Chapter 2

He knew they were going fast. He could just tell. But the wind wasn't bad at all. He wondered if there was some kind of wind break. On impulse, he stood up, and suddenly the wind buffeted his face and the part of the red suit that now covered his upper body. It was just like standing in the door, ready to jump.

"Sit down!" ordered his companion. "If you fall off this sleigh, I'll have to finish this alone. We may have come a long way, baby, but I don't think the world is ready for a female Santa Claus yet!"

Bob sat. It was almost warm when he got out of the wind. He examined the suit they'd given him to wear. It looked like a really well made, high quality Santa suit with a Thinsulate lining.

He blinked. It was a really well made, high quality Santa suit with a Thinsulate lining.

"This is crazy," he muttered.

"You're telling me," said his diminutive companion.

He looked at her. She was quite beautiful. She hadn't put on a coat, and her cheeks were now pink, but that was the only sign that she might be chilled. Well ... there were those nipples ... which spiked through her top like ... well ... erect nipples! Her brow was furrowed as her eyes flicked from one gauge or button to another on the dashboard of the sleigh. He wondered why she was doing that. She'd already said everything was automated and that the "driver" need do nothing unless there was some kind of emergency. But since she wasn't watching him, that gave him the chance to look at her more closely.

It wasn't just the elfin countenance, though those slanted eyes, and pointed ears did reach right inside him and grip something that felt good. She was blond, something he didn't usually associate with ... elves. She was just beautiful. She looked like she might be fifteen, except that all her features carried the maturity of a much older woman.

"So ... what's your name?" he asked.

She looked up at him. "Gelwenil. The English translation is Gwyneth."

"Gwyneth," he said softly. "It's a beautiful name."

"Thank you."

"For a beautiful girl," he added, somewhat dreamily.

"Knock that off," she said, sternly. "There's a natural subconscious attraction that human men have for female elves," she said. "But you have to ignore that. You have a job to do. You have to save Christmas! So eyes on the road, mister."

"Oh," he said, still staring. His eyes slipped to her chest, and he found himself mildly surprised to find that she had quite respectably large breasts, for such a small person.

"Hello?" She moved her face into his line of vision. It was almost as nice looking at that, as at her bosom.

"Sorry," he said. He forced himself to look away. He saw blinking lights ahead and off to the right a bit. He pointed. "What's that?"

She leaned forward and pushed a button. A round radar screen came to life, with a sweeping needle. There were a dozen blips on the screen as the needle completed a 360 degree sweep. Each blip had tiny letters beside it that glowed green in the dark.

"That's flight 3872 out of New York, bound for London," she said. "He's at 34,000 feet, though, and we're much lower than that, so it's no problem."

"This is amazing," he sighed, still a little befuddled by what had happened to him.

What was happening to him.

"Not at all," she said, carelessly. "We've been doing this for centuries."

"I haven't," he said.

"Oh," she said, turning the radar off. "There is that, I guess. Sorry. I suppose this is somewhat unique."

"Is this the first time you've flown on the sleigh?"

She laughed. "It's the first time any elf but Santa has flown on the sleigh," she said. She frowned. "Well ... except for the maintenance crew. They take her up for test flights now and then. When some new technology is installed."

She tossed her head, and the blond tresses that had fallen across her face were thrown back. It was so like what he'd seen countless human girls do that it made her seem quite normal. His eyes flicked to the pointy tips of her ears.

So much for normal.

"You have Spock ears," he said, without thinking.

Her eyes darted to his face.

"Spock has our ears!" she said, gravel in her voice. It was very fine gravel, though. More of the kind of rasp in a singer's voice that usually made Bob get stiff in his pants.

That happened now.

She frowned again, and her eyes went to the front of his red velvet trousers.

"Don't even think about it," she said. "I told you about the natural subconscious attraction. I also told you to control it. We have a job to do. In fact, your first drop is going to be in about fifteen seconds."

"What?" Bob looked around wildly. Somehow, without warning, they had entered a metropolitan area. There were rooftops right below them!

Then the sleigh landed so smoothly that the transition from moving to full stop was mind boggling. He sat, amazed, still looking around.

"Get moving!" hissed his elfin companion. "Put your hand in the bag!"

He looked to see her holding the neck of the big red bag open. Following orders, he reached into the bag, and suddenly his hand was holding something. When he pulled it out, he was holding a blurry mass of color.

"What the... ?" he asked bringing the whirling ball of colors up closer to his face.

"It's all the presents for this house," said Gwyneth, her voice urgent. "Step out of the sleigh. Come on, Bob. We've got a lot to do and enough has already gone wrong. Please don't screw things up any worse. Put your foot on the roof, Bob!"

Again, he followed orders. If he'd had time to think about it, he would have laughed at the idea of taking orders from a four and a half foot tall female elf, but she somehow managed to have the voice of a sergeant major, and he was used to responding to a voice like that.

As soon as his foot touched the roof, the world wavered, he felt like he was falling, and then there was firm ground under his feet again.

Except now he was standing inside the house.

It was dark, but for the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree in one corner of the room. It was odd, though, because while he knew it was night, he could see plainly. It was a little like wearing night vision goggles. Except everything wasn't green. It just looked like a room illuminated by normal daylight coming through the windows. Except the drapes were drawn.

The whirling ball of colors in his hand caught his eye. He swallowed and stepped towards the tree. He couldn't actually feel anything in his hand, so he had no idea how to release it. For lack of anything better to try, he simply bent over, reached under the tree and opened his hand wide.

Like magic (actually, it was magic), eight gaily wrapped presents popped into view under the tree. It shocked him so much that he stumbled backwards and tripped over an ottoman, landing with a thud on the floor. He scrambled up, looking around to see if his fall had wakened anyone.

The floor creaked above his head.

He had to get out of the house and back to the sleigh.

Except he didn't know how to do that.

The floor creaked again.

Urgently he headed for the front door.

He reached for the handle.

His hand went right through it, like he was a ghost.

"Shit!" he gasped.

A light went on at the top of the stairs.

Slippered feet appeared, stepping hesitantly down the upper treads.

"Is anybody there?" called a female voice. "I'm calling 911. I've got a gun too!"

Bob could see the business end of what looked like a pitching wedge, beside the slippered feet. His mind snorted at her clumsy attempt to frighten the intruder she'd heard, but his voice didn't translate that snort into sound.

He thought furiously.

If his hand went through the knob, then his body could go through the door. He stepped confidently toward that obstacle.

And promptly slammed his body into a very stolid door.

"Go away!" squealed the resident of the house. "The police will be here any minute!"

For some strange reason, what went through Bob's mind at that point was a saying he'd heard somewhere: "When seconds count, the police are only minutes away." It was one of the slogans the gun rights people used. He hoped this woman wasn't one of those types. If she thought she was in danger, something bad might happen.

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The Bob Claus

Lubrican

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