Debra Anastasia

© 2024 Debra Anastasia. All rights reserved. This material is the intellectual property of the author and cannot be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without express written permission. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. (Best read on a desktop)

 

CHAPTER 2

 

Flashed and Speed Growing Beards

 

“So, what have you done in your life that got you here?” I took a step back. 

I could be mistaken but it seemed like his actual skin smelled like hot sugar cookies. 

 

He rubbed his new gray scruff. “Well, the last thing I remember was driving through this town on my way to Albany for a convention. The next thing I knew my car started smoking and I pulled over. It was crazy--it’s a new rental. Anyway, I wondered if I was having some sort of daydream because all my clothes flew off.” His nose twitched, possibly remembering the disrobing vividly. “Then an older lady came up to me and told me to come here—that you had clothes and answers. And now I’m looking at you.”  He tossed his hands in the air like he was frustrated. 

 

“What kind of websites?” Why did that matter? I guess I was fact finding now. Some of this had to make sense. 

 

“For toy companies.” He adjusted his tree skirt like it was the lapels on a fancy tuxedo.

 

“Well, that fits with a tendency for being Santa, I guess.” I glanced out of the window and noticed the thrift store across the street for the millionth time. It was my view. But now, it also looked like an answer. 

 

“Okay, I’m going to need you to man the phones. It should be easy. No one calls except for Mrs. Fargone and she just hung up on us. I’m going to see if there are any actual outfits with Christmas themes because there are no other clothing stores in town.” I went to my desk and pulled out the chair while grabbing my purse. 

 

He ambled his large triangle-shaped frame over, and accepted the chair. “I’ll pay you back for anything you grab for me. Can you look for smoke from my car as you go by?” 

 

I nodded and paused at the door. I toyed with flipping the sign to the ‘Closed’ side, but Darren hated to have an empty office in case there was some sort of house buying emergency. Though, I couldn’t imagine what that would entail.

 

I left it as ‘Open’ and pushed out of the door. 

 

*******

 

KRIS

 

Well, she was gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that would melt the stripes right off your candy cane. Shit, now the Santa thing was seeping into my brain. 

 

Obviously, I had no shot with the girl I basically flashed while I speed grew gray facial hair. Which was a shame because I would wrestle fifty reindeers to get a peek in her toy box. 

 

It’s getting worse. 

 

The older women that accosted me after my clothes flew off definitely seemed unsurprised by my candy cane underwear. Or my predicament. Actually, she seemed to be waiting there for me. Like she expected my car to overheat or whatever it was doing. I hoped it wasn’t on fire. That would be inconvenient. And make an even  worse impression on Lila. Sexy, cinnamony, pine tree-worthy Lila. I felt my candy cane grow a size. 

 

I put my head in my hands. What the hell would my dirty talk be like in bed if this was the way my thoughts were working right now? I tried to flip through the fancy book Lila had found, and the second my gaze touched the page, the writing evaporated. 

 

In its place appeared, 'Holiday-Were Secretary Only.' 

 

I tried flipping the pages, but they would not move. It was like the whole book was fused to the wood of her desk. 

 

Today was like a spiked eggnog hangover-- confusing and powerful at the same time. 

 

I looked at the phone and adjusted my cane, my greenery and my tree skirt a few times. 

 

If sitting at this desk was Lila’s only job? That would be boring. Super boring. She didn’t strike me as a boring type. 

 

Cranberry red lips, the hint of blush that made her look like a beautiful, painted porcelain doll. Her hair was styled prettier than the tail of a horse that pulled a white snow wagon. 

 

These were my thoughts now. I was thinking like a Christmas song gone wrong. I was never going to have sex again. I was doomed. 

 

Soon enough, she was bustling in the door with a few plastic bags and holding a pair of giant black boots. “This was the best I could do, for now. I hope it works.”

 

I stayed seated as she hefted the bags on the desk. She pulled out a pair of deep green trousers and a matching jacket. It wasn’t wrinkled because I was pretty sure it was 10,000% polyester. I peeked at the size in the waistband. The length would be a little short, but otherwise we were good. The jacket was bang on perfect --size wise. 

 

“Okay. Is this considered Holiday though?” I had my doubts that green on its own would appease the forces that were ripping my clothes off of me. 

 

“Hopefully, paired with this.” She held up a white and red striped t-shirt. It looked like it was going to be tight, but I had to hand it to her, together the green, red and white definitely seemed like an outfit someone would wear at a Holiday party if they were a lounge singer.

 

She set the boots on the floor. They looked like mucking boots, but they were black and technically, matched the footwear I had forever pictured in my mind’s eye when I thought of Santa. She also had a pair of suspenders, which was appreciated. Securing clothes to my body seemed like a great idea.

 

“I didn’t see a car? So I have no idea how it’s doing, sorry. You better go to the bathroom and see if we can get some clothes to stay on your body. My boss could be back any minute. He does not have a sense of humor. Like even a little bit.” She pointed to the back of the room. 

 

I gathered up all the things she had bought me except the big boots and went to the small bathroom. It took a few minutes to figure out how the greenery was secured and get it untangled, but eventually I was free of it. I would not be rushing into wearing fake plants again in the future. It was itchy and pokey at the same time. The tree skirt was actually quite comfortable--though it would not be my go to ever again either. 

 

I looked at my candy cane underwear. I certainly didn’t have a new pair in the bags or any old pairs for that matter--which was probably a good thing. Some things are never good to wear second-hand. 

 

I tried ripping off the stuffed novelty candy cane from the front of the underwear, but it was securely fastened. I didn’t want to plum tear a gaping hole in the only pair I had and let my hang just dangle. The small shelving unit in the bathroom held an extra roll of toilet paper, and thankfully it had a small first aid kit as well. Inside I found a scissor. I eyeballed my situation before deciding to slide off the underwear before attempting to cut the cane. 

 

As I did, my thoughts got all Christmasy again. “Sugar plums.” 

 

I caught myself in the mirror and was pretty sure my eyes sparkled. I hacked away at the cane, but the scissors were disappointingly dull, and in the end I pulled the underwear on just before I could start singing, “It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” which had started to seem like a great idea when I was naked. I was still considering it though, so I had to get into some more clothes. 

 

After getting the pants to fasten with the cane sticking out of the zipper, I attached the suspenders. Both stayed on my body, so things were looking up. The candy cane popping out of the pants zipper was hilarious and totally inappropriate for being anywhere in public that wasn’t a comedy show. 

 

I stretched the t-shirt until I was able to get my arms in and my head popped through the head hole. The shirt was like a second skin. It also ended above my belly button. I yanked on the fabric in a futile attempt to try and force it to be longer to no avail. 

 

I slid the suspenders up on my shoulders and had to add the jacket to try and cover my bare tummy and cane situation. 

 

I looked in the mirror, and it was an eccentric outfit, but much better than wearing actual dusty decorations from the inside of a real estate’s closet. Of course, I could only see my top half in the short mirror, but regarding the bottom half with my hands on my hips revealed my biggest problem. The cane. It was somehow snaking its way through the jacket and still very, very obvious. 

 

“It’s going to have to do. At least it’s staying on.” I shrugged at my reflection before gathering up the decorations and opening the door. Lila was waiting, arms crossed standing in the center of the room. 

 

“It stayed on! Hooray!” She gave a little clap with a matching jump and my heart jumped as well. 

 

I liked making her happy. I bet she’d love an extra gift or two under the tree. 

 

I held my hands open on either side of my biggest problem. “Yeah, but the cane is an issue.” 

 

She lifted one eyebrow and stared at my crotch. “It certainly is.” 

 

“I need to figure out where my car is and get out of everyone’s hair.” I gestured to the top of her head.

 

“I’m going to read this book a little more, and either wait to wake up from this really weird dream or learn why it happened.” She took a step backwards and lost her balance on the area rug behind her. 

 

I reacted because I had played football my whole life. Catching and tackling was just ingrained in me. I swooped low and took the hit of the floor on my shoulder, while snagging her waist. 

 

“OOmph.” 

 

She flopped backwards, her back to my chest, but she didn’t hit the floor. I had broken her fall with my body. Her hair covered my face and smelled like vanilla conditioner. It was very soft. I took a deep breath to recover the one that had been knocked out of me. In turn, I choked on a long piece of her hair. Several, actually. 

 

She had the wherewithal to pull herself to a sitting position, straddling my candy cane region. Her long hair went with her, thankfully getting yanked from my throat.

 

I made a very unappealing gag noise and grabbed her hips to make sure she was steady. 

 

She tossed her hair and looked back at me from her very, very tempting reverse cowgirl position on my body. Her hair was mussed up and her cheeks were red, from either the roughhousing or the indecency of it all. 

 

She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue while looking at my mouth and I felt my head tilt in interest. 

 

Then her eyes flitted to the front door as a chime sounded and her face switched to pure mortification. 

 

I heard a male voice behind me.

 

 “Well, Lila, you’re fired.”

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*******

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Author's Note:

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Thank you to Amanda Kay Anderson for her eyes, to my other Beta Beauties too! All typos and weirdness are mine. The poll winner from last newsletter's question: Why does Lila hate the Holidays? Was- Her wild sister's part! Check out the poll in the newsletter to help me name and character shape our next male! Thank you so much for reading, I am having a blast. :)