by Megan Hussey
And, darn it, even the blasted fin felt good.
Smooth and warm, Clarion’s unique appendage felt oddly comforting as it nestled languidly across her long, sturdy legs.
Even so, she smiled sadly as she cupped Clarion’s carved cheeks in two loving hands.
“I really dig the fin, Clarion.” She scrunched her nose as this awkward sentiment passed softly through her lips. “I am sorry, though, that it prevents me from giving you the same type of pleasure you just gave me.”
Christianne’s smile returned as Clarion kissed her lips, gently and affirmingly.
“In the spirit of the season, Christianne,” With this he stared deeply into her eyes, dazzling her with a crystalline gaze that came alight with passionate fire. “I encourage you to think of my fin in a positive light; as decorative wrapping for a very special gift.”
“Huh?” Christianne’s eyes narrowed in confusion as Clarion rolled abruptly away from her—away, also, from the crystalline waves that so smoothly delivered them to his private paradise.
The cry of a nearby seagull averted her gaze, and she relished the sight of the ivory-winged creature as it flew low above a bed of ruby red aster and coral-hued hibiscus in bloom.
Forming the border of this nature-made garden was a line of emerald-leaved ferns, and a palm tree that Christianne assessed to be in its early stages of growth.
“That tree is my favorite,” Clarion’s rich, deep voice proved a compelling soundtrack to the proceedings; one designed to enhance the vision of his tropical haven. “I like to watch it grow.”
Christianne nodded, and beamed broadly. Where, I ask you, could you find a land loving dude who waxes so poetic about Florida scenery? she mused. Mermen rule.
This opinion seemed strongly reinforced a moment later, as she once again turned her gaze to the vision of her waterborne lover.
She immediately recognized the mass of long blond hair that now bore a likeness to wet gold. And her heart warmed as she saw his dazzling, full-toothed smile, and sultry, mischievous azure gaze.
And of course I just have to catch one more glimpse at those washboard abs, she snorted in self-disgust.
Christianne sobered as she noted one significant change in the ethereal image; one that involved a sublime transformation of his lower half.
Clarion, it seemed, had spouted a shaft; one with a length and smoothness that nearly rivaled his fin.
Thankfully, though, his shaft shone golden–and not green–in the light of the sun above.
Grateful for small favors–or in this case, mayhap not so small–Christianne soon noted that Clarion also boasted a sparkling new pair of long, toned legs; muscled appendages that carried him quickly in her direction.
“Merry Christmas Baby.” Clarion’s low, sensual growl sent her pulse racing.
She made no reply; only opened her arms to him. The woman sighed as her lover swept her up in an all-encompassing embrace.
“Make love to me,” she breathed.
Soon the couple lay beneath the swaying fronds of Clarion’s favorite sable palm. And as their arms and lips both met to form a bonding embrace, Christianne seized the opportunity to further investigate her lover’s newly mermanized form.
Freely she caressed his firm, toned hips and muscled thighs; and, much to Clarion’s delight, her lips soon followed this same seductive trail.
As Christianne’s sweet lips grasped and suckled his hard, sweat-glistened cock, the merman threw back his head and released a mighty siren’s call. His lover relished this sound, and she eagerly devoured his masculinity as their hands clasped firmly together.
These same hands lifted her gently upward a moment later, and soon she found herself face-to-face with Clarion.
“Was I missing the mark, Babe?” Christianne laughed uneasily, suddenly recalling her ex-husband’s frequent comments about her poor sexual performance.
All signs of doubt diminished moments later, as her lover claimed her tender lips in a heated, passionate kiss. As Clarion fixed his hands around her waist and drew her closer to him, his tongue probed and ravished her mouth. His lips told her first what his words reaffirmed.
“You, my lady, are a magnificent lover, a beneficent soul, and a fantastic woman.” With this he rained sweet baby kisses across the delicate surface of her neck and cheeks. “I want only to bring you closer to me. I need only to be inside of you, Love.”
His tender words seemed reinforced by the movement of his hands, as he stroked her shoulders and massaged her broad back. Then, mimicking her moves, his attentive fingers rubbed her hips and thighs as their lips again met in a long, heated kiss.
Finally, Clarion lifted her upward until his masculine member rubbed and teased her feminine nest.
This move sent keen electrical sparks careening toward her womanly core, and she grasped Clarion’s muscled arms to draw him closer to her.
Eager to oblige her wishes, the merman growled as finally he merged with her; plunging his member gently but purposefully into the depths of her femininity.
Biting her lip, Christianne shifted her hips in an effort to adjust to this fairly novel sensation.
Even during their marriage, her husband rarely made love to her; and since their divorce, she had lead a solitary existence.
And this man, she decided, sure knew how to ease a transition. Hugging her fiercely to him, he lustfully regaled her mouth with sweet words and passionate kisses; at one point declaring her a radiant seductress who had saved him from a life of loneliness.
“Well look who’s talking.” Christianne smacked her lips against his then spread her legs widely to accept the deepening strokes of his smooth, probing penetration.
Their hips moved perfectly together to execute a flawless lover’s tango. And as Christianne threw her head back to savor the sensation, Clarion kissed and licked her breasts.
Finally their sweat-glistened bodies pressed finally and firmly together, and their passion exploded in the unbridled heat of a prolonged mutual climax. Minutes later Christianne rested easily in the arms of the merman, and the two enjoyed together the ruby-hued rays of a radiant Florida sunset.
Their new romance seemed christened by the flow of sweet breezes, and the pure crystalline ring of distant wind chimes.
And as the red and violet streaks of their perfect sunset gave way to the ebony of night, Christianne felt that she had fully, truly reclaimed her place in the world.
A far happier place, she nestled sweetly in Clarion’s arms. And the sex here is much better. Bonus!
Chapter Five
Christianne awoke Christmas morning with a broad smile–and a purpose. And when Clarion’s eyes opened soon afterward, she closely gauged his reaction to a sudden change in their scenery; a change she had instigated.
Using the string of rainbow-colored Christmas lights that had bound her lover the day before, she freely decorated and illuminated the fronds of his favorite palm tree; the one that had overseen their passionate encounter.
Now the tree glowed ethereally as a symbol of a timeless holiday; and as the beacon of a newfound love.
“Merry Christmas, Baby.” Christianne beamed.
As Clarion admired the streams of ebullient light that flowed freely from the tree, the merman pulled his new decorator closely to his side.
“I’ve never had a Christmas tree.” His pure azure gaze came alight with sheer wonder.
Soon he shifted this radiant gaze in Christianne’s direction. “And I’ve never spent Christmas morning in the company of someone I love.”
“Me neither.” Christianne kissed his cheek.
Clarion arched his eyebrows. “Didn’t you tell me you were married for five years?”
Christianne arched hers in return. “Exactly.”
The couple chuckled as they shared a long, loving kiss.
“So how long do you plan to stay in Port Emerald?” Clarion gave Christianne a shy, hopeful smile that melted her heart.
“Well, I scheduled only tw
o weeks for my vacation.” She shrugged coyly. “That should give me enough time to shop around for a condo.”
Clarion’s answering beam shone just as brightly as the Yuletide lights above them.
THE END
Moonlight and Mistletoe
Chapter One
“Ho! Ho! Ah-choo!”
Stanley Turreck doubled over, clutching the faux white beard he had nearly sneezed from his face.
Stanley was the resident Santa Claus in the holiday shopping section of Leveaux Department Store. And in many ways, he seemed an ideal choice for this position.
He boasted the prerequisite hearty laugh, round belly, genial manner…and an acute allergy to Christmas tinsel.
“Are you all right, Sir?”
Derrick Barnes left his place behind the Leveaux gift wrapping table and rushed to aid his stricken coworker.
Aside from being a Leveaux stockboy, Derrick currently appeared as this year’s Christmas elf in the holiday shopping department. And while kids sometimes scoffed at the tall, muscular blond man who called himself an elf, their mothers liked him just fine. Just fine indeed.
Derrick, twenty-two, boasted striking green eyes that matched the hue of his velvet costume, and long blond hair that now was topped with a charmingly lopsided hat.
He also boasted a gentle manner appreciated by Stanley, who now stood from his plush burgundy Santa’s chair and patted his assistant’s shoulder.
“I’ll be fine once I resign,” he told him.
Derrick’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.
“It appears you have a cold, Sir,” he shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to quit–maybe just take a day or so to rest.”
Smiling, Stanley removed his festive red hat and handed it to Derrick.
“It isn’t a cold,” he admitted sheepishly. “I have an allergy to Christmas tinsel; the stuff that’s hanging all over our display tree.”
“I should have said as much in the interview,” he continued, “but I really needed this job.”
Derrick nodded, patting the man’s back.
“I hear ya’,” he nodded. “I’m working two jobs to support myself through college.”
Stanley cocked his head and winked slyly.
“Yes, I’ve heard about your ‘other job,’ ” he chuckled. “It sounds a tad more interesting–and profitable–than this one.”
The Sudafed Santa again sneezed, saving Derrick from what could have been an embarrassing response.
“I have to go,” he offered Derrick an apologetic handshake, adding, “Please send my apologies to Ms. Leveaux.”
Nodding, Derrick returned the sniffling man’s handshake.
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” he assured Stanley.
* * * *
“Who in the bloody hell has an allergy to holiday tinsel?!!”
The deeply tanned face of Sophia Leveaux turned a festive shade of red as she faced her resident elf across her freshly polished desk.
“Stanley, apparently,” Derrick shrugged. “His exact words were ‘I’ll be fine once I resign.’ ”
Chuckling dryly, Sophia tapped her ruby red fingernails furiously against the surface of her defenseless desk.
“I asked him to entertain the children with whimsical rhymes,” she shook her head. “That, however, was not the one I had in mind.”
Derrick again shrugged, shifting uncomfortably.
“He also sent his apologies,” he offered.
“Did he send a new Santa?” Sophia barked, dark eyes flashing. “It’s only a month before Christmas and I’m going to have some very unhappy children in my store.”
Derrick nodded.
“We do have a problem,” he conceded, adding, “I’m one of the few male employees here. Would you like me to play Santa?”
Sophia smiled, her eyes scanning her employee’s tall, muscular frame.
“You look nothing like Santa. The kids wouldn’t want to sit on your lap–at least not as much or as fervently as their mothers would.”
She paused, raising her eyebrows.
“Or, given your other profession, maybe you could sit on theirs,” she suggested dryly.
Derrick rolled his eyes.
Hardee. Har. Har.
Aloud he asked, “Did you have another suggestion?”
Sophia narrowed her eyes in contemplation.
“As you said, most of our employees are women–very slender women who would never fit in a Santa suit,” she smiled slightly. “At 98 pounds I would never qualify.”
Aside from that, Derrick thought, Santa is allegedly a nice person. Another strike against Sophia.
The firm snap of his manager’s fingers jarred his wayward thoughts.
“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed.
What have you got? Derrick raised his eyebrows as he contemplated his openly smug employer. A heart, finally? No, it’s just too much to hope for…
Oblivious to his ire, Sophia continued.
“Sheila Baxter, our P.R. person, is a big girl,” she said bluntly. “She could fill out the uniform.”
For the first time that afternoon, Derrick Barnes smiled.
As a stock boy, he had seen Sheila Baxter only a few times.
Yet whenever I see her, she’s smiling, he mused. She has the prettiest smile, and hair as blonde as an angel’s. And she publishes a mean company newsletter–one the staff can read halfway though without contemplating group suicide.
Sheila could be defined as a full-figured woman, as Sophia indicated.
Yet whoever said that luscious curves were a bad thing in a female? he wiggled his eyebrows.
“I would love to work with Sheila,” he affirmed, adding, “When you offer her the job, though, please don’t mention her size. She’s a sweet lady and I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Sophia waved away his concern with a long, slender hand.
“No worries, young man,” she assured him. “I am the queen of diplomacy.”
Saying a quick prayer heavenward, Derrick turned and left the office.
Chapter Two
“Why on earth would you want me to play Santa Claus?”
Sheila Baxter looked at Sophia Leveaux, her employer at Leveaux Department Store, as though she had sprouted a perfectly coiffed, endlessly fashionable second head.
Yet Sophia only shrugged, and smiled broadly.
“You are perfect for the role,” she insisted. “You’re friendly, bubbly, great with people…”
“All of which, along with my blonde hair and blue eyes, would have qualified me to participate in our fashion dolls promotion a few months ago,” Sheila reasoned, taking a seat behind her desk in the Leveaux marketing office. “So why was I asked to sit on the sidelines for that promotion?”
Sophia shrugged, reddening slightly.
“Our fashion doll costume simply didn’t fit you,” she explained.
Sheila laughed, nodding knowingly.
“A real-life supermodel would need a lubricant to fit in that costume,” the twenty-five year old countered. “It was all of a size two.”
An uncomfortable pause ensued while Sophie considered another tactic.
Finally she offered, “Sheila, you love kids. And by playing Santa, you could interact with our youngest customers. Wouldn’t you cherish that opportunity?”
Sheila paused, shifting her gaze to the photos on her desk; pictures that showed her niece and nephew, Jenna and Jeremy, splashing and playing in their family swimming pool.
She wondered suddenly how they would feel if they visited a store in hopes of seeing Santa Claus–only to find an empty chair and keen disappointment?
“I do want to help,” she admitted finally, then, raising a delicate finger for emphasis, “Yet I won’t make a mockery of myself–or my friends, many of whom also happen to be ‘big and beautiful’–by wearing bulky Santa pants and a beard.”
She smiled slightly.
“I’ll agree to wear the Santa jacket with that cute, long red skirt I’
ve been eyeing in our plus-size section. And I’ll greet the kids with a hearty ‘Ha, ha, ha.’ ”
Sophia blinked, clearly confused.
“Ha, ha, ha?’” she repeated blankly.
The feminine variation of ‘Ho, ho, ho,’ ” Sheila winked.
Sophia thought a moment, then made a broad gesture of supplication.
“Fine,” she allowed. “As of today, you are our new Santa Claus.”
Sheila grinned, then shook hands with her employer.
“Make that Sheila Claus,” she corrected.
The next few minutes passed very quickly for Sheila, as she changed hurriedly in a Leveaux dressing room–exchanging a fashionable black pantsuit for a baggy Santa jacket and the requested red skirt. She partially covered her shoulder-length blonde hair with a festive red hat, but she refused to relinquish the gold-plated necklace she had worn that day to work.
“I figure that the Claus clan must be rolling in dough,” she told Sophia. “Sheila could supplement the ‘ring, ring’ of those sleigh bells with a little bling bling.”
Even Sophia had to admit her P.R. lady cut a striking figure as ‘Sheila Claus.’
“Or perhaps I should call myself Mary Christmas,” Sheila suggested.
“Don’t push it,” Sophia replied through clenched teeth.
Once Sheila dressed, she walked quickly across the store to the holiday department, her gaze seeking the plush chair that would serve as her throne for the next few weeks.
What it found, however, was the vision of a sleeping angel.
Indeed, behind the Leveaux gift wrapping table sat a gift no woman would refuse: a tall, well-muscled man who lay asleep in a wicker chair, his closed eyelashes fanned in perfect silhouette against his carved cheeks.
His lips were full, sensual and tightly closed (The dude doesn’t snore. Bonus! Sheila thought). His golden hair, meanwhile, fell well below his velvet-covered shoulders.
Sheila paused a moment, taking time from her hurried day to behold and enjoy a vision of beauty.
