about me.  Every girl should have a father like mine.  Even with the pain of watching his health decline in the last few years, he’s still my champion.

“But, didn’t you say you’ve always wanted to do this?  What you are doing now?”

He smells like masculine gingerbread and I inhale deeply before considering his question fully.  I’m still a bit in shock at how easily I’m talking with him.  How easily I’m telling this near stranger things about me I couldn’t imagine sharing before today with most anyone.

Even as I resolve to hold back, to maintain my Professional Elf distance, his near-black eyes latch onto mine and don’t let go, and the words begin to tumble out of me.

“See,” I swallow hard, shift in the chair a bit.  “Okay, so here’s the thing.  I can play piano.  I mean, you know, like I said I can play piano...but—” I falter, the battle continuing to wage inside my head as to why I’m spilling my guts to this man.  “I can’t play in front of anyone.  I mean, my mom and dad.  A few other people here and there.  But never, ever like on stage or in concert.  I freeze.  Completely blank out like I’ve never even seen a piano.  It’s horrifying.  For me, but especially for my mother.”

“You’ve never played in front of an audience?”

“Never.”  I flatten my hands on my tights and rub up and down the tops of my legs as Malcolm watches me with a soft smile. 

He’s beyond attractive.  Something about even his eyebrows is sexy.  His lips are full and he licks them every once in a while as though he’s anticipating tasting something yummy.  I find myself doing the same thing, thinking of what his lips would taste like.  If someday I will ever be kissed by a man like Malcolm...  or kissed at all...

I’m the last Elf Virgin I’m afraid, and before today I don’t know that I’ve ever even really fantasized about sex.  Like not in detail. And now, in between every clean thought I have, there are ten dirty ones.  And they are all starring this man sitting across from me.

“Maybe you weren’t meant to have an audience.  Did you ever think of that?  Do you want to play in front of people?”

I shake my head.  “No.  Honestly, I don’t.  I love playing, don’t get me wrong.  I get lost in the music, the perfection of it all. But, no, it’s really my mom who’s pushing me to play to an audience.  So, that’s how I ended up here, believe it or not.”

He looks puzzled as he shifts in his chair, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he moves his legs so that one of his knees touches mine.  That simple contact sends shivers up and down my own legs as heat explodes on the tops of my ears.

“You became an elf because your mother wants you to play piano in front of an audience.”  He feigns understanding with a sagely nod and a forced frown, but his eyes are sparkling.  “Chaos theory at its finest.”

“Okay, you are going to think I’m a terrible person.”

“I could never think that,”  he interjects with a conviction that surprises me.

“Well, wait until you hear what I did.”  I clear my throat, look over to see Randall riding the candy cane merry-go-round with a few other kids, then look back and take a deep breath before I continue.  “My mom set up this expert.  Like a stage fright whisperer or something.  She sent me here to work with him for the entire month of December.  That’s what I’m supposed to be doing right now.  Not here, being an elf.”

“Oh?  And just how did you pull this off?  I mean, ditching the whisperer and landing here?”

“I lied.  I mean, like big time lied.  I logged into my mother’s email the day I arrived in New York.  She and my father are in Switzerland for the whole month.  So I sent an email to the guy, saying something had happened and I wouldn’t be able to work with him this month. Postponed until next month.  Of course, then I had to change my mom’s password in case he replied.  When he did, I gave him some story about changing all the contact information to an email I set up in her name.  Gave him my phone number, so he wouldn’t call her.  He didn’t care all that much, since I also told him he would still get paid.”

Shame floods through me as I talk.  Saying it all out loud puts into focus just how deceptive I’ve been.

“So, you see.  I’m pretty horrible.  But, when I realized I would be here in New York, at Christmas, and I knew all about the Knight & Knight Christmas Village, how amazing it is and everything...and all I wanted to do was be an elf.  To spend my time in the wonder and joy of Christmas.  Doesn’t change the fact that I lied and did some pretty awful things to make it happen, though.”

Malcolm leans in and my heart rate skyrockets.  I shove my hands back under my legs and gnaw on the inside of my bottom lip like a two-year-old.

“I think it’s awful,” he says, and my stomach turns over.  He’s right, it is awful.  “I think it’s awful that you haven’t been able to live your dream until now.  I think it’s awful that you can’t be truthful with your mother about what you want from your life.  I think you deserve someone that wants the best for you, and that’s whatever makes you happy, not them.”  He raises his eyebrows slightly as he stares at me. 

He reminds me for a moment of my father.  I know full well that if I told him the truth, he would want me to be happy as well.  But all my life I’ve looked up to him, wanted him to be proud of me, and I know how much my piano playing makes him happy. 

“Well, I’m happy right now.”  The words spill out and I’m shocked by how truthful they are.

Malcolm’s face seems to light up at those words.  He leans in even closer, his knees now caging mine and the tension between my legs turns to deep pulses of desire.

His face is inches from mine and the room begins to spin.

“Well, Elf Penny, I have to say, knowing you are happy right now makes me happy.”

Right on cue, as I’m about to ruin my panties, my stomach decides to announce its hunger.  Grocery shopping in New York isn’t easy and by the time I get off my shift here, clean up and make sure the dressing room is in order for the next day, I’ll be too exhausted to pick something up on the way home.

Not to mention, although I’m living in an Upper East Side apartment, my funds are limited.  I have a Visa, but Mom monitors everything on there.  I can’t charge food and restaurant stuff on this side of town where the department store is, not when my apartment and the training where I’m supposed to be is across town.  Maybe I’m just paranoid, but I don’t want anything to give her a clue I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing here in New York.

So, my budget for food and anything else I buy around here is what I earn as an elf, and let me tell you, elves need to organize, because the pay is pitiful.

“God, I’m sorry.”  I lean back and wrap my hands over my belly, trying to quiet the obnoxious growling that’s interrupted our talk.

“When is the last time you ate?”

I don’t even hesitate before answering.  “Last night.  I had a pack of tuna.”  God, why am I so comfortable with this man?

His face is tense, a question in his eyes.  “What about lunch?”

“Well,” I look around before continuing. “I work twelve-hour shifts.  I get two fifteen-minute breaks and a half hour for lunch.  But, I don’t cook and I’m so tired by the time I get home I can’t go to the store or pack a lunch.  And it takes a half hour practically just to get out the front door of the store, so there’s not really time to go out for food.”

His eyes narrow in thought and he nods slightly, sniffing a sharp breath before he sits up straight as Randall comes bouncing back over, out of breath.

“I’m hungry,”  he states and we both chuckle.

“Seems there’s a theme.”  I add, pushing my chair back.

“Let’s go eat.”  Malcolm reaches out to touch the top of my knee and my vision starts to blur from the soft contact.

“No.”  I laugh.  “I can’t.  I need to get back to work.  Thank you though.  It was lovely doing your tour.  Have a very Merry Christmas.”  I stand, smooth my skirt down and feel the wetness that’s gathered between my legs.

Malcolm looks pained as Randall pulls on his arm and I turn to make my way back to the front of the Village, still feeling the heat on my knee from where he touched.

“But wait,”  his voice booms in my ears as I turn to see grave concern on his face.  “Are you saying you aren’t going to eat until you get out of here?  What time is that?”

I blink, unsure why he’s so worried about my food intake. Clearly, I could stand to miss a few meals.

“The Village usually closes at nine.  I don’t leave until about ten after the last tour is done, and I make sure everything is in order for the next day. So, there’s a store on my way home, I’ll grab something there.”

“Something?”  He rests his hand on Randall’s shoulder as he eyes me intently. 

“Well, I alternate between Pringles and an egg salad sandwich or a bag of powdered sugar donuts or—”

He cuts me off with a wave of his hand just as Margaret, the real Head Elf comes around the corner waving at me impatiently.  She’s mouths the words ‘Come on’ and I know in the time I’ve been with Malcolm, I usually would have done two tours.  I need to get back into the rotation.

“This food situation isn’t tenable.”  His voice deepens and his eyes darken.

“I’m fine.  And, it’s been great, but I have to go.”

I glance back over my shoulder as I turn and walk away, heading to where Margaret stands, eyeing me impatiently, and see him start to speak.  But I can’t let myself be drawn in by him.  I speed my steps, knowing as much as I’d like to stay and talk, the Village needs me and my duty calls.

Leaving him standing there leaves me feeling a bit lost and wondering how someone I barely know could make me feel so much in such a short amount of time.

As I reach the front of the Village to take my next tour, I convince myself it’s just a bit of the holiday loneliness I’m feeling.  All this joy and wonder all around, that’s all.  It’s playing with my senses.

But in truth, I’m so alone.