Maul Santa

I was almost living with Angie at her place. We had dinner together after work almost every day and we slept together every night. One particularly memorable night, we were lying facing each other after a languorous and intensely intimate sharing of bodily fluids. Angie was sleeping with her head on my arm under her neck. Her right arm was alongside her body and hung over her abdomen. Her left arm was somewhere between us. The lighting was perfect and I lay quietly, fascinated by the display of her breast lying on her chest.

The curve of her breast started high on the inside of her chest, descended smoothly in a perfect arc near her other breast and continued up in a spiral, past her nipple and ended high on her chest near her arm. Her nipple sat at the peak of the curve, an island in a sea of perfect skin. The play of light and shadow on her breast, moving slightly as she breathed, completed the captivating display.

I wanted to reach out and touch her breast but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to disturb the perfection of the moment. I wanted to capture the image permanently. I thought about the skill of a master artist who could memorialize the moment in oils. But I was no artist. I considered photographing her breast so I could look at it forever and remember this moment, but I couldn't. I couldn't photograph her breast without her knowing it. It was so beautiful that I'd have to share it with someone and, even though a picture of just her breast was anonymous, any one I showed it to would figure out that, if I had the picture, it had to be Angie's breast.

Instead, I memorized every detail so I could replay in my mind whenever I wanted. I focused on the arc of her breast one inch at a time, memorizing the texture of her skin and the play of light and shadow. I memorized the perfectness of her nipple resting on the plumpness of her breast and I focused on the sounds of her breathing as her breast expanded and contracted with each breath she took.

I was almost catatonic, unblinkingly focused on her breast when Angie opened her eyes.

Concerned at my intensity, she asked, "Are you all right?"

Her voice broke my concentration. In that moment I realized how much I loved this woman. How much I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. How much I wanted to wake up every morning in the shadow of her perfection, with the sound of her voice, with the joy of her laughter and the depth of her intelligence.

"I love you," I admitted.

Angie's eyes opened wide. "Oh my God," she said.

She rolled on top of me and showered me with kisses. "Thank you. Thank you," she repeated. "I've wanted to tell you for weeks but I was afraid to say it. I was afraid I'd scare you and I'd lose you forever."

"I love you. I love you," she repeated and kissed me furiously again.

We held each other in a tight embrace, unwilling to separate in case we'd lose the moment. We repeated the words dozens of times and we meant it each time.

That was twelve years ago. Angie and I have been married for over ten years now. We had an unusual wedding. Neither of us had immediate family. Angie had only a brother that she hadn't heard from in over two decades. Simon was my best man and the Angels were Angie's bridesmaids. For balance at the altar, the elves stood on my side and the rest with Angie. Peggy served as her Maid of Honor.

I moved out of my apartment. Angie sold her small house and we bought a house with four bedrooms. Angie said we needed two guest rooms and a home office in addition to the master bedroom. I didn't question her logic but I did wonder what she thought was possible.

We love the new house and our life together. We start every day with good morning sex and end every day with a loving good night.

I still work for Simon. Now I'm the regional director with a half dozen malls in my portfolio. They spread over several hundred miles and I have a company car to facilitate the travel and the infrequent overnight stays. I rarely travel alone. Angie comes with me whenever she can and she nominates someone else when she can't. I'm still Santa at the mall during the holidays but now, there's a privacy curtain down the center of the changing room.

Angie was right about our future with the Angels. Over time they drifted away to lead their own lives. We exchange Christmas cards with Peggy and five of the former Angels that have married and have children of their own. Two of them have young boys named Nicolas.

Two others have left for parts unknown. Only Suzanne remains in our lives. She visits irregularly and claims to be looking for "Mr. Right." Angie isn't convinced of Suzanne's assertion. We're trying to find a path for Suzanne that doesn't involve us.

We've developed relationships with several new couples, all married. The extra bedrooms have been useful.

Finally, we continue to have an annual two-week stint at the cabin at the lake. We manage to fill the bedrooms every year. Initially, with the Angels and lately with our new friends. Fourteen days of naked frolicking every year provides stimulus that carries us through the rest of the year.