Catching the Sexy Santa

 

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by Jay Gordon

Security was standing by the locked exit doors, waiting impatiently as the last few customers, who had browsed right up to closing, made their final purchases. The occasional last minute shopper walked up and tapped on the glass, hoping to get in for “one last gift.” The off-duty cops merely shook their heads and pointed to the sign, indicating the current hours—that the store had closed and would reopen promptly at nine the following morning. Christmas Eve.

I tried not to groan at the thought of Christmas Eve, the literal hell of retail workers, as I took a small pile of clothes from my final customer.

“Did you find everything you needed?” I asked, forcing a cheery smile to my lips and putting what I thought was a bright tone in my voice. 

The woman across from me half-heartedly returned my attempt at cheer, but her smile looked brittle and barely masked what seemed like hostility to me. 

“No, Tyler,” she said, looking up from my nametag. “It’ll be a busy shopping day tomorrow trying to find the rest!”

“Oh no!” I said. “Well, you did find some great deals,” I observed as I rang up a couple of items that had been marked eighty percent off.

“That is true!” she said, perking up a little. 

I quickly finished up her order, bagging her items as she paid. Something about her face told me to stop before the words left my mouth as I handed her bag across to her. But it came out anyway.

“Happy Holidays!” I said with a smile.

“It’s Christmas,” she said with a scowl. “I should have known you’d be one of those kind…”

Let it go! my mind demanded. Just let it—

“Have a good evening,” I said with a sigh, my smile hardening almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t you huff at me!” she growled, her volume rising. One of the security guards started to move our way, but I shook my head. ”You godless liberals and your war on Christmas, your homosexual agenda, your abortion-loving—”

I did the literal worst thing I could have done in that moment, short of punching the bitch in her tit. I laughed—like doubling-over-at-the-waist belly-laughed.

“What’s so—” she tried to ask, her anger rising exponentially.

Unable to speak, my laughter also intensified to the point I probably couldn’t have spoken to her if I had wanted to. Now despite my wishes, security had begun to move closer, just in case. It was probably a good idea because this lady looked like she wanted to jump over the counter.

“Ma’am, what seems to be the problem?” one of the officers—his name tag read Reid—asked.

“He’s laughing at me!” she shrieked hysterically. “He wished me a happy fucking holidays! And it’s Christmas, damn it!”

“Ma’am,” Officer Reid said, “I’m going to need you to lower your voice and—”

“I will not be quiet, and I’m not gonna let some mall cop push me around,” she said. “These godless heathen liberals can’t just attack Christmas and—”

The officer held up his hand and was about to speak when the older member of the security detail, Officer Daniels, said, “Ma’am, we are both with the Metro Stuartsville Police Department, and you are swerving close to disturbing the peace… Now I know you want your family to have a good Christmas and not have anything get in the way of—”

“Are you threatening me?” the woman asked shrilly, her volume rising further. 

Shit, this has gotten real, I thought, my eyes widening further as she drive her index finger into the man’s chest twice and told him to get out of her “fucking face!”

“Thanks a lot,” Officer Reid said to me dryly, rolling his eyes, as Officer Daniels grabbed the woman’s wrist, twisted her arm around behind her back, and snapped the cuffs on with amazing speed. “You just couldn’t let her walk out the door, Tyler?”

“She’s the lunatic who lost her fucking mind over Happy Holidays!” I complained. “Her brain is leaky dynamite—she could have gone off anywhere…”

“Anywhere else and I wouldn’t be waiting around for paperwork!” Reid said.

“Once the patrolmen get here, you can go,” Daniels said dryly, shouting over the noise of the woman who was now alternating between screaming profanities and wailing sobs. Shooting Reid a disapproving glance, he added, “I can handle that and make sure everyone gets out safe…”

“I need to get my cash drawer to the manager and—” I began.

“Go do what you need to do,” Daniels said, “but don’t leave if you get finished before the officers get here. They’ll need to get a statement from you…”

“Y’all are really going to arrest her for disturbing the peace and—” I asked.

Daniels cut me off. “She’s on video assaulting an officer,” he said, making sure she heard him. “Disturbing the peace and screwing up the holidays are the least of her problems…”

The look Reid gave me made me wonder whether the woman would ever be charged or whether they’d just scare some sense into her and send her on her way in a couple of hours.

I took the cash drawer from my register back to the office and counted it out with my manager, signing off on our final count. My final closing duty, since I was the last cashier in the back and I was to wait for the police to arrive anyway, was to put the clothes from the dressing rooms—all the things people had tried on and not bought—back on the racks they came from.

Normally this wasn’t such a bad job, but it was the day before the shop-pocalypse and we had been slammed all evening by a wave of consumers. In the women’s section alone I nearly filled an entire rolling hanger rack with clothes. I made my way around to the men’s side and opened the first changing room to grab what I could find.

“What the—” the man inside asked loudly, covering his dick with his left hand and reaching across to pull a robe off a hanger to put on.

“I’m sorry sir,” I mumbled, “but we’re closed and no one was supposed to be back here…” 

But I trailed off as I said it. It wasn’t a bathrobe the man was struggling to get on with one hand to avoid flashing his junk at me—it was the white fur-lined red velvet cape of a Santa suit.

I would never have recognized the gorgeous nude hunk I’d pulled the curtain back on as our store’s fill-in Santa. He certainly didn’t fit the mold of an older, chubbier gentleman. We had one of those: an authentic, white-bearded, doesn’t-need-padding Santa, with a loving grandpa laugh and pink cheeks. And he currently had the flu.

Now I’d gotten an intimate look at this most not-Santa of Clauses. His muscular, smooth, tanned-all-over body was beautifully decorated with black-and-grey tattoos. His massive biceps were covered, with a chest piece connecting them, and his left calf was fully covered too. I couldn’t see where else he might have ink—though I badly wanted to get a closer look at all of him—but they were obviously well-placed to be invisible in business attire. 

Looking at his meticulously maintained high fade cut and the designer clothes in his bag, contrasting with the tattoos—and yes those bars in his nipples—I knew this man was a professional-in-the-streets, bad-boy-in-the-sheets kind of guy. And I felt my dick stir. And then I wondered how he had ended up as a mall Santa the week of Christmas, and that helped the dick stirring problem. Then I remembered I was working mall retail the week of Christmas, and my dick problem was completely and utterly resolved.

“Dude,” he said in a deep but trembling voice. “Some privacy please?”

I turned away, and he pulled on the cape quickly.

Keeping my back to him, I said, “No one’s supposed to be back here after close so I…”

“I couldn’t find the restroom I changed in this afternoon, so I thought I could get changed here,” he said, his voice precise and his tone formal and embarrassed. If he had called me on the phone I would have thought I was speaking with a college professor or a government official, not a tatted-up stud who looked like he could walk in New York Fashion Week designer shows.

“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you like that…”

“Of course not,” he said. “I apologize for startling you…”

“I hate to be nosy,” I said. I didn’t but it was the polite thing to say before being nosy, wasn’t it? “Your accent is very … unusual.”

He laughed and said, “I grew up in Switzerland, but my parents are American, and I went to boarding school in England for a while…”

“Okay, now I have to ask,” I said, unable to stifle a laugh. “How did you end up wearing a Santa suit here with a background like that…”

“You’d regret asking that if it was a tragic tale,” he said softly, before laughing. “Luckily for you it’s just a bit funny. My mother’s friend’s family owns a string of stores and … long story short, my mother decided to punish me by volunteering me to come out and play Santa!”

“Why would she want to do that?” I asked.

“I left the family business to work on an acting and modeling career,” he said. “It’s been a slow start,” he added with a laugh. After a second he added, “So if you could give me like five minutes, I can get dressed and get out of your hair, or…”

“Or?” I asked.

“Or you could help me get back at my mom,” he said. 

I looked over my shoulder and caught his mischievous grin. “How would … we, uhm, be doing that?”

“Did you like what you saw when you pulled back the curtain?” he asked with a sultry gaze that traveled down my body.

“Uhm,” I said, gulping. “I uhm…”

“Get in here then,” he said with a wicked grin.

I hesitated just a moment, then stepped into the booth with him and closed the curtain behind me.

“Good boy,” he whispered, dropping the hand which was the only thing holding the Santa cape closed.

“How exactly does this help you get back at your mom?” I asked hoarsely.

“She didn’t want me to enjoy it, for one,” he said. “And when I tell her I got laid in the changing room—”

“I need this job,” I said nervously. “I can’t—”

He put a finger to my lips to silence my protests. 

“Don’t worry!” he said. “It’ll never come back to you… Is there even anyone else in the store?” 

“My manager is closing the books for tonight and the police are coming to take a statement,” I said.

He maintained eye contact as he nodded, but his hand wandered down his rock-hard abs to his already rising cock.

“I mean … I definitely understand,” he said. “But I’m really horny, and I think you’re really cute … so it doesn’t have to take forever if you’re in a hurry…”

Fuck, I thought.

“I mean, if you want to just taste it,” he said, and put his hand on my shoulder. 

He applied the slightest pressure and before I realized it I was on my knees. I looked up to find him looking down at me hungrily, his cock getting harder still and throbbing inches from my face as our eyes met.

“Good boy,” he said, his tone warm and encouraging, running his hand through my hair and drawing me closer. 

I opened my mouth and licked the drop of precum from the tip of his dick, making him moan softly. I felt his fingers close, taking firm hold on a fistful of my hair and tugging. I looked up at him again, our eyes meeting as his cock slid into my mouth, my tongue caressing the underside of his cock. I moaned around his dick, my eyes letting him know I was his.

God his body was beautiful, the stark elegance of the black of the tattoos across his lower abdomen were mesmerizingly beautiful. I found myself trying to decipher them as I began to work his dick hungrily. 

In response, he gave my hair another soft pull and whispered, “Look up at me… You have beautiful eyes.”

I moaned again as our eyes locked, and this time I maintained eye contact as I began to bob back and forth slowly.

“Good boy,” he said again, releasing my hair and caressing my cheek softly. “You’re so fucking gorgeous … especially on your knees for me…”

I wondered if this was just part of his sex talk. It was hard for me to believe someone like him would find someone like me attractive, much less beautiful! In fact, hearing it made me blush—and I was sucking Santa’s dick in a changing room at work, so I had very little shame left.

“Are you gonna give up your ass for me, sexy?” he asked, running his hand around to the back of my head and getting a firm grip as he began to fuck my face with long slow strokes.

I nodded as best I could, and he grinned, teasing me saying, “Someone’s on the good side of my naughty list…” 

Then he pulled me off his cock and urged me to my feet, his strong arms helping me up. He kissed me hungrily as his hand slipped down the back of my pants—a tight fit since my belt was still on. 

He squeezed my ass cheek and growled, “Fuck that’s a fine ass… I can’t wait to get my face between those cheeks…”

“Fuuuck,” I whispered as he squeezed the other cheek now, digging into the soft skin and tight stair-stepped muscle beneath as if he already owned it.

“Mr. D’Angelo?” a distant, commanding man’s voice called. “Officer Vickers here… I need to get your statement! 

“I’ll be right there,” I said. “I’m just helping our store Santa out of his boots!”

“Yes, sir,” the man said. “Make it quick, please… it’s a busy night out there…” 

“Of course,” I said, mouthing an apology to the sexy man in front of me. “Can you wait?”

He shook his head. 

“Fuck,” I mumbled, staring longingly down at the painfully erect, veiny member poking me in the leg and streaking my pants with precum. 

“You’d better go, uhm … Mister D’Antonio,” he teased.

Pointing to my name tag saucily, I said, “Tyler!”

He smirked, and I had to ask, “And you are?”

“Sexy Santa,” he said with a teasing laugh, knowing I was growing more anxious every second I left the cop waiting and risked him coming to look for me.

“Alright,” I said, stepping away and shaking off his grasp with more emotion than I realized I felt. There was a deep hurt in my chest as I said, “Too bad we won’t get to finish this…” Then I turned to go.

“Tyler!” He called, his voice warm and comforting again. His hand landed on shoulder gently and between two fingers was a card, the one he handed out in auditions, I guessed as his agent’s name was also on it. “Matt Corvin…”

I turned to face him, slipping the card into my pocket. I was angry that I had gotten so emotional about the brush off but the whole encounter had been so charged, so heavy in some way, to be dismissed so carelessly had shocked my system. I hated that he saw me wipe a tear off the corner of my eye.

“It’s not something I just say,” he said. “I noticed you the moment I entered this store… and I’d very much like to continue this when we have time and privacy to do it right. Maybe after dinner tomorrow night?”

My chin must have hit the floor, I was so slack jawed.

With a shy look he asked, “Did I screw up that bad, or misread the room so—“

I kissed him, then smiled and hurried off, probably looking like I’d gotten the best Santa gift of my life. But I needed to play with this one a little more to see If it can truly live up to expectations!

“Sorry officer!” I called with one last grin over my shoulder at Santa, who was hurriedly dressing now. “On my way!”

 

©2021 Jay Gordon

 

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