Hitting On Santa
Lib and Kat came in the back door of the Main Street Pub from the parking lot. Looking around they saw a room full of square tables covered with red and white checked tablecloths and candles burning on each one.
It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust. That the place was always dark, was no secret.
Day or night, every candle was always lit and almost always, the old upright piano was being played by somebody from noon to two in the morning.
Everyone in the area would save up their old candles and bring them for the owners to stick in water filled jumbo beer bottles.
They'd been a trademark of sorts for decades.
An appeal to area folks was sent out for used candles hoping it'd drum up enough additional business to get through the recession.
That brought in a whole new breed of customers and helped "liven up the joint," as one old timer put it.
When Libby saw a write up in a her down state newspaper and photos of some of the hunky guys coming to her home town pub, she decided she'd return to visit, ski and look up her old friend Kat.
After a short wait, they were seated at the table by the front window facing Main Street.
Looking around at all the old familiar stuff on the walls and hanging from the ceiling they smiled at each other with a knowing smile.
It was part of the charm of the place. How singles and those on the make circulated table to table. How they'd say, oh excuse me, I was just trying to get a better look at this or that.
It was mostly antiques and collectables that locals and summer folks had donated to the pub over the years. The crazier, the better--you name it--old birch bark toys, an elks head, a stuffed deer's butt, ski's, ice skates, street signs, and books by local authors on shelves that lined the walls where tables for two sat.
"Ya, know what Kat, it feels good to be in the Main Street Pub again, it makes me feel like I'm REALLY home. I'm always a little afraid I'll come back and find that some hot-shot junior executive bought the place and got rid of everything we love about it."
"Yeah, I feel that way too Lib. If that happened there'd be no reason for you city slickers to come back home anymore and visit us old stick-in-the muds."
Looking up from their menus they saw the waiter coming.
"What'll ya' have ladies?"
"Oh, I don't know,"Libby said, "can't make up my mind what I want to eat, but bring me me a Bud-Light draft for now."
Outside it was getting dark. The street light came on outside the window and last minute Christmas shoppers scurried by loaded down with wrapped packages.
Standing by an old gas light a fit looking Santa was ringing a bell for the Salvation Army asking for donations from conscience stricken self-indulgent last minute shoppers.
He was soon relieved by a plain looking woman in a traditional Salvation Army uniform. Santa gave her a hug and walked a few paces and entered the front door of the pub.
After assessing the place, he walked quickly past Libby's and Kat's table and took a spot at the end of the bar close to them.
The waiter sauntered up to their table with Libby's beer and stood by patiently shifting from one foot to other and finally addressed Kat.
"Do you want a drink also?"
"Yes, I'll have the same as my friend here, by the time you come back , we'll probably have made up our mind, what we want to eat."
From the other end of the bar, Santa worked on his burger, sipped on a beer, and watched Jeopardy on the big screen above the old ornate oak bar.
Out of the side of her eye, Libby could see Santa--he could see her too--looking at him from the mirror behind the bar.
He tried to look aloof, but when he saw her lick her lips and blow him a kiss, he lost it, couldn't help himself--his cock got hard and wanted out of his pants--his brow broke into a sweat, and he grinned from ear to ear.
It was the smile that did it. How could she ever forget it. For certain--it was her old friend Nick.
When he took off his beard and laid it on the bar, he looked exactly like she remembered him. He hadn't aged even one year since he'd taken her for an sleigh ride years before on Christmas Eve.
It was several years before that, they'd first met in the Trinity Lutheran basement.
It was a week before Christmas. He was picking up a free food basket for his mother and grumbling in the bathroom to his little brother.
The walls between the girls room and the boys room were thin. It was easy to hear him, the contempt in his voice.
"Gonna leave this rotten town someday, gonna make a ton of money and ride down main street in a brand new Cadillac convertible and spit on both sides of the street."
Lib hadn't understood it at the time, but by the time she'd graduated from high school and moved away, she understood it all to well. She lived for the day she could have the kind of revenge she'd last heard he was getting--living well.
Before he left the church that day, she grabbed one of the charity baskets for her own family and asked Nick and his brother to help her carry it home as she was loaded down with left over clothes left from the church's rummage sale.
The three of them trudged through the snow in silence back to their neighborhood on the wrong side of the track--three dirt poor teenagers--taking unspoken pleasure in each other's company.
Libby didn't say anything to Kat, but just the same she chided her.
"What you doing girl, flirting with Santa?"
"Would I do something like that!"
There was no use going into it with Kat, she wouldn't have understood anyway. Her dad was the town banker and she'd never wanted for anything in her life.
They hadn't even ordered any food yet when Kat's husband showed up at the pub to take her home.
"Sorry Libby," he said, "My folks got here early and I can't handle their visits without Kat."
Actually, her leaving was a relief.
Since Libby had spotted Nick, she didn't feel like talking about superficial things--she had started that long walk down memory lane and found she wanted to stay there and wallow in her thoughts.
It was Christmas Eve, and she was all alone, but she didn't feel lonely at all.
Knowing that Nick was only a few feet from her was a nice feeling, a warm cozy one.
From head to toe, she tingled and found herself breathing hard.
Everything in her told her to go up to him and say hello.
Instead, when the waiter came back she handed a short note to deliver to Nick:
Will you join me and let me sit on your lap? I have needs, gifts
I want to exchange with you tonight.
Love and kisses,
P.S. Is a girl naughty or nice if she hits on Santa in the Main Street Pub?
TO BE CONTINUED:
HITTING ON SANTA