(Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you enjoy my hastily thought up, hastily written, holiday-themed smut!)
***
Four weeks of feigning joy is hard for a disillusioned man rapidly approaching his forties.
Thankfully the fake beard strapped to my face meant I didn't have to smile too much, but I still had to pretend to be happy for the apparently endless amount of children that came into the small grotto demanding gifts they didn't really need, or their parents couldn't afford.
It wasn't a nice place - a ramshackle hut built cheap, with forest green felt stapled to the flimsy wooden walls and lazily painted beams made to look like candy canes. It was cheap, tacky and cold, even with my fat suit on, yet the kids that came in saw none of that. All they saw was a lush home away from Lapland, with happy elves and, of course, Santa Claus.
Or at least someone pretending to be Santa Claus.
It hadn't been my intention to end up in a role like this. Ever. But redundancy a few months before Christmas, three kids, a wife and a mortgage - money needed to come from somewhere. I'd have waited personally - our savings would be enough, I told Karen. But she had grown tired of me loitering around the house and knew the person who owned the grotto, so I was bundled out of the house on December 1st to start my penance as Santa.
As a job it was soul-destroying. Minimal pay, the exhausting attitude of demanding children and parents alike, the early starts and late finishes - by the time I'd got through the horrendous traffic in the city I didn't even get chance to see my own children, making me grumpy around Karen and leaving neither of us with much holiday cheer.
It wasn't all bad - the people I work with are all friendly enough, the few of working forming a camaraderie that comes with these kinds of roles. It was all very gallows humour, at least when the door was closed for the night and the small contingent had chance to be themselves.
One such coworker I find myself smiling at a lot is Frankie. Frankie's a first year student at the university in the city, with wild dyed blue hair and black highlights, a subtle nose-ring and the most wonderfully bored expression as she greets the children and parents who entered the grotto.
We spoke briefly at the end of shifts, her fingers twirling through her pretty hair and her vibrant red lips parting rapidly as she chews on pink bubblegum. It was hard not to take in her figure, even though she wore an incredibly unflattering elf outfit. Even wearing it, it was easy to tell she had great tits - something I wasn't shy of alluding to in our occasional conversations.
I wouldn't have dared speak to anyone else like I did with her, but the blue-haired vixen seemed to adore the dirty talk we shared. At first I told myself it was all relatively innocent, that there was something quite fun about Santa telling an elf how great her tits looked in her uniform, or hearing an elf tell him how excited she was about Santa emptying his sack in her bedroom this Christmas.
The playfulness seemed to end a few days before Christmas, and it became something with a little more substance. The shift had ended and I was in the process of getting out of the Santa outfit when a relatively innocent conversation around what we wanted for Christmas had broken out.
"You know what I want." I told her with a confident smile as she was about to leave the grotto, leather jacket in her hand.
"Something to make those greys disappear?" she responded playfully.
"Too late for that," I laugh. "Plus it makes me look all refined."
"If you say so."
"No," I say quickly to her back as she makes to leave. "All I want to see is what you've got hiding under that top you're wearing."
Frankie stops and I wonder whether I've gone too far as she doesn't reply immediately. An apology is on the tip of my tongue when she turns around, amused smile on her lips and her hands at the bottom of her shirt.
It happens so quickly. Her hands lifting up the top with the cheap elf print on it, revealing the black bra that held her breasts and the exquisite amount of cleavage she had going for her. "Holy fuck," I mutter, just as she pulls her bra up and her tits spill free.
I say spill - she's 19 years old and there's no spilling. They are perfectly pert, with small disks of pink for nipples that are hard in the chill of the grotto. I can only open my mouth wordlessly, making Frankie laugh as she pulls bra and shirt back down, the spell broken.
"Don't expect anything else," she says with a wink, then leaves me alone in the cabin as my brain contemplates whether I'd really just seen her tits, and whether they really did look that good.
That night, with Karen asleep beside me, I think about what Frankie had shown me and, as I cum, concur that they really were that good.
The next few days consist of more time with her, and suddenly the job doesn't feel like a chore. Frankie seems emboldened by what she had shown me, making a concerted effort to provoke a reaction from me. Sometimes it was simply bending down in front of me when a parent had dropped something in front of my chair, and other times it was graphic mimicry of hardcore sex acts out of the view of the people visiting Santa.
It's hard to keep a straight face when a very hot elf is pretending to perform fellatio with a candy cane.
Even though I've hated the job for the most part, I can't help but feel a certain sadness that it's over. It's been mostly humiliating, but the people I work with, especially Frankie for obvious reasons, had made it bearable. When the last family leave the grotto on Christmas eve, the door closes and my role as Santa ends, and I return to being primarily a father and husband. A text message from Karen tells me to rush home so we can all sit together and watch a film.
It should be something I relish the idea of, but I just can't seem to find the excitement after the last month.
I'm sitting on the bench in the small backroom of the grotto, wearing a black vest and my vibrant red trousers when Frankie walks in. She's still wearing her elf costume, and she gives me a kind smile.
"Ready for home?" she asks, moving to where her coat is hanging up.
"Guess so" I respond, and give her a tight smile.
Frankie hesitates next to her leather jacket and then looks at me with her light-blue eyes. "It's been fun Drew. You ain't so bad for someone your age. I'd invite you out tonight with my mates but I wouldn't want to keep you from your cocoa."
