Cal (A Little Christmas Season Three)

5. Cal

Chapter 5

Cal

The moment I walked into the rec room, the gossip crew cornered me.

“So, how did it go?” Rosemary literally had a bowl of popcorn in her hand as if she had been preparing for some spicy story.

“It was good.” We sat down at one of the tables, and I clasped my hands over my lap. “He’s so cute with the kids. He’d definitely be a perfect Daddy.” I wasn’t sure if I’d said too much, but the way all three of them gave me looks that conveyed a little bit more understanding than I would’ve expected from this crowd made me think they weren’t as out of touch as I’d previously suspected. “But I don’t totally understand his humor.”

“How do you mean?” George scooted his wheelchair even closer to me so he didn’t miss a word.

“He made a few jokes that I feel like I’m supposed to understand…but I don’t. Like, the first night I said that I love warm milk and cookies, and he said something about always having the warm milk but never the cookies. And it seemed to surprise him when he said it, so he quickly changed the subject. I think that was some kind of inside joke I didn’t get.” I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. “And then last night when I said I forgot to bring milk for his cookies, he said he carried his own. But I looked around and he didn’t have any thermos or bottles with him.”

Ernest harrumphed, and Rosemary groaned as she pulled a five dollar bill out of her bra then slid it over to Ernest.

My jaw dropped as I watched their exchange. “You bet on this? What was the bet?”

George cleared his throat and leaned closer to my other side. “When that man came in here to talk about bears and bunnies, I knew he was a fellow dairy boy.”

“Dairy boy?” I looked between the three of them, waiting for someone to explain what that meant.

Ernest scooted his wheelchair even closer. “That’s what we called ourselves back in my day. Now, who knows what the kids say today. Something like milkmen or milk-tenders. I don’t keep up anymore, but I do know there are a lot more of us than there used to be.”

I was still lost, and now more confused than ever. “What are you talking about? What’s a milkman or dairy bartender or whatever you said?”

They all chuckled, and George finally took mercy on my ignorance. “Men who lactate, boy. Chest feeders. That Santa makes milk, and he’s baiting you to see if you’re into it.”

Chest feeders? Milk? My heart started racing when it all clicked in my head. “He’s offering to give me milk from his chest?”

Rosemary burst out laughing, throwing her head back and then reaching up to keep her wig in place. “Well, we’re not telling you to just latch on when he’s changing out of his suit, but it sounds like he’s interested and trying to feel out if you might be too.”

My mind was blown and my cock was hard. If what they were saying was true and Simon was actually flirting with me, I was definitely gonna latch on to him and never let go.

For the rest of the day, I couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d told me. During my lunch break, I googled lactating men and was shocked to not only discover it was common amongst more than 10% of society, but that I’d never heard of it even at the Little nights. Granted, a lot of the focus at my last club was on BDSM, and the Little nights were mostly for new doms to learn how to interact with subs during age regression.

But I wasn’t joking when I said I loved my milk.

Every now and then, I put warm milk in a bottle and fell asleep with it, but I hadn’t done that in a while. It just felt unsafe and lonely to regress when I was all by myself. My ex was only into it every now and then, and I think he was more interested in the discipline aspect of being a Daddy than the actual cuddling and caretaking aspects that I yearned for.

When I got to the mall, it was packed. As we got closer to Christmas, people realized they had lists to check off and visiting with Santa was usually at the top of it. Friday night was our busiest yet, with seemingly every child in the town showing up to visit with Santa. It was also the night we stayed longer, keeping the shop open for an extra hour since there was no work or school the next day.

There were so many things I wanted to talk to Simon about, but we just never had a chance to speak privately. Even still, my eyes never strayed from him, tracking every movement, gesture, and smile as he interacted with the children.

I was still on the fence about the lactating stuff until Santa was handed an infant and cradled her. The baby immediately turned into his chest and started rooting around as if she could smell the milk hidden underneath. At that moment, I knew my friends were right.

Maybe Simon was dropping hints for me and might actually let me try some of his milk from the source.

Once again, we finished late, and Simon and I were the last two cleaning up after the mall was closed.

“Hey, Cal, I wanted to thank you again for the cookies. I ate most of them at work today and they were delicious.” He smiled as he slipped off his coat and folded it over the chair. “The one with jingle bells going down the front cracked me up.”

I smiled, knowing exactly what he was referring to but glad he brought it up. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “That Santa was impressively endowed. I mean, I don’t know if you had anyone in particular in mind when you made that one, but…damn. That Santa knew how to have a good time.”

I almost choked on all the saliva gathering in my mouth. “Yeah, well, I might have been thinking of what a certain outdoorsy-type of Santa might look like in his jammies.”

Simon grinned as his eyes narrowed. “And what does a certain baking-type of elf look like in his jammies?”

I just shrugged. “You’ll have to take a peek when you give me my present on Christmas morning.”

He sucked in a deep breath and then picked up a box that I hadn’t noticed tucked behind his big Santa chair. “That reminds me, I brought this for you.”

I just stood there and stared as he held out the box. “For me?”

He didn’t respond, just kept his solid gaze locked on me until I took it.

I lifted the lid and my breath hitched at the most beautiful diorama I’d ever seen. “You made this?” It was a scene with Santa sitting in an armchair in front of the fire with a beautiful Christmas tree in the corner and a young man playing with a train on the floor. The boy had the same short brown hair and blue eyes that I had, and I couldn’t help but glance up at Simon with so much admiration. “It’s so beautiful.”

He cleared his throat before crossing his arms over his chest. “Glad you like it.”

My eyes followed his arms but stayed on his chest, suddenly thirsty and horny and wondering how I could possibly sate either of those. Or both. Preferably both. “Can I try it sometime?”

His shoulders tensed, making his arms cup his defined pecs as if presenting them to me for perusal. “What?”

Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud? “Hmm?” I caught his gaze, desperate to come up with a reasonable response. “Your workshop. Um, the way you make these. Ooh, the nutcrackers. Maybe I can help you fix those?”

“Right.” He sighed and his shoulders dropped, along with his arms. “Sure. I was planning to work on those tomorrow after we’re done here. You’re welcome to come over and play around.”

I was more careful to look for his cues and there was definitely some mischief in his eyes when he said that. “I like to play.”

His chin dipped once in a nod. “Then it’s a date.”

Holy shit. It’s a date.