FIC: Unpresentable ~ Chapter 2

[bugsfic]

Title: Unpresentable ~ Chapter 2
Authors: bugs and Aussie
Rated: M
Word Count 3150


~*~

Laura began to rush down the grand staircase of her mansion, her red velvet day dress swirling around her trim legs. A twinge in her hamstring caused her step to falter but she chose to ignore it.

At the middle landing, she barked over the rail, "Jaffee! Elosha!"

The servants knew the tone of the mistress of the house calling her troops to order. Not just her butler and old nanny hurried out to stand at attention, but all the maids and waiters hired on for the evening.

Now it was her back which protested at the speed of her steps. She gripped the banister, and gingerly completed her descent.

With a stretch and a twist, she regained her decorum as she hopped off the bottom step, where the servants had formed a line.

She strode back and forth, giving the nervous men and women a sharp looking over. "All right," she said crisply. "You know your assignment this evening--"

"Yes, ma'am!" they all snapped back, aquiver with excitement.

"Fun!" she announced with a clap of her hands.

"Yes, ma'am!"

"If I may ask, Mrs. Adams," Old Jaffee asked delicately, "will Mr. Adams be joining us?"

Her face closed. "Mr. Adams is occupied."

The servants all exchanged puzzled looks but didn't have time to speculate on the master's disappearance.

A tooting horn from the street outside caught their attention.

"They're here," Laura said, stating the obvious.

Everyone scattered, manning their stations. Even Old Jaffee added a double-time to his step as he went to the door and opened it. A rush of cold night air heralded in an excited mass of small bodies.

Children, dozens of children. Laura felt a twinge of anxiety to go with the one in her back. She did not dislike children, after all, she worked at her many charities and schools which were simply overrun with the small humans. But having none of her own, and spending little time with them socially made her unsure in this setting; her home, full of many lovely, breakable things.

She pasted on a smile, and called out a greeting. "Welcome, children! Tonight will be wonderful!"

Cookies were laid out on silver platters. Punch was in the huge bowls. Rocking horses were ready to be ridden. Pinadas were hung from the ceiling. The walls were festooned with garlands of greenery and colored lights. Dozens of wrapped packages, each individually labeled for her guests, were under the brightly decorated twenty foot tall tree in the ballroom. A small band played Christmas songs and the older children began to dance.

Soon though, the younger charges were tearing from room to room, screaming with glee and perhaps the ingestion of too many sugar plums. Even Elosha glowering awfully from under her turban did nothing to slow them.

One rambunctious boy ran straight into Laura, causing her to stagger and she caught herself on the wall. She gave a yelp of pain.

"Did that ruffian hurt you?" asked Elosha, steadying her.

"No, it's my shoulder. I...I strained it." Laura's eyes shifted.

Elosha would normally quiz her mistress, but this situation was nearly out of control. "Something must be done," she exclaimed as a knot of squealing girls whirled Old Jaffee around, almost upending the elderly gentleman.

"Yes," Laura said, determined. She strode to the french doors. Flinging them open, she cried out, "Is that Santa?"

That got everyone's attention. From every corner of the mansion, squealing children came running, and more than one young maid and waiter.

The ringing of bells filled the air, followed by the clatter of hoof beats. A hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!" came closer.

Cries of ‘Santa’ filled the air and the children surged forward, their awe giving way to eagerness to at least touch the jolly man in the red suit entering the ballroom.

Jolly indeed, Laura thought. There was no need to worry that the crush of young fans would perturb Bill. Earlier, she'd left him in his dressing room carefully sticking on his lush white beard, but now it threatened to be dislodged by his wide grin.

To her surprise, Jake seemed equally happy with the situation. Their lovable pooch was born to prance as a reindeer. Laura did wonder just how long his red nose and antlers would survive the tug of many small hands, however.

“Christmas Eve is a busy time for a reindeer. Jake is in training. Perhaps next year he’ll get hitched to the sled...” boomed out Santa Bill. A stream of giggles followed this explanation.

More questions were asked, none of which Laura could hear from her position, but she laughed along with the children to Bill’s silly replies.

“Of course I’m real. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, despite that one naughty indiscretion with Sally's pigtail in the inkwell, you have made the nice list.”

“It's true, I visit all the children in all the world, even little Nazi children. We all must share.”

She coughed as one answer caught her complete attention: “Mrs Claus? Oh, she’s so special, she made both lists; naughty and nice!”

Absentmindedly, her hand reached to rub that most aching muscle.

“Look!”

Like the babble of youngsters, Laura swung around and her gaze followed Bill’s pointed finger. Young Jaffee and Bert the gardener lumbered into the room with a large chair, placing it beside the tree.

Laura recognized it as her father's fine old leather wingback from the office draped with a red velvet throw. Usually the throw was a delightfully plush setting for much more intimate moments, but it would suit Bill's needs tonight in the role of Santa.

“Your throne!” squealed one freckle-faced boy.

Any unruly behaviour the children had displayed up to this point disappeared completely. They all quickly formed an orderly semi-circle in front of the chair.

“Mr Adams is a natural.”

“Yes,” Laura could only nod and agree with her lady’s maid, who had just skirted the edges of the fray to join her mistress in observing the presentation of gifts. “He would have made a wonderful father,” she added with a sigh.

“Would have? He is a father,” Elosha reminded her sharply.

“Oh yes, yes. Of course,” Laura said, biting the inside of her mouth at the same time. Of course she hadn’t forgotten Bill’s sons, but there had been some vague hope that they would be blessed with their own child. Now it appeared to not be the case, and Bill was on hunt for a grandchild. With his own sons not currently cooperating, he'd turned into an overbearing hovering figure, asking any young maid or footman when they planned to settle down.

In turn, each child climbed onto Santa’s lap, and they were given a few minutes of Santa Bill’s undivided attention.

Only Bill and the child would know what secrets they shared, but Laura found herself flushing as his familiar deep rumble, at such odds with the high-pitched tones of the gift recipients. His frequent smiles in her direction warmed her even further.

“This dog sure is beaut, missus.”

Laura tore her gaze away from Bill. Jake had escaped the limelight to settle at her feet. A young boy of about ten had apparently followed. He was kneeling beside Jake, petting and hugging him.

“Where’d you get him?” he asked.

“Santa brought him,” she was able to say truthfully.

“Where’d he get him from though, you reckon.”

Laura blinked, but her odd little conversation with the boy was interrupted by Santa’s voice calling out her name.

“Mrs Laura Adams!” Bill repeated.

“I think he wants you to go sit on his lap, missus, so he can give you your gift,” her young friend noted astutely. “It’s okay. It’s fun,” he assured her.

Laura gave the child a long hum before she sashayed over to the throne, her gaze steady with Santa's. He shifted, not quite so jolly any more. Although his padded belly was in the way, she managed to sit on his lap. She made sure to settle onto his left thigh. If her right thigh was aching, his left must be.

He gave agonized moan that he forced into: "Ho, ho, ho!"

Laura stroked his beard. "Have you been a good boy, Santa?"

The children all giggled.

"That's my question!" protested Santa Bill.

Pursing her mouth, she shook her head, feigning confusion. "No, I have not been a good boy at all." She leaned against his shoulder and crossed her long legs. "I'm all girl."

"That you are," Santa Bill said rather breathlessly.

The little boy who coveted Jake yelled, "Ah, come on! Give her present over so we can get cake!"

Santa Bill held up a white-gloved hand. "Mrs. Adams will have to wait until Christmas day for her present! It's not something that will fit under the tree."

Laura thought furiously, even as she wiggled in his arms, causing groans of pain and pleasure. Surely he didn't get her another car. A yacht? A large painting? Jewelry would fit under the tree...

"Can we have our cake then?" the boy said, ready to move on.

Elosha stepped forward. "Children, come this way--"

They all thundered from the room, leaving Santa Bill and Laura. Jake looked after them, obviously torn. Surely he would be slipped a treat, but were his duties done?

"As for this good little boy..." Laura murmured in Bill's ear, "he'll just have to wait for his big present until tomorrow as well. But your stocking..."

"My stocking?" he croaked.

"Oh yes, it's stuffed." She shifted on his lap again.

"I need to check that list again. You are very, very naughty," he growled.

The damage done, she hopped up from his lap, but stumbled with a little whimper. He rose from the throne with another groan.

Slipping an arm around her waist, he said seriously, "I think from now on, we should just stick to what works for us. No more trying these crazy positions off pictures from the Far East."

Running her hand down his velvet jacket, she asked, just as somber, "But darling, we have so much that works for us. It's hard to say when the damage was done."

"Oh, I know." He waved his free arm, but then winced. "When you did that thing...With your leg...."

"I think we just need a sturdier bed," she suggested. "We were fine. It was the bed that gave out."

“The servants have something to talk about over Christmas dinner, at least. Old Jaffee fetching Bert to repair our bed in the middle of the night.”

She patted his padded belly again. “If Cook suddenly changes her menus, removing all our favorite puddings, we’ll know they’ve been gossiping.”

The children had been herded back into the fleet of limousines to return them to their homes and orphanages. Bill finally tugged loose his beard. "Better get out of this suit," he said, undoing the top button of his jacket. “Would you like to come up and help me, Mrs Claus?”

Laura put her hand over his. "I think that would be for the best, Mr Claus. So many complicated buckles and belts."

Jake scooted past them, one antler decidedly more crooked than it had been when Bill had placed them on the dog’s head

As they followed him up the stairs at a more leisurely pace, arm in arm, Laura said, "One of those little darlings asked about Jake, where you got him. I realized you've never told me the story."

"Not much of a story to tell."

"Oh, I'm sure there is," she said, swinging the long beard in one hand.

“I got him the usual way… I went to a pet store--.”

“When you were first ashore, yes?”

“Yes, I didn’t want to talk to myself when I retired, so when I passed by that pet shop on Gough, something made me poke my head in out of curiosity.”

“And that’s when you saw Jake?”

Jake, waiting patiently outside their bedroom door, looked up when his mistress spoke his name.

Bill bent to scratch behind his ear. “Not exactly.” He straightened and opened their door. Jake pushed into the room first, flopping into his basket immediately, clearly exhausted from his duties as Santa’s little helper.

After wiggling out of her dress and slipping on her robe, Laura settled in front of her dressing table, beginning her nightly routine.

"It's Donna's Pets. I’ve been there. That’s where I obtained a darling pair of lovebirds for Aunt Katherine’s birthday. She’s terribly difficult to buy for, you know. I’d almost exhausted myself with the search of a perfect gift before that.”

Laura met his gaze in the mirror, her hairbrush stilled as she exclaimed: “Oh Bill! Aunt Katherine’s birthday is in April!”

He wandered over to stand behind her so that he could see his face to clean off the last bits of spirit gum. “You’re not going to worry about what we have to buy her just yet, are you? Let’s just get Christmas over with the old battleaxe.”

She slapped his arm, knowing he and the old battleaxe now got along quite well.

“No, I mean, poor Jake. He might have been there when I bought the lovebirds and I might have strolled straight past him. How horrid of me!”

“No, I said I went to the pet store. But not that I got Jake there. Their dogs were…”

She scooted over on the vanity bench, making room for him. “French poodles and chihuahuas?”

He sat beside her. “And Scottish Terriers. All fine dogs I’m sure, but they weren’t for this ol’ sailor still smelling of the sea.”

“You never smell unpleasant, dearest, but I can imagine you might have been searching for something with a little more verve?” She gave his cheek a gentle kiss.

He nuzzled her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Yeah. I certainly found something with a little more verve.”

She wanted to hear the rest the story. Easing out of his embrace, she used her most severe tone on him. “You were telling me about Jake.”

“I was?" He peered in the mirror. Taking up her hairbrush, he began to brush the white powder from his hair. She jumped away with a grumble. He continued on. "Oh yes, I was. So when I left the store, I was still thinking about where I could find the right companion for my old age, when Jake flashed past me, a string of sausages hanging from his snout.”

“Oh no,” she said with a giggle, shooting Jake a reproachful look. He glanced up, all innocence. His drooping antler made him ridiculous and she hurried over to remove his costume.

Bill was getting into his story. “This old broad came hurtling around the same corner, waving a broom above her head, cussing up a storm, ready to give Jake a good clip behind the ear for his thievery.”

“Never," breathed Laura, wrapping her arms around Jake. He lay his long nose on her breast and sighed deeply.

"I paid her off...And bought myself a dog in the process." He moved to the fireplace to stoke the crackling logs. "I put an ad in the papers, in case he belonged to someone, but no one came forward."

"Just an old stray?" she said with a smile.

"I went back to Donna's to get a collar, leash, bowls...Didn't see you," he said wistfully.

She joined him by the fire. "I liked the way we met. Perhaps in the shop...Nothing would have happened."

"No chance for me to impress you with my manly exploits," he said, raising his arms to flex them. Only to wince in pain.

"I think you need a massage," Laura suggested practically, tugging off his Santa jacket. Nudging him facedown on the bed, she straddled his ribs to squeeze his thick shoulders.

"So no fantasy about making love to Santa," he mumbled, his voice muffled in the thick bedcovers.

"In the first place, I may harbor some residual attraction to a jolly old elf from my impressionable childhood, but this is a massage, not making love..." Her flexing fingers traveled down his spine, causing him to arch up like a old lion in the sun.

"That's what you think," he hissed.

Ignoring him, she went on. "And in the second place, this suit is rented. We really must not damage it in any way."

His groans turned to laughter. He flipped over and wrestled her to the mattress. "Fine. Then Mrs. Claus will receive the massage."

Sliding off her robe and moving her onto her stomach, he found the spot in her lower back that had been tense all evening.

"Oh, darling," she moaned, "that feels simply...glorious."

"Sometimes this old dog is worth having around," he suggested.

"I'm very glad you followed me home." She rolled over onto her back to give him something different to stroke with his strong hands.

"Not to be contrary," he said, "but actually, you shoved me in your car and brought me home."

"Details, details," she murmured, working the buttons of his Santa pants.

"Do you think this is wise?" he asked, his mouth against her lips. "In our present condition?"

"I've always heard that the best way to work out a kink is to stretch the muscle again." Her hand slipped inside his velvet pants.

He cradled her face and kissed the end of her nose. "I'm game if you are. I'll follow you to the ends of the earth."

"No need, darling," she told him tenderly "Just as far as this bed is all I require."

The clock on her mantle chimed with perfect pitch. "Midnight," whispered Bill as he draped her thigh over his hip.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Adams," she murmured in his ear as their bodies slid together. Pure contentment filled her. Her beloved here, yes, that was enough...But to show him how she truly felt, she'd finally decided on the perfect gift, and it waited at the bottom of her handbag.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Adams," he returned, tucking a long curl behind her ear before easing onto his back, bringing her up above him in a sweet wave of ivory skin and pink blushes. He grinned. It had taken him weeks, but he'd finally found her the ultimate present. She'd just have to wait for it though, until their passion abated, the fire died, and dawn came. Then it would truly be Christmas.

End of Chapter Two

E/N: Our deadline is Christmas! We can do it!