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I spent Thanksgiving at my brother's house. Besides my brother, his
darling wife, and me, the festivities included our parents, another
brother, two sisters, everybody's spouse, and rugrats all around. I was
the only one single and childless. I always preferred it that way, but
this year I was a little envious of them and their broods.

When I got back to the city, I called Susan Worthington. Susan and I go
back a long way, nine years to be exact. We met when I was a sophomore
stud and she was a bright new frosh. On our first date, we went to my dorm
room and fucked until we both were sated. We've dated ever since. Nothing
steady. We both play the field, but we are friends. In fact, she is the
best friend I have.

"Hi, Susan," I said when she answered the phone.

"Well, hi, Santa. How are those big Christmas balls hanging?"

"They need polishing, sweet cakes."

"That's not my fault. I polish them every chance I get."

"How about dinner tonight?" I said.

"Just dinner? I was hoping for a sleepover."

That was one of the things I liked about Susan. She never complained
about what I did when I wasn't with her or what I did for a living when
most women would complain loudly. She just wanted me.

"A sleepover is what I had in mind," I replied.

"What time?" she asked.

"Better make it seven. I've got the first of the Christmas parties
tonight."

"Seven it is. Have fun at your party, Santa."

I'm an unlikely Santa Claus. I'm only twenty-eight, which is far from
the right age of three hundred and something. I'm six six, which is about
a foot-maybe a foot and a half-taller than the jolly old elf. I weigh two
hundred fifty pounds, which is about the right weight for Santa, but mine
is all muscle. I keep it that way with regular hard workouts.

I do have a thick beard that extends half way down my chest. I started
it in high school as a joke, but Molly Swingmore thought it was a turn-on.
I kept the beard even after I dumped Molly because I liked it. The women
love it or hate it, and some who thought they'd hate it end up loving it.
They like it better white, so I keep it that way year round. My hair is
longish, wavy, and coal black. In the Christmas season I color it white.

I went to college on a football scholarship, blew out my knee when I was
a junior, and was told my football days were over. Fate plays strange
tricks sometimes. After my surgery, the hospital was overflowing with a
flu epidemic so I shared a semi-private room. Cecil, the guy next to me,
had a knee replacement. He was in his sixties, rich as hell, and an alum
of the school I attended. He was a football nut so we got along well.

A woman about thirty-five and classy in a slutty way, if you know what I
mean, came in to see Cecil. Her clothes and jewelry were expensive, but
the clothes were skimpy and tight and the jewelry was gaudy, and she wore a
little too much makeup. Cecil introduced her as Pearl, his wife. Pearl
whispered in Cecil's ear.

"Well, ask him," Cecil said.

She stared at me like a starving dog looks at a steak. "Can I see your
cock?" she asked.

I stared at Cecil. "Don't worry, Eddie. Pearl plays around. I know it
and I don't care. Sometimes I watch and sometimes I join in for a
threesome."

I flipped back the covers, pulled my jockeys down, and let my cock free.

"Oh, God, that's soooo nice," she whimpered. She dragged her nails down
the shaft, wrapped her fingers around it, and gave it a hard squeeze. "I
want to fuck you," she said.

"All right," I replied. "But I'm immobile. You'll have to do it."

Pearl locked the door, stripped off her pantyhose, crawled on the bed,
and prepared to mount up.

"Personal foul. Unsportsmanlike conduct," Cecil snapped. We both
stared at him. "That's not fair, Pearl," he said softly. "The kid's
football career is over and he's going to need money. Offer to pay him."

"I'll give you two hundred dollars if you'll fuck me," Pearl said to me.
"All right," I said.

"Not so fast, Eddie," Cecil said. "You need an agent to help you
negotiate the contracts. Let me handle this. Pearl, he's a whole lot
better looking and has a much bigger cock than that black guy you're paying
to fuck you. Eddie deserves a least double what that guy gets."

"Leroy's a woman pleaser," Pearl said. There was a steely look in her
eye. "Maybe Eddie is one of those assholes who doesn't care about the
woman."

"Good point. I'll tell you what we'll do. He'll fuck you now for free.
If he's good and you're pleased, his fee is a thousand a date, twenty-five
hundred for a weekend, and that's one girl only."

"Agreed," Pearl answered greedily. I could feel her pussy dripping on
my thigh.

"Not so fast," Cecil said. "We want you to introduce him to your
friends. He'll need a stable to live well."

"If I introduce him to my friends, I want some freebies," she said.

"Once a month free," Cecil said.

"Once a week," she countered.

"Twice a month."

"Damnnit, Cecil. I'm your wife. It's your money I'll be paying him."

"Once a week is fine with me," I said.

"Okay. Once a week it is. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal," Pearl said and I echoed her. Pearl clambered onto my bed and
promptly impaled herself on my cock as Cecil watched happily.

That's the way I became a gigolo, which was my primary source of income
as I finished college and earned a masters. And that income allowed me to
start and build my business. Thanks to Pearl I soon had a cadre of willing
wealthy women who paid me for sex. I became a Santa Claus because one of
the ladies I serviced thought it was cute. I soon came to love the season
for all the right, and the wrong, reasons. And I charged an arm and a leg
to work the Christmas parties.

Christmas season is hectic. Fortunately, my stable of ladies who pay
are usually involved with their own families and social events so I can
focus on the Christmas parties. I have different costumes for my different
"roles" as Santa. There's the standard suit and padding for the kids
parties and something a little sexier for the teens or the adults who
aren't sure what kind of party they want. For office parties, I wear a
lycra spandex suit without padding. And for certain special occasions, I
wear red leotard bottoms and nothing else.

I like company parties best of all. Women who are the epitome of
decorum all year long lose their inhibitions and want to spread their legs
for sweet old Santa. Maybe it's a payback for all those presents over the
years. I usually end up with a pocket full of names and phone numbers.
The ones I like, I call. For some reason things were different this year.
I didn't see as many that I liked.

On December 17, I was working a company party in a major office
building. It was the standard rowdy crowd and I collected an average
numbers of names and received an average number of gropes. One darling
little number caught my eye. I knew immediately who she was and I wondered
if she remembered me. She tried to be discrete as she stood in line to sit
on my lap, but her eyes never left me for long.

"Hi, Santa," she said softly when she sat on my lap, her big blue eyes
locked onto me.

"Hi, Cindy. How are you?"

"I knew you'd remember me," she beamed.

"I could never forget you, Cindy."

"Eddie, I'd like to talk to you in private."

"I'm through here at four. Why don't you have dinner with me?"

"Oh, I couldn't, but we can talk for an hour or so."

Her name had been Cindy Durwood and we had sat next to each other in
freshman biology because of the alphabet. As fate would have it, we had a
class together our sophomore year. There we chose to sit together.

Cindy was a living doll, and I wanted to treat her that way. You
know-undress her, lay her back, and play with her. She was not quite five
feet tall and probably weighed a hundred pounds. She had raven hair she
wore short, porcelain skin, a bee-stung lower lip, and huge blue eyes. The
effect was the sexiest wood nymph you ever saw, but Cindy didn't act like a
nymph. She was modest and demure from her clothes to her actions.

There were damn few girls I wanted that I didn't bed and Cindy was top
of the list.

She was waiting when my Santa shift was over and followed me to my car.
We sat in the front seat of my Porsche and talked. She'd married Robert
Kenyon, who was the love of her life, the only boy she ever had, and all
that. I remembered the name. He was the reason she wouldn't date me in
college.

I could tell she was ready to talk about what she really wanted to talk
about. She was quivering when she said, "One of the girls at the office
told me you're a gigolo." I admitted it was true. "Good," she said with a
smile. "I'd like to hire you to have sex with me."

"You what?" blurted out of me.

She giggled, reddened, and covered her mouth with her hands, but in
seconds her hands fell away as she openly laughed. "Oh, Eddie. I wish I
had a picture of your face." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I knew
how much you wanted me, Eddie. It was fun having the biggest stud on
campus chasing after me. I'll admit I led you on, and I loved flirting
with you, but I never, ever, would have cheated."

"I know," I said.

"Do you want to know why I want to have sex with you?"

"Not really. I just want to do it."

"Why I'm doing it is all important," she said seriously. "Bobby wants
me to have sex with another man while he watches. He's been after me for
three years to do it and I've always said no. He even had an affair and
told me about it, hoping anger would make me have someone else."

She leaned toward me and covered my hand with hers. "I've never cheated
on him. Not in high school or college or since we got married. I'm not
going to cheat now, but it's not cheating if that's what he truly wants.
Don't you agree?"

"Yes, I do. cheating is when the other party doesn't know."

"He's convinced me it's not cheating, so I'm going to do it. I'll have
sex with you while Bobby watches." She sat back and her eyes gleamed. "How
much do you charge?"

"You don't have to pay me."

"Yes, I do. Then it's business for you and I'm buying a gift for him.
How much?"

I quoted a fee and I didn't go easy on her.

"Deal," she said, extending her hand to shake. She went home to her
husband and I went home to a cold and empty house. I called Susan.

"Hi, sweet cakes. Why don't we get together?" I said.

After a strange, long silence she said, "I can't. I've got a date."

"Oh? Who is it?"

"Roy. I told you about him. I think he's getting serious."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks. You, too," she said sadly.

After I disconnected, I sat there for a while. I didn't feel like
moving. I was exhausted and I hurt deep inside where I'd never hurt before.

Later that evening, Robert Kenyon called and we arranged to meet the
following day at their house, which, I discovered when I met them, was in
an upwardly mobile middle class neighborhood. His career was flying and
they invested her income.

Bobby was about six one, thin, brown hair, and a wide, facile mouth. He
shook my hand eagerly as he welcomed me. Cindy, dressed in slacks and a
blouse, said hello and shook my hand. They offered me a drink but I
passed. I sat in an easy chair and they sat side by side on the couch and
held hands. Both were churning with excitement.

"Eddie," Bobby began, "I've wanted to watch Cindy have sex with another
man for some time, but she hasn't agreed until now. She's going to do it
as my Christmas present. She wants you to be the man and she told me you
agreed to do it."

"That's right," I said.

"Good. It's a present for her, too, because you're her fantasy lover."
He chuckled. "My knowing shouldn't surprise you. Cindy and I don't have
secrets. We want to do it the first time on Christmas day."

"The first time?" I said.

"If this time works out, I'd like do it again. And I want to video all
of them."

"You have some scenes in mind?"

"Yes, I do. Have you done anything like that before?"

"Yes, I've done sweet seductions to faux rapes. Sometimes the husband
joins in, sometimes he doesn't. But I'll want specific instructions from
you, and Cindy's explicit agreement, before I do anything rough."

"Of course," Bobby said. "Does the filming bother you?"

"No," I replied.

"I've got the video equipment and I want to keep the only copy. I need
to get a remote controller for the camera."

"I've got a lady friend who's an excellent photographer and she's worked
with me before," I said.

"Good. I'll hire her."

We talked a little more and I agreed we'd be there at nine Christmas
morning. We shook hands like it was a business deal, which it was, and
parted.

Seeing Cindy and Bobby together gave me a large, healthy dose of
introspection, which is something I needed. I called Susan from the car
phone. "What are you doing tonight?" I asked.

"I've got a date with Roy."

"Please break it and go out with me."

There was a long silence before she said, "Eddie, you've never asked me
to break a date for you."

"I know, but I want to be with you tonight."

"Sure, Eddie. What do you want me to wear?" She tried to make her voice
light, as if breaking that date and what it meant was unimportant. She
didn't quite pull it off.

Susan's wardrobe ran the gamut from conservative, classy, business suits
and formal gowns to barely legal slut clothes. She was striking in all of
them. Susan was an even six feet tall in her stocking feet. The heels she
loved to wear brought her to six four. She was a volleyball star in
college and loved all sports. She was a hard-body with legs as long as
mine except hers stopped traffic.

She didn't like two of her features, so as soon as we graduated from
college, she borrowed the money from me to have rhinoplasty and breast augmentation. I offered to give her the money, but she insisted on paying
me back with interest, and she did. She chose a good, strong nose from the
surgeon's portfolio. She was a big, strong women with strong features, and
her new nose fit beautifully. Her cup size went from B to D. I liked that
change, too.

"Why don't you wear the slacks and a sweater? We'll eat casual and then
go back to my place."

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When I picked her up, she had a hang-up bag and an overnight case with
her. After dinner, we went back to my place, coupled like Titans, and she
fell asleep lying against me.

As we dressed the next morning, she asked, "What should I tell Roy?"

"Tell him it's over," I said.

"I like him and he's going to ask me to marry him. I might accept."

"Why?"

"I'm twenty-six, Eddie. I'm ready to settle down and have babies."

"I want you to settle down and have babies, but Roy's not the right guy
for you."

She stopped dressing to focus completely on me. "How do you know?
You've never met him."

"Call it instinct. He's not the right one."

"Who is the right man for me, Mr. Know-it-all?" she challenged.

I dodged her question. "Do you remember Cindy Durwood from college?" I
asked.

"Of course I remember her," she snapped.

"Why?" I asked. Susan flushed brightly and didn't speak. There was
only one reason for her to remember Cindy and that's evaluation of the
competition. I pulled Susan's head back and kissed her fiercely. "I saw
her yesterday," I said.

"Are you going after her?"

"No. She's happily married, but I am going to have sex with her." I
told Susan of my deal with Bobby and Cindy.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

"Two reasons. Pauline usually does the videoing on assignments like
this, but I thought you might like to do it."

"I might," she replied.

"But the other reason is the important one. Seeing them together made
me realize how lucky Bobby is to have a woman who loves him like Cindy
does. We were discussing me fucking her and she hardly knew I was around.
Everything about her screamed that pleasing him was the only thing
important to her. She loves him without hesitation or reservation. And he
knows it. He knows how lucky he is."

"Sometimes a woman can love like that and the man never knows," Susan
said.

"Sometimes men are fools," I replied.

She turned away and slowly continued her dressing. I finished in the
bathroom and returned to the bedroom.

"Do you want Cindy?"

"That's the funny part. In college, I would've killed to fuck her.
Now?" I shrugged. "Then it was an obsession. Now it's unfinished
business, like fucking Cindy will close a door on a chapter of my life and
let me move forward."

"Do you want a woman like Cindy?" she asked. Her voice was tight.

"Only in the way she loves her man. Physically, I want a big woman.
She'd have to be drop-dead gorgeous, with big boobs, great ass, and long
legs to wrap around me. She'd be big so we fit together and strong so we
could wrestle on the bed, getting hot and sweaty. She'd be a woman made
for fucking by a big man and for bearing his children."

"Oh, you've never said you want children." Her voice caught on children.

"I'd like three or four."

"What else do you want in a woman?"

"You know as well as I do. Tell me what I want."

"Let's hurry then. I need to get to work."

I ho-ho-hoed my way through the Christmas season, sometimes doing three
parties a day. I continued to collect names and numbers. I made time for
two of them, a big-titted, slightly plump red head and a brunette built
like a go-go dancer. Neither was as fun as I remembered. If Susan knew,
she didn't say a word. I never asked about Roy. He simply disappeared
from her life.

Christmas Eve Susan and I had dinner with her parents, Arnie and Edith.
Sharon, her older sister, and Phillipia, Sharon's life partner, were there.
So were Sandra, the youngest of the Worthington daughters, her husband,
George, and their two kids. When we left her parents, we went to my place.

"You're in a strange mood tonight," she said as we lay naked in bed
after our always unbelievable sex.

"What do you mean?"

"You're quiet and mellow."

"My life's getting ready to change and I'm looking forward to it."

"Share it with me," she pleaded.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Eddie?" she said with a gentle lovingness. That look was in her eyes:
the kind of look Cindy gave Bobby. The kind of look Susan had given me for
years but I was too dumb to know what it meant.

"Yes, sweet cakes."

"I love you."

Susan hadn't told me she loved me in a long time. That was my fault. I
never told her I loved her so she stopped saying it.

"I love you, too, Susan. I have for years."

She put her head on my chest so I couldn't see her cry, but I felt her
tears.

Christmas morning at nine Susan and I rang Bobby and Cindy's door bell.
Susan wore a pants suit in Christmas colors. I wore my Santa Claus suit at
Bobby's specific request. When the door flew open, Bobby, grinning from
ear to ear, heartily welcomed us and pumped Susan's hand.

"Perfect timing," he said. "Cindy was apprehensive so I've been
psyching her up. I want her to really get into this and she's ready now.
Susan, you'll shoot the video and I'll use my still camera."

"No problem," she replied.

"Good. Good. Okay, Eddie, the plot is Cindy and you have always wanted
to be lovers and now you're going to be. Enjoy yourself. Susan, come with
me. Eddie, you stay here until she calls for you."

I waited to go on stage until Cindy called, "Eddie."

Cindy stood next to the bed. She wore a Christmas sweater, red with a
green tree on the front, and a green mid-thigh skirt, with Santa's picture over her left thigh. She looked only at me and her eyes were hot and
needy. Susan was beside me to record her face.

"Hi, Eddie," Cindy murmured sultrily.

"Hi," I replied.

"Make love to me," she whispered as she stepped into my arms.

I was right about her body. It was perfect with a tiny waist I could
encircle with my hands, breasts perfect for her size, flaring hips. Her
stomach was tight. It wasn't Susan's body. Cindy was a foot shorter and
only two-thirds of Susan's weight, but both were perfect bodies. Only the
scale was different.

"Hurry, Eddie."

I took my time undressing her, tantalizing her from nape to collarbone
to nipple.

"Please, Eddie. I want you in me."

She grabbed my beard to pull me between her legs. With some pain, I
disengaged her hands and held them down by her side as I nibbled my way
down to her bush. My tongue pushed between bloated lips to taste her hot
liquids.

"Eddie. Eddie! I'm going to cum. I'm. Aaahhhhh," she squealed as she
jammed her face against my mouth.

Another of Bobby's request was that when I fucked his wife, I remain
dressed as Santa. I yanked the red trousers down. Her porcelain skin was
red, her raven hair damp, her flawless body heaving as I crawled on top of
her. She looked up at me with sex-laden eyes.

When she felt my cock, she gasped, her eyes widened, and she wrapped her
arms around my neck to pull me down to moan in my ear. "Oh, God, you're
big. I knew you would be. I wanted your big cock shoved up my hot twat
for years. Don't make me wait any longer."

I didn't put my weight on her pubis and I pinned her arms over her head.
She squirmed and twisted, grunted and gasped as she worked my cock into her
box.

"Aaaah," Cindy moaned as she came again.

"God, she's so fucking hot," Bobby said. I turned to look. He was in a
chair stroking his cock. Susan had the camera on him.

Cindy relaxed under me. "Come for me, Bobby," she whispered and his
cock shot in the air. She shuddered in another orgasm as he slumped back
in the chair.

Cindy's eyes were bright as she stared up at me. "Now fuck me like I've
never been fucked," she demanded.

The secret to my success as a gigolo is that I can fuck all day. When I
agreed to do the scene with them, my plan was to fuck Cindy until she was
addicted to it, but I didn't want that now. I didn't want to do anything
that might come between Bobby and her. When it was time, I pulled out of
her and stumbled off the bed.

"Come on, Bobby," I said.

He scurried between her legs.

"Was I good, Bobby?" she murmured up at him. "Did I please you?"

"Yes, Honey, yes," he answered with gut-level honesty.

"Give me my Christmas fucking," she said.

I don't know how many times Cindy had orgasmed with me, but she came
again when her husband stuck his cock in her. She wrapped his arms around
his shoulders and held him as he furiously fucked until he filled her with
his cum and collapsed on her. Her face was a picture of ecstasy.

"Merry Christmas, Bobby," she whispered.

Susan filmed it all and hadn't made a sound throughout the entire show.
We let ourselves out and didn't speak until we were several blocks down the
street.

"You are a magnificent fucker, Eddie Drummond."

"Thanks."

"Did you enjoy her?"

"Yes, but not as much as I thought I would."

"She's not as good as I am," she said.

"No, and no one has been as good as you are. You're the best. And not
just in the sex department. You're the best in every way. You were made
for me, Susan, and I kick myself for taking so long to realize it."

"Are we going back to your place?" She changed the subject, but she had
that very special look in her eye.

"Yes, I want to clean up before we go to my parents' house."

"Are we going to have sex?"

"What's the matter? Did watching all that sex make you horny?"

"No, Eddie."

Her tone of voice made me pull over. We were on a street of lovely
homes, all decorated for the season. Santas and reindeer and angels pulsed
and sparkled. The snow glistened. Down the street music played from an
outdoor speaker.

"I love you with all my heart and soul, Eddie Drummond. I want to crush
our naked bodies together until we meld, becoming one forever."

I opened my door, slipped the little felt-covered box from the door
pocket, and walked around to her side of the car. She didn't know what was
happening when I opened her door and knelt on one knee. I opened the
little box to show her the diamond solitaire.

"I love you, Susan. Will you marry me?"

Squealing, she leapt on me. We sat on the snow covered sidewalk hugging
and crying.

I had the feeling someone was watching us. A beautiful little girl about six with long pigtails and a smile missing two front teeth was
staring at me with big, brown eyes. A woman with a babe in arms and a man whose arm was around the woman stood behind the little girl smiling at us.

"Who are you?" the little girl asked.

"He's Santa Claus," Susan answered.

The girl gave my beard a wicked yank that made my eyes water. "If
you're Santa Claus, what did you bring me for Christmas?" she questioned
unbelievingly.

Her father mouthed the answer that I repeated. "I gave you a Barbie
doll and a new puppy. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She grabbed my beard in both little hands, brought her face close to
mine, and stared into my eyes. Her disbelief gave way to a child's gentle
trust. She kissed me gently on the cheek and turned to join her parents.
As she held her father's hand, she said, "Next year I want a pony."

"We'll see," I replied. "You be good all year."

"I'm always good," she replied with an innocent arrogance.

"Merry Christmas, Little Angel," I said.

She smiled radiantly. "Merry Christmas, Santa."

Her father picked her up in his arms. They wished us Merry Christmas
and went back toward their home.

"You are Santa Claus," Susan said.

"Not really."

"You are to me. You've given me the best Christmas ever," she said.
That loving look was in her eyes.

The End