Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I’m torn in two different directions. For once, I have no clear route in sight.
The tiny sweetheart on my lap holds out her arms with a dada once her picture is taken. Her father sweeps her up, and I hand him a goodie bag with a miniature reindeer and some penguin stickers.
“Have a wonderful Christmas,” I say. “Ho, ho, ho!”
“You, too, Santa.”
I can only hope, since a wonderful Christmas doesn’t usually bless me. This year the potential of spending the holidays with a woman like Tiff has given me a light on the horizon I never imagined coming my way, but it might be a high before a terrible low.
Can Tiff give up the Agency? Her career? Truly?
Would she want to?
I know that sex workers build relationships with each other. I’m well aware that they can separate their personal lives and their professional careers, with no jealousy or suspicion whatsoever.
But I’m not an entertainer like Tiffany, and I’m not a man who will be able to bear my jealousy easily. I want monogamy, with Tiffany, in my home and by my side.
Even if I was able to bear my jealousy, our liaisons are strictly forbidden. It’s not only Tiff who has deep connections with the Agency and what she has accomplished there. I’ve been a proud stakeholder for years, creating a safe space for both entertainers and clients while making a killing on the back of it. It’s a huge part of my life. A staple in my portfolio.
Me and Tiffany are both playing with a fire that is far more powerful than a warm Christmas hearth. It’s got the potential to blow our world to smithereens.
Fuck it. I have to cast the thoughts aside for the sake of sanity.
The next little boy is around eight years old. He dashes in with a Santa! and I’m enamoured as he lists off his amazing achievements this year, counting them out on his fingers.
I kept my bedroom tidy.
I cleaned out Lily’s hamster cage every day.
I played in the football team every single weekend, AND I scored six goals.
I came second in the class on the spelling test.
I let my older brother watch TV in the middle of a movie, because I wanted to be nice.
The list goes on and on, and his mother is another smiler, giving a proud nod at every achievement he shares.
“You have been a good boy,” I tell him. “Very good.”
“Can I have a new bike, then?” he asks. “I’ll ride it all the time, I promise.”
I glance at his mum, and she gives the tiniest nod.
“We’ll see, young man. I do have a lot of bikes I hand out to good children. Let’s see what I deliver to you on Christmas Eve.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder for the photo, and skips on out with a see you later and a high five.
I’ve always dreamed of having a daughter, but I’d love a son like him, too.
I need to stop dreaming and focus on my task at hand and nothing more, but Tiffany is so close to the front of the queue that I keep catching sight of her. I can hear her laughing and joking when the door is open between visitors. It’s addictive.
It’s only a few short weeks until the New Year will be upon us, and the question of what happens next is hanging like a sword I don’t want to have to face. I’m a strong man, but the thought of Tiffany turning away from me would buckle my legs from under me.
Still, I’d put her needs before my own. Always.
I’m exhausted when the grotto winds down for a late lunch. I must have seen about fifty children walk through the door by now, but Tiffany’s joy-filled face is by far the greatest thing that appears to greet me. Evelyn and Jen have closed the queue, and Toby has shot out of the grotto for a break from photography, already glued to his phone when he left with a catch you in a bit.
“Hey, Santa.” Tiffany shuts the door behind her. “Lynn and Jen have gone to get a sandwich and do a bit of Christmas shopping. I thought I’d hang around, take a later lunch.”
She sits down on my lap like she did the very first time we locked eyes, but this time there is no simmering chemistry that hangs unfulfilled. I pull my beard down and go for her, and she twists to kiss me back, both of us frantic as I grope at her tits through her elf dress.
“There’s only one thing I want for lunch,” she says and grinds her big ass against my crotch.
The bustle of the mall is still loud all around us. The thin fake doors are unlocked as she twists herself to straddle me. My pillow belly meets her real one and she laughs.