Another child clambered into his lap, but Vicwatched Brucey’s mother as she weaved through the crowd to reachher husband. Vic recognized him—after working for the bus systemfor so many years, there were few long-term employees he didn’tknow by sight. Len Carlson saw Vic and nodded as his wife wrestledtheir son Brucey into the chair next to his father.
* * * *
When Vic finally got a chance to head to thebuffet, he caught sight of Matt at one of the tables and waved. Hislover was already eating, and flagged Vic over. As much as Vicwanted to dive into the food, he’d missed Matt’s company while upon stage playing Santa. So he skirted the line lingering at thebuffet and headed over to where Matt was sitting.
Good thing, too. A second plate piled highwith food waited for him. “Got you a plate,” Matt said as Vic slidinto the seat beside his. “Thought you might be hungry after allthat.”
“I could kiss you right here,” Vic said,tucking his beard under his chin to dive into the food with avengeance.
Matt grinned. “You could, but it’d probablyscar these kids for life to find out Santa’s gay.”
The food was heavenly—Vic hadn’t realizedhe’d worked up an appetite until he started to eat. While he wasstill only halfway through his plate, Matt went back up to thebuffet and filled another for him. This one included desserts, aslice of pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream and a generoushelping of some sort of fig pudding. Matt watched Vic devour thefood, lust shining in his eyes. Vic knew Matt had a strange fetishthat set his libido humming—he loved to watch a man eat. Good thingVic loved food. The sight of him chowing down combined with thecouple of beers already racing through Matty’s system almostguaranteed a hot night between the sheets when they got home.
Shoveling the last of the stuffing into hismouth, Vic suggested, “I think someone’s going to finally have hisway with Santa after all these years.”
“Do we have to wait?” Matt downed the rest ofhis beer and leered at Vic. “I’m thinking me and you, in theparking lot, right now. What do you say?”
Vic opened his mouth to reply when a smallvoice behind him asked, “Santa?”
He turned to find a young girl sliding intothe seat beside his. “Hey,” he said, suddenly uncomfortable. Shewas too little to have understood anything she might haveoverheard, but her presence was a painful reminder he had to becareful. Most of his coworkers had to know he was gay—hell, howmany times had he brought Matty along with him to any function orevent that included family or spouses? He knew his menacingappearance kept any of the guys from saying something about it tohim directly, and the one way to keep it from bubbling into aconfrontation was to keep the specifics of their relationship underwraps. He couldn’t admit Matty was his lover, even if everyone heresuspected it.
Being Santa only increased the need forsilence. These kids had sat in his lap, boys and girls alike, andVic knew too many ignorant people falsely believed gay men werepredators to be kept from children. The wrong word, the wronggesture—even something as simple as sharing a kiss—could spark awitch hunt or cost him his job. Sex in the parking lot sounded fun,but Vic didn’t dare chance it.
But the young girl stared at him with wide,adoring eyes, blissfully unaware of the troubled thoughts rollingthrough Vic’s mind. She leaned on the table and stared at Matt.“Who’s he?”
“I’m his special friend,” Matt said.
His words slurred a little—he’d definitelyhad a bit to drink. One beer usually gave him a buzz, and two wasenough to send him reeling. Vic counted four bottles on the table,including his own, and noticed an empty wine glass that had beenused earlier. So Matt had to be pretty sloshed.
“He’s one of my helpers,” Vic explained.
The girl giggled. She probably thought Mattwas cute—which he was, Vic had to admit; his guy wasgorgeous and he knew he wasn’t the only one who thought so.“You’re too big to be an elf, and only elves help Santa. Iknow, I saw it on TV.”
“I’m a special kind of elf,” Matt toldher. Yes, there was the slur again, speshal. When Matt gotdrunk, he got horny, and beneath the table, Vic felt a hot handclamp onto his knee. As Matt leaned past him to speak, that handrose steadily up Vic’s thigh, heading for his crotch. “I’m Santa’sspecial elf.”
“Okay, enough,” Vic cautioned, catchingMatt’s hand in his before it went any further. “I think it’s timeto go.”
“Back to the North Pole?” The girl giggledagain, covering her face with both hands and splaying her fingersto peek out at them. To Matt, she said, “You’re too big to maketoys. Do you take care of the reindeer?”
Vic was finishing the last of his beer; hesnickered and choked on the cool alcohol. “Yeah, he’s my stableboy,” he said, grinning at Matt.
A wounded look crept over Matt’s features. “Iam not the stable boy! Honey, I’m practically Mrs.Clause.”
He held out his left hand so the girl couldsee the ring on his finger, a white gold band that matched the oneVic wore. She glanced at it, unimpressed. “Mrs. Clause isold,” she pointed out. “And she’s a girl, like me.And she makes cookies all day long, which I know guys can’t do. Ithink you just want to be her but you’re not.”
Vic laughed, but sobered when he saw theflush rising in Matt’s cheeks. “All right, enough,” he said again,standing. Snagging Matt’s elbow, Vic helped him to his feet. “I’vegot…toys to make, or something, and he has eight tiny reindeer tofeed before he goes to bed.”
“Nine,” the girl piped up. Matt glared ather, but Vic’s grip on his arm kept him quiet. “Don’t forgetRudolph. He makes it nine.”
“Nine,” Vic echoed. “Right.” He couldn’t waitto take off this damn suit and put the dumb Santa myth to rest.
* * * *
“I am Mrs. Clause,” Matt grumbled,leaning heavily against Vic as they drudged through the parking lottoward Vic’s car. With more than a few drinks in his system, Mattwas officially sloshed, and
