A Naughty Santa Gram

by Alyssa D Mynx

  We come to the end of the gym windows, reaching a gray wall with a few doors. Mr. Bossman opens the first door in the corner and ushers me in.

  "This is our secondary conference room. We have our small team meetings here, and sometimes investors or other meetings occur here. Have a seat while I go fetch the paperwork we will need," he says, leaving the door open and me alone in this ritzy meeting room. Like for real, it's got several big screen tvs, comfy looking chairs, a mahogany table, and a small bar that looks fully stocked in the corner. Who has a bar in a meeting room? I don't know who else, but I think I'm going to move into this room. It's bigger than my current address, and I could have people mail things to "The pompous meeting room above the lockers, Windows Galore, LA."

  I move around the table and sit where I can see out the two walls made up of windows, just letting myself take it in. One side faces the street, but there's a tree that is partially blocking it. All along the side street there are trees. Birds flit about in the early morning light, singing melodies that roll over me with a calm tranquility. I relax back, tilting my chair and putting my feet on the one beside me. Lyrics to Pink’s “Hustle” filter into my head, and I hum, just a light melody.

  "So you sing and charm men. What else can you do?" a tenor voice asks, startling me from my quiet moment.

  I turn, and ad guy is there, leaning against the door jamb. "I excel in general awesomeness, as well as having a bachelor's degree in sarcasm and charm. What's your superpower? Long hair?"

  "Hey now, don't go dissing the hair. All the ladies dig it. Alas, my degree is in humility and charm, seeing as how I'm so awesome."

  "I can see that. Make sure you don't choke on that humble bit there, pal." I grin, liking the banter with this Santa. "I'm Blake." I stand and head around the table.

  "Oh, I know. Your name came up on the schedule yesterday, and Sarah sent a notice to the group message about Drake hiring a woman Santa. We all know who you are." He grins, one dimple in his tan face standing out to me.

  "Ah, I knew it. Men gossip more than women. You've just proved it. The theory holds true, and someone needs to write that in a book," I announce, sarcasm thick on my tongue.

  "Ha ha. You're cute. My name is-"

  "Dillon," Bossman barks out. "Get back to the workout room if you want to keep your insurance and ad space. What time is your first 'gram today?"

  "Not ‘til 9, sir, and it's a Basic Flowers," Dillon answers.

  "Have today's flowers and gifts been delivered?" Boss asks.

  "Not sure, sir, but Presley will be here soon to check and make sure all gifts and drivers are lined up for today's Santas."

  "Good. Now get back to the gym. I'd like to see some action done there, ok?"

  "Gotcha, sir. See you around, Blake," Dillon drawls, sending a snarky salute in my direction.

  I turn and head back to my chair, getting comfortable once more. "So, Bossman, let's get to it. What do I need to know?

  "Jenna, I kid you not! Even working just one holiday, I get to keep my insurance year round, as long as I keep up the hours at the gym" I exclaim, excited about all the perks of working at SHG, Inc.

  "Holy fuck buckets, I need to work there," she says, her jaw dropping just as much as mine did.

  "I don't get paid hourly, except the $10/hour for workouts. It's all commissions, and fuck, is it good. 20% commission, and the cheapest option is a Basic at $400.00! Seriously, I could make bank on this. And the highest commission job is a Platinum at $5,000.00, of which I would get $1,000, plus food, plus a stipend for clothes suitable for the event." I plop down on the white leather couch and let its cool depths suck me in. "Is it possible to be in love with a job? Because I'd marry this job if I could,” I whimsically say, sinking deep with a happy sigh.

  "It sounds way too good to be a real job. Anything suck about it so far as you can see?" Jenna asks, grabbing a blanket for us before settling in beside me.

  "Not too much," I admit, taking hold of the cashmere blanket and settling half over my lap. "Just the workout thing and sharing a locker room with a bunch of guys. But I'll work on that. I think if I annoy my boss enough, he'll give in to just about anything I want, just to shut me up."

  "Dear Lord, I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. What did you say you've taken to calling him?" Jenna asks.

  "Bossman. It's perfect, he gets this little tic by his mouth when I use it, and he’s already asked me to stop."

  "What's Bossman like, then? Is he cute? Is he old? Is he a crazy old man horn dog?" she asks, settling beneath the blanket and holding a mug of nasty decaf coffee. I bought some Dr. Pepper on the way home, so I’m cradling it in my favorite mug that reads, ‘Fuck off, I'm reading. Seriously, Off, you Fuck.’ Who needs wine or coffee?

  "Mmm... That man is deliciousness in human form. He has to be in his mid to late thirties, but his body is so tight. He has dark ashy brown hair, with some silver growing in. His beard and mustache have more silver. He literally is a silver fox, and such a yummy one. And his ass, my god, his ass. Michelangelo should've modeled David's ass after Bossman's, it's that perfect. It’s rounded and looks so firm that you’d need a knife to cut it."

  "Sounds a bit old for you, maybe you should share him with me." Jenna winks, teasing me as she blows on her coffee.

  "Sorry, girl. Imma lick him first, so he'll be mine. First lick wins.”

  Jenna giggles. "Fine. Now what about his personality?"

  I pause, stumped for a moment. "Well, I know he likes things a certain way. The whole building is like yours, color coordinated with silvers and grays. And his suits and outfits are impeccable, even his sweats. Like, they were so clean, they looked brand new. He does his hair, so I know he cares about appearance. He has a sense of humor, it's just hard to find sometimes. Oh, and he thinks I don't notice, but I can tell he totally digs me and my ass too," I finish.

  "You do have a very nice ass," Jenna giggles.

  "Yes, it's very plump."

  "Like a plum."

  "Such a delectable ass." I sigh. I glance at her, and we both burst out laughing.

  "I've missed this. Just hanging out and being best friends. It's been a long time, what with you owning and running one of the top salons, and me having been so caught up with fucking Chad and work. I missed you."

  "I missed you too. Shit," Jenna says, running her fingers below her eyes."Are you sure we aren't drunk? Like sappy drunk?"

  I do that wet giggle you do when you have snot about to run down your face, and snag a facial tissue from the side table. "I don't know what you're drinking, but I think the company spiked my Pepper."

  "And my decaf." She gives a snort, and we both move to hug each other at the same time. "Missed you too, dork. Now," she says, leaning back to wipe away her own tears, "I propose we turn on the TV, watch something funny, snuggle like we used to, and then go to bed. I'm guessing you're up early again tomorrow?"

  "I need to be there by five-thirty again, so yeah, early as fuck. Let's cuddle and go to bed early like old women."

  "Sounds like a plan."

  As you can imagine, my second day starts out about as good as the first. At 4:30 in the morning, I get a phone call again.

  "What the hell, dude? I'll be there in an hour," I whine, top half of my body still laying half off the bed from reaching for my phone. I almost stepped on it last night, so I shoved it under the bed to make myself get up when the alarm went off.

  "Bring a towel and some girly shit to make yourself presentable. You'll shower after the workout this morning, then we have some errands to run in the upper part of Los Angeles." And with that, the phone clicks off. I swear to goodness, I will kill this man one day. Or he'll kill me. Either way, we won't have to suffer each other’s presence anymore, and that will be the day.

  I groan and roll the rest of me off the bed and up to my feet, taking a moment to dig my toes into the softness of the rug while leaning back in a large stretch, arms above my head, toes pointed. These early mornings will be
the death of me.

  Padding into the kitchen, I go straight past Jenna on the treadmill again with just a grunt of acknowledgement and head for the fridge. My eyes are half asleep when the first taste of Dr. Pepper hits my tongue.

  "Are―"

  "Shhhh," I cut off Jenna, needing just a little longer to wake up before all the talky talky starts. One fourth of the can in, I raise my finger. "Now you may speak."

  "Wow, tired much? You're kind of grouchy this morning. What's got your panties in a twist today?" Jenna asks. "And are you leaving early again? Tonight's my late night at the salon, so I will see you later after I get off, or maybe not, depending on your schedule tomorrow." She gives an evil little chuckle at this, and I just know she is plotting something. I have no idea what, but it will be something.

  "Yes. Drake. Yes. Bye," I reply to all her questions. Short and sweet, isn't that what they always say to do?

  Jenna snorts. "Ok then, have a good day. Try not to kill anyone today, please," she giggles. I grab a water and another Pepper from the fridge and head to my room.

  Just like yesterday, I dress in yoga pants, but this time just do a sports bra. I'm not afraid of my body, and I really hate working out, so at least I'll be comfortable. I pack some heels, flats, mascara, lip gloss, and a nicer outfit for uptown afterwards, and I'm out the door in ten minutes flat. Do I want to be? No. Does the night front desk receptionist look at me weird again? Yes, yes, he does. Weirdo. Maybe I am for getting up so damned early and hating my life. Either way, one of us is suspicious of the other for the right reasons.

  A thirty-minute drive later, and I'm at the building. I was given a key yesterday for the back entrance, and thank God, too. No more waiting on Mr. Cranky Bossman to open up whenever he feels generous. Now I can take myself in and out as I pleased.

  I head up the stairs to the gym, slipping my phone and wallet into my bag, and find that it’s just Drake in the gym right now. Going in, I get my things settled and start on the set he has given me. Legs, arms, cardio, running; he's an ass like that.

  Just around 6:15, a fine specimen of manliness comes waltzing in. Dear Lord Jesus, please let me take a bite out of at least one of these fine looking Santas before my time is up. Amen. This guy has to be pushing six foot six and is three-hundred pounds of pure muscle. His chocolate skin shines, and all he is wearing is a pair of shorts. I have to say, he intimidates me but also turns me on at the same exact time.

  I hit the treadmill last and just run, looking out the doors and listening to music on my phone. I've really hit a groove and am in the zone (still trying not to die but focusing on the tree outside zone) when a hand hits the stop button.

  Almost tripping, I come to a stop before I face plant into the buttons of the treadmill. "Who did..." I trail off. Mr. Dark and sexy is standing there with a brilliant white smile on his face.

  "Hey there, Sweetness," a deep bass voice says in perfect pitch.

  "Umm, hi?" I say oh so wittily, eyebrow raised and panting, all while dripping wet with sweat.

  "Name's Landon. Drake wanted me to come tell you you're done and to hit the showers and stuff, that you leave in forty-five minutes to visit some shops." His bass reverberates to the soles of my feet. I knew a man like him would have an amazing voice. Rich like chocolate and filled with flavor, just like my Dr. is.

  "Blake, not sweetness, but good guess," I huff out, almost having caught my breath.

  "Nice to meet you." His grin grows as I bend over with a cramp in my side. "Aw, Sweetness, I promise it gets easier as time goes on. Once you're in shape and used to it, it's just a time commitment, and it quits feeling like you're swimming through the fiery waters of Hell anymore."

  "If you say so," I come back, finally able to breathe. When I stand, I can see sweat glistening off his chest, calling for me to lick him. Whoa girl, back down. That's man sweat, not man sweets.

  "I promise. What time are you going to be here? I could come and spot you if you need someone still," he offers, taking his time to look me up and down, lingering on the pink sports bra I'm wearing and my waist, I think.

  "Well, apparently Bossman wants to kill me early in the morning, so it will likely be at 5:30 or thereabouts daily, at least until he thinks I'm 'trained’," I reply while tracking the progress of a bead of sweat down his chest and to his shorts. I'd like to make my way down his chest into his shorts too. Later, self, later. I take the small hand towel I'd brought to wipe up my own nasty sweat and move it across my face.

  "I see. Well, I'll at least catch you here most days, then, for part of the time. I like early, but Drake is unnatural and likes EARLY early mornings. I don't know how he does it, but he does." Landon shrugs.

  "He's a robot."

  "Really? Funny, I hadn't heard that. I did hear someone say that he could be part alien though. Think there's validity in that statement?" Landon gives me a quick wink.

  "Oh, at least one of those has to be true. Want to make a wager?" I quip, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

  "I'm going to have to pass. I think you're right, and I'd sure hate to be proven wrong," he replies. "Besides, you'd best get going if you're going to get cleaned up. You know where the locker room is, and where you'll be stationed in there?"

  "Yeah, Presley showed me. Pretty sure she showed herself some ass and stuff in there too, but that's just my opinion."

  Landon chuckles. "Yeah, she's slept with a few of the guys, and she has, like, no boundaries. She just walks in sometimes. We got used to it, and she knows what she's getting into. The real question is, do you? We've got one shower stall with a barely-there curtain, and I assure you, you'll need to clean up before jobs and between jobs sometimes."

  "I think I can handle some ass and dick around me. I'm more worried about you all seeing me and going into a raging moment of lust and fighting. I'd hate for you all to bruise your pretty faces." I grin, walking to put my things away to head downstairs.

  "With a face and a body like yours, Sweetness, there is a distinct possibility of that happening. I'll let you be then, but I'll see you around," he says, handing me my big bag from the floor and moving off to some weights.

  I don't know a lot about weights, but I can tell you this: the man puts way more weight on than I thought was possible or legal, and he moves it like it’s nothing. Yum.

  I head down the steps and move toward the locker room, waving to Presley at the desk. Bossman must have quit earlier than me since I can see his silhouette on his office door, pacing and talking on the phone. At the door of the locker room, I take a deep breath and tell myself I can do this. It's just men. There might not even be that many in there.

  Pushing open the door, I look down and holler, "If anyone doesn't want their tiny-ass dicks to be seen by a woman, cover up now to forever keep your secret."

  Several masculine chuckles sound out, and I dare to look up. There are a few handsome gents around, most in workout clothes, tying shoes or something.

  "What, do you all work out together?" I blurt out, some blushing coming out from all the bare chests in the small room. Ok, so it's actually a large room, but right now it's feeling pretty damn tiny.

  More chuckles, and the blonde god by the door responds, "Yeah, it makes it easier for us to spot each other on the weights. I'm Nick, and these crazy dudes are Brian, Jason, and Corey." Each head nods as their name is said, thank goodness, and I try to remember who each person is and how they look. The handsomeness, though, is overwhelming, and I'm not sure if I can take much more.

  "Nice to meet you all. I'm Blake, as I'm sure you've all gathered by now. I'm sassy, tiny, and like to annoy people, so if you have issues with that, well, you're my new plaything." I grin.

  More male chuckles. "I've heard that. Bossman, eh? Has a nice ring to it, but I'd like to keep my hide. I'll let you annoy the pants off Drake and enjoy watching him be challenged for once," Corey says. He's the one with the tight fade and long blonde curls on top. He's more boy next door than anything else, even though he pro
bably tops out at six foot four and is built like a linebacker.

  "Oh, I plan to. I'm nobody's bitch, and in a career of men, I plan to make my path and prove myself," I say.

  "I think you'll do just fine here. Having women Santas is a great idea. There's a whole new market for it, and hell, I'd like to see some more women around," Jason says. Now, Jason, he's the one with the blonde shaggy surfer look.

  "See, someone here has a brain. Only took threats and my annoying voice in Bossman's head to get him to finally agree. Now, I need a shower, and I prefer no peep shows, but if you just can't help yourself, I will not be held responsible for any proclamations of love or propositions of marriage, capiche?"

  The guys all laugh, and I get some grunts, some nods, and a big belly laugh from Nick. Turning, I head down to my locker, which is on the right side close to the showers. If you thought changing and showering with a bunch of girls in high school was bad... well, actually, it's not too bad with the guys. Sure, I get a few peeks, but for the most part, they’re respectful and keep their eyes to themselves. No proposals of marriage from a rich man, unfortunately, but oh well. There's always next time.

  Landon was right; the shower curtain is falling off, and there aren’t many rings left. I could fix that with a quick trip to the market later. If I’m going to shower in here too, then I’m going to add some girly stuff. I'm talking pink curtain and rings, a pink rug, and definitely some pink towels and stuff. I'm going to girl this place up.

  I’m just finishing blow drying my hair when the door opens, and Bossman yells out, "Blake. The car is leaving in two. Be in it," before closing the door. Another guy, Abe, just chuckles.

  "You'd best be getting pretty soon, you know he has issues with―"

  "Being late," I finish. "Yeah, I know. I guess this is as good as I'm getting." I reluctantly hang the blow dryer back where I found it. I'd never have guessed a previously male only locker room would have a blow dryer, but with some of the guys I've seen, it makes sense. There's even more product on their counter in here than Jenna has at home, and she's a stylist. Some of theirs is shit, so if she ever sees it, she'll probably have a conniption and bring good stuff in.