A Christmas Fantasy..She sighed deeply as she laid down on the sofa with her cup of tea. She surveyed her domain, mentally checking off the things she had accomplished today. The house was perfect; she could smell the faint scent of cleaners she had used today over the cinnamon and nutmeg she had in a simmer pot. The tree was twinkling with its purple and pink lights, and the decorations were perfect. Maybe a little girly, but since she had no one to please but herself she indulged in the pink and purple confection that was her tree this year. She leaned forward in her red lace nightgown to pick up a little bit of glitter that had fallen from the poinsettia on the coffee table. Leaning back again she laid her head down on her arms and closed her eyes just for a few moments . . .
He swore for the hundredth time that night as he stomped his boots in the magical fireplace that appeared in the doorway to the next house on his route. He really didn’t want to do this job but it was one of those ones that he didn’t have much choice about. He cursed his long ago ancestors that took up the job of being Santa Claus; why couldn’t they have been something like a shoe maker or bookkeepers? Never mind that he was born a butch, there wasn’t much debate about him taking up the mantle of the job since there was no one else to do it. There wasn’t much of a chance of finding a Mrs. Claus sitting up in the north pole. He knew his social life would always be in the toilet until he found the right one but how was he suppose to find the right one when he didn’t even know what he wanted in the first place. This was his one chance a year to maybe find someone that interested him enough to come south for to see if he could entice her to come to the north pole to be Mother Christmas.
He finally looked around and his breath stopped; she was stunning and sleeping like an angel. Her black curly hair was draped across her cheek, every time she took a breath a curl moved. He felt an overwhelming urge to move the curl off of her full lips, and tuck it behind her ear. He started to take in the rest of her with red lace barely covering what should be covered. He felt his stomach drop to his knees. He stared at her, drinking her in. He stared at her full hips, long arms and legs, sweet and creamy pale white skin. It hit him like a tonne of bricks that she reminded him of the classical look of Snow White. Down to the fragile tea cup balanced precariously between her hand and the arm of the sofa, as if she were waiting for a kiss from a prince to wake her.
He realized that his heart was hammering in his ears and he had not moved for several minutes while he watched her sleep. He didn’t realize he was moving until he was inches from her, reaching out his gloved hand to ease the tea cup out of her hand. He moved deftly after years of practice with endless children trying to wait up to catch Santa. She didn’t stir as he completed his extraction of the dainty cup and placed it on the coffee table. He hesitated before moving away, her scent was so intoxicating, he felt his head begin to spin. He looked at his hand as it smoothed away the hair from her cheek; feeling as though it belonged to someone else because he didn’t remember making the choice to move his hand.
She felt the velvety softness touch her lips and she smelled the leather. She was confused, there was nothing in the living room that should smell like leather. Why was she smelling it so close and warm? Why was her hair moving off her lip? She could feel it slowly moving as if someone was taking the care not to disturb her sleep. Her brow furrowed, something was just not right, she had to wake up and find out what this smell was . . .
He watched her eyes open and he felt his breath leave him as the most startling clear violet eyes looked into his. He could not help himself; he knew he should be using his magic to put her back to sleep and make her forget he was there. He knew that she was going to start screaming any moment, he knew what he should be doing. All he could do was fall into the deep violet of her eyes. He didn’t want to come out of that moment; that single moment that all that mattered in the world was the electricity sparking between them in their eyes.
She opened her eyes to find merry pools of blue staring at her. She blinked for a moment as she felt herself slide into those pools of clear blue liquid ice that warmed her from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. She flicked her eyes over him, thinking that she really should be screaming bloody murder by now. She felt safe and knew that he meant her no harm. She wasn’t understanding what she was seeing, the red suit, the black boots made her think of Santa but this was a butch. A rather delicious butch at that, but a butch, none the less. She couldn’t contain herself anymore, she had to ask . . .
He watched her tongue lick her lips slowly and he knew he was lost. It took a moment for him to realize she was speaking not screaming. This was a very good sign.
“So, Santa is a butch?” Her voice was like liquid caramel, smooth and sweet, coating him in its luxury and pulling him down further into the turmoil that was within him. She reached out and cupped her hand to his cheek. The most amazing thing happened at that moment, she smiled. The world as he knew it stopped at that instant while diamonds came into her eyes, “I always believed.” She whispered.
He didn’t make the conscious decision to kiss her, he didn’t realize he was going to do it until he was feeling her warm breath on his lips. The moment their lips touched he fell into their velvet smoothness. Where he had thought he was lost before, he knew to the bottom of his north pole toes that this woman was who he had been looking for. The woman that he had just a few moments ago didn’t think existed. He knew nothing of her, he didn’t even know her name, but he knew that she was his Mother Christmas. He whispered back as almost a confirmation to himself, “I am real.”
She felt all logic leave her as Santa Claus kissed her, her head was spinning. She was kissing Santa. Santa was a butch. Santa was in her house and kissing her. At that moment when she felt Santa’s tongue enter her mouth to dance with her tongue, all thought was suspended. She could only think of the sensations going through her and into him. The energy that was being fed to her by Santa made her feel drunk with joy.
Their lips parted and they pressed their foreheads together for a moment trying to calm themselves. He managed to come back to himself first, “What is your name?”
She managed to form the thought needed to tell him, “Belle.”
“Beautiful . . . you certainly are that.” He whispered back, “Belle, would you like to spend Christmas day together? Christmas eve is a little hectic for me, if you understand.”
“Of course I understand Santa, and I would love to spend Christmas day with you. What girl wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with Santa? I have all of these wonderful things but no one to share them with.”
Santa smiled, “Well tomorrow it will be the two of us.” Using his magic, from his pocket he produced the most beautiful ornament Belle had ever seen. It was a tiny fairy dressed in pink and purple and holding a tiny bell. Her wings radiated a rainbow of colors and glittered in the light from the room. Belle jumped back as the little fairy turned her head and fluttered her wings. She noticed the little fairy looked exactly like her, down to her smile. She looked at Santa with a mixture of joy and awe and back to the fairy that was stretching her wings.
Santa just smiled, “When she rings her little bell, I will be on my way to spend Christmas with you.” Just then the fairy took flight and landed in Belle’s tree. She settled herself on a string of garland, and began to swing gently.
Santa took a quick kiss of her soft inviting lips again, then stood, moving back into the magical fire place. “Good night my Belle, I will be with you soon.”, With that he took his last step backward and as the fireplace began to disappear Belle heard his parting words.
“A Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!”
Belle smiled, and thought “Yes, it’s going to be a very Merry Christmas.”
Copyright j.g.g/dec/2006
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Originally Posted by Artdecogoddess
Thank you very much 
Mistress Bjork Babe 
despite caffeine etc.
kind of way...) So.... a Christmas story, from Neil Gaiman:
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