Santa's Helper

         Santa's Helper

         The holidays were the best time for working the front desk of the motel. Most of the rooms were reserved long in advance, and walk-ins were few. Drew could spend his graveyard shift watching movies or even sleeping if he felt like it. He did maybe two hours' real work from 11 PM to 7 AM. There were only three rooms left to sell this night, but since it was already past midnight Drew expected that no one else would disturb his boredom.
         As he scanned the TV Guide channel, he heard the alert from the lobby door: g'ding! Drew hopped up and left the office to take up station at the counter. His jaw dropped to see the gorgeous young woman angling her travel bag in the door, but he quickly put on his professional face.
         This potential customer carried only one bag, he noted, and no boyfriend followed her in. So, it's not one of those, Drew thought, playing his usual customer classification guessing-game. She was clad ankles to neck in blue jean clothing. Her shoulders were decorated by wavy auburn hair which cascaded loosely from beneath a red Santa cap. Straightening herself up, the holiday girl swaggered to the counter and asked, "Hey thar, got any rooms fer me."
         Drunk, concluded Drew to explain the exaggerated accent. He handed over a form and watched as Santa's helper squinted to fill out the questionnaire. "If you have a driver's license, I can fill that out for you," Drew suggested. It was a common situation that he fill in the form for drunk customers. Then later he wouldn't have to ask for their ID.
         The 22-year-old woman, Katherine Quinlan according to her license, was appreciative and chatted pleasantly while he recorded her information in case she stole the TV. Drew had an honest demeanor that customers found appealing, and Katherine and her intoxication obviously took a liking to him. "I'm Kat," she remembered to introduce herself. "Nice ta meet ya, Drew!" She smiled at her own cleverness in reading his nametag.
         Despite smelling faintly of her evening's champagne, Kat was very nice. She flirted shamelessly as Drew typed into his computer, but she seemed to maintain control of her awareness. Contrary to his usual skepticism towards non-regular guests, he gave her an upgraded room for the regular price. As she fumbled in her purse, he asked about her Santa cap.
         "Oh, this," Kat winked intimately. "I am into fantasy games." A stack of twenties and a wad of crumpled tens - hooker? "Would ya like to sit on Santa's lap an' tell me what ya want for Christmas?" Her sexy smile was all satire and seduction.
         Drew wondered, Am I just a bright-eyed target for teasing? This was her most fanciful flirt thus far, but he just chuckled it off as a jest. Handing exact change back to Kat, he had to admit it was a physically stirring image. Kat raised her eyebrows and giggled with him. She didn't back down from her statement though.
         Drew coded a room key for her. Kat accepted it carefully. She asked the polite clerk how to get to the room. "That's just three doors down, on the ground floor," he explained patiently. She turned in the direction indicated, as if she could see through the walls.
         His glance reflexively followed her head motion. He turned back to see her looking at him pensively. "Well, I appershiate this, Drew," Kat thanked slowly and soberly, "an' I'll see you." Her lips tightened into a saluting smile, and she lugged her bag out the lobby door.

         Drew sat down heavily in his office chair. He reflected on the attractiveness of the woman. Kat was thin and lithe. She moved like a cat - fitting name, he mused. Too bad she's probably from a bad element. She might have been just another guest, except for the incongruity of that Santa cap. It intrigued Drew, and he could not shake his mind from wondering about what she meant by 'fantasy.' He was too respectful of privacy to pry.
         Drew changed out the surveillance tape in the VCR. Staring at the monitor view of the lobby, he wondered about her proposition. Was she only kidding about sitting in Santa's lap? he asked himself grimly. Or, was she really offering? He was half excited and half terrified by the idea.
         Just as he hit Record on the VCR, he saw motion in the monitor. G'ding! Drew went out to the counter in time to meet - Kat! She had no shoes on, and she walked up to the desk with purpose. She leaned across the counter, whispering, "There ain't any towels in my room."
         Drew's eyes followed the plunge of her blouse to the inviting hollow at the base of her neckline. Recovering, he discovered Kat's amused eyes sparkling merrily. "Sorry - I can get some for you. Just a sec." Teasing me again, eh? he grumbled to himself as he fetched clean towels from the laundry room. He handed over the two that most freshly smelled of detergent, "there you go. I'll yell at the maids tomorrow."
         "No need," she waved off his apology. "So whatcha doin' all night?" She leaned her elbow on the towels, one hand cupping her chin thoughtfully. The grin through her fingers disarmed Drew's reticence.
         "Just bored back here," he admitted, "flipping through TV channels." Drew contorted his face in harmless, goofy expression. Kat's coffee brown eyes held his attention like sci-fi tractor beams. One eye half-closed as her sleepy smile pushed up one cheek.
         She tossed her hair behind her, and the cotton ball tip of her Santa cap hung forward. "Well, Drew, I dun feel like TV. I'm thinking, maybe crawl inta bed." Her lips parted as if she would say more, but nothing else was forthcoming.
         Feeling sweat in the collar of his neck, Drew took refuge in his job manners. "Have a good night, Kat. And call the front desk if you need anything. Just dial zero." Oh God, I hope that didn't sound insincere, he worried.
         Kat stared him down a moment longer. Tilting her head, she brightened suddenly. With a wink she turned around and marched out with her clean towels. She paused in pose with her hand on the office door. Drew raised his eyes from her shapely derriere to accept defeat from the victorious glance over her shoulder. He nodded, and Kat strode to her room.

         Drew dropped his butt back into his office chair. He was still amazed at her effect on him. Am I just horny? he wondered. His wits, delayed by Kat's stunning presence, returned as he evaluated this encounter.
         She was not a traditional beauty. She was petite, and flat on top. Hell, as long as they ain't concave! Drew chuckled to himself before being serious again. The woman was trim and chiseled, but was that perhaps due to genetics or smoking? Her face held that elven shape he so adored: high cheeks and narrow chin, one ear ever holding back a shock of hair. Wonder if she wants some company.
         What?! Drew was alarmed at the thought passing through his mind. He had never been outgoing and had certainly never ventured a 'line' on any girl. Furthermore, even mild flirts were taboo with the guests at work. Was he now willing to take a chance on being reported for sexual harrassment to his boss?
         Angrily he flipped the boob tube back on. He slashed through the channels, finding nothing but cooking shows and tarot readings. Only 2 rooms left to sell, he thought obviously to himself. Not that he was likely to sell them, and he knew it. But it felt good to pretend his mind was on the job, not the pinched waist of the sexy woman lying on the bed three doors down. Damn! he seethed at his lack of control. Probably loaded with diseases and yet I fantasize like a schoolboy.

         Clouds of frustration circled Drew's cerebrum still when he heard the G'ding! again. The surveillance monitor indicated that ten minutes had passed. Kat was back at the desk. Bzzt! she pressed the buzzer.
         All of Drew's wits fled again. He lifted his numb bottom out of the chair and eased through the office door to stand behind the counter. His defenses were not ready for her.
         Kat wore no shirt - only a jean vest covering each half of her chest. She had taken off her Santa cap, and now her full mane of auburn hair hung halfway down her back. Two elite bangs dangled before her right eye strategically.
         Kat turned, pointing to the brochures on the coffee table. Drew's eyes were glued to her chest, where the vest peeled back along her small right breast. Huh? She had to repeat herself, asking if the motel served breakfast.
         "Umm, no! Nothing but coffee, that is," he stumbled to recover. "There's a Waffle House -," Drew trailed off, trying to remember directions to the nearest breakfast place. Kat raised an arm to tuck her bangs behind her ear, tugging on her vest again and eradicating all chances Drew had of maintaining rational thought.
         "Aww shit," Kat pouted, "no breakfast? And I don't feel like TV. There's not much service in this motel is there?" She put both fists on her waist in childish pose.
         Drew felt foolish and stupid; he grasped at the last straw of wit he could reach. "You're not wearing your hat?" he inquired. Kat's grumpy lower lip featured sexy cleavage that her chest did not.
         She actually giggled at that. "No, I guess the fantasy is over for t'night, huh?" She stared at Drew in a manner he couldn't decipher for the life of him. "Yeah," she concluded at his lack of answer, "I guess so. Have a g'night, then."
         "Good night," Drew offered lamely. He was not used to being struck dumb.
         At the door, Kat turned, showing off her trim tummy and navel ring. "It can always be a better night, honey." She pranced out in her bare feet.
         For a full minute there was only one thought in Drew's mind: flabbergast much?

         "Fuck!" he swore back in the office. He kicked his desk. "Fuuuuuuuuck!" he hopped on one foot in pain. He kicked the desk again, preferring physical pain to feeling stupid as he did when dealing with Katherine.
         I've really got to get over this whole professionalism thing, he chided himself. It's making me pass by all my chances! And he was almost sure that the temptress had actually been offering an adventure, not just teasing him. I could hang a No Vacancy sign if need be, he rationalized.
         He kicked the chair, sending it spinning into the laundry room. "Shit!" You won't need any goddamned sign now, you fucking moron. Drew was not kind in self-recriminations.
         Desperate for diversion, he flipped through the channels again. Nothing. He mashed the remote control until it stopped working. He couldn't even turn the TV off with it. Goddamnit! Keep it coming, Murphy you fuck-head! He went over to the TV, manually turning the useless thing off. He was almost inclined to smash the stupid button.
         The button. Like on the open jean vest Kat had worn. His memory flickered over the glimpses of her small breasts. Nipple? I don't remember. He resigned his anger.
         I'm sorry, office equipment, thought Drew as his ire faded, I won't bust you up just because of my own folly. But I wish I weren't so shy.

         After 10 minutes of sitting in silent meditation, a voice came to him. You're not shy, you're a chickenshit. He stood quickly, concentration broken. Fuck you!
         Drew hastily hung the No Vacancy sign in the lobby. What you doing, little fella? He locked the door between the office and the lobby. You're not going over there, are you? Cuz you ain't got the guts, boy.
         "No, stupid," he answered himself aloud, "I am going to do a security sweep. You remember, the part of the job I'm supposed to do anyway?" Hahaha, good one, son. Gotta love a convenient excuse, he laughed at himself. He forwarded all incoming calls to the portable.
         Drew took his phone, keys, and jacket out with him. He walked quickly along the upper floors, listening for unwelcome sounds and looking for broken locks or ajar doors. He wandered in the parking lot, cursorily inspecting the cars for vagrants or lights still on.
         For the last leg of his sweep, Drew slowed his pace. From the far end of the motel, step by step he sauntered towards room 105, like a bride going down the aisle. You're not going in there, so just bestill your heart. All the first-floor room doors witnessed respectfully as he passed. Finally he came into view of Room 105, Smoking King-sized Bed Room with Whirlpool Amenity - normally 1.5 times regular room rate but 2.0 during holidays.
         A hint of light shone out onto the sidewalk. As he drew even with her window, Drew saw that Kat's curtains were open. The room light was off, but the bed lamp nearest the door was on. And lo, atop the large bed's comforter, lay Kat, resting naked on her stomach. She cuddled the pillow, her vast expanse of fragile back facing the world through the window.
         Drew had to consciously resume his walk. See, not going in there, bub, the back of his mind observed. He followed her form as he continued past her window in slow motion. Her right arm covered her chest, and her crossed legs left only one radiant rump cheek staring back at him. Half moon? Full, brilliant, smooth, sexy cinnamon bun. The image of Katherine through the window could easily have been a magazine cover; so much skin was exposed, with not really anything vital visible.

image courtesy of lysistrata!

         When at last she vanished from his peripheral vision, Drew blinked like he was coming out of a dream. He checked the parking lot once more. No new cars here - she came by taxi. You're so observant, horny toad.

         Back in the office, Drew did not sit. He stood with his back in the corner near the creditcard machine. He argued with himself, Can I walk by again? No, you'll get caught peeping, dumbass. Please? I can say I was passing by. Yeah, she'll believe that, you pervert. But anyone else could walk by right now!
         This new idea removed his paralysis. Here a sense of duty compelled Drew to action. No damned peeping Tom is gonna get an eyeful of Kat on my shift! he resolved. Yeah, especially since you can't, the back of his mind laughed. "Shut the hell up."
         He decided to call. As the motel clerk, it was his job to make his guest aware of any possible security risk. She'll know you already looked, he thought. Nah, you got security sensors, know what I'm saying? Oh yeah, sensors. Sensors to tell me about door locks and window curtains. Sure. Like my cameras in the lobby and the parking lot. Sensors. Before he could chicken out, Drew dialed 1-0-5 and stood away from the disconnect button.
         On the fourth ring he was thinking of hanging up. Why disturb her sleep? "Hello?" answered a slight, unsure voice.
         "Hello," he responded with surprising confidence. The job. "This is the front desk. Do you know your curtains are open?" He thought of her now, phone pressed to an ear beneath a shower of hair, elbow hiding a perky breast - The job.
         "Oh," her volume recovered, "yes, I can't work the curtain. I think the string is all broken." She had lost her accent, he noticed as he was enchanted by her voice. "Does it need to be closed? Can you come take a look?" There was no trace of seduction in her voice now, though. Was I imagining all that by-play? I am one dumb sumbitch, y'know.
         The job. "Yes, ma'am. Gimme about five minutes." Perhaps she agreed, but Drew didn't hear. His mind raced ahead. Gotta give her a chance to throw on some clothes. What the hell do I know about fixing curtains? Pull them over manually and let the boss fix them in the morning. What if she asks me to stay?
         And that really was the rub. The fantasy again, persistent in its desire to be played out in Drew's mind. A year now he had bided his time idly in the motel while his guests screwed each other's brains out all night. Sometimes they checked out an hour later, during Drew's bored TV time. Sometimes they checked out after a wakey wankey the next morning, during Drew's bored nap time.
         Drew thought of himself as a good worker, though. He was honest, courteous, and above all, responsible. The boss slept soundly in 102 knowing he didn't have to oversee his clerk. If she asks you to stay, apologize and tell her you can't leave the desk. You'll get fired if the boss man wakes up early and you're missing. Maybe you can talk with her some other time. And that wasn't such a bad idea at all. Sure, invite her to breakfast when you get off shift. She'll wake up and you take her to eat. You know she wanted breakfast, remember?

         Rap rap rap rap rap, Drew knocked gently with his knuckles. The lamp was still on, but Kat was not in sight. The door opened, and her wavy hair spilled around the side of the door. "Come in. It's right there," she pointed.
         Drew scanned the pulley mechanism, figuring out in his mind how the gizmo worked. Pull the closer one to retract, farther one to draw. He tugged on the far string. After an initial lurch, the curtain smoothly slid along its line. The two ends met in the middle, and the problem was evidently fixed.
         "It seems to be all fine now," Drew turned in triumph at repairing -
         The door closed beside him. Kat's piercing gaze and intense smile melted his next words. She wore the Santa cap, its tip bobbing over the ear that pinned back hair which drifted lazily down to bare shoulders. Kat tapped her also-bare lap, and Drew's helpless eyes followed the sound. "I know, honey. But what do you want for Christmas?"

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[auth note: yes I'm a tease!]