Author: The Naughty Gaffer brndtag at mcn.net.
Please use “Story Comments” in subject line if you send e-mail.
Title: Santa’s Elf  
Keywords: M/F, rom
Summary: A Christmas Story
 “Hey, Marissa, come look at this!” Suzette said across the bargain table.  “Did you ever see anything this tacky?”  “This tacky” was a red bra with Christmas trees printed on it.
“It is kind of faddish,” Marissa said.  But she looked a little closer at it.  It was her size…and by next November Christmas lingerie would go for twice what it cost at the post-Christmas sale.  Marissa didn’t show Suzette another find of her own: green panties with tree ornaments on them.  They were bikini style, which were getting hard to find these days.  And they were her size too.  She added both items to her basket, trying not to let Suzette get a good look.  Marissa felt a little silly, though.  What was she going to do with red and green undergarments?
 Once she and Suzette got back to the apartment they shared, Marissa scooted into her bedroom.  She put away her other prizes and laid the red bra and the green panties on the bed.  She slipped out of her jeans, sweatshirt and plain white panties.  She wasn’t wearing a bra.  Her figure was “delicate”, one notch down from “petite”, and she often skipped the bra.
Marissa liked to glimpse herself when she was naked.  She knew her “delicate” figure was just what a lot of men liked.  Now she looked at herself in the mirror as she slipped the green panties up over her slim but round thighs and over her hips.  Her little red tuft disappeared under the green silk; she’d always heard that a natural redhead should wear green “down there”.  Her last boyfriend had seemed to think so.  She sighed a moment.  “I hope the next one thinks so,” she said to no one.  Then she turned and looked over her shoulder in the mirror.  “Now that works,” she said.  Her bottom filled the panties nicely and the ornaments seemed to dance when she wiggled.  Then she slipped on the red bra, which closed – “or opens”, she told herself hopefully – in front.  She loved the look and the feel of the silky cloth against her milky skin.  “Now I need someone else to love the feel,” she thought again.
 The next few months got busy and then busier.  Sales in her department were moving up and she was busy with clients six days out of seven.  Her bonus checks were showing some real progress.  And Brad turned up.
He was only medium-sized, but his five-nine seemed to tower over her four-eleven.  He had big green eyes, all of his hair, no earring or goatee.  And he was slim, with the figure of a dancer or a runner.  Marissa took to watching for him at lunch when she learned that he did his jogging then.  Even in sweatpants he looked okay.  When the weather warmed into spring and he started wearing shorts, Marissa got a pair of binoculars for her fourth-floor desk.
During the spring, too, she began working on a special project for herself.  Marissa had been “Santa’s Helper” at the Christmas party three years running. She liked the Helper job and she was the youngest, smallest woman in the office, so she knew she’d get asked again. “I’ve worn some kind of party dress or tux the other times,” she told Suzette.  “I want to do something different.”   She found a cheerleader dress pattern, a one-piece with a short, flouncy skirt and long sleeves.  She got some green and red cloth and began working on a dress for the party.  “A red belt and cuffs,” she said as she showed Suzette her changes to the pattern.  “And I’ll need some other things.” 
“Too bad you don’t have those panties and that bra we saw at Penney’s,” laughed Suzette and Marissa just smiled.
She barely had time for Brad, whom she had stalked discreetly until he asked her out in July.  Between clients and sewing and Brad’s travel schedule, they were only getting to see each other every couple of weeks.  They were good times – walks or movies or sailing on the lake – but they were progressing awfully slowly as a couple.
“Are you getting the hem even?” she nagged as Suzette pinned the green dress at mid-thigh.  There were some things she just couldn’t do for herself, but Suzette’s talents with needle and thread were limited.  Marissa checked the hem in the mirror and finally went ahead and sewed it.  It was still a few weeks until the party, but she wanted to make a hat.  And she still needed a couple of things.
Her next find was at K-mart: red knee-high socks in the teen department. Then she finally found the last item she needed: green tennis shoes.  She had red shoelaces already and she finished the hat about a week before the party.
Brad hadn’t asked her to the party and in fact he was scheduled to return from a trip only that morning, so Marissa wasn’t too worried not to see him.  They had a date for Christmas Day already.  “God, I hope Mr. Bellchamp isn’t Santa again this year,” she said to Suzette as she got her costume together for the party.  “He gets drunk and then he gets grabby, even with his wife right there.”
But Mr. Bellchamp was at the party in his suit.  Since he wasn’t Santa, he’d be easy to avoid.  But who was going to be Santa?  Marissa circulated through the happy crowd.  “Wow, Marissa,” was the most common remark she got.  A lot of the men were carrying wands with mistletoe and claiming kisses; her lipstick was about worn off, but she didn’t mind.  They were all harmless.  She even let Mr. Bellchamp kiss her early on, while he was still sober and smelled okay.  The early afternoon part of the party included families and children, so the liquor didn’t start until five. It was a company practice to provide presents for all children and families registered for the party.  Working with parents, a committee had selected presents in reverse order of pay: lower-paid employees could select nicer presents for their kids.  The presents were stacked around a large artificial tree in front of the conference room fireplace, which crackled merrily.
Finally Mr. Davidson, the boss, called everyone around the tree.  “We have a special guest this year,” he began, just like every year.  As if Santa weren’t a regular feature.  “A visitor from the North Pole, with goodies for our children of all ages!”  
“Ho, ho, ho!” came a vaguely familiar voice.  A man of medium height and wearing the cheesy company Santa suit came in to a CD of  “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.”  “I just flew in from the Pole and are my arms tired!” he joked.  Most of the kids groaned.  “Well, that joke is so old I fell off my dinosaur the first time,” the red-suited figure tried again.  More groans.  “Oh, all right.  Where’s my helper?”
Marissa found herself lifted by two men from Sales and carried to the front.  Well, neither one was squeezing her thigh harder than necessary.  Parents were herding their children into a line.  Each child got a minute on Santa’s lap and a present from the stack.  The presents were arranged alphabetically so Marissa could find them easily.  Most of the kids were tickled to meet Santa and said their “Pleases” and “Thank yous” very nicely.  As usual, a couple of them were snots.  But the Santa draftee was doing very well with each of them.
After the kids had received their presents, Marissa was kept busy passing out the annual bonus checks.  The families left and the liquor started, but Marissa noticed that Santa kept his beard on and managed to drink through it.  He even had his gloves on and he must have been pretty warm.  But his good humor was holding out.
It was about eight o’clock when things suddenly seemed to end.  Well, the party had been going on since noon and it was Christmas Eve, time to clear out.  Marissa found herself alone in the conference room with the Santa-suited man.  She still didn’t know who it was.
“What a good helper you were!” Santa said as he sat in the executive chair by the fireplace.
“Who’s in that suit?” Marissa asked, coming over by the chair.
“Do you want to ask Santa for anything?” he asked.  “Come right over and sit on my lap and tell me what your Christmas wish is.”
Why not? Marissa asked herself.  She hopped on the man’s knee and put her arms around his neck.  “Santa, I want my boyfriend back for Christmas.  Can you do that?”
“Santa doesn’t usually stand in for Cupid,” he answered.  “But ho, ho, ho, sometimes we help each other out.”  Then he pulled the beard and hat off.
“Brad!” she yelled, banging her fist on the top of his head.  “What kind of stunt was that?”
“I thought it was pretty good,” he said in his usual tenor.  “But I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out before.”
“That suit is way too big for you,” she said.
“Pillows,” he answered.  “You know, the bowl full of jelly thing.”
“How did they get you to do this?” she asked.
“I thought it would be fun,” he answered.  “And they let me fly back early in first class.  I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, it worked!” she laughed.  Then she pulled his face down to her and let her lips do the talking for a minute.
“Cleaning crew!” came a voice.  “Sorry, but we need you folks to clear out.”
A few minutes later the elf was driving Santa back to her place.  When they got there, Suzette took one look and announced, “I’m headed to my mom’s for Christmas.  See you Saturday!” and was gone.
Brad went over to the fireplace.  “Looks like it’s all set up,” he said.
“Go ahead, please.  I can never keep a fire going,” Marissa answered.
“I know one fire you keep going pretty well,” he said.  The look in his eye was a long way from the North Pole or the fatherly gleam he’d been giving the children.  The fire was soon crackling happily.  Marissa brought eggnog over to the coffee table and Brad sat on the couch.  She hopped back on his lap.
“Santa,” she said in her best little-girl voice, “I got my Christmas wish.  Thank you!”
“Is this all you wanted for Christmas?” Brad asked.  His hand was on her thigh, just below the skirt and inching up a bit.
“There’s more,” she said and got her lips doing the talking again.
Santa’s hands were getting busier.  One hand was behind her back and managing to stroke the side of her breast through the dress and bra.  The other hand was moving under the skirt and up her thigh, brushing electric flashes along the tender flesh.  The hand was moving from the outside of her thigh to the inside and the response from the skin inside her thigh made her face burn fiercely.  Marissa gently put her tongue forward to explore Santa’s desire and was met by a wandering tongue that grew very eager with hers.  “Whew!” she said when she surfaced for air.  “I think our tongues are already engaged.”
“Engaged in what?” Brad asked, but he didn’t get to finish.
Marissa kicked her legs up onto the couch.  Brad caught on quickly; her green shoes were untied and out of the way a moment later. She broke off another oral engagement to lean forward and push her red socks down her legs and off her feet.  Somehow, in the process, her skirt pulled out from under her bottom and she found her bare thighs and panties resting on the soft red cloth of Santa’s pants.
“Marissa, Marissa,” Brad was whispering.  “I’ve been watching you all day in this outfit.  Half elf, half cheerleader.  I’ve had a hard on that almost showed through the pillows!”
“I wanted you to see me,” she said.  “I just didn’t know it was you!”
Brad’s hands were busy at the buttons on the front of the dress: red balls like Christmas ornaments.  Somehow the red belt with the green buttons had already landed on the floor.  Brad opened the front of the dress with Marissa’s eager help and bent to kiss her.
His lips and his tongue between her breasts were wonderful.  He progressed up her throat, leaving tightened gooseflesh and nipples that were straining against the red satin until Marissa thought they would pop the bra open themselves.  She wiggled her arms out and then stood up so the dress could fall to the floor.  Brad stood up then and carefully draped it over the arm of the couch.  “You worked too hard on that to let it get messed up,” he said.
Now Brad had Marissa where she wanted him.  She unbuckled the black plastic belt and opened up the Velcro fasteners on the red jacket.  Two pillows were tied underneath with clothesline.  She undid the pillow string quickly and suddenly her slim runner was back.  The fire was warming the skin of her back and legs.  Marissa felt just a minute of shyness as she realized how bare she was … and how bare she intended to be.  But she “said not a word but went straight to her work,” pushing off the red jacket and untying the drawstring on the red pants.
“Hey, wait a second,” Brad said.  “I’ve got to get rid of these boots.”  He sat down and Marissa picked up his foot. 
 “Isn’t this what Santa’s Helper is for?” she said.  She tugged on the boot and it suddenly came loose.  She wound up flat on her bottom, holding the boot between her legs.  Brad was getting an eyeful and obviously enjoying it.  
“Ho, ho, ho,” he said in his Santa voice.  “Be careful, my little helper.”  She got the other boot off without quite falling over, but Santa was sure staring down her bra while she did it.  She snatched his socks off and he got rid of the pants.
Marissa looked him up and down and sighed with joy.  The firelight and the lights from the Christmas tree flicked off smooth muscles, slender waist, a thin spray of hair across Brad’s chest.  Then she started laughing herself.  He was wearing green briefs with ornaments on them!
“Hey, twins!” she giggled, pointing at her own panties.  It wasn’t necessary, though, his eyes were firmly on her lovely little body.  She could feel the heat of his want in his eyes; she could see it in the bulge under his briefs.
Brad scooped her up in a huge hug that pulled her up to his height.  Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as they kissed more.  Her breasts were pressed hard against his chest and he smelled just a little sweaty from the suit.  His arms were cradling her thighs and bottom; they felt warm and safe and his body felt very good between her thighs.
Brad shifted her weight to support her with one arm and his other hand was stroking up her back.  Then she felt his fingers groping the back of her bra.  “Hey, where is it?” he asked.
“What?”
“The damn opener,” he said gruffly.
“It’s in front,” she said.  “I don’t think we can do anything with it like this.”
Brad managed to sit on the couch while turning Marissa around.  Her bottom was pressed hard against his lap as he pulled her back against his check.  His hands weren’t fumbling now.  Santa was on a search and seize mission.  A moment later the bra flicked open and his hands were caressing her breasts into a band of passion across her chest.  He teased her ear with his tongue, his lips, then his teeth as she leaned back against him.  His hands had shifted, tracing happy patterns across her belly and then on her thighs.  Had it been over a year since a man had touched her this way?  It had been a long time since a man had pleased her this much, if ever.
The feel of his erection against her bottom was fanning her desire faster and faster.  He hadn’t even touched her under her panties and she had already been pleasured more than in most of her lovemaking sessions.  
He was touching her under her panties now, his fingers shyly slipping under the leg openings to touch her silky pubic hair.  Marissa became aware of squeaks and sounds, some tenor like his and some soprano like hers.  They didn’t mean much and she let them happen if they came from her.  Brad scooped her up, cuddled like a baby against his chest, and carried her in front of the fire.  He put a couch cushion under her head.  “Comfortable?” he asked in a hoarse voice.  She made some kind of affirmative noise.  He tried to slip his briefs down.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Marissa said, sitting up.  “Those are for me.”  She knelt in front of him and kissed his belly once, then eased the waistband of the green briefs over his erection and slid them down onto his thighs.  She let her hands play with his bottom and she kissed him in the most secret way she could.  Then she finished pulling the briefs down so Brad could step out of them.  His nakedness was glory.
But they weren’t quite on even terms.  Brad whispered, “My turn,” and reached for her panties.  He stopped a moment.  “Is it midnight?” he asked.
“Why?” she mumbled.  She had no idea what time it was.
“Because there’s a label on these.”  Marissa blushed suddenly, redder than she could ever remember.  She felt the blush flow down her neck and onto her breasts, which were strained with desire.  “This label.  It says, ‘From Marissa to Brad, do not open until Christmas.”
“Christmas begins at sundown Christmas Eve,” she gasped.  He wasn’t going to get away now and she wasn’t going to wait until midnight! “Besides, I’m sure it’s Christmas somewhere.”
“Good enough,” Brad choked out.  He started to pull down the waistband, but stopped.  Marissa tossed her head, confused.  Then Brad lay beside her, rolled her gently to face away from him, and pulled her back against him.  His chest was warm and strong against her back, his hands eager on breast and thigh again.  His fingers searched under her panties once more as his erection pressed against the silky green covering her bottom.  He slipped the panties down at last, pressing his erection between the eager halves of her bottom.
“Brad, please, now?” she said.  She couldn’t form a good sentence in her mind, let alone her mouth.  The sentence in her mind would have been, “Take me, take me hard, please me like your teasing says you can.”  “Now!” was the best she could get out.
And he understood her.  He turned her gently to her back and lay against her belly, his member pressed between them.  Then he raised himself and Marissa reached to help him join her.  Her hand was filled with his desire, then her body was filled with his.  The entrance was an explosion of excitement and pleasure along her limbs.  He pulled himself all the way out and slipped in again.  Then he did it again.
“That’s good,” she managed. “But why?”
“Because you feel so good to me,” he answered.  “It’s so good to push inside you.”  He may have said something else.  Marissa didn’t hear over her own blood pounding in her ears.  Brad had settled down and was tending to his work, filling her stocking with a sugar plum she had missed so much.
When she next got a good look, she found the sofa afghan across their bodies in the dim light of a fire that was nearly out.  She settled her head back on Brad’s shoulder and sighed.  “Merry Christmas, Santa,” she whispered.
“Marissa Christmas, Elf,” he mumbled.