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"She pulled me back to her breast, holding my face against her and stroking my hair."Yes James, I want you to play Santa for us tonight. If you do a good job, I will give you a special present when we get home tonight."I put up a fuss, complaining about rug rats, smelly costumes, and such but the more I thought about it the better I liked it. Here was my excuse for not putting up with all the boring spouses and their boring talk. I could 'Ho! Ho! HO!' it through the night and not have to worry what anybody was saying. Alice sent me out to find a costume, telling me not come back without a good-looking Santa suit. It took awhile but I found a great suit at an outrageous rental, I felt that not only had I done what my wife asked, I was sticking it to her company at the same time. When I got back home, my wife was still in panties but she had added a camisole and I noticed she was braless. God she looked so sexy, I knew I was going to be a Santa with a hard on all night. Alice told me to. I don’t recall what I did to deserve it, but Michelle was proud of me and Crow patted me on the back. Good daydreams. Lately, I dream of killing Michael. Mickey. Whatever. They do worse to the others. Sometimes Brie will come into the hotel and select one of us. Last week she took Phoebe. No one was more surprise than her. So Phoebe’s gone. That leaves thirty of us girls left in the hotel. They have us mending things. I never sewed up something that wasn’t alive until they captured us. They use the boys in their auto shop, I think. But us girls are only good for sewing. Or so Michael says. Thirty of us. Ten old ones, all armed. I dream I steal a gun. A big fuck-off Desert Eagle or a nine millimeter with the fifteen round clip. One in the pipe. He would tell me to take off my shirt, and I would whip the gun out. There would be a moment – we would finally share a moment. He would understand that I never wanted him. Never wanted his affection. His praise. His favour. I would.
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