Christmas With Kris Kringle

Chapter 13

“Stay,” Kris said, giving his body a big stretch.

“I can’t stay, I have to get back home.” It was eight in the morning, Celeste was up and was probably making Eggo waffles because I wasn’t there to help her make the real thing. I had loads of laundry that needed doing and I wanted to watch the latest episode of Why Knot , a reality dating show, it was decision day. Ugh, I sounded like an old lady. Was I really going to pass up the possibility of Kris once again hitting my switches like I was a low rider?

“ Stay .” His hand found my clit.

“No fair.” My body sunk into the mattress. Needing to think, I pushed his hand away. Kris looked at me with puppy dog eyes. It had been so long since I’d done what I wanted. Celeste was always the priority. Fuck it, a few additional hours wasn’t going to hurt anything. Besides, after today we’d probably never do this again. Rolling off the bed, I went in search of my purse.

After checking in with Celeste, she informed me that I must be home no later than five o’clock or she would be accepting applications for a new sister. I also checked in with our next- door neighbor, Ms. Sullivan, who poo pooed my many apologies for the inconvenience telling me to have a good time.

Returning to Kris’s bedroom, which was spacious and cozy at the same time, I found him tapping his phone screen.

“Okay so you have me until three. What are you going to do with it?”

Kris’s face dawned a smile. “How about breakfast?”

I was hoping he’d say he was going to treat me like a whore, but breakfast worked too.

After a shower and change, we headed to a brunch spot that he would not stop raving about the entire drive there. I just let him talk about the buttermilk pancakes as big as your face, peppermint hot chocolate and fluffy omelets. The whole ride his hands were connected to me. If he wasn’t rubbing my neck, he was stroking my face, or his hand was resting on my thigh.

When we got to the restaurant, it was packed. Duh, it was Sunday morning in Minneapolis, of course it was packed. But crowded restaurants didn’t seem to apply to tech moguls. Apparently, Kris knew the owner, so we were seated without delay.

Over mimosas, I peppered Kris with questions. “So you were born and raised in Canada?”

“Are we at the interrogation part of this date?”

“Yes, how else will I determine if I want to give you a second date if I don’t ask the obligatory questions in an attempt to get to know you better?”

“I think you already know the answer to the second date question.”

“You’re really cocky. I never noticed it when you were in the Santa suit, but now in dockers and a T-shirt, it’s very distinctive.”

“I prefer confident. I know you had a good time.”

I dropped my voice. “Because I screamed your name a few times.”

“Well that and the goofy smile you can’t seem to wipe off your face.” Damn my lack of a poker face. I immediately removed any hint of a smile, offering him deadpan.

“Why’d you move to the states?”

Before responding, he reached for his glass and downed his mandarin mimosa. “I got accepted to MIT in Massachusetts.”

“Smarty pants.”

“After college I made connections and just decided to stay.”

“What about your brother and sister?”

“They’re still both in Ottawa.”

I tried unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“The way you say Ottawa I could really clock the Canadian accent.”

“Okay Minnesota, don’t do too much.”

“I don’t have an accent.”

“Oh for sure, you betcha.” He performed a poor rendition of a Minnesota accent.

“Okay Canuk, I don’t know about that.” I winked.

“Well now you’re just being an arse.”

He was right a second date was a sure thing because when I was with him, I couldn’t stop smiling. After breakfast, he didn’t drive back to his apartment, instead getting on the freeway in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” I tapped on the touchscreen, lowering the volume on Donny Hathaway “This Christmas.”

“I’m taking you to a class.” Kris turned the volume louder, using the controls on his steering wheel, singing along.

I yelled over Donny’s silky-smooth vocals. “If you’re talking about exercise or yoga, I will open this passenger door and roll to freedom.”

Kris clicked the door locks. “Nope. We’re going to learn to decorate cookies.”

“Wait, isn’t that one of your bucket list items?”

“Yeah.” He was still humming under his breath.

“And you want to do that with me?”

“Yes. I had a class already scheduled today, so I just called and added you.”

Did you hear that? That was the sound of my vagina transforming into a raging river. I had been wet since he exited the elevator at 6:03 last night. And despite my best efforts, everything this man said or did turned my girl into a water park attraction. A shiver tripped up my spine as I recalled the early hours of the morning in which he stretched me out and reminded me what good dick felt like.

The cookie decorating class was held at a bakery called Bad Bakers, a shop I’d seen featured on the news for their delectable treats. As we got settled at our stations, the instructor with long, honey blonde box braids greeted the class. “Welcome to Bad Bakers. Shout out to our fellas in attendance. Great to see you husbands and boyfriends joining in the Christmas cookie excitement. I promise you’ll have fun and you get to eat cookies after.”

“She is one enthusiastic cookie instructor.” I noted, as she buzzed around the room. “Is cookie instructor a thing?”

“I believe the correct terminology is cookie artist.”

“And where does one learn this profession?” I wrapped the apron string around my waist.

“You have heard of bakers, right?”

“Yes, but you can be a baker and not be artistic.”

“Not a good baker. And she charges eighty-five dollars per head, so you know she’s good.”

“You paid eighty-five bones?”

“No, I paid eighty-five for me, a hundred for you since you were a last-minute add.”

“Damn, Celeste and I would have only charged a flat thirty dollars.”

The instructor passed out illustrated direction cards. With a picture of the finished product.

“For the record, my cookies are more sprinkles and googly eye based,” I informed him.

“Those are the best kind. I love when you bite into a cookie and the sprinkles drop everywhere like snowflakes.”

Cookie decorating was much like a paint night with the girls sans alcohol and dirty jokes. There were three designs and the cookie artist walked us through decorating each one. Because it was the Christmas season, our three designs were a snowman, a wrapped present, and a snow globe, which proved to be the most difficult.

At the break, we were approached by the only other male and female couple in the room.

“Not going to lie, when I saw you two walk in I was so relieved. I thought for sure I was doomed to be the only guy in attendance. I’m Sterling and this is my wife, Melodie.”

We exchanged first meeting pleasantries, followed by Melodie asking, “So Belen, how much arm twisting did it take to get Kris to do this?”

“It was actually his idea and I just couldn’t say no to that face.” I stroked the side of his cheek.

“A guy who’s into cookie decorating, sounds like a catch. How long have you two been married?”

My face puckered. “Oh no … we’re not?—”

“We just hit the six-month mark,” Kris said straight faced.

“We’re newlyweds too. Let me see your ring.” Before I could object, Melodie was reaching for my hand, finding it ringless.

“You know what,” I stammered. “We didn’t exchange rings at our wedding. It was more about a soul connection. Our minds and bodies aligning.”

Kris flashed me an impressed expression. I could be a daft liar when I needed to be and I didn’t see the harm in pretending. It’s not like we were ever going to see them again.

“I love that. Marriage is not about the material things,” Sterling said.

“No, it’s about the things we can’t see. The undeniable connection between beings.” Kris bopped the tip of my nose. He was laying it on a little thick, just like the icing on our cookies. “And don’t let Belen fool you. She has a stunner of a ring at home, but she was feeling a little swollen today so she opted not to wear it.”

“Swollen?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes, from the baby.”

“Oh my God how far along are you?” Melodie asked.

I looked to Melodie and Sterling and then back at Kris. “Uhm two months along. Honey, I thought we weren’t telling people yet.” I tugged at Kris’s sleeve.

“I know pooh bear but I’m just so excited.” Kris was fully in character, the loving doting husband.

“It’s very exciting.” I leaned in and whispered, “We’re having twins.”

Kris’s smile expanded. “If they’re boys we’re going to name them Clifton and Breaker, because we love the water.”

I sputtered out a laugh. “He’s joking. We will not be naming our kids after aquatics.”

Melodie placed her hand on my nonexistent belly. “So this is an extra special Christmas, newly married and starting a family. Your parents must be so proud.”

I swallowed down the pang of grief that threatened to wash over me. I’d never considered what a wedding or having kids would look like without parents there to share it with me. Perhaps sensing my anxiety, Kris brought my hand to his lips, giving it a quick peck. “From the moment I met Belen, I knew.”

The corners of my eyes narrowed. “Knew what?”

“That my life would never be the same.” He nudged me with his shoulder, and all I could do was stare at him in awe. Kindness was underrated. When looking for a mate people often mentioned looks, sense of humor, or financial stability. But kindness was the thing that moved me the most. You wouldn’t be able to tell from my last boyfriend, who was rude to waitstaff and acted like he was entitled to everything. However, the older I got, I realized that a kind heart made up for a multitude of sins.

With the break over, we returned to our workstation.

“Liar, liar pants on fire,” I whispered.

“What? You could have stopped me at any time.”

He was right, but I’d never been mistaken as part of a married couple before. And I enjoyed the idea of people thinking that I had landed the burly gentlemen hunched next to me in focused concentration as he attempted to draw the perfect bow.

“Do you want to get married one day?” I asked. I knew this was technically still the first date, but since he’d toyed with the idea, I was curious.

“Yep marriage, kids, a dog named Celine Dion. I want it all. What about you?”

“I’m not opposed to marriage. I just don’t think it’s a requirement for a healthy, loving relationship.”

“So you can take it or leave it.”

“When you say it like that, you make it sound like a side of bread at The Cheesecake Factory.”

“You always take bread when it’s from The Cheesecake Factory.”

“I just think people put too much stock in marriage like it’s the endgame and it’s not.”

“So what’s the endgame?”

“Our purpose in life has nothing to do with finding a soulmate. It’s about making yourself a better person every day, and being kind to others, and stuff like this and your list, learning new things and sharing new experiences.”

Kris’s gaze meandered over my features.

“What is that too hippie dippie for you?”

“It is definitely giving live, laugh, love vibes but I dig it.”

My parents never married which caused some issues when she passed, but they were the gold standard when it came to love. If you can’t love me the way my folks loved each other, then I don’t want it.

In the car on the way home, I was serenaded by a one-man Christmas choir. Kris took great delight in singing Alvin and the Chipmunks, “The Chipmunk Song.” Midway through, he nudged me in my side until I joined in, turning up the volume as we zoomed down the 494.

On the tail end of our off-key rendition, that would get us booed off the Apollo stage, Kris asked, “What are your plans for Christmas?”

“Nothing special. You probably noticed I still haven’t decorated yet.”

“Yeah I was wondering why Ms. Event Planner hasn’t decked the halls in her own apartment?”

“The time just kind of got away from me. I feel horrible and Celeste is threatening to spend the day with our neighbor.”

“Do you have a tree yet?”

“No tree, no stockings, no presents.”

“Wow, so you’re really going to take it right down to the wire.”

“Looks like it. I’m just going to place a huge online order for my sister’s gifts.”

“You do know you work in a mall?”

“An overpriced mall.”

“Do you spend the day with family?”

“No, just me and Celeste. We don’t have a big family and the ones that we do claim live out of state. What about you?”

“I go home for Christmas. When I left Ottawa it was the one thing my mother requested, that I’d always come home so we could celebrate as a family.”

“Sounds nice.” I watched the snow-covered streets pass us by. Every year I’d countdown the days until Christmas, but not because I couldn’t wait to unwrap presents and indulge in spiked hot chocolate. I was counting down the days until all the fa, la, la, la, la was over. I hated the sappy commercials and talk of family traditions. It was less hate and more envy because the fictional family in the Folgers commercial got to spend the holidays with their son who’d moved thousands of miles away. The son that took great pains to surprise them on Christmas morning at the front door. And the mother who was awash in tears of joy at the return of her beloved son and her favorite brand of coffee.

I wanted my Folgers Christmas surprise. Yes, I had Celeste and I was grateful for her. But a two person Christmas didn’t really feel like Christmas at all. While I tried to make the day special for her, it was just mingled with so much pain. I’d prefer it if there were no sleigh bells ringing, no chestnuts roasting, and no dashing through the motherfucking snow. Was there an anti-Christmas Christmas club? Because if there were, I would be the president, treasurer, and secretary. Our motto would be, Ho, Ho, No.

“Do you and your sister have any holiday traditions?”

“No not really. I just try to get through the day without breaking into tears. Cakes and pies tend to help.”

Kris was silent for a long while, his hand flexing over the steering wheel. “You should come.”

“ Come? ”

“To Ottawa for Christmas. If you like dessert, my mom has you covered.”

I snorted a laugh. “I know right, I’ll just pack my things and hop a plane or do you fly via private jet?” I joked.

“We could fly first class, you, me, and Celeste.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.”

“I can’t just fly to Canada. Work is so busy.” That was a lie. After the Christmas season, my job was far less demanding.

“They can do without you for a few days.”

“Kris, I’m not some influencer with ten million followers or a model who can jet set out of the country.”

“Do you have a passport?”

“Yes, but I also have responsibilities.”

“Yeah, and every last one of them will be waiting for you on the other side of this trip.”

He was right, I was making excuses. But it wasn’t just me to think about, I had to think of Celeste. She liked routine, but her routines were more like mile markers letting her know she was keeping a good pace. Breakfast at seven in the morning was a must, but whether breakfast was at our kitchen counter or Canada didn’t really matter.

Kris reached for my hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “You don’t have to decide now. Just think about it.”

Instead of continuing to object, I found myself agreeing. “Okay, I will think about it. Thank you for the invite.” After the ask, that was pretty much all I could focus on. Who invites someone to visit their hometown on the first date? And then there was his mother. How would he explain my presence to her? “Hi Mom this is Belen, the lady from work I’m fucking.” And what would my friends at the anti-Christmas Christmas club think? I would be stripped of my titles. You can’t be president when you’re downing eggnog and shaking jingle bells.

We returned to Kris’s apartment with forty-five minutes to spare before my hard stop at three o’clock. Kris wasted no time making use of our remaining moments together. If our early morning sex session was intimate and delicate, what he was doing to me now was the polar opposite. Straight smacking my ass, wrapping his massive hand around my neck while applying measured pressure, with an intense kinetic thrust that I somehow felt in my chest.

My body greedily received every dick stroke. When Kris abruptly pulled out, I was compelled to drop to my knees and suck his balls into my mouth. I pulled off his condom and teased him with my tongue. Kris’s hand grabbed my hair and guided me over his length. The depth and girth of his dick caused me to moan and flick at my clit. Coming with his dick in my mouth felt like a luxury.

“Look at me.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. And I complied, staring up at him with wide eyes while he fucked my mouth. Only breaking contact when my frantic fingers hit the spot and an orgasm washed over me. Kris didn’t give me a moment’s rest. He led me to the sofa while I was still shivering from ecstasy. Pointing to his condomless dick, he asked, “Is this okay?”

“Yes, God yes. Fuck me.”

He bent me over the back of the couch and manhandled me in the best of ways. Forcing me to sign the rights of my pussy over, declaring on several occasions that it was his, all his. I promised to never give it to anyone but him. Who says that type of shit? Me … it was me and if he kept fucking me like this, it would all be true. I could still feel the weight of him, but this time he used his mass to lock me in place, taking full control. All I could do was scream and moan for more and he gave it to me.

After a mind bending orgasm I gathered my things. At the elevator door, we said our goodbyes. “I had a good time. I hope you did too.”

He shrugged. “It was alright,” he teased. I swatted at him with my hand but he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to him before I could make contact. “Thank you for coming, and coming, and coming, and coming.” His eyes were hooded and filled with lust. I knew if I didn’t leave now he would have me on my knees milking his dick. “Promise to seriously think about my invitation.”

“Uh-huh.” I gave his cheek a quick peck. “See you at work tomorrow.” Entering the waiting elevator, I took one last eyeful of him in all his shirtless majesty.

“I’ll be the one in the red velvet suit with a satisfied smile on my face,” he said, as the doors closed.