So, this is my Christmas thing. Cute, no? I love Sandy. And Jax's name is Jax because of his initials.
Alessandre Riley Claus planted his hands on his hips and told me firmly, "No, Jax, we aren't going to make a low swoop over the South Pole tomorrow. It's too far from the last stop on the list."
"But, Sandy," I protested, "I wanna see the penguins." I gave him an innocent look. "You're supposed to make wishes come true, aren't you?"
In case you haven't guessed, Sandy is Santa Claus. And me? I'm just Jared Andrew Xavier. Jax for short. The dude who got three first names instead of a first, middle and last name, like normal people. Santa's bodyguard/personal pisser-offer/packhorse/clothes washerman. An elf. Who happens to be a good eighteen inches taller than the little man. Who isn't fat, jolly, or old.
Sandy folded his arms protectively across his chest and glared up at me. "Look, doofus, just because you're my bodyguard doesn't mean you have to stick with me all the time, you know what I mean?"
"Look, Santa," I said with a smirk, "It's your first Christmas. I'm trying to make this easier."
I could see him softening. "Jared..."
"Jax!" I corrected sharply. After a moment, the infamous smirk slid back onto my lips. "After all, I wouldn't want the little man to screw anything up, would I?"
He began to flush bright, bright red. "Jared, you'll get off my butt right now, or else I know certain tall, not very scary elf who's going to be very fired come this evening." He spun on his heel and said tartly, "I'm going to check on the reindeer." He flounced off, I swear he did. Man, how that dude even walk when his butt is swinging like that?
I sat down in the sleigh, crossed my legs and asked Donner and Vixen in whatever language I speak in whenever I speak to the reindeer, "Did you two have to convince Granddad that he needed to retire? I mean, we both know that my mom doesn't give two shits about the whole Santa thing, so you were obviously shooting for me. Why?"
"To hook you up with that hunk of eye-candy," Vixen said plainly, dipping her head in someone's direction.
"Aww, Vix, I'm flattered," Jared said from behind me, "But I just don't swing that way."
"You can understand them, Jared?" I asked, shocked.
"It's my job, Sandy," he said, rolling his eyes. "The reindeer might just decide to revolt and kill Santa, mightn't they? And it's Jax, not Jared."
"Mightn't?" I echoed. "Archaic."
He rolled his eyes again and walked away. Vixen snickered, Donner smiled, and I climbed out and leaned close to both of them.
"Now, you listen, and you listen good," I whispered forcefully. "I'm not happy. I'm pissed. I'm chocolate deprived. Worse I'm stuck with the biggest ass in history for the rest of the evening, and this stupid boulder holder is too tight for me to even take two damn breaths properly."
Vixen's eyes got big and round and she began sympathetically, "Oi, honey, there's some hot chocolate in the cooler."
"Your ass isn't that big, honey," Donner said sweetly.
"Thank you Vixen," I sniffed. "Obviously some people don't appreciate me around here." Donner smiled. Jared told me to get said not-too-big ass back into the sleigh. I flipped him the bird.
Jared flopped out in the backseat and told me casually, "You know, Sandy, it really isn't necessary to hunch over the reins like that. Rudolph knows the way, and Cupid keeps them in line."
I flipped off for the seventh time since we started. Actually, I was telling Donner off, but considering that I was pretending not to be the first female Santa in history, I was kind of trying to keep it down.
"You're a bitch today, Sandy. On the rag, are we?"
No, actually, but he didn't need to know that I ever was. I stood and spun. "Wrong gender. Want proof?" Actually, my 'proof' was a jockstrap I had under my underwear, but I was hoping he wouldn't notice. Or better yet, not want any proof. Please, God, it's Christmas.
Oh, damn. You hate me, don't you? I sighed and dropped my drawers. At least I stuffed it with cotton.
I looked at Sandy's underwear. And then up at him. And then back at the underwear. And then at him. Then at the underwear. "Dude, why are you wearing a pink thong?"
"Excuse me?" He looked down and his eyes got big. "Oops?"
"And why the hell are you wearing a jockstrap? You afraid the turbulence was going to bruise you little bitty balls?"
He scrambled for his pants, almost as red as the suit. "Shut up."
"Where'd you get them?" I prompted. "My girlfriend needs a few of those."
He looked up suddenly in the middle of wrestling his belt buckled. "Girlfriend?"
"No, not anymore," I groaned. "Bitch left me when I took this job. Said I had no time for her anymore."
"Oh." Sandy kept fumbling with the belt.
At last I leaned over the seat and grabbed it in frustration. "Dude, can't you figure out one stupid belt? Let me do it?"
He froze, but let me take over. I laced it up, and leaned back. "Uh, thanks,"he mumbled.
He sat down and put his face down in his lap. Flexible bastard, I noticed. I mean, how many people can actually do that? I mean, yeah, girls do it all the time, but guys just can't. And that thing they do when they lift their leg onto a counter or something. Man, how many guys can you see being able to do that?
After a second, he sat back up and asked, still facing forward, "Want some hot chocolate?"
I swung into the front seat. "Sure, dude."
I was freaking out. I don't know. Maybe it was the hot chocolate. Maybe it was the snickering reindeer that Cupid was squalling at. Or maybe it was the hot guy sitting about three inches away from me. Or maybe, just maybe, it's the fact that we're flying through a lightning storm in the middle of Canada. Yup. Maybe.
After one particularly loud crack of thunder, I screamed and launched myself into Jared's lap. He automatically wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight. Oh, shit.
I was shocked. I had a man sitting my lap, and it felt good. Come to think of it, he felt pretty feminine. Another clap of thunder sounded and he shrieked again and flung his arms around my neck. I slid my hands up his back, and can you imagine what I found? I found bandages.
I must have gasped, because he? she? it? sat up straight and looked at me. "You bind your chest," I said.
It nodded and sighed. Carefully, Sandy opened up the big red coat, undid the buttons of the shirt, and reached over behind it to undo something. She pulled out a whole bunch of fabric and boobs popped out. Not little bitty boobs like you would expect, considering how little binding she had on, but pretty decent-sized ones. At least a C-cup, I would say.
Her eyes narrowed, and she said bitingly, "If you're done inspecting my chest, could we get down to--" She was cut off by another thunderclap. She yelped and clutched at me again.
I squeezed her back and asked as nicely as I could, "So, what shall I call you now, Santa-girl?"
"I'm Alessandra Riley Claus," she said, her voice muffled by my jacket. "Still Sandy."
I nodded reflectively. "Not anymore. You're Alessi to me, now, babe."
I watched as Sandy hunched over in the back of the sleigh, binding up her chest again. "So, Alessi, are you going to tell them?"
She finished and sat up, trying to look nice and dignified. Yeah, it wasn't working. Try it on somebody who'd lap you haven't spent half an hour cowering on. "No way!"
"And what's stopping me from telling?"
She furrowed her brow. After a great deal of thought, she offered weakly, "Your honor?"
"Wrong." I leaned forward and smirked, tapping my lips.
She scowled. "Bastard." She leaned over to meet me halfway and kissed me. Almost immediately, she pulled up so that I was a couple inches below her, copping a feel of her body, I might add. She certainly didn't complain as she ran her fingers through my hair, twirling it through her hands.
At last, she pulled away, breathing hard.
I was in a similar state, but I summoned enough energy to look over and say huskily, "Maybe I could get used to this payment thing.