"It's stifling in here," Jessie said, "I wish they would open a window or something."
"Don't worry, honey, this won't take much longer," Carla said, "After all, they got that hunk from sales to be Santa, I just wish it was me working under him."
"Oh stop it," Jessie reddened at the implied thought.
"Oh come on now, Jessie, wouldn't you like to find out what he's like in the sack?"
"Please, Carla, I have no interest in finding out anything at all about him," she sneaked a peek at him through the throng of employees, "He's too . . . much a…," she became flustered, "too much of a ladies man, kind of, you know what I mean?"
"I sure do, honey," Carla smacked her lips, "and that's exactly why I'd like to find out."
"What's that," Jessie asked?
"Just what's stuffed inside those pants."
"Oh my gosh, Carla, stop it," Jessie was thoroughly embarrassed now and trying to hide her blushing face from her fellow employees, "I don't want to hear it."
Carla had a way of bringing out Jessie's crimson color and even though it embarrassed her, Jessie loved Carla dearly. She was a good friend and a totally honest person. She managed to always say what Jessie had been wondering but was too afraid to venture into words.
Carla elbowed Jessie in the ribs and pointed to the front of the room where the President of the company stood with Tom Nichols, the company's newly selected Santa, as he pulled his hand out of the fish bowl that held the names of the nervous female employees.
"And the winner is...," The room became quiet and the sound of breaths being drawn in with the silent hope that they would be the lucky ones this year and not be named. Every year this is the most stressful time in this otherwise jovial office. For it is on this evening when the computers are silenced, the phones are put on answer, and the eggnog has run dry; when one lucky woman will be drawn to play the part that they've dreaded since their first days of working for M.A. Reilly Corporation. This is the night that two unsuspecting employees will be named to participate in the yearly fund-raiser that is sponsored by the local business community in the City of Brotherly Love, otherwise known as Philadelphia.
The other companies have similar events and donate other people as well. This year M. A. Reilly Corporation was selected to supply Santa and one of his female helpers to give out the gifts to the attendees at this year's festivities. Dean Whittier, down the street, was nominated to supply Mrs. Clause and another elf. All the major downtown businesses provide two employees, one male and one female, to portray a variety of roles, from elves to Frosty the snowman. Eventually they all meet at one special dinner and are given their costumes as well as directions on how to mingle and act their hearts out on this one night at the Annual Christmas Party at the Philadelphia Convention Center.
Not a sound was being made, not a sniffle, not a cough. It was as quiet as a mouse while on the roam for that one elusive crumb. Carla seemed to be the only one eager to be selected as a partner to Tom Nichols. Tom, himself had that kind of smile plastered on his face that is the result of not wanting to be present and wishing he was any place else but here.
As the paper was slowly unfolded, only adding to the nervous excitement, the silent prayers of all female employees who were gathered could be seen floating to the ceiling in hopes of reaching the heavens above.
"...Jessie Morgan!"
With a sudden rush of exhalations, you could hear the relief in those who made it through another year.
"Oh you lucky bitch," Carla said to Jessie, the smooth jealousy rolling across her tongue.
As if by magic or the quirky sense of humor that Mr. Murphy seemed to bestow upon Jessie, Mariah Carey's voice began bellowing, "All I want for Christmas is you." How ironic, thought Jessie and she began to laugh inwardly at the choice of music being played. It was at that moment she remembered her horoscope for today stated that a wonderful opportunity would come her way. Murphy's Law struck again. If this was the great thing that would find her, she wondered what else could possibly go wrong since there were several hours left in this depressing day. It seemed that the last several years, she had been having a torrid affair with that Murphy man. You'd think he could manage to snag someone else much more interesting this year.
"Oh my God, no, this can't be. No, I can't do this. I mean, I can do this, but I can't do this with him. Please say this is some sort of mistake, please." Jessie felt the room spinning around her as she tried to remember to breathe.
Carla had a most wicked grin of all in the room. At that moment, all sex-crazed Carla could think about was the package wrapped in gray material that housed the "gift of all gifts". Had anyone noticed, they would have seen where her green eyes settled, silently unwrapping the ribbon of Tom's pants. She was wondering if it was true what they said about large hands and long feet. She licked her lips with the vision of Tom's flesh colored sugarplums dancing in front of her eyes. She watched as his thick, long tiding of joy swayed from side to side as he spread his legs and crossed his arms as he walked toward her in her daydream.
Jessie, with the wide-open eyes of a doe and that scared look upon her face, was as white as a ghost. All of the employees in the room were clapping and edging her to the front of the large conference area. She moved, but was unaware of how she got there. Once she turned and faced the crowd her blood pressure spiked and she almost crumbled on the spot.
Tom hooked an arm under her elbow and gave her support while whispering in her ear, "Steady, Jessie, this bad dream is for the good of the people and long live the corporation and all that."
She looked up at him and muttered under her breath, "Yeah, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead." This was going to be a very long holiday season, she thought to herself as her half-dazed expression gave way to her practiced exaggeration of a smile.
The President blabbered on for the next ten minutes about Christmas and the nobility of the cause. How delightful that these two were donating their time during this season of giving, blah, blah, blah. As Jessie leaned into Tom for support she noticed that he had such muscular arms and was almost a foot taller than she was. She was a tiny thing, her mother always called her scrawny, weighing in at just less than ninety-five pounds and barely reaching five foot tall. She was small of breast and butt and skinny of leg and arm. Her ribs stuck out as if she'd been starved for the last decade and she wore thick tortoise shell glasses that seemed to magnify her eyes and the lack of make-up, which she didn't know how to use. She had a pretty face, but the glasses obscured that and she always seemed to be staring at the floor when she spoke to anyone. What struck Jessie was the delicious scent that seemed to float all around him. She had never been this close to him before and wasn't sure if her fantasy had betrayed her or if his cologne was truly spiked with the scent of raw sex appeal. Stop it; she thought to herself, he would never notice you in a million years.
Tom, on the other hand, was one of those golden boys, six feet tall, weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds, muscular, and good looking. He was one of those guys that would go through life on the crest of the wave, never once faltering or losing his way. If this were war, you would see this statuesque man standing in the middle of a firefight and would know, instinctively, nothing would dare happen to him. He seemed to be blessed that way. He was a confident, "can do" type of guy, ready to leap tall buildings to Jessie's submissive, mousy appearance, ready to blend in with the wall persona. Random choice had brought together what nature saw fit to keep apart.
Send to your friend
