Part 1 (2/2)
”Believe it or not, no. Then again there are twenty other guys here dressed as Santa.”
Even though Dad is a hard working businessman, he is also the biggest kid at Christmas. As soon as December hits, every office floor has to be filled with Christmas decorations while the outside building gets decorated like a grotto. Christmas at the Thompsons is filled with laughter, tinsel and a tree that needs three foot cut off the bottom in order to make it fit. Us boys were brought up to experience every meaning that Christmas brings, and even as adults my brothers, Harry, James and I never wanted it any different.
”Who's the girl in the blue dress?” I question, pointing to the beauty from afar. Dad's grin is priceless as he rests against the table. He knows where my mind is going.
”That my son, is Tamzin King. She works on the second floor. Fantastic little worker.” He clears his throat. ”I've worked in this business a long time and had endless encounters over the years. You get to learn people's vibes. With Tamzin it's this time of year.”
I frown. ”How do you mean?”
”Her spirit is lost.”
”The only spirit she consumes right now is that vile s.h.i.+t on the table.”
”That is true.” Dads chuckles, brus.h.i.+ng his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. ”I dread to think what's in that punch.”
”I don't know but I saw that Dave guy adding a whole bottle of Whisky.”
”Christ, I'll have half the building on sick leave tomorrow.” He cups my shoulder and stands. His 6ft frame towering over me. ”Anyway, son, you go and enjoy yourself. I'm off to find your mother and take her for a stroll down Oxford Street to see the Christmas lights.”
”See ya, Dad.”
My eyes work the floor to find Tamzin. She's moved from the group that play drunken games and props herself against the wall, drinking down the punch that makes her face scrunch with each mouthful. Drink after drink, I notice her mood reduce and slowly drift into a world of intoxication. I can't watch any more. I make my way over to grab another beer, nodding and acknowledging my new work employees I'm due to be responsible for in the spring. As I reach the table, Tamzin moves a step, misplacing her footing and falling forward. I reach out to stop her tumble as she falls into my chest.
”Oops, forgive me, Santa... for I am very drunk.” She slurs with a giggle. ”Someone spiked my drink.”
”Are you ok, Tamzin?”
”Arrr, you know my name.” Her eyes are glazed, alcohol fumes bouncing between us as she quickly turns to a few of the others and shouts, ”Hey everybody! Santa here knows my name!” People pay no attention to her what-so-ever. Suddenly, her face drains, her eyes narrowed as she clings her hand to her chest.
”You ok?”
”I need air.”
f.u.c.k sake, why me?
I hold her hair away from her face and rub her back while she holds the wall for support. ”I've made such an a.s.s of myself.” She cries, in between emptying the lining of her stomach onto the pavement. ”I always do this.”
”Don't worry, we've all been there.”
”Even you, Santa?” she whimpers; I couldn't help a chuckle.
”Even Santa.” She straightens, wiping her mouth on a napkin and taking the water bottle with a shaky hand that I grabbed on the way out. She slowly wobbles her way to the nearest bench, the side glance and half a smile were enough to know she's embarra.s.sed. ”I got so drunk at a party one time I threw up in my mother's shoes,” I say, trying to make light of the situation.
”Oh my G.o.d, always miss the shoes. No matter how bad you get, you always miss the shoes.”
I place my jacket over her shoulders and look down at her. ”Seems like you've had enough practice.”
She lets out a disappointed exhale. ”Yes, Santa. I'm forever on the naughty list.”
Finally, she meets my eyes, a beautiful mixture of light grey and silver that should sparkle against the light like diamonds. Only they look hollow. The untouched tear from her watery eyes starts to fall, and I reach out to catch it with my thumb, sweeping it across her cheek and cupping her jaw. She's beautiful, even in her drunken state. Her eyes are focused on mine; I don't want to look away. A blow of excitement tightens my gut as the tip of her tongue slips out to wet her lips. Lips I want to claim as I hold her against me.
”Thank you for looking after me, Santa,” she whispers. Her words are sincere as if she's not been taken care of for some time.
”No problem at all,” I murmur. ”But please, call me Noel.”
”Noel?” Her eyes go wide as a soft giggle leaves her small frame, her once ash looking face now a rosy glow from the cold night. ”That's a good one. What's your real name?”
”Noel.”
”Oh.” She seems surprised and studies me for a second before another burst of giggles takes over.
”What's so funny?” I question, trying to hide my own amus.e.m.e.nt.
”You. Santa. Noel. Christmas.” Her drunken giggles become a little harder. She's kind of cute when drunk, innocence falling from her like a feather to the ground.
”It's not Noel as in Christmas, it just... well, Noel.”
Tamzin's hysteria clearly doesn't want to leave her anytime soon. She's still laughing as she leaves the bench. Looking up at the sky with her heels kicking the ground, she staggers her way down the quiet street.
”Come on, Santa Noel,” she shouts, spinning around and having to catch her step. ”This drunken girl needs a big guy to help her home if you please?”
I took the easier option and got us a taxi. She felt so good laid up against me, my arm wrapped around her shoulders, her arm around my waist as I ran my fingers through her silky smooth hair. Once inside, I carried her to her bedroom, giggling with a muddled conversation that never made any sense. With a m.u.f.fled instruction, I find a T-s.h.i.+rt from her drawer. When I turn back my breath catches.
”Jesus, Tamzin,” I say barely above a whisper. She's has no knowledge of what she's done as she stands in just her black lace panties. My c.o.c.k twitches at the sight of her. She's even s.e.xier than I imagined with perfect round t.i.ts, a waistline like a model and a cute little mole just above her navel. My hands are itching to touch her. I swallow the lump of desire in my throat and place the s.h.i.+rt over her head before helping her to bed. Kneeling beside her, I stroke her hair. ”You feeling ok?”
”Hmm. Some b.a.s.t.a.r.ds took a sledgehammer to my head.”
She makes me smile. ”I'll get you some water.”
Her hand reaches out to hold my jaw, an appreciative smile on her lips as her mascara-smudged eyes struggle to stay awake. ”You're a kind man, Noel. There needs to be more people like you.”
”Get some sleep,” I whisper.
Her heavy eyes flutter to a close, a soft hum escaping her lips as she pulls the covers up around her chin. ”What would you like for Christmas, Noel?”
I hadn't really thought about it. ”I'm not sure, still trying to work that one out. What about you?” For a moment, I thought sleep had hit her, as there's no reply, but then in the softest of whispers, she says.
”I'd like to have just one Christmas to know I still believe.”
My brows line. ”In what?”
”December.” My gut feels heavy even though I am unsure of what she means. Leaning forward, I kiss her hair while her breathing drifts into a peaceful slumber.
”Sweet dreams, Angel.”
<script>