Santa’s Little Helper
I got a surprise call to work, and the story seemed like the perfect gift for you.
Author’s Confession: I started this story in the middle of the Christmas party season and then … stopped. Why? I got a little too involved with “Santa,” and couldn’t quite bring myself to share this story, until now, when “Santa” is safely back at his North Pole and out of my orbit. So, as you read on, put yourself in the “now” of the winter Holidaze party time.
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This is a quickie, surprise post. Because I got a surprise call to work last weekend, and it seemed like the perfect gift for you this time, this day, of the year.
Here’s what happened.
My laptop pinged at about 10am on Wednesday with an alert that someone had filled out my client interest form. You can’t just go find the form and fill it out; someone I know and trust has to tell me they have someone they know and trust who wants to hire me. Then I send the referral a “no-reply” email with a link to the form, and they fill it out and click “submit” to send it on over to me. “Submit!” I love that part.
Only then, after they “submit,” do I decide whether they can hire me.
So, “ping.” I knew that someone had reached out to J after our Adults-giving party right before the U.S. Thanksgiving holiday. Someone who was there, and liked seeing me covered in whipped cream, and then cleaned by multitudes of tongues until I was whipped and ready to cream.
But why did they wait so long to fill out my form?
Well, because even if they wanted me then, they didn’t need me until now, two weekends before Christmas.
“S,” I’ll call him. As in S for Santa. For the past 18 years, he’s had a regular gig playing Santa for holiday parties at a funky, artsy restaurant in the middle of a suburban office park a half-hour from my beach condo.
Now he needed a helper. A new helper. A sexy helper, by request of the party host.
I know, I know, the “sexy Santa helper” thing is kind of cliché. But clichés are rooted in truth, and this guy, he needed a truly sexy Santa’s helper for a party of 75 that was taking over the bar, restaurant, and its two patios on Friday night.
He texted me a link to find and order a sexy helper costume – a little bit of red velvet and white fluff to cover up just enough that the guys in the party would be eyeing me, and the ladies wouldn’t be backstabbing me. Or, so he said.
I picked a sexy-sporty jumper thing cut high to show off my ass and fringed in fur, with a zipper on front that plunged from neckline to belly button, so I could pick how much to show up top. It had a cute, fur-lined hoodie to make it mysterious, or playful, or whatever. I added my own thigh high black leather boots with 3-inch spikes and topped them with more white fluffy fur.
Sexy! Here’s what I bought – that’s a model in the photo, not me.
We set up between a corner of the bar and the walkway to the restrooms, so we could catch as many flies as possible.
My job was to walk the room while Santa got ready, passing out cards and telling everyone who would talk to me – you guessed it, mostly the guys – that Santa had a present waiting for every good girl and boy, and pointing over to our setup.
When they started mingling over, I guided them – mostly the women – on to Santa’s lap for a photo, and reached into Santa’s brand new bag to give everyone a wrapped toy. The wrapping was color-coded: green for the guys, red for the girls. The presents were coded, too: cockrings and condoms for the guys, dildoes or vibrators for the girls.
“Jesus, Santa, why not mix in some whips and cuffs while you’re at it,” one of the women joked as she unwrapped her gift.
“Ho-ho-ho, aren’t you the randy little lady! Come on over and sit in Santa’s lap again.”
Damn if she didn’t plop right down, and wriggle her ass back to his crotch, where no doubt his pole was facing True North.
I’ve told you before that I love my girls. They are nice handfuls – mouthfuls – but they are not huge melons. I couldn’t believe what this babe had going on. She had spent some serious money on a fantastic boob job: big and round but not grotesque and cartoony. No bra, and her nipples were on high alert, pushing through her red silk blouse and helping the buttons to bulge and gap, just enough to offer a peek.
She paired her fit with a black leather mini, no hose, and when she popped off Santa’s lap, I got a flash that showed me no panties, either. And damn if she didn’t have the same thigh-high boots as me, minus the fluffy white fur on the top.
She walked over and gave me a hug, pressing her goodies into me, and whispered, “Thanks Sexy Santa Helper. This is just what I need tonight.”
She was the last to get a gift and it turned out she was the host of the party.
“OK, everyone,” she said. “Check your gifts from Santa. Every gift has a number, and your job now is to work the room and find your matching numbers. Some match with just one, some match with two or more.
“When everyone is paired or grouped with their numbers, we’ll start The Game.”
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