Chapter 4

"It is the clause," said Gwyneth. "It has to be. It's the only explanation."

"I don't understand," said Bob.

The elf frowned. "I'm not sure I'm supposed to say anything. This is all so irregular."

"You're telling me?" Bob snorted. "Somebody else said something about a clause," he said.

"That was Dýlinnil," said Gwyneth.

"Dilenneal?" said Bob, trying to recreate the sound Gwyneth had made.

"Dýlinnil," said Gwyneth again. "Carol in your language. She gets hysterical all the time. That's why I discounted it."

"Discounted what?"

"The clause," she said.

"That bald elf also said something about it," said Bob.

"Gobelon. He's the HMFIC."

"Elves use that term too?" Bob was astonished.

"We've been dealing with humans long enough that some of their language has crept into ours," she admitted. She looked thoughtful. "Your clothes did change. I've heard that happens when the clause is invoked."

"What clause?" yelled Bob.

"The Santa clause," said Gwyneth.

"The Santa Claus I landed on?" Bob frowned. He made another delivery and was back in seconds.

"No. It's a clause in the North Pole Contract of Operations. Santa works hard. He's only good for three or four hundred years before all this wears him out. So a new Santa has to be found. The clause stipulates how that process takes place."

"The North Pole works under contract?" Bob grinned. "To who? The Norse Gods?" He giggled, but then stifled it. It didn't seem right for a grown man to giggle.

"Something like that," said Gwyneth, who appeared to be distracted.

"Wait," said Bob. "You said Santa works for three or four hundred years before he retires. But, as I recall, the Santa myth only dates back to the middle sixteen hundreds, in the Netherlands. That's only what ... three hundred and fifty years or so? But you said this is the first time this has happened. I'm confused."

"Sixteen fifty-three was the first time he got caught delivering a present," said Gwyneth. Santa's been doing nice things for good people for thousands of years, but his mission has evolved as humans evolved. The current Santa took over at the turn of the twentieth century. What I meant was this is the first time the clause has been invoked by something other than Santa wanting to retire. Now, stop talking and go make your delivery. Take your time. I need to think."

It took five deliveries before she spoke again.

"I only know one way to tell for sure."

"That the clause has been invoked?" prompted Bob.

She looked at him and tilted her head again, her emerald eyes studying him.

"What happened back there," she said, raising her hand and shoving her thumb rearward. "It came over me so suddenly that I didn't even have time to think about it before I acted. I couldn't resist you. Literally. When you got an erection for me ... I just couldn't resist. You already know that's never happened. I've done ... other things ... but never that."

"Other things?" He peered at her. She blushed and looked away.

"We elven girls don't have a boyfriend for the first two hundred years. That doesn't mean we don't do anything. We have needs, after all. Don't human girls have needs?"

"Human girls definitely have needs," said Bob. He was not speaking from experience. That is, no girl had ever admitted to him that she "had needs," but girls did the same things that boys did when they had needs, so he was willing to make a bold statement. Besides, he wanted to keep her talking.

"Well there you go," said Gwyneth, who promptly stopped speaking again.

"Such as?" prompted Bob.

"You're a pervert, aren't you." It was a statement of fact, rather than a question.

"I'm a normal male," he said. "Human male," he added. "Considering what happened between us, I don't think I'm a pervert for being interested in the sexual development of the average female elf."

She sat stiffly for ten more deliveries. Then she thawed a bit, and finally spoke.

"Do human girls ... um ... touch themselves?"

"Masturbate?" It wasn't a word Bob would have normally used. But the circumstances weren't normal. And somehow, using the "proper" word made it all seem more mature, like two adults having a serious conversation, rather than a couple of teens exploring sex by using language.

She pinked up again. "Yes," she said softly.

"I'm told they do," he said. "I've never seen it."

"Why would you?" she asked. "It's done in private."

"Actually, I've seen it in porn videos, but not in real life," he said, correcting himself.

"Oh," she said. "Porn is why satellite dishes were banned at the pole."

"Some high muckety muck up there think porn is perverted?"

"No. The work wasn't getting done. And the birth rate spiked. We have limited resources, and limited job openings. We have full employment at the North Pole, and elves with nothing to do tend to get into trouble."

"I see," he said, smiling. The differences between humans and elves seemed to become fewer and fewer the better he got to know this strange elven girl. "So ... did you ever watch any porn before it was banned?"

"No," she said. "I was working for Gobelon when the porn craze hit and I was so young I never tried to tune in to any."

"Too young," sighed Bob. "Wow."

He made two dozen deliveries before either of them spoke again. It was Bob who broke the silence.

"You mentioned a while back that you knew of a way to tell if the clause has been invoked?"

She turned her face away from him.

"Yes, but..."

He waited.

"It's embarrassing," she said.

"How embarrassing could something be after what we've already shared?"

Her eyes came back to his.

"You really don't understand how I feel right now ... do you." Again, it was a comment rather than a question.

He tried to be as serious as he could.

"After what happened back there," he paused to use the same thumb motion she had, "I might understand how you feel better than you think. Nothing like that has ever happened to me. I mean I've never felt like that with any other girl."

"There are other girls?" Jealousy was so clear in her tone that he was afraid she'd start yelling at him again.

"I'm a normal guy," he said. "Us humans have boy and girlfriends a little earlier than elves.

"Are any of them ... special?"

"If you're asking whether or not I'm in love with someone, or engaged or anything like that ... the answer is no."

"But you've done ... that ... before."

"Yes," he admitted.

"Is that why you put your mouth on my..." She didn't finish, but her hands rose to cover both breasts.

"I did that?"

She nodded, and then looked alarmed. "Is that normal? What does it mean? I never heard of anything like that before!"

"Did I ... suck?"

He got a wide-elfin-eyed nod.

"It's normal," he said. "Things got kind of crazy and I honestly don't remember a lot of what happened. Like I said, it was an overwhelming experience for me. But historically I really like to ... um ... do that."

"Why? You're not a baby." She seemed genuinely curious.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she said.

"A personal question?"

She waited until he got back and then nodded.

"Did you like it?"

Gwyneth's eyes glazed over as she thought back to what they were referring to.

"I loved it," she sighed. "It was incredible."

"That's why I like to do it," he said. "All the girls seem to like it."

Her eyes cleared and there was suddenly thunder and lightning in her demeanor.

"That will be the last time you refer to all those other girls!" she snapped. "Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear," he said, raising one hand in supplication. "I'm sorry. It was insensitive of me."

She relaxed, and reached to touch his leg with one hand.

"It's just that ... well ... you know ... I mean it was my first time, and it was so special and so sweet and so delicious. I can't help wanting to think that I'm the only girl you're interested in."

"You are the only girl I'm interested in," he said. "I told you I don't have a girlfriend. I'm not dating anybody. My job makes it too hard to do that."

"You can't be interested in me," she said instantly. "I'm an elf. "I'm the executive assistant to Gobelon Ferreneil, who is second in command at the North Pole. You're a human soldier."

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The Bob Claus

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