Ginger strode from her bathroom and scrutinized her reflection in a full-length mirror. The points of her ears were just visible behind the looping blonde curls that framed her face. Her voluminous locks could have made Farrah Fawcett envious. Gigi, to her friends, was a prime example of a young adult female elf. Her height was above-average; at four feet, seven and three-quarter inches. Most of her peers would admit she was one of the most stunning she-elves at the North Pole. She spent much of her free time exercising, which blunted her seemingly boundless energy and helped her sleep. One of the added benefits was how it sculpted her body.
The future was promising for that young lady. Gigi grew up in the home of a mail clerk and cafeteria cook. She had applied herself at school and set her sights to hit well above her parents. Now, in her third year at Headquarters, she was on the cusp of something big. Her success had manifested by way of a laser-like focus and personable manner. Everyone felt like Ginger was their best friend.
However, no one had any idea she was a shark, tirelessly hunting for weakness in others. Very little went unnoticed when she passed through the toy-factory-turned-logistics-center. Her ambition to be part of Santa's innermost circle and to have her finger on the very pulse of each Christmas was all-consuming. Rules had been broken along the way, and some rivals had been surreptitiously brushed aside. Great effort had been made so no one was the wiser. There were strict policies set in the labor agreement meant to thwart that kind of intrigue.
The only fault Ginger's unwitting associates could find with their up-&-coming teammate was her vanity.
Her robe crumpled around her ankles. Her svelte body twisted, and ice-blue eyes swept downward. She noted how the line of her flat stomach disappeared behind a flaring hip. For the past year, the she-elf had been working to accentuate her tiny waist by building up her posterior. Pistol squats and other tortures had forged an ass unmatched within her race.
An elven uniform was laid out on the bed. Gigi's connection in the Quartmaster's Office had pulled some strings to get her some verdant, non-regulation leggings. She slid her shapely ankles through each cuff. The garment clung to every single curve, as if painted on, and Ginger enjoyed how they brighten spirits among the male in the office. She then donned her favorite angora sweater dress and a common workshop vest. The beauty turned to-&-fro, confirming her outfit was free of wrinkles. A belt, curly-toed shoes, some jewelry, and a traditional cap completed the ensemble.
Satisfied, the she-elf balled her fists and failed to contain a hop of excitement. Her jingle bell pendent chimed, as if in approval.
With that said, there was something Ginger felt was amiss and she paused. Her expression melted to one of vexation, and her thoughts ran to the thing she coveted more than anything else. Breasts. Gigi was flat. The greedy stares that tracked other, more buxom females were especially irksome to her. It didn't help how the most generously endowed ladies seemed to be in positions of greater influence. Ginger sometimes found herself scrutinizing big, pert tits as they strained the conservative uniforms of their respective owners. She longed to be noticed as she entered a room rather than needing to glance back to catch boys fixated on her miniskirt. Ginger briefly pushed her misquote-bites together and sighed.
"Come on, girls." She beckoned sarcastically and turned to leave.
Gigi reminded herself how that night was going to be special, and her smile slowly returned. She floated through her apartment and out the front door. The exterior wreath swayed on its nail, and Gigi made sure to straighten it before descending from her stoop to a community walkway.
The view from the railing still struck Ginger as impressive. She was multiple stories above a bustling subterranean city. Evergreens adorned with Christmas lights lined the boulevard at the foot of her housing block. The route ran for some distance before emptying into a broad public square. The engineering required to create such a place gave the elvish towers, catwalks, and buttresses a unique character. The roof of ice let the Northern Lights shine through. Carols, ever-present, drifted above the sound of her chattering kin. All of it, Ginger thought as she descended the stairs to the pavement, was nothing compared to her next destination.
Ginger was going to Santa's house.
Ginger had been walking for a while when she heard her name. The shouting voice was a familiar one. "Geej! Wait up!" She turned to greet the young elf.
"Hello, Perce."
She broke stride as her childhood friend struggled to jog and don his vest simultaneously. Percy had obviously lost track of time... again. Random sprouts of dark brown hair were protruding from beneath his cap, and the tail of his belt needed to be secured.
Percy's biggest vice was video games. Swearing into his gaming headset was how the young elf spent nearly every free minute. The consequences of his lifestyle were he typically arrived at work strung out on caffeine and struggled with performance minimums.
Percy's connection to the attractive she-elf had formed early in their schoolyard days. On top of their families being close, he had proven himself able to acquire most anything; usually through charm but sometimes via guile. As they matured, Ginger learned Percy was as useful in collecting information as he had been in obtaining trinkets and sweets. Percy liked being where the action was, and that frequently centered around Gigi's march to the top. Furthermore, Ginger's development into a knockout kept him happy to wait in the wings for his chance.
Ginger had helped Percy get a job in her office, to keep him close a hand, and put in extra hours so he could keep it. A few accounts had Percy's name on them but were handled by her.
The pair hugged when Percy caught up. As usual, he was reluctant to let go after she ended their embrace. He had never met anyone who smelled as sweetly as Gigi.
Both elves had been called to their supervisor's office that afternoon. It was there they had learned of an invitation to the Cringle Residence scheduled for that evening. Few details were given, and Ginger had mentally sifted through her transgressions to pinpoint a potential negative impetus for the meeting. Nothing was mentioned about the need for a union representative, therefore, the young lady allowed herself to grow optimistic over the following hours.
"Hold on one sec," admonished Gigi. "You need to fix your belt." Percy did as instructed. She ran her delicate fingers along his brow so his bangs half-resembled having been combed. Gigi then brushed at creases in Percy's vest when he straightened up. He loved when she did that, even if it was only because she did not want their association to reflect poorly on her.
Ginger had time to size up Percy. He was not very tall. Some softness could be seen around the elf's jaw and midsection because he snacked while blazing away on first-person shooters. Broad shoulders and high cheekbones were among his better attributes. In fact, Percy had the potential to be a handsome guy, she admitted, if he would just show some pride in how he cared for himself. There was more than a passing resemblance to his father, who had risen through the ranks of ironworkers and was as hard as the peening hammer he swung each day.
"You wouldn't be rushing if you would cut back on the video games."
"Maybe," Percy deflected. "But the eye-hand coordination will come in handy when I can transfer to the Loadmasters." The young elf often talked of being a part of the elite group charged with packing Mr. Claus' bag each year. However, his career placement scores left much to be desired.
Percy rested a hand on the she-elf's shoulder as he hitched up one of his socks. He briefly thought about how nice it would be to run his hand down Ginger's back before cupping her buttocks. The daydream was interrupted when he nearly fell from Gigi brushing his hand away.
"You know the Loadmasters handle over 100,000 gifts every day, all year long, right? Maybe try exercising too."
The pair made their way to the hub of the cavernous metropolis. They snaked through the gathering foot traffic, toward a conspicuous bank of elevators. Their instructions had been to find, "... the cab furthest to the left, and then go one more."
"Have you ever seen a special elevator where we're headed?" Percy's tone was skeptical.
"I don't think so. I use the express lifts when I go up to the surface for my longer runs, but they're over on the right."
Percy and Ginger examined the elevators when they arrived. Each shaft was set behind panels of green stone. Gigi liked the Art Deco design etched into the brass doors. The crowd thinned as they walked, until the bank of elevators appears to die at a corner. Nothing was on the adjoining wall except more stone. The two friends looked around, at a loss as to what to do next.
Gigi looked at her watch. "We have five minutes."
