The Gift (Stocking Stuffers 2)

The Gift
Lia Connor
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2006 Lia Connor
An Authorized Excerpt

God, he was glad he didn't have to wear tights this year.

All the same, the furry leggings they did force him to wear itched. What were they made of, pure wool? Rob refused to reach down and scratch one particularly tormented calf. He'd get reamed out by the big boss, watching over all of them in his rented Santa suit. For a guy who was supposed to be fat and jolly, Mr. Beeman had one hell of a temper when it came to his temporary employees.

Rob found himself pretty glad that this was just a one-night gig. He made enough during the year as a museum guide to keep himself in pizza and beer, but when opportunity presented itself, he was usually the first to step up and get in line. Hence, when the call had gone out again at the temp agency for serving elves at a corporate Christmas Eve banquet, he'd signed up for the gig despite his wardrobe misgivings.

He resisted the urge to scratch -- again -- and reminded himself once more that at least they weren't tights. He'd felt like Robin fucking Hood last year, and his name didn't help. The leggings were pretty form-fitting though, enough to make him glad that he worked out, running lap after lap around the track at his gym until he could just about break the place's record for the mile.

"Hey! Hey, you, with the blond hair?"

Rob snapped back to reality. Shit. Mr. Beeman was giving him a dour look behind that false white beard, as if he could tell Rob had been caught daydreaming. An elf planted firmly behind the serving table he'd been waiting in line to reach glared at him. "Do you want this coffee or not?" she demanded. "Either take a tray or move on."

"Sorry about that, um…" Rob couldn't remember her name for the life of him. Shrugging, he picked up one of the heavy but decorative coffee urns, and a tray laden with cream and sugar. "Which tables do I have?"

The elf pointed. "Those, those, and those. Just don't cross circles with Shika. She's new to the agency, and no one really knows anything about her. But I've seen her getting testy when someone mooches in on her turf."

"Shika?" That was a name he definitely didn't remember. Something unique like that should go with an interesting-looking person. "Where is she?"

The elf rolled her eyes. "Over there." She pointed. "Already serving coffee, like you should be doing."

"All right, all right, keep your fake bun on." Rob turned toward his set of tables just in time to get a glimpse of Shika, and almost dropped his tray. As he righted himself, she moved gracefully among the tables, pouring coffee like a mistress of the art. He felt his mouth go dry and his cock start surging to life in his leggings.

He thanked God that the long tunic-like sweater he'd been given covered his crotch as he took a faltering step forward, trying to keep his mind on serving and one eye on Shika. Fuck but he'd never seen anyone like her. She was the sort of woman that just didn't exist in real life, but there she was, dressed in the same kind of outfit he had on. The difference was… she made it look good.