Chapter 6: Mrs. Claus List

It’s the most wonderful time of the year
With nipples jingle belling
And everyone telling you be of good cheer
It’s the most wonderful time of the year

It’s the hap-happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and male happy endings
When boys come to call
It’s the hap-happiest season of all

There will be orgies for hosting
Nipples for squeezing
And caroling out in the nude
There will be scary sex stories
And tales of the glories of
orgies long, long ago

It’s the most wonderful time of the year
There will be much pole dancing
And cunts will be glowing
When family incest is near
It’s the most wonderful time of the year

There will be orgies for hosting
Nipples for squeezing
And caroling out in the nude
There will be scary sex stories
And tales of the glories of
orgies long, long ago

It’s the most wonderful time of the year
There will be much pole dancing
And cunts will be glowing
When family incest is near
It’s the most wonderful time
Yes the most wonderful time
Oh the most wonderful time
Of the year

Let’s face it. The holidays are depressing. Even before the holiday season begins, social media bombards us with commercials talking about “the happiest time of the year.” And the lonely, like me, start to believe in hope. No date or party invite for Halloween? That’s okay. Things will be better by Thanksgiving. Sitting alone at the table, or worse, at the little girls table for Thanksgiving? That’s fine. Christmas will bring a new love.

All I had to do was ask Mrs. Claus for the perfect girl.

I came up with the Mrs. Claus List for Jane. Jane, 32, my best friend, could have any girl in any place we walked in to, including farmer’s markets, bookstores, antique stores. For some reason though, none of her first dates turned into seconds. Her young suitors always had a fatal flaw, too tall, too short, too fat, too athletic. Just not right.

Sitting at the Pussy Lips with a lovely bottle of White Zinfandel, I forced her hand. “Jane, no one will ever meet your standards if you don’t know what they are.”

“What, you want me to write up a checklist?” Jane swirled the rose-colored wine in her glass before taking a sip.

“Couldn’t hurt. I mean really, Julie was perfect for you and she was gorgeous! And why did you dump her?” Honestly, I remembered Jane’s weak excuse for dumping the high school junior. She’d been too focused on her studies.

“I just got the feeling that I wouldn’t be first with her. I mean, she had so much going on, maybe I’d be forgotten.” Jane smiled at a passing girl with ocean deep blue eyes and dressed in a cheerleader outfit.

“And you got all that from a first date?” I shook my head. I had a feeling my friend was just too good at the catch and release game. She didn’t have any stamina for the long haul. Of course, I’d had one long-term relationship in the last four years, and Tina had dumped me for her dental hygienist. Total cliché.

“I can read people, Rose. I’ve told you that.” Jane looked at me, shocked that I’d question her psychic ability.

“Yeah, I remember. But I think you’re getting your messages mixed up.”

“And you’ve been so successful in the teen dating world?”

Ouch. “Okay, before we start throwing wine in each other’s faces, let’s get back to my idea.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snipe,” Jane said as she refilled my glass. “What’s your idea? Please don’t tell me you think we should try that high school speed-dating thing again. What a disaster.”

“No, I never want to do that again either. This idea is more up your psychic ability alley. I heard it on one of the girl podcasts.”

“Really? Was it Dr. Rossi? She has some of the best guests. Especially now that she’s found her sensitive side.” Jane loved Dr. Rossi. And teen soap operas. And the rest of the wasteland that social media served up as entertainment. “You are so lucky to telework. You get to surf social media all day.”

“Except you missed one fact. I work. I don’t surf.” I paused on my tirade. Jane didn’t get it. But neither did my mom, or my neighbors, or anyone who found out I wrote sex stories. They all thought I spent my days with the couch and the remote. Somehow the projects that paid the bills magically got done with minimal work on my part. The truth was that I worked longer hours than anyone, including my office furniture friend sitting across from me.

“So how did you come to hear about this great idea?” Jane shot a wicked smile my way.

Busted. Of course, the one time I take a break, all the stereotypes about my life of leisure are proven true. “Never mind. Here’s the plan. We list out what we are looking for in a girl or in a relationship. Then we sort them by order of importance. We’ll trade, call each other out on the bull shit, and then we have a list.”

“A list that we take to the girl store and go shopping?” Jane giggled, the wine was starting to affect my friend. After two glasses, everything was funny.

“Something like that. We put the list away and when we meet a girl after the first date, we match her qualities up to the ones that we said were important.” I stared at my friend. “If she’s ranking high on the list, we say yes to a second date.”

“Even if she might be a little taller than me?” Jane was taking in the crowd, looking for her next prey.

“If being a certain height, isn’t on your list, yes.” I opened the notepad app on my cell phone. “Now pay attention. List off what you want in a girl. We’re starting these tonight.”

Twenty minutes later, Jane finished her criteria. Must be 5’6 to 5’10, blonde hair and blue eyes, a Freshman to Junior in high school. Be into things like anal sex, furry play, cunnilingus, light bondage, spanking, spitting, nipple play, like to play the “s” part in D/s relationship, must be into orgies and girlfriend swapping.

“That’s all? You don’t have one more thing to add, like straight A student?” I held up my cell phone looking at the notepad waiting for the next one.

“No, that’s about it.” Jane was quiet, she’d ordered a basket of hummus and pita bread while we talked. Scraping out the last of the dip from the bowl, she looked up at me, “What’s next?”

I glanced at the list before I forwarded the page to her cell phone. I hadn’t believed it would be this easy. Jane knew what she wanted in a girl. “Now take this home and rank them in order of importance.”

“Everything’s important,” Jane quickly looked at the note on her cell phone.

“I know, but some qualities must be more important than others. Like having an anus fetish would be more important than a blonde hair blue eyed girl?” I worried I had created a monster. Jane wasn’t a girl used to compromise.

“I guess,” Jane’s voice quavered, “but I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Just try it.” I felt like I’d assigned homework to a high school cheerleader the night before the prom. I closed the notepad and was slipping my cell phone into my purse when Jane cried out.

“Stop!” Jane held her hands out in front of her.

I glanced up, wondering what I’d done now. “What?”

“We haven’t done your list. Give me your cell phone and I’ll write while you talk.”

Seriously? I hadn’t thought I’d make a list. Usually our get-togethers were all about Jane. I didn’t mind being the tag-along. Working alone all day, it was nice to just get out. I needed female companionship, even if it was on Jane’s terms. “Okay, if you have time.”

“I’m not the only one who needs some good luck in their dating life. When was your last date? Two months ago?”

Try two years, 3 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, but who’s counting. “About that,” I sat back and thought about what I wanted in a life partner. “Okay,” I paused and took a deep breath. “A high school Freshman to Junior, brunette, under 5’11, any color eyes, must be athletic.”

“What else?”

“hmm, she has to be cute. Bad girl cute, not captain of the home economics club cute.”

Jane grinned. “I knew you liked bad girls. Go on.”

“I said bad girl cute. You know, brunette shoulder length hair, the opposite of a blonde cheerleader.”

“Glad we’re looking for two different types or we might fight over the perfect girl.” Jane nodded. “What else?”

“She must like Sybians. Be into French kissing an anus, light bondage, must be strap-on proficient, light bondage, must like watching porn on a cold night with a bowl of popcorn curled up under a blanket.” My expectations were total opposites. No wonder I was still single. “And she must like spitting, breast slapping, orgies, 69’ing for hours on end,” I giggled. “Um, be into puppy play, not furry play.”

“And live in a dog house with a white picket fence,” Jane laughed.

“You got it,” I smiled. “That would be cool. I wonder if living in dog house would qualify as a tiny house?” We both laughed.

My daydreams surrounded what a perfect life with a teen girl would look like.

“Buds for tits or B cups? Tall or short? What else?” Jane tapped on cell phone. “Earth to Rose. Let’s get busy here.”

I grinned. My list only took fifteen minutes to complete. My dream lover had danced through my mind enough times that all I had to do was let the description come out. Fantasy, total fantasy. I didn’t have the same problem as Jane, too many teen suitors. I was sure the Mrs. Claus List would work for her. But me? It was a long shot.

Putting the list into my purse, I agreed that I’d rank the list before we got together again on Saturday. Riding home in the Uber to my apartment, I pulled the list out and glanced over my description of the perfect girl. Someone who loved 69’ing with me in front of the fireplace and workout on a Sybian with me on a Sunday after church. She had to like strip clubs or at least tolerate it. She had to like puppy girl play with friends and play groups.

I sighed and put my cell phone back into my purse. It was a dream. A wish list for Mrs. Claus. That’s all.

The next morning brought snow and a problem. My Internet connection was out. Picking up my cell phone, I called the apartment manager.

“Female Christian Homes, you’re on your way home, this is Mrs. Allen, how can I help you?” Mrs. Allen, was the receptionist, leasing agent, and on-site emergency after-hours contact employed by the church. She was also one of the few women I saw enough to call a friend.

“Hey Mrs. Allen, it’s Rose. My Internet link’s dead. Is yours?”

“Hold on. I was just online looking for new BDSM furniture for the club room. The stuff we have is so dated, don’t you think?” Mrs. Allen was always trying to get the church leadership to cough up money for renovations. Because only females lived in the building, the answer was mostly no, but at least Mrs. Allen was persistent.

“I guess. Is your Internet still up?” I was getting concerned. I had several projects with due dates in the next couple days. All my current work was due back to the porn publisher before the male staff took off for their long Christmas break. I had no time for anything to go wrong. And although working in the club room until my connection was back up was an option, the thought of trying to work next to Mrs. Allen’s office with her constant Christmas music made my head hurt.

“Hold on, I’ll check.” Mrs. Allen mumbled something away from the phone. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard “pain in my butt.” When she came back on the line, her voice was all sweetness and light. “My connection’s fine. Did you give a blow job to the cable guy so he wouldn’t disconnect your internet?”

“Of course I sucked him off,” I grumbled. The guy had a smelly cock, tasted like ass.

“Call the company and have the girls troubleshoot for you. If they can’t help, my cousin is pretty handy with computers. For the right kind of sex he can stop by.”

Mrs. Allen had been trying to set me up with her cousin for months. “I’m sure the Internet company will be able to fix it. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up the phone before she could respond. I didn’t need someone’s cousin hanging around hoping to get laid.

I dialed the number of my Internet provider. After ten minutes of commercials about how to satisfy the cable guy and upcoming porn movies, I was ready to pull out my hair. I decided to put the time to good use and clean out my purse. Wallet, two different size butt plugs, a hand-held vibrator, four nipple pasties, a spare thong, lots of change. Then I opened my cell phone and brought up the notepad app.

Bad girl cute, smart, funny, willing to try new things, my list sounded like one of those online dating commercials about how the woman found their perfect teenage lover by just answering a boatload of questions and plopping down thirty bucks a month for a membership. I started numbering the fifteen characteristics that made up my perfect girl.

Fifteen items I thought would bring me true love. At least when I met up with Jane on Saturday, my homework would be done. Jane had probably already deleted her list.

I was just trying to rank the last two items when a live voice came over the phone. “Speedy Cable, this is Natalie, can I have your account number or phone number to look up your account?” The sexy female voice cooed in my ear. She sounded young, a teen maybe?

Scratching down a sixteenth item, a good, sexy voice, I gave Natalie my account number. “I can’t get on at all. I know I sucked off the guy and he said he would notate my account. Of course, I can’t see if it’s notated or not since I can’t get online.”

Natalie chuckled. “We get dependent on the connection. I don’t make a sex purchase without checking out what the online review sites say about the product.”

I could hear ticking in the background as she reviewed my account. “I work out of my home so I need my connection. I’m feeling lost,” I admitted to this stranger who was miles or even continents away.

“I understand. Looking at your account, the guys notated it was paid in full for the month so that’s not the problem. Let me shoot a signal through your system. Do you have your computer turned off?”

“Hold on,” I walked over to the desk and shut down my system. “It is now.”

“Great. Now unplug your wifi router and wait to plug it back in until I tell you,” Natalie hummed while time passed. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t doing anything but watching the clock pass for the suggested time from her script. “Now plug it back in and turn on your computer.”

I followed Natalie’s directions and when I went to sign into the Internet, I held my breath. “Work, please work,” I whispered to my monitor. I had a manuscript that had to be sent off this morning. I kicked myself for not sending it last night when I’d finished, but I’d wanted one last look to make sure it was perfect. And now I couldn’t send it.

The monitor fluttered and then an error came on the screen. I sighed.

“Did it work?” A hopeful Natalie asked in my ear.

“No, so now what?”

“Let’s try again,” Natalie walked me through all the steps on the cheat sheet on how to connect dummies to the Internet. Thirty minutes later, we were at the same point. Nowhere.

“So now what?” I was tired and frustrated and I’d eaten my way through a bag of red licorice while we talked.

“I’d suggest replacing your wifi router. We could send a guy out to troubleshoot, but that would require fucking him. If it’s your wifi, you can fix that yourself.”

“I’ll go get a new one.” Why not? I wasn’t doing any work. I thanked Natalie for her time and hung up my cell. Before leaving my apartment, I copied the project onto a flash drive and hoped that Mrs. Allen wasn’t out of the office showing an apartment.

The smell of pine and cinnamon hit me as soon as I opened the office door. Bells chimed in the background, announcing my arrival. I headed up the stairs to the office. “Hey, Mrs. Allen? You up there?”

I heard rustling in the club room. “In here,” she called back.

Walking into the club room. The club room consisted of a ten-foot high Northwestern hanging platform with an automatic drop floor and nylon rope, stocks, a metal pillory, two breast milking machines, two dildo machines. Mrs. Allen was sitting on a two prong dildo rocking horse. She looked like she had just cum. In the corner was a decorated blue spruce.

“Wow,” I was speechless. At home we had a basic BDSM room, but nothing like this. And the tree, it looked like something out of the holiday stores or even a movie. The sexual ornaments were tastefully color-coordinated with the room and gave the club room the feel of a high-end BDSM room.

Mrs. Allen grinned as she straightened her clothes. “God damn, that was fucking awesome.” She looked at the tree. “You like it, huh? I can see it on your face.” She walked over to the padded bench that had built in restraints. She had piles of wrapped presents for us tenets, donated by the church, just waiting to be strategically placed. “I’ve been working on this for a few days.”

“It’s great, Mrs. Allen. Very tasteful.”