I don't know how the responsibility of hiring a "Santa" for this year's holiday party fell on me. But that's how I found you. I almost didn't reach out because you fail to meet the stereotypical Santa look. First being that you're way too young and most definitely too good looking to fill the role. But considering the holiday party is happening after Christmas I figure it doesn't really matter. Most of the kids are too young to remember anyway so you're really more of a prop than anything else. I've been looking forward to the reactions of my friend's when they see you. Part of me is hoping that if they don't like my choice then someone else is more than welcome to be in charge next year.
Outside of that you are nothing but a blip on my radar. An obligation. I just need to greet you, pay you and send you on your way. And that's exactly what I do. When you arrive I give you a quick tour of my best friend's house. Let you know that the party will be in their lower level and send you on your way.
You're a hit. The kids (and moms) love you. Dads not so much but that's not your problem. You really lean into the jolly ole st Nick bit while also looking incredibly sexy. I keep an eye on you throughout the night. Watch you charm the kids with Christmas jokes and hand out candy canes. More than a few of the moms find excuses to get as close as appropriately possible to you. To touch the flame without being burned.
I make it a few hours before my social battery is drained and decide to head back upstairs to wait out the rest of the night. So that's where I am when you are getting ready to leave. You've lost the white bead and pillow stomach which makes you look even sexier. Don't say anything I say to myself. Let him leave without even knowing you're watching. You're about the same age as my oldest. Or at least the age of some of his friends. I hold my breath as you're getting on your coat and count in my head.
