The Reluctant Santa Belle

All of my writing is fiction and the stories and characters are all products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. Hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.

As Erika turned the final corner on her way to meet Alison for lunch, the old Chevrolet coughed, jerked, and slowed down. The engine roared to life as she pumped the accelerator, then went silent again. She pulled hard on the steering wheel, fairly dragging the car to the curb by sheer force of will. It bumped against the curb and stopped. Now what, she thought futility.

She was just about to call Alison and her mother when she heard the sound of a loud engine. A glance in her rearview mirror showed a large tow truck stopped behind her. Good and bad. She needed help but had no money to pay for it. She watched a man climb out of the truck and approach the car. Short, unshaven, tattooed everywhere she could see, an obvious chaw of tobacco in his cheek, he shuffled up beside her car.

"Havin' trouble, little lady?" he asked through a yellow-toothed smile, his aroma wafting through the open window. She tried not to let her nose turn up at the smell.

"Yes, the car just stopped," she replied, not sure how to describe what had happened.

He spat a stream of dark liquid; just the sound of it passing his lips causing her stomach to recoil. "Try to start it."

She turned the key but there was nothing.

"Pop the hood."

The hood was right there in front of her but she didn't know how to open it.

"Um," she said, bending to look under the dashboard. She knew it had to be there somewhere.

"Watch out," the man said, leaning in through the window and reaching under the dash, bumping her leg as he did. She cringed, wishing she could be in the back seat, or at least in the passenger seat.

He pulled on something, there was a clicking noise and she could see that the hood had popped up. None too soon for her way of thinking, he retreated from the window and shuffled toward the front of the car, one more spat of dark liquid splattering on the street.

She knew she should tell him she didn't have any money but decided to wait till the car was repaired if that was going to be possible.

He was under the hood for about a minute, then reappeared, heading for his truck, winking at her as he passed. She noticed he had a wedding ring ... and wondered. He returned quickly with a little adjustable wrench and disappeared under the hood once more. She heard some scraping, a few tiny squeaks and he slammed the hood.

Back by the window, he said, "Try it now."

She turned the key and as if by magic, the car was running once more. She gave the little man a huge smile. She was glad it was fixed but it was time to face the music, or whatever else she might have to face.

"Loose battery cable," he said, leaning against the door.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "How much do I owe you?"

He turned and leaned both arms against the car door, his face partially inside the car. Erika tried not to tremble but was only partially successful. He was way too close, and the only way to avoid him would be to slide across the seat — she wasn't going to do that. Somehow she'd survive. They were on a side street with no other people or moving cars in sight. That didn't help her nervousness one bit.

"Little lady, I'm guessing you're a college student which means you probably don't have a pot to piss in." Her body wanted to cringe again, but she couldn't help but giggle at his crude analogy.

She nodded.

"You got five bucks?" he asked, shaking his head.

She dug in her purse and found one of the two five-dollar bills she had. She very gingerly handed it to him.

"I don't usually get to fix cars for anyone as pretty as you are," he said, a semi-leering smile on his face "Just looking at you is enough to make up the difference from what I'd usually charge." He stepped back from the window. "An old car like this, you need to have someone who knows cars look it over ever so often. Keep stuff like this from happening." Another splat on the pavement.

"Thank you, you're very kind," she said, and she meant it. He wasn't at all what she'd expected when she first saw him.

He shuffled back to his truck, left one more dark stain on the pavement, and pulled away, tooting his horn as he did. She noted the name on the door as he pulled past her. Willard Towing. Not that she'd need it, she hoped, but perhaps she could recommend him to someone. She made a quick call to Alison to explain why she was late for lunch, then drove away, very content to be moving again.

"Erika, you going home for Thanksgiving?" Alison asked after they had finished eating and Erika had related to her the story of Willard Towing.

"Yeah. Mom's there by herself and we always have Thanksgiving and Christmas together. Have a great break."

"You too, hon," Alison waved as Erika was climbing into the old Chevrolet that she hoped would get her home safely — mostly just get her home. She wasn't sure what she'd do if something went wrong with the car. With only about seventy dollars left in her account, she was hoping to make it to Christmas break when she'd be able to work and improve her balance.

She drove cautiously, staying just under the speed limit, nursing her gasoline and the car. Finally home, she breathed a sigh of relief and went inside to greet her mother.

The following day was Thanksgiving and Erika was looking forward to a quiet dinner with her mother. No other family was living close, so Thanksgiving was not a big family gathering as it had been when she was little. She missed that, but it wasn't likely to happen again with the deaths, moving, and arguments that had taken place in the last few years. It had left Erika and her mother isolated with no support. Thank goodness for the scholarships or Erika would have been stuck in Spencerville, scrounging for work with almost no hope of anything better.

Erika was up early, helping her mother get everything ready for their special dinner.

"Mom, how'd you get all this food?" She knew her mother struggled to have enough money to meet her expenses, and this looked like a full turkey dinner that they were ready to prepare.

"Aw, honey, I just saved and was careful with everything. We don't get to eat together very often now, and I wanted to have a nice meal."

"Mom. You know I'd be happy with baloney sandwiches," she said, laughing.

"But I wouldn't." She hugged her daughter.

"I know, Mom. That's why I love you."

"Do you love me enough to peel potatoes?"

They worked together and got everything going, doing something very old fashioned — stuffing the turkey with carefully prepared dressing from an old recipe her mother had found.

At last, everything was in process and they were able to sit down. Since it was nearly noon, each had a small snack, anticipating filling themselves with the delicious dinner whose odors were already filling the house.

"I think I'll go out tomorrow and look for some Christmas work." Erika watched her mother's expression change. "What?" she questioned.

"Honey, there aren't any jobs here." She shook her head. "My hours were cut two weeks ago, but they promised I'd get them back before long."

"Are you going to be okay?" Erika got a look she didn't expect, a kind of half-smile from her mother.

"You remember Kirk Smith?" She continued without looking at Erika. "He's always asking me to go out with him ... and I've started accepting."

"Mom, are you sure?"

"He's really nice. And he takes me to lunch or dinner every chance he gets. And I give him lots of chances."

"Is that right, Mom?"

"I think he's lonely, and I'm sure I'm lonely most of the time, so it all works out." Her mother giggled. "He gets a new Cadillac every year so ..."

"Sounds like everyone is happy." Erika smiled. From the smile she saw on her mother's face, she suspected that certain other activities were helping solve the loneliness problem.

"But back to where we were ... no jobs here. You may have to stay at school." There was a sad resolve to her voice.

The food was as tasty as It smelled, and the rest of the day went quickly with Erika updating her mother about everything happening at school. She had expected to spend Friday job-hunting, but her mother encouraged her to head back to school and look for her very-necessary Christmas work.

Friday morning came and Erika was in the old Chevrolet, reluctantly doing what her mother had suggested. Once back, her cell phone rang and it was Alison.

"Hey, you at home?"

"Nope, back in my room."

"I thought you were going to look for a job at home," Alison began.

"There are no jobs at home, so I came back here to try. Just filling out a form now."

"What's it for?"

"Looks like they need a Santa Belle at Winegardner's Department Store downtown."

"Didn't know they still had Santa and the kids stuff there. I thought they stopped it a few years ago."

"Me too," Erika replied, "but I guess it's still going." She paused for a few seconds. The application asked for a photo. She picked one from her Facebook page and attached it. "There, sent it off. Ready for lunch."

"Good luck," Alison said. "Meet you at Wendy's."

Erika lived close enough that she could walk to Wendy's, saving her car from even those few miles. She was picturing herself working at Winegardner's, helping the little ones climb up on Santas lap, helping them shop for Mom and Dad and their siblings in the Secret Santa Gift Shop, and comforting the inevitable sobbing ones, deathly afraid of the big guy in the red suit.

Alison was waiting for her when she got to Wendy's.

"So, hope you get that job," she began as they stood in the short line, waiting to order.

"Me too. I need to replenish the bank account. Starvation won't be fun."

Alison looked her up and down. "You don't look like you're about to starve," she said, grinning at Erika.

"Alison," Erika said, rolling her eyes.

"You need to enter the Miss America contest, I keep telling you."

"And I keep reminding you you're full of shit up to the neck and the rest is peanut butter."

"Yeah, well, you're funny, but what does Mason tell you?"

"He'd tell me whatever he thought I wanted to hear ... and then a few things I don't want to hear. He finally gave up."

"Like Nick finally gave up?"

"Haha. Good old Nick. Yeah, he finally figured it out. Probably because of the words I used to explain it to him."

"You're a prize, Erika. Guys don't want to give you up."

"Will you cut it out?" She gave Alison a dirty look.

She had dated Mason since the semester had started, nearly four months before the breakup. He was a very sophisticated senior to her still-a-little-uncertain sophomore status. She had begun to feel he was just a little too smooth, quick with the words but a little short on feelings and emotions. She had used the Nick-talk to set Mason on the right path — the path out of her life.

They nibbled on lunch as they talked and teased, Erika bearing the brunt of most of the teasing, a position she had occupied most of her life due to her proclivity for vivid blushing. Before long, both of them were gigging almost continuously.

"I better get going," Erika said, biting her lower lip, something she did when she was nervous.

"Worried about the job?" Alison questioned.

"A little, I guess. I really need it."

"Keep me posted," Alison said as she stood up.

Back in her room, Erika went to her computer and loaded her email. She was surprised to see a response from Winegardner's. as she was about to click on it she looked at it again. The name she saw on her second look was not Winegardner's but rather Winebrenner's, similar but ... What was Winebrenner's?

She opened the email. The name at the top caused her to inhale sharply. She squinted at it to be sure she was seeing it correctly.

Winebrenner's Men's Club

What the hell? There was a message of course.

Erika, thanks for your quick reply. I think you would fit in perfectly with our Santa Belle team. Give me a call and we'll work out the details. Regards, Zack Winebrenner.

She quickly did some research regarding Winebrenner's. All she could find was that it was a very high-end and exclusive club for both men and women. It had a gourmet chef from Europe and advertised the dining very heavily. No matter what she read, two words kept intruding on those thoughts. The words were Playboy Club. Nothing in the ad mentioned or even intimated Playboy Club. Even though it said "men and women," she could only see the "men" part of it. Maybe she was wrong — but was she willing to find out?

What was she going to do? It was a job and it looked like she had it if she wanted it. Did she want that? High-end dining would mean high-end tipping. That part sounded good. She didn't know for sure but most men's clubs didn't feature Victorian dresses. She wore bikinis all the time. Somehow, this would be different. She stared at the email. If she turned it down, was there another job available? Nothing so far had made her hopeful about that. She could call and find out more. She decided that, with other options nearly nonexistent, she'd call.

She dialed, hoping her voice wouldn't tremble too much. A very pleasant male voice made her feel a tiny bit better.

"Zack Winebrenner."

"Hello. This is Erika Schmidt. Your email said I should call." She was working hard to control the tremble in her voice.

"Erika. So glad you called." He sounded excited. "We'd love to have you join us. Your picture tells me you'd fit right in. Let me ask. Are you, by any chance, a student, looking for Christmas work?"

She hesitated. Why not? "Yes, sir. That's my plan right now." She hoped that last statement left her a little wiggle room.

"That's not a problem," he replied, reassuring her. "You may find that you'll want to keep working after you start back to school. The money is, well, pretty good."

Erika could hear the enthusiasm in his voice.

Zack continued. "Number one, I'm anxious to have you start. We have three blondes and two redheads. The dark hair I see in your picture will contrast nicely with the others. Number two, I'd like to have you stop by as soon as possible so I can talk with you for a couple of minutes, and then Lorelei can fill you in on the details. She's way better at that than I am." He laughed. "She's been here for several years and knows the ins and outs way better than I do." He paused and she knew he was waiting for her answer.

"Let me think a second," Erika said, struggling to make two decisions. Did she want to find out more about the "job," and when was she available.

"Sure, take your time." She could hear him humming quietly.

She quickly decided that she wasn't signing up for slavery, so she could say no to the job any time. That decided, she thought she'd turn it back to Zack.

"When would be a good time to stop by?"

"Both Lorelei and I are here now if you're free. If not, we'll be here tomorrow as well."

"I'm free the rest of the day."

"Super," Zack exclaimed. "Do you know where we're located?"

"No idea."

Zack gave her an address and brief instructions about finding Winebrenner's. Erika made notes, confident she knew about where it was. She thanked Zack and told him she should be there in thirty minutes, giving herself a few minutes to change clothes. She put on a print dress she had that highlighted her figure, surprised that she was "getting into the swing of looking sexy." She decided to go all-out and wore a pair of three-inch heels.

The drive to Winebrenner's was uneventful, as least as far as the driving was concerned. Her brain was a different story, however. Her imagination was in high gear until she finally reigned it in, telling herself she'd know the facts within an hour.

She was impressed as she pulled into the nearly empty parking lot at Winebrenner's. It was an impressive-looking low building, hidden from the main street by trees and carefully landscaped shrubbery. Erika parked, smoothed her dress, and headed for the door. When she was almost there the door swung open.

"Erika, good to see you." She recognized Zack's voice. "Come on in and we can get started."

She followed him into a moderately sized office and he gestured to a comfortable chair. She sat down, ready for whatever.

"The photo you sent didn't lie," Zack began. "Tell me about why you applied." He leaned back in his chair and Erika got the definite impression he was sizing her up, both physically, of course, and mentally when she began to talk.

With the question he had asked, she couldn't suppress a giggle.

"Uh oh. Sounds like a story is on the way." He laughed.

"I'm a little embarrassed, but I didn't read the application carefully and I thought ... well, I thought I was applying to Winegardner's to be a Santa Belle for little kids." She was sure her face was reddening. She met Zack's eyes and saw his smile.

"So, you had a decision to make."

She nodded.

"Since you're here, I guess you've decided."

No reply from Erika.

"Or maybe just deciding?" he questioned. Her look told him he was correct. "Let me start then, with what I hope are encouraging details. Your base rate will be ten dollars an hour. Probably what you would have made at Winegardner's." Another smile. "But, regular serving tips amount to somewhere around a hundred and fifty dollars a night for the six to eleven shift. We're open till one and Lorelei will explain about that when you get with her. So you're looking at a minimum of two hundred dollars for five hours of work or, forty dollars an hour. Sound interesting?"

Hell yes, it sounded interesting to a girl who was trying to earn enough money to get through the rest of the school year.

"Yes, it does," she assured him. "It does." He had her and she knew it.

"Great. Let me get Lorelei and she'll give you the rest of the info." He picked up his phone and punched a button. "Lorelei to the office, please."

In just a few seconds a blonde head poked through the doorway.

"This her?" she asked.

"Lori, this is Erika. Take over."

Lori motioned for Erika to follow her. Outside the office, she said, "Zack is a great guy to work for if you're wondering. You play straight with him and he'll help you to the moon and back. Mess with him, you're in trouble, know what I mean?"

"I do."

They went into the dining room and sat down. "This is where it happens," Lori said, sweeping her arm around. She reached over to the empty chair and held up something red, a Santa Belle outfit that Erika knew would be hers. It was two pieces, a skimpy bikini-like top that would probably expose two-thirds of her breasts, and a tiny skirt that would leave her navel exposed. Also, the traditional Santa hat. She had anticipated something like this but, she was now seeing it, almost exactly as she had imagined. She sighed in resignation.

"Not too bad?" Lori suggested.

"No, not bad." Erika giggled. "I guess I've shown more on lots of occasions."

"Okay, here's the deal. You'd have four tables on a normal night. If things are light, you might have five. You stay at the tables, taking care of things the whole time, except when you get a signal from the kitchen that an order is ready. There's a little Bluetooth thing you wear in your ear to get those notifications.

"From about six when we open until eleven, it's mostly husbands and wives. A few single men and, once in a while, a single woman. This is a gourmet restaurant and the food is always, always the very best. It's not cheap either. If you work from eleven to one, it's almost all men. For the shift that lasts till eleven, you take orders —I'll show you how to do that in a little while—you serve, you keep the drinks, coffee, and water glasses filled, and are always right there to meet their every wish. During that time, you don't flaunt the outfit, those big boobs of yours and you don't flirt with the men. That'll come later.