"It's you," the Santa said.
"Excuse me?"
I could see him smile through the fake beard. "I'm here to watch over you. You're being stalked. I'm here to protect you and the Christmas bun in the oven."
I peered at him. Something about him seemed familiar, something in his voice and his eyes. Was he someone I knew? I wracked my brain. The Santa smiled enigmatically.
"Don't fear, little one."
"Okay, thanks," I said, starting to feel apprehensive.
"You! Leave her alone!" someone shouted from a nearby stall. The Santa turned away, his long stride carrying him off into the crowds.
"You’re new to the city, aren't you?" a stall owner said. "You can't give these nutcases the time of day. You need to be forceful."
"I will, thank you," I told the woman. I had been raised in the Midwest, and we were not at all confrontational there. If being followed by crazy Santas was my new normal, I would need to grow a backbone.
Eddie was back in the lobby when I returned. He had a little bottle of vodka he was sipping from while contemplating the Christmas trees.
"Package for you," he told me. It was another large box, probably from a fan.
"You have nice fans," he said.
"I was worried about you," I said seriously. "It's crazy out there."
"I just slipped out," he said, grinning at me. "Got back right before the boss."
"Jack is back?"
"Yes ma'am."
When I returned to the apartment, I opened the box. Inside was an even racier outfit than the last one. This one was a sexy candy cane outfit with thigh-high striped stockings, a red-and-white corset, and a little lacy fluffy skirt. It also came with a striped hat. I posed in the outfit, cropping the picture strategically so it wasn't too revealing.
I was immediately rewarded with a comment.
Thirst pic!
Dozens more poured in, along with tons of likes. I didn't stay online to interact with my fans because there was one very important like I wanted first.
The desire and anticipation made me slightly nervous when I went upstairs to Jack’s penthouse. I wished I had taken a swig of brandy to calm my nerves.
Milo barked as soon as I knocked on the door. Jack opened it. He was shirtless and looked a little drunk as his eyes roamed over me.
"I was about to apologize and say I needed to put on a shirt," he drawled, "but clearly that’s what you're here for."
"Are you going to invite me in?" I asked, arching my back as much as I could in the corset to make myself seem as enticing as possible.
His smile was possessive. "Did you dress up on my account?" His voice was deep, and I could tell he was aroused.
"A fan gave me this outfit," I said as I waltzed into his living room as if I owned the place. "I thought you might like it." His hand rested on the curve of my waist, and I felt it slide down and gather up the short skirt.
"No matching lingerie?"
"I didn't think it was necessary," I said. He laughed, his voice husky in my ears.
"Your pulse is racing," Jack said. "Are you nervous?"
"No," I lied.
