By Demi Urging. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It’s the wee hours of December 26th. Rick is finally shoving the last of his teetering friends through their front door, He volunteered to be designated driver again, for about half a dozen friends & co-workers.

Another Christmas gathering passed as the clock ticked into the next day and it seemed he’d be single again into the new year. He thought he would have gotten over it by age thirty.

He did have a pity date from last year  for New Year’s Eve. It hadn’t been a nice date, either; she stayed for a single kiss at midnight and left without another word. The same woman has a boyfriend this year, so Rick couldn’t ask again even if his pride would allow it. Now he’ll get plenty of sleep.

The only sign of the holidays in his life was the box of fudge sitting on his counter, Which his elderly neighbor gave him the night before Christmas.

He wouldn’t even eat it tonight. Sleep had to come first, then he had a week off, since the boss knew most of the team would be useless if he had them come in that week.

Climbing the stairs, he smelled something delectable, coming out of the 4th floor stairwell. He thought one of his neighbors must have made actual food instead of subsisting on beer and crackers like his friends had. Maybe he would eat some of that fudge after all, since a glass of water and a handful of crackers in the face of a home-cooked meal seemed inadequate.

It had to be Miss Thompson. Rick thought that the old gal had gone off to the country for the day to visit with her kids, but the smell of his mom’s ham with orange & clove seasoning didn’t lie, and it was absolutely coming from somewhere on this floor, getting stronger as he approached his own apartment.

Taking a final pleasant sniff before entering his lonely apartment, Rick turned, halfway opened his front door, and was smacked in the face with a bouquet of aromas that sent his mind back to Christmas dinner with mom and dad.

Rick stepped back. Wrong apartment, he thought. But when he checked the address, expecting to be on the wrong floor somehow, he was met with the very same number he saw every day. He considered calling the cops, but wanted to know the actual situation before making that decision. So, flicked-open pocket knife in hand, he very slowly pushed the door open again.

“Aren’t you coming in?” A slender, bright-eyed young woman in an apron and a horribly ugly holiday sweater three sizes too large, only bare leg showing underneath its hem, was standing in the entryway.

She giggled, fluffy blonde locks bouncing around peaked ears, and took Rick by the hand, gently tugging him inside. “Come on, silly, it’s nice and warm. I have a fire going that’s the perfect size for snuggling and supper just came out of the oven.”

Ah, so a crazy person broke in. At least they…

“A Fire!?” Rick asked as he pulled himself out of her grasp and ran further inside, desperately trying to remember where he kept the extinguisher. But he stopped when he saw what she really meant: his television was showing a video of a fireplace and putting out the smooth jazz version of Christmas favorites, & also a heater stationed below it provided heat along with what looked like a genuine polar bear skin rug.

Jittering followed as the girl joined him. “I am sorry I couldn’t have a real one tonight, but there was no fireplace so this is the best I could do. Now, let’s get you fed while it’s nice and piping hot, and then we can open presents.”

A glance around the room revealed a small pine tree, dazzling with ornaments and laden with expertly-wrapped boxes underneath. Rick’s dining room table held more food than it ever had before and glimmered with candlelight that danced gleefully as the girl dimmed the lights and retrieved the last item from the oven, coming around with a ceramic dish of bubbling, hot food to finish off the spread. She pulled a chair out for him to sit, pouting when he declined her service.

“What is this and who are you?” Rick discreetly tucked his knife away.

“This is Christmas dinner for my sweetie, of course. It’ll start getting cold soon, so why don’t I make you a plate?

While she scooped Rick’s plate with food, He considered his plan of action. The way she bounced to a beat, humming along with the television, the points of her ears were over-worldly?

Rick reached out and tugged on one of the girl’s ears. She yelped, tightening up so as not to drop the plate, and begged him with a tremble in her voice, "Sweetie, please don’t.”

When he released her, she set his place at the table and did the same for herself. He took his seat.

“Merry Christmas, my sweet one. While you were away, Santa came along and dropped off a bunch of presents for you. I thought you would like the surprise and we could eat first before talking, but I guess I crossed a line, haven’t I?”

Rick put a bite of ham in his mouth, the girl brightening up as he started to eat.

It had to be one of the most delicious things he’d had the pleasure to shove in his face. Mom’s cooking, with its nostalgic advantage was still blown out of the water, and Rick felt sorry that he would never get to taste this for the first time again. Too soon it was all gone and the girl was carrying out a plate of apple and chocolate pie with ice cream on the side. This too didn’t last and something about her constant giggling warmed him inside in a way he couldn’t very well describe.

As he finished the last bite of chocolate pie, she came over to his chair & wrapped herself around his neck from behind, softness and warmth pressing into his back and fluffy, blonde hair tickling his cheek. “Oh, Messy boy” she said, and leaned forward to smooch a crumb off his cheek.

Before Rick could object, as little as he was inclined to, she had already slipped away to put dishes in the sink and his back felt uncomfortably cold with her absence.

“That was pretty good; amazing actually.” Rick said, “But seriously, who are you? Did one of my friends hire you or something?” He dismissed the idea.

“No, my mother? She’s one of the only people with a key to my place.

Unless; it was the landlady?”

The girl stretched in the warm air with a luxurious moan escaping peachy lips, the neck of her XXL sweater spilling over a shoulder, exposing so much skin underneath that it was impossible for her to be wearing anything underneath. “I’m an elf!” she proclaimed. She curtsied, at least there were denim cutoff shorts underneath the sweater.  Rick just stared.

“Didn’t you hear me? Santa came by, because you were such a good boy, and we set all this up for you. Well, not to toot my own horn, but I did all the cooking and decorating, Santa brought presents. Oh, and I’m Sugarbell. I’m here to make your Christmas wish come true!”

She’d taken a pose as if she was popping out of a giant layer cake; like there should be celebratory confetti shooting out. But she just stood there in awkward silence.

Rick sighed, so she was a crazy chick after all. “Okay, miss elf, why don’t you get out of here before I have to call the police. And how did you get in here anyway?”

“Magic,” Sugarbell said, looking crestfallen, her ears drooping.

“You’re not giving me a good argument not to call the police. Can you at least take off the fake ears so we can really talk about this?”

“Fake? Sweetie? She skipped over to a green sack by the door and plucked out a wrinkled, yellowed piece of paper. "Ahem,

‘Dear Santa, I’ve been a good boy all year if you don’t count that stuff that my sister says and all I really want is a girlfriend.’ and then there’s a colored pencil drawing of a girl with black pigtails who I think is your crush. 'It’s okay if I don’t get one, I know that’s asking for a lot, but it doesn’t look like mom and Dave are going to be able to give out lots of toys this year, so don’t worry about it if you can’t. Merry Christmas. BTW I’m making snickerdoodles this year, so make sure you grab your share before Dave can steal them all again.’

and there’s your signature.”

She handed the letter over for inspection. It was definitely his handwriting, his drawing skills from almost two decades ago…

“So you were sent by my mother. You could have just said that and we’d have been fine. I’m sorry, she’s pushy but I know she means well… should have told me I’d have company and I would have skipped that party. Anyway, what’s your actual name?”

“I’m Sugarbell. And I wasn’t sent by her, Santa brought me. Here, look.” She tugged on her ear, leaning up so Rick could look closely. It was either real or the seam of the rubber was so well hidden that it might as well be. “I suppose this would be a little hard to believe for an adult. Sorry, I haven’t actually spoken with a human for a few years.”

Rick shook his head. “Your makeup’s good, I’ll give you that.”

Rick angled his hips so the elf wouldn’t notice a certain reflex to her melding to his shape. She was incredibly soft in his arms, just short of purring, the smell of peppermint coming off as she rubbed against him.

Sugarbell stared up at him, her wide, green eyes shining with reflected candlelight. “But I’m not a crazy. I…” She went to the polar bearskin rug in front of the television, so big for the room that it bunched up against the walls in that corner, took a seat and patted the place beside her for him to take. Rick was not so troubled as he was amused, so he sat next to her on the rug in front of the sofa, facing the fake fire. She rested her head against his shoulder and twined her fingers in his with no resistance.

“Um…” he said, “You got me, I guess, but what is all this?”

“It’s a little embarrassing for all of us who screwed up,” she said, “You see, back when we got that letter, we were using a new kind of mail bag and, as we would soon find out, letters would sometimes get caught in the seams. And the elf in charge of distributing letters wasn’t especially conscientious. Rather than going through the trouble of digging out the trapped ones as he knew there would be, they instead ended up stuck inside, in a pile in the corner of the sorting room. It wouldn’t have been that much of a problem, aside from that one elf’s termination we would have just sorted through when we found the pile and spread out what good will we could. But then we arrived at your letter.”

“I mean, I was a dumb 10 year old kid. It’s not something I would ask for these days.”

Sugarbell airily giggled, her cheek burned against his arm. “Sweetie, that wasn’t the problem. We get so many requests for things like that; puppies, little brothers or sisters, a bunch-a edgy. Usually, we’d plan on whatever we could. Are the parents getting a pet? Is someone pregnant or likely to be? If not, a stuffed animal or baby doll would do the trick, and plastic weapons are wholesome enough as it is. The trouble came in an unfortunate fact: you were in the top hundred of the nice list that year.”

“First of all, I don’t believe you, but why would it be an issue?”

“Top hundred and a random assortment on top of that get their wish, period. According to our records, you didn’t submit one… had we known what you wanted, we couldn’t very well kidnap someone and brainwash them, but we absolutely could have an elf facilitate a meeting, and stick around to help out a burgeoning romance. Of course, we didn’t find your letter in the pile until this year. It wouldn’t do for us to get off with as light as a card and a toy anymore, so here I am.” Sugarbell hugged his arm tightly to her chest and kissed his cheek. “I’m your present this year. Sorry it took so long for your wish to come true.” It doesn’t make up for the twenty years you’ve lost, but We can only fix today.

Rick reeled from the stream of revelations, not the least of which being that Santa was a real guy. And here was an eager, adorable, blonde lovely thing clinging to him, unwittingly giving him quite the show as her sweater’s wide neck dipped down with her promised land hiding behind a tantalizing, flickering shadow. He averted his eyes, hoping she couldn’t feel his heart going crazy through his palm, but her puckish smile said that she knew very well the effect her supple, inviting cuddliness was having.

He paused. “So Santa just gave me one of his elves? What, did you draw the short stick?”

“We’re not slaves, you know. It’s a career.”

As he leaned back, supported by the sofa seat; Sugarbell straddled into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. There was no way she couldn’t feel the ‘wooden soldier’ poking her thighs from below.

“Upon discovery of your letter, several of us thought that we could still make your wish come true, so Santa put out a call for volunteers. I won.” Before he could respond, she leaned into him, rocking him onto his back while she straddled; her warm, green eyes glittering in the false firelight on the tv as she came in for a transient peck on the lips. Then she teased him by hopping up and padding over to the kitchen.

From where he lay, Rick watched her pull a tray from the oven and came back to the fire to kneel beside him.

He asked, “People volunteered to be with me?” It was hard to imagine even two women fighting over him.

Sugarbell frowned like she knew this conversation was going to happen sooner or later and could no longer be postponed. “Fifty of us young lady elves entered the pool. We played rock paper scissors for the position, and I won the tournament.

Of course; if you don’t want me, I’m sure we can drop someone else off for you. Any one of them would love to take my place.”

“I just can’t believe it.” Rick sat up and drew her into his arms, sitting her on one leg so the soldier couldn’t get in the way. It seemed that she prepared to be rejected at this point, and he’d said so much to make her think he would, threatened to have her removed by the authorities after all.

“It’s a lot to take in, you know? How the heck was I in the top hundred? I don’t remember doing anything especially great. Why not give my place to one of those prodigies out saving the rainforest or whatever?”

She’d relaxed in his arms, nestled into the crook of his shoulder and curled in her slender legs. “We take lots of factors into consideration. The kindest people don’t pay attention to how kind they are. They just do the right thing.

"And I thought you were a home invader.”

“Nuh-uh.” She wiggled herself up until her lips touched his earlobe and whispered, “It’s only home invasion when the owner doesn’t want you there. Tell me who laid out milk and cookies all those years? Wasn’t that you?”

Her nuzzling and shimmying had tugged the overlarge neck of her sweater so far down across one shoulder that she was in danger of revealing herself from just the swell of her curvaceous breast with every breath, not that it seemed she would mind. Sugarbell wagged her pert butt in his lap, her fingers wandered underneath his sweatshirt and sweetly tugged at the t-shirt underneath when she found it was tucked in. The same breath which raised her chest came to him as a cool breeze on his neck.

She said, “Tell me, what’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to do, that you couldn’t without a girlfriend?” One corner of his undershirt came free from his jeans.

It was too fast, Rick hugged her tighter, trapping her hands to squirm uselessly against his belly. He grabbed her sweater and pulled the neck back off her shoulder, saving her from the risk of exposure. Giggling wildly, she plunged her hands under his plain gray sweatshirt and tickled his armpits without mercy until it was just too much to bear and Rick fell sideways, holding in suppressed laughter, landing onto his back.

But it didn’t end, Sugarbell seized the moment of his weakness and took hold of the sweatshirt’s hem, pulling the whole thing up above his head in a smooth motion and trapping his arms in a cottony prison. She laid herself over his chest and at last succeeded in untucking his shirt. Meanwhile his bulge rested between the two cheeks of her very toned ass, and she rubbed against it with her subtle motions.

Eagerness burned in her rosy cheeks. Her downy, golden hair fell around their faces, dividing them from the world, but a few deep breaths later, her giggling petered out and she rolled off, spending the last of her laughter beside him on the floor.

“Sorry, sorry, we haven’t even eaten dessert yet.” she said breathlessly, jumping up and scurrying back to the kitchen.

Rick discarded his sweatshirt; it was already getting too warm for him. Watching on as Sugarbell’s perky rear bounced away did nothing for dissipating his erection, begging him as it was, to just get on with it already. It didn’t have long to calm down before she returned with a plate of tiny, pink cookies.

“No, don’t get up,” she said as she set the plate down on the rug, “Go ahead and try one, I’ll pick a present for both of us, from the North Pole team.”

The first bite of the little cookie exploded with crispy flakiness and a sophisticated undertone of strawberry. Rick snuck a second cookie before Sugarbell had time to return from the tree, with a couple gifts.

“These are incredible!” he blurted through a cheekful of crumbs.

She took one for herself and examined it between pinched fingers. “I wish I had more time to make them. It’s the little touches that make the difference, but I wasn’t able to let the egg whites get to room temperature before I beat them. And I know they say you can use a hand mixer to get the same results, but I think merenge needs the personal touch of a handheld whisk, even if it takes longer.”

“What are you talking about? They’re delicious.”

Sugarbell sat next to him, leaning against the sofa, and kissed his cheek. Then sliding a present into his lap to open. “They’re called sugarbells. My mom’s version is so much better than mine.”

Rick looked at the gift tag, but the sender’s name was in Cyrillic so it was hopeless to try reading it. “Where did all these come from anyway?”

“Let’s see… that one’s from the workshop, most of them are. The sender is an elf named Tart. Technically it’s actually Tort, but that’s what he prefers.”

Rather than carefully preserve the beauty of the wrapping on her gift, Sugarbell plunged her fingertip under a flap and ripped the paper off in a single ragged chunk. She tipped the lid up to see inside, yelped, and put the package out of reach.

“What was it?” Rick asked. The box was on her other side and she leaned in the way of his arm when he started reaching around to get at it.

“Well, it was, uh,” she stammered, eyes darting back and forth until she realized there wasn’t a way out of telling him the truth. “It’s something of a gift to both of us, from the workshop’s confectioner.” She waved him close and whispered with a warm breath against his ear, “Edible underwear.”

Before he could respond with his own bewilderment, Sugarbell crawled away to fetch another pair of presents from the pile. She wouldn’t look him in the eye when she thrust the next one into his hands. Did she think she hadn’t already crossed the line from adorable into suggestive, or was it just too much to be hit smack in the face with the implications? This self-conscious side of her was adorable in its own way too.

He decided to prod her. “Alright,” he said, “New rule: no hiding anything, and presents have to be tried out right away. Okay?”

Sugarbell nodded solemnly and began drawing the hem of her sweater up, laying bare her tight, smooth belly, and was saved at the last moment when it crested her ribs and Rick caught her wrist.

His bluff overwhelmingly called, Rick let her off easy and kissed her forehead. “Sorry, I just meant we should show off what we got. No need to strip right here and now.”

“So,” Rick said, uneasy in his seat, “Are there going to be any of these that aren’t… romantic?”

At least Sugarbell looked ruffled too, swaying on her knees after pulling out another couple gifts. “Most of these are from elves who really wanted to be with you tonight instead of me.” She stuffed a cookie in her face rather than continue explaining.

They opened the next wave of gifts in one fell swoop of torn paper and ribbon to avoid any unnecessary embarrassment. Out came a matching set of horrendously ugly sweaters in their respective sizes and a book titled 'guide to faeries’ whi