Father Christmas

The stakes were suddenly very high. Nervously, he laughed. "Ho ho no, my dear. I am not a mod..."

Samantha shoved him again. "Don't retreat to your gag. You don't even really look like Santa, though it is kind of eerie. Your appearance does kind of rhyme, I'll give you that. But Santa Claus is bald with long white hair, and his beard is all gigantic. You're huge, and utterly built, not all sweet and roly-poly. And... and you don't wear those little wire-rimmed glasses on your..."

"I am wearing wire-frame glasses right now," Santa said in amusement.

"Yeah, but not glasses like Santa's," Samantha said, apparently a little boggled that this was where their argument was going. "You are wearing gorgeous aluminum..."

"Titanium."

...titanium frames. Those aren't Santa frames, they are tech billionaire frames... Oh my! You are some tech billionaire! Is that how I'm supposed to know you?" Samantha asked, aghast.

It took everything in Santa's being to not laugh heartily at that, which probably would have resulted in another shove. He was filled with gleeful affection for this woman... and a prickled desire to prove her wrong. To see her be proven wrong. She would look very sexy like that.

"I will stop playing Santa," Santa said quite seriously. "Listen, let's take a ride, shall we? We can reset and move forward."

Samantha seemed torn between storming out of his suite, or ripping her clothes off and pinning him to the mattress. Santa would like either of them. If she did leave, he was certain that she would let him follow. And if she ripped her clothes off...

But he wanted to go on that ride now. Suddenly, he wanted that more than anything he had wanted in a long, long time.

"I don't even know your name!" Samantha yelled in frustration.

"Chris. My name is Chris," Santa said with a simple smile. He stood, straightened his trunks, and grabbed a Mercedes keychain from the dresser. He jingled the key fob and its little bell at her. "Let's go for a ride."

Samantha let him get away with not telling his full name, and Santa suspected that she was furiously wracking her brain for who this alleged celebrity she was with was. She looked outside.

"It's a beautiful day," Santa said simply.

"Where are we going?" Samantha temporized.

"I want to show you some places," Santa replied patiently.

"You are some kind of Miami real estate developer," Samantha guessed.

"I am not a real estate developer, nor am I a tech billionaire."

"That what are you?" she demanded.

"Ho. Ho. Ho." smiled Santa teasingly.

Samantha laughed despite herself. "All right! All right. I will take a ride with you. But you had better worry a little bit. If it doesn't go well, you might be missing out on taking a ride yourself," she added, her saucy attitude making a comeback.

Santa looked stricken for just a moment, which made her laugh again, but then he offered her his arm, and Samantha took it, pressing her delicious form against his side as they headed out for the elevators.

Even without Santa's magic, the valets would have kept this car right up front. Samantha's eyebrows shot up as the brilliant red Mercedes AMG SL55 convertible roadster rolled up to a stop before them. Santa swept open the door for her, and she got in. He walked around and got in on the other side.

He rested his arm on the wheel and turned to smile archly at her, revving the engine just one time, the beautifully tuned motor snarling in anticipation.

"Yeah, right, you aren't a tech billionaire," Samantha muttered with a smile.

Santa managed not to ho ho ho, and put the car in gear, sliding smoothly out into remarkably light traffic on Collins, the main beachfront road, heading north. Samantha could not help but whoop with simple glee as she rode in this incredible car, with the top down, along Miami Beach, wearing nothing but her monokini, next to this insanely handsome man.

Santa shot north, and the two rode together for a few minutes in companionable silence, taking in the view. Then they crossed a bridge to a parkland island, with none of the tall buildings that crowded the rest of the area. Santa slowed and turned off into a disused parking lot, with a view of the beach, but hidden from the road by trees and dunes.

"Where are we..." Samantha said, then stopped. "Wait. This is Haulover Beach, isn't it? I am not going to go to a topless..."

"It is, but we are not going to the nude beach," Santa said firmly. "While I very much hope to see you out of that bathing suit, I do not want to share that view with anyone."

Ever...

He got out and came around to open her door. Samantha narrowed her eyes at him, but with a curious smile, and stepped out next to him.

Santa swept his arm outward toward the beach, and Samantha's eyes followed the gesture. His arm kept turning, and her head came back around to the car again.

Or where the car had just been. It was gone. In its place was a small, two-seat, runabout sleigh, made of elegantly curved oak, and finished in a red so deep and rich it looked like it was coated in twelve layers of liquid ruby. The runners were delicate, and ornate, and made of gold.

"Aaah!" Samantha screamed in shock. "Where's the... the car?"

"Right there," Santa said with a smile.

"You have a Mercedes that turns into a sleigh?"

"No. I have a small sleigh that turns into a Mercedes," Santa corrected. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly.

Two gigantic reindeer emerged from the shrubbery, giving Santa baleful glares. Dasher and Dancer were not about to agree to let Santa end his vacation early, and were giving the sleigh a wide berth.

Then they saw Samantha. They looked at one another for all of two seconds, then trotted compliantly over to Santa's runabout sleigh and hooked themselves to the gilded wooden drawtongue. They looked over at Samantha with immense curiosity.

"Those... those are reindeer," Samantha said in a shaky voice.

"Yes, they are," said Santa ushering her unconsciously compliant form back toward the sleigh.

"But they are way, way too big. Reindeer... just aren't that big."

"The intelligent, flying kind are," Santa said gently.

Dancer looked back over his shoulder at Santa. "Oh, and Dancer there is a caribou. He, Vixen, and Comet are very particular about that. It's a bit like mistaking an Aussie for an Englishman," he added in a whisper.

"Sorry, Dancer. I'll remember," Samantha said in bemused shock. Suddenly, she found herself sitting beside Santa in the little sleigh. Dancer smiled at her, which reindeer and caribou alike cannot do.

"On Dasher! On Dancer!" Santa cried, and Samantha screamed, tinged slightly with delight, as the two massive deer leapt into the air, pulling the little runabout behind them through the sky.

They shot northward, low over the Florida coastline. Not one beachgoer looked up at the right split second to see the sleigh whizz by. Santa was going slow to let Samantha get a grip on herself.

*

Samantha had stopped screaming almost immediately, and she slowly turned to Chris. "Tell me your last name," she said, her eyes wide in shock.

Chris smiled his biggest, happiest smile, the laugh lines in his handsome face creasing in joy. "Cringle. My name is Chris Cringle."

Samantha had already known the answer, but she still shook her head.

"We are not really dressed for this ride," Chris Cringle said, reaching to the floorboards of the sleigh and pulling up a blanket of heavy furs, along with several smaller folded cloaks of the finest cashmere, "so we had best cover up. I'm about to start going fast."

"Fast?!?" Samantha asked, looking at the ground whip by below them at a blurring pace. When she was only 25, Samantha's roommate had dated a fighter pilot. The fighter pilot's friend had wanted to date Samantha, and had tried to further that aim with a ride in an F-15. Afterward, she had dated him anyway, for two months, despite his making her wet her jumpsuit on that ride. This little wooden sled, drawn by reindeer with attitudes, was already going faster than the fighter jet had at any point on that supersonic ride.

Chris flicked the reins, and the earth completely blurred. Despite being in an open sleigh, there was still only the mildest of breezes, but the air was getting colder fast. Samantha pulled the blanket around her shoulders. It was warm and beautiful.

She looked at Chris. He smiled happily back.

He was Santa Claus.

She was in a sleigh with Santa Claus.

Not half an hour ago she had been sucking...

Horror broke out in Samantha's head, and cold struck her heart. "No!" she moaned. "No no no no!"

"What's the matter, Samantha?" Santa asked, concerned.

"Mrs... Your... you're... what about your wife?" Samantha whispered.

Santa's face fell. "She... she passed away early last year," he said softly, in a heavy voice.

"Oh wow..." Samantha said, her heart breaking suddenly for the man beside her.

She was very ashamed to realize that her heart was also soaring, and not just in relief that she had not cheated on Mrs. Claus.

Her mind was still spinning in this initial whirl, when the air got very cold indeed, and a small mountain range reared up before them. Samantha froze as they hurtled toward the cliffs, then the sleigh twisted and turned through a narrow pass and shot out smoothly to slowly circle a wide valley under a starry sky, filled with twinkling lights, and buildings ranging from sweet little Tudor cottages to hulking warehouses. A little steam locomotive wound its way around the valley. It should be broad daylight 24 hours a day at the North Pole in August. But then there should also be no land at the North Pole. And reindeer (and caribou) should not fly, either.

The sleigh swept downward in a spiral and slid to a halt in the snow in front of the central-most of those small cottages. It was... beautiful in an indefinable but undeniable way. Smoke curled from the chimney.

As the sleigh slowed to a halt, Samantha saw that they were surrounded by a throng of small people.

Elves.

Of course.

"Ho ho ho, everyone!" Santa bellowed to the crowd. "Before you all lecture me, I am not ending my vacation early!" He traded good-natured glares with one elf in particular, who had an indefinable air of seniority about him. "But I have someone here that I brought to see our home, and to meet all of you. This is Samantha, my friends."

Samantha saw hundreds of green eyes, maybe more, staring at her. Smiling at her. She smiled tentatively back. She was supposed to meet all these vaguely similar-looking people?

She shivered suddenly, despite the furs and blankets. Pressed against Santa, he felt her distress.

"Ho ho ho, cold are you, Samantha?" Santa said, instantly solicitous. "Twinksie!" He bellowed. "Samantha needs proper clothes for a visit to the North Pole."

A particularly buxom elf pushed forward from the crowd, with two hench...elves following. "You brought a girl in a bathing suit to the top of the polar ice cap, Santa? What were you thinking?" Twinksie scolded. "Men! They are such idiots," she said to Samantha with a smile. She produced a pair of fur-lined boots and leapt into the sleigh to put them on Samantha's feet. "Keep those blankets wrapped tight. We'll go see what the girls and I have worked up for you so far."

"I think I'll get dressed too," Santa said. Even he was beginning to realize he didn't actually have a shirt on either. "I will see you soon!" he called, with a fond shiver in his voice, as the three female elves began to whisk Samantha off through the streets.

As she turned, he heard several elves rush alongside Santa as he headed for the Tudor cottage. "Santa, as long as you are here..." one started saying diffidently.

The throng of elves, which was even more massive than she had realized at first, parted easily for her and her guides. Every green eye was on her as she passed, friendly but... something.

Twinksie banged through the huge, to the elf, doors of her workshop. Samantha had to bend just a hair to make it under the lintel. Santa must have to bend a lot around this place...

The space was strange. At the front, there was a work area with old-fashioned sewing machines, and the sort of organized clutter you associated with pictures of a haut couture atelier. Tape measures, racks of scissors, and bolts of fabric were everywhere, including bolt after bolt of the ubiquitous green fabric the elves all wore. Everything all sized for three-foot-tall operators. The floor was wooden, and there were thick exposed beams overhead. But beyond, the back of the little workshop opened out into a gigantic concrete floor with industrial-style machines, bolt upon bolt of more varied fabric, and racks of child-sized clothes, mostly dresses. Elves were rapidly filing back in from outside, and an organized maelstrom of activity swiftly consumed the larger area of the shop.

Twinksie and her assistants pulled Samantha to the side of the front studio. "Let's see what we have gotten made up for you already," she said, indicating a table with garments on it.

"Already?" Samantha asked bewildered. "We only just got here!"

"Dasher and Dancer called ahead to say Santa was bringing you, of course," Twinksie said, as if that was obvious.

"They didn't think to tell us that the old man was bringing you up here half-naked," one of Twinksie's assistants observed acerbically. "Though I can see why he was so happy to," she added with a smile as they tugged the blankets off of Samantha and she stood up straight, luxuriating in the comfortable warmth of the studio.

Samantha blushed at the words.

"But, how could you know my size? And we only decided to take a ride less than an hour ago," Samantha asked in wonder more than confusion.

"Honey, this is Santa's Workshop. I haven't made a garment in a hundred and fifty years that didn't fit," the other hench-elf said with a twinkle in her eye. Everybody had a twinkle in their eye up here...

"Tell us what you'd like to wear first," Twinksie said, taking back over the proceedings. She led Samantha to a broad table where three unbelievable sets of clothes, each in two different colors to choose from, were laid out for her.

The first was a pair of elegant, flowy trousers with flared legs, matching up with a silk blouse with tight cuffs. The pairings were magnificently casual but elegant, the sort of thing that she could wear to the finest Christmas parties in the world.

The second offering consisted of flouncy skirts with peasant blouses embroidered in tiny red and green Christmas motifs. This look would be perfect for wearing to open presents on Christmas morning in a Hallmark movie. Samantha loved Hallmark Christmas movies.

The third option caught Samantha's breath. Laying on the table were a pair of long coat dresses, in either rich red or green velvet, trimmed with white fur. They had a high neckline and long sleeves. The red version in particular somehow spoke to her, like she belonged in it. Samantha loved life, but she thought of herself as a serious person. This elegant garment looked like it belonged on a serious wearer. It also looked warm, which was a huge plus. She was still shivering a little inside, from the ride.

"This one," Samantha said, pointing to the red version. "You made all these in an hour?"

"We have fairly high productivity..." Twinksie said dryly.

The elves all looked at each other, as if they had hoped that she would choose this outfit.

"There is a dressing room right there," the elf said with a wave. Samantha touched the dress, it felt exquisite, but then she paused, realizing that her suit itched slightly, and was not really...

"Oh! Underwear! Sorry," Twinksie said, and led Samantha to another table.

This was not underwear. This was lingerie. Mind-bendingly sexy, revealing lingerie. It even looked... comfortable?

Made here?

"Um..." Samantha said, trying not to feel... what? "This is the kind of underwear you make in Santa's workshop?"

All three elves tittered. "Yes, but obviously not for good little girls! We make the clothes for everyone who lives here as well."

"You, ah, you are wearing underwear like this?"

One assistant snorted contemptuously, but the other nodded matter-of-factly. She even preened a little, obviously satisfied with what she had on under that green jumpsuit she wore. Twinksie just said, "If you are going to wear underwear, you might as well wear some that is fun when someone else takes off your clothes," as if the idea was self-evident.

Samantha looked around. The elves, male and female alike, were remarkably similar in size. All were almost exactly three feet tall, with a few here and there an inch or so shorter or taller. All, male and female alike, had identical jet-black hair, cut in a pageboy style. Samantha had never seen so many bangs in her life. And all of the elves, every one of them in different ways, looked to be built like miniature underwear models, just with high, pointy ears.

Wait, everybody wore lingerie like this up here?

Mrs. Claus had worn underwear like this? That was going to take some adjustment to her inner little girl's thoughts.

But for the moment, she found she really wanted to wear some underwear like this. She wanted all this underwear.

Even the cupless bras. All five of them.

But not today. She pointed instead at a white lace set of full bra, French-cut panties, a garter belt, and matching silk stockings woven with incredibly detailed little reindeer. It was elegant and almost demure, while still being incredibly sexy. There were approving murmurs from the elves.

Somehow, in a whirl, Samantha was swung into the changing room, which was cramped for a human, especially as tall as she, let alone with three elves in there with her. The three elves had her out of her suit, into the lingerie set, and then settling the coat dress around her shoulders in a whirl of activity.

Samantha was used to living with garments that were just a bit too short for her, tight in the shoulders, or otherwise not quite right on her perfectly proportioned but slightly over-tall frame. But this dress was perfect. The line of fur trim around the hem fell perfectly at ankle height, the sleeves came just the right half-inch beyond her wrists, and the fur-lined high collar nestled gently against her neck. The dress hung on her body like a dream, sweeping over and accentuating her every curve. She looked in the mirror and gasped. "I have never worn such a perfect dress," she said simply. It was indefinably, yet utterly... her.

The elves preened.

Samantha suddenly very much wanted Santa to see her like this. Immediately.

"Um, where is Chris... Santa, I mean?" she asked hopefully.

Twinksie pressed her finger to her ear and muttered into the air.

She rolled her eyes at Samantha. "After we all practically threw him out of here so he would take his vacation, and thank goodness we did, they have him working on the railroad problem again. He'll be a while at that. Let's walk you over to the kitchens and have some cookies."

"Cookies? At Santa's workshop?" Samantha laughed. "Count me in." She loved cookies. She made some pretty good ones herself.

As she and Twinksie walked outside in the snow, through the streets, and in front of the individual workshops, she found the coat dress was more than perfect in this place. It was warm without being overly so for the gently snowy environment, but easy to wear and walk in. Would she be able to keep it? This dress, and its green pair, would crush at work.

As they passed the open front of yet another workshop, which, like most others, was a rustic front before an industrial main body, Samantha heard conflicting voices. Many of the workshops were open to the outside, and she looked in toward the sound. Three somehow senior-seeming elves were staring over a table covered with papers, plans, and models. They were not angry, but they certainly did not agree with each other.