tagMatureHoliday Employment Opportunity

Holiday Employment Opportunity


"Hi. I'm Claire. Nice to meet you. How do you do? I'm Claire. It's nice to meet you, too."

Claire Taylor worked her way around the circle of people in the room, shaking everyone's hand and smiling at each person she met. She couldn't believe she was there. She didn't want to be there and in the predicament she had landed herself into. She knew she had to do what she had to do.

"Suck it up and get it done. Just do it," she told herself.

That was the morning she finally made up her mind to actually drive down to the unemployment office. Now that she was there, she stood in the middle of a group of strangers shaking one hand after another, introducing herself to folks just like herself. These were people who had lost their job, just like her, for no other reason but this stinking economy that our government has allowed to happen.

Only, most of the people in the room were in their thirties and forties; Claire was in her late fifties. She was the only one who had grey hair and up until three months ago, she didn't have that, either. Three months ago, she could afford to have her hair dyed and her nails manicured. But, she couldn't afford that now.

Three months ago she had a job at the River Flower Shoppe; a place she had worked in every morning for the past thirty years. It was the only job she had ever had. It was the only thing she knew how to do, but because of the economy and the fact that people don't have any discretionary income any longer, the store manager was forced to give her a layoff slip. He had tried to keep her on the payroll for as long as he could. He knew after the flurry of summer weddings had completed and that last bride marched through their door, this would be the end of his busy season until Valentine's Day next year. It was with deep regret he had to hand Claire her pink slip.

She spent most of her days surfing the internet looking for a dream job, but she knew she would never find one in spite of her dedication. When summer turned into fall and there was still no job in sight, she decided to get a little more assertive in her job hunting. She strapped on her stilettos, so-to-speak, and marched her petite little ass down to the unemployment office to join in on some of the workshops they offered to the terminally unemployed citizens.

Today's workshop was on interviewing skills, something that she had no use for in the past thirty years. This little break-out session was "How to Properly Shake Hands". So, there she was going around the room, firmly taking hold of every poor slob's hand in the room, giving it two or three (but not more) pumps, smiling and saying good morning, and/or her name, all according to the directions of the instructor. Then, she would repeat the process to the next unemployed worker. Gawd, how she hated doing this crap!

She had learned how to properly shake someone's hand forty years ago in high school, but she soon found out they didn't teach that class any longer. She knew that instantly by the way people in the group shook her hand with a limp wrist and somebody else grabbed ahold of her fingertips with a nod of their head and no salutation uttered from their lips. These were young adults in the group and they didn't know how to perform a common greeting like a shake of a hand. What a world we live in! It was pretty obvious the only thing the high schools were teaching these days was a computer language because she saw a couple of people wink at her and then tip their head sideways.

That's when she came to Jack who was standing next in line. Jack was an older gentleman who appeared to be in his early sixties, neat in appearance and nicely dressed. Claire was almost immediately attracted to him. She didn't know if it was their similar ages, or the simply fact that he had a full head of hair, which is something you don't see very often in someone his age. She knew there was a spark the very second he reached for her hand to introduce himself.

"Good morning, Madame. I'm Jack Sprat and it's so nice to meet you on this beautiful morning." He held her hand longer than the three traditional pumps. Claire thought for a moment that he was going to bow from the waist and raise her hand to his lips and kiss it, but instead he turned her wrist gently to admire her ring.

"My! That sure is a nice little bauble you have there. Looks like a blue topaz, maybe six or seven karats, right?"

"Thank you. It was a gift from my husband," she tried to retrieve her hand from his clutches.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see a ring on your other hand. I didn't realize you were married. Forgive me for being so forward with the hand shaking exercise." Jack took a step backward to give her that invisible personal space that everyone knows is there, but no one ever speaks about.

"That's perfectly alright. I'm a widow," she found herself almost flirting with this debonair gentleman.

"Did you say your name was Jack Sprat?" Claire let out an audible chuckle and a smile appeared across her lips.

"Yes, I did, Claire. I always like to say my name that way to find out if people are really listening to what I'm saying or just shaking my hand out of habit."

"I'm a very good listener, Jack Sprat." She smirked and could feel her face blush and hoped that he hadn't noticed.

"My real name is John Spratewicz, but my friends actually do call me Jack Sprat. You can see by my shape, I really do eat fat, and drink a few beers, too." He moved his hand in a circular motion around his mid section and had an unusual laugh that she found very intriguing.

"What type of work did you do before you ended up in this place, Jack?" She headed back to the circle of chairs and he followed her to take the chair next to hers.

"I'm a jeweler, Claire. I worked for the Riverbend Baubles & Beads on Main Street. It closed up right after Valentine's Day this year and the owner retired to Arizona. I've got a few more years before I can actually retire, but I don't think I'll ever get a job as a jeweler, again. I came down here because someone told me the management from the mall was hiring for their stores. I was kind of hoping there would be an opening in the jewelry store over there."

"That explains why you were admiring my ring," her eyes glanced down to her right hand.

Claire felt she had to explain the ring a little further to Jack, "My husband died in a car crash coming home from work. The cops said he had hit a patch of ice on the road, bounced off a tree before the car rolled over and over and into the river. They said he was dead before he even hit the river because he didn't have any water in his lungs. I find peace in knowing that he didn't suffer."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Claire. How long ago was it?"

"Five years, now. Thank you for your kind words. I still miss him," she said with a forlorn look on her face.

Jack and Claire were so busy introducing themselves to each other; they hadn't noticed the line of people that had gathered in front of the table of mall managers taking applications. By the time they realized what was going on in the room, they were the last ones in line. Slowly, they worked their way up to the table.

"We have just the right job for both of you; Santa and Mrs. Claus. You two would be perfect! Please say you'll do it. You can come into the mall tomorrow for a costume fitting and start the day after Thanksgiving. You'll even have Christmas Eve off," the pimpled faced, twenty something year old mall manager begged, ending with his own little version of, "ho, ho, ho."

Claire took a step backward to look at Jack from head to toe.

"You do look like Santa. Your hair is already the right color; you just need to grow a beard before then. Are your whiskers, white, too? You have that round belly already, too," with that said, they both started to laugh.

"We'll do it," they looked at each other and turned to their new boss to say it in unison. And, why not; they needed the income and it sounded like it could be a lot of fun. They shrugged their shoulders and gave each other a giant high five.

The day after Thanksgiving, Claire and Jack were at their post ready and eager to listen to each and every little kid that lined up to see them. It was Claire's, I mean, Mrs. Santa's, job to pass out the candy canes and introduce each kid to Santa. Jack made a wonderful Santa Claus. He never rushed the children through the line and seemed genuinely interested in all of their wishes. He let them take as long as they needed to get through their lists. Some cried and he was so gentle and consoling with each one. There were so many precious moments to watch him "work."

For almost an entire month, Claire and Jack were together for twelve hours a day. They were never separated. Having their lunches and breaks together, they got to know each other very well. They shared stories about growing up in this little town east of the river. They found out they had mutual friends, but never knew it. And, they were slowly falling in love. You could see it by the way they walked through the mall to go to the break room. They held hands while they walked, waved to all of the children, smiled at all of the parents. Sometimes, they would even wander through the stores just to say hello to the ladies behind the cash registers. Mrs. Santa always carried her basket of candy canes and handed them out freely.

Life was good at Christmas. Everyone's heart was light; you could feel the joy in the air and you could see the bottle of hooch in Santa's back pocket. He wasn't a jolly olde elf for no reason. Ho, ho, ho. Santa would soon discover that that was Mrs. Santa's middle name, too.

Sometime around the middle of December, Mr. & Mrs. Claus were taking turns taking a hit off of that bottle. They already knew they had the hots for each other because they would help each other get into their costumes before going to their little play house situated in the center of the mall. Claire would help Jack get his belt positioned around this stomach so that it was just in the right place. She would get on her knees before him and pretend she was straightening out his jacket, all the while running her flattened hand over the velvet suit to get Santa ready.

"I think this nap is going the wrong way on this suit," her hand first ran gently below his belt in one direction and then slowly in the other direction.

"Does it feel funny to you, Santa?"

"No. It feels quite good as a matter of fact. Feel the nap again. Make sure there are no wrinkles in anything, Mrs. Claus. Oh, oh, right there. There goes another wrinkle stretched out."

"Is your zipper catching on anything today, like it was yesterday, Santa? Do you want me to fix that for you, too?" Claire unzipped his fly and removed his hardened cock from the cover of red velvet the same way she had removed it the day before and the day before that. Santa was so uncomfortable in that hot suit. She knew the cool air and her hot lips would make him so much more comfortable. She began to suck him and Jack took another hit from his bottle.

"Okay, okay, okay. That's enough. We don't want to get caught by the management. I can only explain so many times why I need this suit dry cleaned because I spilled milk on it." Jack reached for Claire's elbows to help her up from the floor. He could never understand why she wore those silly stilettos to work every day. They looked so uncomfortable, but he did have to admit they made her look more like Santa's daughter instead of the missus.

She stood directly in front of him and he reach to straighten out her shawl. With an experienced move of his hands he re-tied the knot that lay between her breasts. His hands cupped each breast as he moved in swift motion. Claire could feel her nipples react to his touch. She could feel it right down to her pussy. He leaned in and kissed her on her lips while her lips below became moist, as well. His hand reached under her full-length heavy taffeta skirt and under the layers and layers of petty coat that lay beneath that. Mrs. Santa wore no panties. His finger glided directly to her sleigh and he rocked it back and forth to create that sweet smell of desire.

"Mrs. Claus! You forgot to put on some of your costume this morning, didn't you? You're a bad girl. I may have to take you into the barn tonight and put the reindeer's whip to you for doing that."

"Just pleasure me now, Santa, and forget about that cold barn of yours," she lifted his hat and whispered into his ear.

They could hear footsteps coming down the long corridor that lead to the break room and quickly pulled themselves together before anyone could see them locked in an embrace and feeling up each other like high school sweethearts under the bleachers. The footsteps passed by the doorway and they each took that opportunity to take another swig of the small bottle of vodka.

Off to work they went after that, almost skipping through the walkway in the mall. Everyone thought they were the best Mr. & Mrs. Claus the mall had ever hired. They were always happy and friendly, and why not? They had that little bottle of hooch tucked in Santa's pocket every day and a little smooching and fondling at break time always makes people happy.


Merry Christmas, everyone! Even if you don't believe in Santa, or celebrate Christmas, you have to believe that there is a Mr. & Mrs. Santa Claus in all of us; smooching and groping, no matter what your age might be. Love is a wonderful thing and I hope you find an opportunity to be with your lover under that mistletoe sometime during this season.

Please take one more second to vote for my final contest story. As always, your comments are welcomed.

Yours SINSerely,


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