Roger Nielson wasn't going to let being alone on Christmas Eve get him down. Determined to be cheerful, he put on some Christmas music and decorated the tree. Thinking about his childhood, he baked himself some cookies and made some hot chocolate. Of course, Bill was no longer a child, and so he added a healthy shot of rum to the chocolate. And it tasted so good, he had another...
Feeling a bit of a buzz, he decided to indulge in one more Christmas memory before going to bed. He put out a plate of cookies for Santa, and made a mug of hot chocolate. Then, laughing at himself, he added a big shot of rum. He figured the jolly old guy could use it after a night of delivering presents.
With that, he went upstairs, slipped on a comfortable pair of flannel pajama bottoms, and felt into bed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He wasn't sure what woke him up. Just an odd sense that something was wrong. He listened for a moment, and heard what sounded like a girl's voice singing "Jingle Bells" downstairs. He realized he must have left the Christmas music playing, and got up to turn it off.
When he got to the foot of the stairs he stopped, dumbfounded, his mind not quite able to process what he was seeing.
The source of the singing was a young woman, standing in front of his Christmas tree. Actually, standing wasn't the word. She was bent over at the waist, facing away from him toward the tree. He couldn't help noticing her perfect legs, wrapped in candy-striped tights. She wore a very short red dress, and bent over as she was, it did nothing to conceal the roundest, most perfect ass he had ever seen.
"Uh... what are you doing in my house?" he finally got out.
The girl jumped and turned toward him.
He felt like his heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She had a beautiful face, with bright blue eyes and lips that begged to be kissed, all surrounded by a flowing mass of rich red hair, topped with a cute little stocking cap.
His eyes continued to travel down her body. She was wearing a filmy dress with a bit of white fur around the edges, but as low cut and short as it was, it couldn't do much to keep her warm. Overflowing from her top were a perfect set of soft, white boobs.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you? I was just putting your presents under the tree. Santa can't do it all, ya know, even with magic. That's why he has helpers," she said with a cute little giggle.
Roger was still in a kind of daze.
I must be dreaming
, he thought. All he could think of to say was, "You're Santa's helper?"
"Well, just one of them. I'm Gwen. I'm an Elf Second Class," she announced proudly.
"Oh and thank you for the cookies and chocolate. That chocolate was
really
good, even better than Mrs. Claus makes!"
"If I'd known someone was really going to drink it, I would have put in more rum. To keep you warm, you know."
Gwen's eyes got wide. "Rum? Don't you know you should never ever give alcohol to an Elf?"
"I guess I'd never heard that. Why not?"
"Because..."
