Santa & His Team Makes Up For A North Pole Screw-Up.

By Demi Urging. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

<figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="1962" data-orig-width="1865"></figure>

It’s the wee hours of December 26th. Rick is finally shoving the last of his teetering friends through their front door, He volunteered to be designated driver again, for about half a dozen friends & co-workers.

Another Christmas gathering passed as the clock ticked into the next day and it seemed he’d be single again into the new year. He thought he would have gotten over it by age thirty.

He did have a pity date from last year  for New Year’s Eve. It hadn’t been a nice date, either; she stayed for a single kiss at midnight and left without another word. The same woman has a boyfriend this year, so Rick couldn’t ask again even if his pride would allow it. Now he’ll get plenty of sleep.

The only sign of the holidays in his life was the box of fudge sitting on his counter, Which his elderly neighbor gave him the night before Christmas.

He wouldn’t even eat it tonight. Sleep had to come first, then he had a week off, since the boss knew most of the team would be useless if he had them come in that week.

Climbing the stairs, he smelled something delectable, coming out of the 4th floor stairwell. He thought one of his neighbors must have made actual food instead of subsisting on beer and crackers like his friends had. Maybe he would eat some of that fudge after all, since a glass of water and a handful of crackers in the face of a home-cooked meal seemed inadequate.

It had to be Miss Thompson. Rick thought that the old gal had gone off to the country for the day to visit with her kids, but the smell of his mom’s ham with orange & clove seasoning didn’t lie, and it was absolutely coming from somewhere on this floor, getting stronger as he approached his own apartment.

Taking a final pleasant sniff before entering his lonely apartment, Rick turned, halfway opened his front door, and was smacked in the face with a bouquet of aromas that sent his mind back to Christmas dinner with mom and dad.

Rick stepped back. Wrong apartment, he thought. But when he checked the address, expecting to be on the wrong floor somehow, he was met with the very same number he saw every day. He considered calling the cops, but wanted to know the actual situation before making that decision. So, flicked-open pocket knife in hand, he very slowly pushed the door open again.

“Aren’t you coming in?” A slender, bright-eyed young woman in an apron and a horribly ugly holiday sweater three sizes too large, only bare leg showing underneath its hem, was standing in the entryway.

She giggled, fluffy blonde locks bouncing around peaked ears, and took Rick by the hand, gently tugging him inside. “Come on, silly, it’s nice and warm. I have a fire going that’s the perfect size for snuggling and supper just came out of the oven.”

Ah, so a crazy person broke in. At least they…

“A Fire!?” Rick asked as he pulled himself out of her grasp and ran further inside, desperately trying to remember where he kept the extinguisher. But he stopped when he saw what she really meant: his television was showing a video of a fireplace and putting out the smooth jazz version of Christmas favorites, & also a heater stationed below it provided heat along with what looked like a genuine polar bear skin rug.

Jittering followed as the girl joined him. “I am sorry I couldn’t have a real one tonight, but there was no fireplace so this is the best I could do. Now, let’s get you fed while it’s nice and piping hot, and then we can open presents.”

A glance around the room revealed a small pine tree, dazzling with ornaments and laden with expertly-wrapped boxes underneath. Rick’s dining room table held more food than it ever had before and glimmered with candlelight that danced gleefully as the girl dimmed the lights and retrieved the last item from the oven, coming around with a ceramic dish of bubbling, hot food to finish off the spread. She pulled a chair out for him to sit, pouting when he declined her service.

“What is this and who are you?” Rick discreetly tucked his knife away.

“This is Christmas dinner for my sweetie, of course. It’ll start getting cold soon, so why don’t I make you a plate?

While she scooped Rick’s plate with food, He considered his plan of action. The way she bounced to a beat, humming along with the television, the points of her ears were over-worldly?

Rick reached out and tugged on one of the girl’s ears. She yelped, tightening up so as not to drop the plate, and begged him with a tremble in her voice, "Sweetie, please don’t.”

When he released her, she set his place at the table and did the same for herself. He took his seat.

“Merry Christmas, my sweet one. While you were away, Santa came along and dropped off a bunch of presents for you. I thought you would like the surprise and we could eat first before talking, but I guess I crossed a line, haven’t I?”

Rick put a bite of ham in his mouth, the girl brightening up as he started to eat.

It had to be one of the most delicious things he’d had the pleasure to shove in his face. Mom’s cooking, with its nostalgic advantage was still blown out of the water, and Rick felt sorry that he would never get to taste this for the first time again. Too soon it was all gone and the girl was carrying out a plate of apple and chocolate pie with ice cream on the side. This too didn’t last and something about her constant giggling warmed him inside in a way he couldn’t very well describe.

As he finished the last bite of chocolate pie, she came over to his chair & wrapped herself around his neck from behind, softness and warmth pressing into his back and fluffy, blonde hair tickling his cheek. “Oh, Messy boy” she said, and leaned forward to smooch a crumb off his cheek.

Before Rick could object, as little as he was inclined to, she had already slipped away to put dishes in the sink and his back felt uncomfortably cold with her absence.

“That was pretty good; amazing actually.” Rick said, “But seriously, who are you? Did one of my friends hire you or something?” He dismissed the idea.

“No, my mother? She’s one of the only people with a key to my place.

Unless; it was the landlady?”

The girl stretched in the warm air with a luxurious moan escaping peachy lips, the neck of her XXL sweater spilling over a shoulder, exposing so much skin underneath that it was impossible for her to be wearing anything underneath. “I’m an elf!” she proclaimed. She curtsied, at least there were denim cutoff shorts underneath the sweater.  Rick just stared.

“Didn’t you hear me? Santa came by, because you were such a good boy, and we set all this up for you. Well, not to toot my own horn, but I did all the cooking and decorating, Santa brought presents. Oh, and I’m Sugarbell. I’m here to make your Christmas wish come true!”

She’d taken a pose as if she was popping out of a giant layer cake; like there should be celebratory confetti shooting out. But she just stood there in awkward silence.

Rick sighed, so she was a crazy chick after all. “Okay, miss elf, why don’t you get out of here before I have to call the police. And how did you get in here anyway?”

“Magic,” Sugarbell said, looking crestfallen, her ears drooping.

“You’re not giving me a good argument not to call the police. Can you at least take off the fake ears so we can really talk about this?”

“Fake? Sweetie? She skipped over to a green sack by the door and plucked out a wrinkled, yellowed piece of paper. "Ahem,

‘Dear Santa, I’ve been a good boy all year if you don’t count that stuff that my sister says and all I really want is a girlfriend.’ and then there’s a colored pencil drawing of a girl with black pigtails who I think is your crush. 'It’s okay if I don’t get one, I know that’s asking for a lot, but it doesn’t look like mom and Dave are going to be able to give out lots of toys this year, so don’t worry about it if you can’t. Merry Christmas. BTW I’m making snickerdoodles this year, so make sure you grab your share before Dave can steal them all again.’

and there’s your signature.”

She handed the letter over for inspection. It was definitely his handwriting, his drawing skills from almost two decades ago…

“So you were sent by my mother. You could have just said that and we’d have been fine. I’m sorry, she’s pushy but I know she means well… should have told me I’d have company and I would have skipped that party. Anyway, what’s your actual name?”

“I’m Sugarbell. And I wasn’t sent by her, Santa brought me. Here, look.” She tugged on her ear, leaning up so Rick could look closely. It was either real or the seam of the rubber was so well hidden that it might as well be. “I suppose this would be a little hard to believe for an adult. Sorry, I haven’t actually spoken with a human for a few years.”

Rick shook his head. “Your makeup’s good, I’ll give you that.”

Rick angled his hips so the elf wouldn’t notice a certain reflex to her melding to his shape. She was incredibly soft in his arms, just short of purring, the smell of pepp