Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Tiff’s cackle bursts out loud.
“What happened? Did you empty Santa’s sack for twenty grand?”
I keep grinning. “No, no. The client was Santa at the grotto, actually. But he wanted a plus-one for his work party. He said he was desperate for a companion. He didn’t want to go alone.”
Tiff raises an eyebrow.
“Right… a companion for Santa… that he could finger under the table, by any chance? Did you give him a desperation discount? You got suckered in there, Ells.”
Ebony gives Tiff a side eye, but she doesn’t need to. I know Tiff well enough by now to accept a bit of snarkiness from her.
“Sorry. I had a late one,” our scarlet haired bestie says. “I’m a bit yowchy.”
Eb’s eyes widen as she looks at me.
“Ah, yeah, I remember now,” she says and takes my hands. “This was the client who said he was desperate for a companion, but ended up giving you a lump of cash for charity instead? The guy who wanted to see who would help him if he sent out a load of requests?”
I nod. “I thought I was helping him out for thirty quid, I really did, but no. He gave me a shit ton of money! I handed it out, too. I took it out in handfuls from the ATM and gave it to people on the street outside.” My breath hitches. “He was amazing.”
Eb points to the grotto sign.
“Shall we go and see if Santa is playing Santa again this year?”
“We shouldn’t,” I say, the rules of The Agency especially strong in my mind given my current circumstances. “You know what the regulations state. I shouldn’t even be talking about him at all.”
Tiff rolls her eyes at me as though I’m crazy. She’s a lot more of a rule breaker than me. Eb simply smiles.
“You’re allowed to go to the grotto, just like everyone else,” she says, giving me a shrug but no side eye. “It’ll be fun. You don’t need to acknowledge his dick or the fact you’ve seen it.”
“I haven’t seen it,” I say, instantly defensive when it comes to such a charitable client. “He asked me to accompany him to a meal for thirty quid. I turned up because I thought he was lonely, and he gave me thirty grand because I came to help him. That’s all. No dick whatsoever.”
“He gave you thirty grand without even waving his dick? How rude.” Tiff laughs. “I’d want at least a glimpse of Santa’s sack if I’d trekked out on a job, charity payout or not.”
My tears are welling, emotions rising high. Thoughts of the lovely Santa figure rising up from the depths.
“Do you want to see him again?” Eb asks me. “If he’s such a great man and didn’t so much as pay you for a handjob, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you calling by and saying hello.”
“I’d love to see him again, if it’s the same Santa,” I say. “He might not remember me to be fair, even if he is.”
Tiff’s laugh is a massive cackle this time. “Who could ever forget you?! You’ll be stamped into his spank bank for all time. Come on,” she says, taking my hand. “Let’s get to the grotto. I’ll sit on his lap myself if my butt will fit.”
Tiff takes the lead, gripping my fingers as she marches us through the mall on a mission.
Damn, the queue for the grotto is heaving, full of kids desperate to see Santa. But none of them are as desperate as me. My heart is fluttering on overdrive at the memories. I want to dance as Santa’s little cottage comes into view. It has a cute path leading up to it with artificial grass and snow, and it hits me. Hard.
I have to fan my face as we get close to the grotto doorway, mouthing to Tiff and Eb how nervous I am as I step inside. My crazy excited O M G must be shining far brighter than the Christmas lights.
The grotto is small and cosy once the curtain drops behind me. Santa is sitting on his chair, giving a ‘ho, ho, ho’ as he welcomes me over with open arms.
He is literally going to have a ho, ho, ho on his lap over the next few minutes.
Jesus Christ, my heart is a mess. It’s him. It’s definitely him. I can see it in his kind eyes, dark mahogany under heavy brows, and there’s no doubt he recognises me because his warm eyes widen. His expression is one of shock, showing through his fluffy Santa beard.
I’m legit shaking when I perch myself on his padded suit lap. There is so much I want to say, but I can’t blurt it out with the photographer in here, so I take a deep breath and wait for him to guide the situation.