Terry knew it was silly, but she liked to leave a glass of sherry and a plate of shortbread out for the old guy in the red suit. And a couple of carrots for the reindeer. All her friends teased her every year. But she always said everything was gone when she got up Christmas morning, so he must have been there!
Her girlfriend Elaine said that, at 39, Terry must be getting too old to believe in Santa Claus, "come on, girl, get with it!" Her voice would drip with just a little distain and a lot of disbelief. "This is the prime reason you can't get yourself a man. No intelligent guy wants to go out with such a dreamer!"
Terry had been invited to two Christmas Eve parties. She knew exactly what would happen at each one. Elaine's party would be high-brow, champagne and caviar – but they'd all get sloshed and put each other down... and put the moves on someone. Tom's party would be more beer and taco chips, but the end result would be the same. She was tired of fending off the advances of Elaine's creepy accountant boyfriend, or Tom's alcoholic brother. She'd told each of them she was attending the other's party. But this year, she was staying home.
She cooked herself a delicious supper and had several glasses of warm smooth Merlot. She cleaned up, put on a disco CD, and danced around the living room. Her tree, decorated with winking lights, little teddy bears, wee bunny rabbits, and tiny Santa's, was reflected in the window. She fingered the gifts under the tree, laughing and telling herself, ‘No, we have to wait until Christmas!'
She had a lovely long bubble bath, read a few chapters of her book, drinking her wine, enjoying the sensation of the bubbly hot water against her skin. She shaved her legs. After she'd dried herself off, she rubbed delicious smelling cream all over her body... over and under her DD breasts, into her generous belly, into the cheeks of her extra-large ass, down each full-figured leg. She went back into the living room and picked up a gaily wrapped present from under the tree. She tore open the wrapping and opened the box. A silky red negligee nestled in the tissue paper. She slipped it over her head.
Humming, she went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of wine. She opened a tin and filled a plate with shortbread. She got a tray from the cupboard and arranged the wine and the shortbread on it. She added carrots, napkins, and a few pieces of ivy from the decorations on the mantel. She brought the tray into the living room and set it down on a low table next to the fireplace. She added a log to the fire. Next she turned off all the lights, except the tree, and lay down on the couch.
The silk felt so good next to her skin. Her hands roved over her breasts, down to her waist. "Here I am Santa," she whispered. "A present for you." She smiled. Her body felt so warm and relaxed. Her mind drifted. Her eyes closed. She fell asleep.
Santa jumped nimbly down the chimney, passing over the flames of the dying fire and rematerializing on the hearth. "Look at that," he said, "I usually get sherry. Tonight it's wine." He dropped his bulging bag on the floor, took off his gloves, and lifted up a wine glass. He took a generous sip. "Wonderful," he said. He took a package from his bag and placed underneath the tree. Turning, his eyes fell on the woman sleeping on the couch.
She was beautiful. She had shoulder length blonde hair, soft and frizzy on the pillow. Her figure was more than generous – it was Rubenesque. Her hips were wide and luscious. Her breasts were large and pendulous. Her belly was round, like a well-stuffed pillow. The red silk nightgown was short and showed the full length of her shapely legs. His breath caught in his throat.
He pulled a notebook from his pocket and checked her name. Terry. He read the notes below her name. "Hmmmmm."
She stirred. Her eyelids fluttered. She caught sight of him and sat up.
