Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“Eb,” I sigh, not sure what I want to say, just knowing I feel so much in this moment, I need to let him know.
“Fuck, Joy. You may kill me.”
I whimper, because I feel the same about him.
“You don’t clean up. Don’t even think about it,” he orders me. He sits in a chair, his pants still down, and pulls me into his lap, my dress still gathered at my hips. If I had the energy, I’d giggle. I’m going to have to clean this desk before we leave. Margaret would die if she knew.
“Eb, I have to. I have cum running down my legs.”
“You have my cum, and I want it there. Every time I look at you tonight, I want to know you’re so full of my cum that it’s sliding out of you and you’re clenching that tight little pussy trying to keep it inside.”
“But…”
“Do it and Santa will show you what happens to girls who are on the nice list after the party.”
“I doubt it could top the naughty list,” I laugh, just now starting to get feeling back in my legs.
“Just wait and see, sweetheart,” he grins, and I can’t resist reaching up to hiss him briefly on the lips.
“We better hurry. They need Santa out there to read to the kids.”
“Jesus. It’s a good thing you just made me come,” he grumbles, helping me stand.
I frown for a minute. Eb’s been kind of grumpy all night about this party and dressing up as Santa. I’ve shaken it off, because I thought he was just whining over having to play Santa, but more and more I think it’s everything, the entire party. Which doesn’t make sense. He promised me he loved the idea of going to the party with me. He loves Christmas, he’s told me that over and over, and though I suspect, his love and mine aren’t exactly matching, he at least likes it a lot.
Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, I rationalize, shaking it off. I heard him mention he’s behind on a deadline and this probably isn’t helping. I’ll have to make sure to reward him later. I smile up at him, as I help him put on Santa’s coat and after a minute he smiles back, squeezing my hand.
“Let’s get this over with,” he says and again I frown, but I nod my head in agreement. I don’t know why I’m worrying, it’s probably because being with Eb is so wonderful, I’m scared something will ruin it. Which is just silly. The last few weeks have been wonderful.
This will be the best Christmas ever and all because of Eb.
Chapter 19
Eb
The last little boy climbs up on my lap and it’s physically painful to see him. He looks so pale and weak. He can’t be over six years old. It’s fucked up that this is his reality, while other boys his age are running and playing ball and crying because they want the latest video game.
“What can Santa bring you this year?” I ask him, doing my best to keep my voice jovial, loud and booming. I suck being Santa, but it seems to be making Joy happy.
“Can you bring something to make my mommy happy?” the little boy asks and damn it, that is painful to hear. I can feel the pain lodge in my heart. I didn’t sign up for this. It’s bad enough Joy is having me prance all around as a jolly old fat guy, but I was happy in my little section of the world, I had my blinders on to everything and everyone else, they didn’t factor into my day to day and I’m just starting to see how fucking screwed up the world truly is. Or how I was.
“Wouldn’t you like something for yourself?” I ask the little boy, trying to shake off all of the emotions that are assaulting me.
“Mommy doesn’t smile anymore. She’s always worried about me. Can you bring her something to make her happy?”
I clear my throat, but I manage to get through talking to the small boy and reassure him. As the nurse helps him down from my lap I feel wiped. When I agreed to this damn party, I didn’t know what I was agreeing to. I wasn’t prepared for the sadness that is filling me right now. As I watch the nurses gather the kids and take them back to their rooms and the sad looks on the parent’s face, I want to yell. How naïve are Margaret and Joy? How can this party help anyone? Margaret comes up and hands me a glass of punch.
“I thought Santa might be thirsty,” Margaret says. I take it, pushing the fake beard down now that the kids are gone. I look around to find Joy and spot her in the corner of the room talking to some of the parents. I can hear her laughter from here.