By  MelissaBaby. (abridged) Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

“Fuck Christmas,” Clover shouted, “and fuck you, Tony. Fuck Santa Claus, fuck his elves and fuck all ten goddamn reindeers.”

“Eight,” Roxanne said, filing her nails and looking at her over the top of her glasses.

“Shut up, Roxy, I’m talking about reindeers, not how many cocks you sucked over the weekend.”

“Clover, calm down,” Tony said, “It was worth taking a shot.”

“Bullshit, I told you nobody goes to a strip club on Christmas Eve.”

“She did tell you,” Roxanne said, “Even louder that she’s telling you now.”

“Look,” he said, shrugging, “I’m sorry, but it wasn’t nobody…”

“We’ve had five customers,” Clover said.

“And the last one was two hours ago,” Roxanne chimed in, “It’s almost ten thirty.”

Clover jerked her thumb at Roxanne. “She might look like a doofus wearing that stupid Santa hat, but she’s right.”

Tony held up his hands, “Okay, it turned out to not be a great idea. You guys are always saying that more customers come in because they are lonely than because they are horny. I figured it would be a lonely night for a lot of guys…”

“It might be a great night to be a hooker,” Clover said, “but not a dancer.”

He looked at his watch, then over his shoulder at LeAnn, the bartender. “Tell you what,” he told her, “If nobody else comes in before eleven, go ahead and close up.”

He started to walk away, but Roxanne called him back. “We paid our club fees, Tony, that isn’t right.”

He looked up toward the ceiling, as if he were looking for a script to read from. “You want to close and go home early, but you want your club fees refunded because I said we would close and you could go home early?”

“No,” Clover said, “We want our club fees refunded because we paid you fifty dollars to dance on a night when you dragged us in here to dance, even though we told you nobody was coming the fuck in.”

“Fine,” he said, throwing his hands in the air, “LeAnn, give them back their club fees.”

The door opened, and they both groaned, but it was not a customer. Sporty, the Gold Dollar’s bouncer, came in.

“Speaking of guys you’ll fuck,” Clover muttered.

When he approached the bar, she said, “Hey Sporty, how come you go out with Roxy? I always heard black guys like girls with nice big asses.”

“I always heard strippers were friendly,” he shot back.

He sat down next to Roxanne.

“Where have you been?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Clover said, “There could have been a brawl in here, between the rats and the cockroaches.”

“I was sitting out in my car, listening to some jams.”

Clover tipped out and gave LeAnn a big hug, then she and Roxanne walked out to their cars in a light cold rain.

“You ain’t waiting for Sporty?” Clover asked.

“Nope, don’t want to talk to him right now. Meet you at the diner.”

They each got in their cars. A light coating of slush covered Roxanne’s windshield, but the wipers easily pushed it to the side. She pulled out of the parking lot on to the slippery street and drove the mile and a half to their usual after work spot, the Finest Kind Diner, while Clover followed close behind.

When she turned into the diner’s parking lot she noticed immediately that the lights were turned off, except for a string of colored Christmas bulbs blinking around the front door.

Clover thought for a minute. “We could go to Denny’s.”

“Are they open?”

“How the fuck would I know? Call ‘em up.”

“Oh, so I have to look up the number?”

“I figured it has a man’s name, so you would know it.”

Roxanne sat back in her seat. “I don’t want to drive all the way across town, just to go to Denny’s. What else would be open?”

“Just White Castle.”

Roxanne thought for a minute. “Yeah, what the fuck, let’s go to White Castle.”

“We ought to just go in one car,” Clover suggested.

“Fine. Yours or mine?”

“Yours,” Clover said, “Mine is more full of trash than a westside trailer park.” She pulled her car into a parking space, shut it off and got out.

“I hate this drizzly shit,” she said as she got into Roxanne’s passenger seat.

“Hey, don’t you live in a westside trailer park?” Roxanne asked.

“Yeah, that’s why I know what I am talking about.”

“Speaking of knowing what you’re talking about,” Roxanne said, “Santa Claus has eight reindeer.”

“Are you counting Rudolph?”

“Nope. Rudolph doesn’t count.”

“Who decided that?”

“Clement Moore.”

“Who the fuck is he? Sounds like a baseball player.”

“He wrote The Night Before Christmas.”

“Twas the night before Christmas,” Clover recited in a sing song voice, “And all through the place, Roxanne was sitting on every guy’s face.”

“And up from the lawn there arose such a clatter,” Roxanne returned, “As Clover devoured the whole turkey platter.”

Clover nodded her head. “That was pretty good,” she admitted.

Roxanne was quiet for a moment, then asked, “You wonder though, who the fuck would name a reindeer Blitzen? What is he, a Nazi reindeer?”

“I bet Rudolph was originally Adolf the Red Nosed Reindeer and they changed it during the war or something. Hey, what’s going on with you and Sporty?”

“He wants me to go to his mom’s house for Christmas dinner.”

“And you don’t want to go?”

“Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend from the strip club?”

“Oh yeah, I get it. But still, you guys been going out for a while now. You are going to meet them sooner or later.”

“It doesn’t have to be on Christmas with all the relatives there.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

There were three cars parked outside the White Castle when they arrived. The restaurant’s windows were so wet with condensation that they could not see through them. But when they dashed inside, they were nearly blinded by the garish light.

“This is like sensory overload,” Roxanne said, as Jingle Bell Rock squalled from a tinny sound system.

They walked over to the counter. There was no one behind it. Roxanne leaned forward, craning her neck to look back into the kitchen. She saw a young man in a white uniform and a hairnet dumping french fries out of a fryer basket.

“Excuse us,” she called.

He looked over his shoulder. “Be with you in a minute, ma'am,” he said.

Clover cackled and nudged Roxanne with her elbow. “Ma'am. He thinks you’re an old fucking lady.”

“Yeah, and he thinks I’m taking my mom out for Christmas Eve.”

The man came to the counter. His name badge identified him as Julio, assistant manager. “What can I get you ladies?” he asked.

“I’d like four hamburgers, an order of medium fries and a large coffee, regular,” Roxanne said.

“Give me six whiteys and a large Mountain Dew,” Clover added.

“Would you like fries with that?”

“Fuck no, I’m gonna eat most of hers.”

Julio rang up their orders and Roxanne paid for both. Clover looked around the room.

There were three occupied booths. In one a pair of middle aged men, wearing the uniforms of parking attendants, sat sipping coffee. At another, an older woman in a ragged green coat had only a cup of water and a single empty burger box on the table in front of her. A couple of booths down, three young, black clad goths were sitting together. They looked to be in their early twenties; two boys, one very large, the other thin and jittery, and a purple haired girl sitting across from them, loudly chewing gum. They all looked like they were coming down off a much better time than they were having now.

“It’s kind of a sad looking bunch of people in here,” Clover said.

“Yeah,” Roxanne said, “It’s Christmas Eve and they’ve got no place to go.”

“That sounds familiar. I mean, what the fuck is the difference between them and us?”

“We’ve got money in our pockets.”

“Yeah, money we took from other lonely people,” Clover said. She looked lost in thought for a moment, then asked Roxanne, “How much money you think you’ve got in your pocket?”

“I don’t know, a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty dollars.”

Clover looked around the room, her lips tight and her brow knotted.

“I’ll bet I know what you’re thinking,” Roxanne said.

“It’s fucking Christmas,” Clover said, shrugging.

Roxanne called Julio back to the counter.

“How much are those sacks of thirty sliders?” she asked him.

“Thirty two dollars and fifty two cents.”

She looked over her shoulder at the woman with her single burger. “Give me two sacks,” she said, fishing her cash out of her pocket.

“You still want the other order?”

“Yeah,” Clover said, “And I want you to give anybody whatever they want to drink. Keep a tab and I’ll pay for them later.”

Julio hesitated a moment, then said, “Okay, it will take a little bit of time. Your other order will be up in a minute.”

When their food was ready, they went to the empty table between the old lady and the goths.

As they walked past the parking attendants, Clover asked them, “How you guys doing? You had to work tonight?”

“Fuckin’ Nutcracker,” one of them grumbled.

“So are you going to see your son tomorrow?” Roxanne asked Clover when they had taken their seats.

Clover nodded. “Not till the afternoon. But I get to have him the next day, too.”

“Have you got plans?”

“I was thinking we’d go to Hong Kong Garden for dinner.”

“And the next day?”

“Are you kidding? The day after Christmas? We’re going fucking shopping.”

Roxanne laughed. “Yeah I’m sure that’ll thrill a ten year old boy, going shopping with his mom.”

They had each finished two burgers when Julio called to them that their order was ready.

Clover walked over to the counter, picked up a bag of hamburgers in each hand and turned to face the dining area.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she hollered, “My friend Poindexter and I would like to treat everyone to Whiteys for Christmas.” She went from table to table, holding out the bags, so that each person could take some burgers.

“And if anyone wants something to drink,” she said, “It’s on us. Just step up and tell Julio what you want.”

After going to each table, she had half a bag left. She put it on the table in front of Roxanne and sat down.

Roxanne twisted in her seat and watched as several of the patrons went to the counter and ordered drinks. She noticed that the old woman in the next booth had neither gotten up nor taken any burgers. She took one from the bag, leaned over the back of the booth and asked, “Would you like another burger, ma'am?”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Of course it is,” Roxanne said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, dear,” the woman replied, taking the burger.

Roxanne’s phone buzzed.

“I bet I know who that is,” Clover muttered.

Roxanne looked at the screen. “Yeah, it’s Sporty.” She sat back in the booth and answered, simply saying, “Hey.”

“Listen baby,” he said, “I wish you hadn’t split like that. I don’t want you mad at me, whether you go tomorrow or not.”

“I never said I was mad at you, Sporty. I’m just tired of all the back-and-forth on this shit.”

“I don’t think having Christmas with my family is shit.”

“Now you’re just looking to be offended. They know where you work, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re going to tell them your bringing a girl from work to Christmas dinner, so I can sit there, eating turkey with everybody looking at me like I’m a whore.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna call you a whore.”

“My own mom calls me a whore.”

“Well, my mom ain’t your mom.”

“I don’t know, Sporty. I’m just not sure I’m ready for this.”

“We’ve been going out almost a year.”

“Off and on.”

“Whatever. Where are you at anyway? I come over to Finest Kind because I thought you guys would be here.”

“They’re closed.”

“Well, no shit, I just told you I was over here.”

“We’re at the White Castle on Union Street.”

“So, would it be cool if I come by?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Roxanne disconnected, shaking her head. “This fucking guy,” she muttered, “I’m telling you, he won’t give up…”

“And that’s a bad thing? Let me ask you something,” Clover said, “and don’t get pissed.”

“Okay.”

“Are you nervous about meeting his family because you think they won’t like you being a stripper or because you don’t think they’ll like you being white?”

Roxanne was silent for a minute. “Maybe both,” she said.

“Either way, I think that’s his problem, not yours. I mean it’s his family.”

“Yeah, but I’m afraid that if they give him a lot of shit about it, he isn’t going to pick me over them.”

“Well then, fuck him. He ain’t worth it if he does that.”

Roxanne shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

An old man with flyaway white hair came into the restaurant. He appeared to be wearing just a light sweatsuit under his ratty coat. He sat down next to the old woman. She spoke quietly to him for a minute, then he loudly cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, ladies,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Flo says you are buying burgers for everyone. Is that so?”

“Sure is,” Clover said. Roxanne took two more burgers from the bag and handed them to him.

“Go get yourself a coffee or something,” Clover said, “Whatever you want, it’s on us.”

The man thanked them, stood and fetched coffee for himself and Flo.

Sporty came in a few minutes later, took off his wet coat and hung it on the end of the booth. He slid in next to Roxanne. Looking at the bags on the table, he asked, “Why did y'all buy so many burgers?”

“Because we’re generous bitches and we share with everybody,” Clover said.

“Well, shit then.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a couple of burgers. After a few bites he said, “I need to get a drink.”

“Just go to the counter,” Roxanne told him, “We’re running a tab.”

Sporty stuffed the rest of the burger in his mouth, then went to the counter. He came back a minute later with a large orange soda.

“You been thinking about tomorrow?” he asked Roxanne.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it…”

“Hey Sporty,” Clover said, interrupting her, “Let me ask you something.”

“Yeah, what?” He reached for another burger.

“Why do so many black families have macaroni and cheese for Christmas dinner?”

“Because it’s good as hell. We still have all the regular shit, turkey and mashed potatoes and cranberries and all that.”

“Pumpkin pie or sweet potato?”

“What do you think? Sweet potato pie.”

“What kind of stuffing?”

“Cornbread.”

“Just plain?”

“Fuck no, my mom puts Jimmy Dean sausage in it.”

“Damn!” Clover exclaimed. “Listen, if this silly bitch don’t want to come to your mom’s house for Christmas dinner can I come?”

“You can both come as far as I’m concerned.”

Roxanne laughed. “That’s actually a pretty good plan. If your mom spends five minutes with Clover, she’ll think I’m little miss sunshine.”

“No, she’ll think you’re a dumb bitch who thinks Santa only has eight reindeer.”

“Rudolph doesn’t count.”

“Damn, you back on that shit?” Sporty said, rolling his eyes.

Clover slipped out of the booth. “Fuck you both,” she said, standing up.

“Hey everybody,” she shouted, “I’m taking a Christmas survey. How many reindeers does Santa Claus have?”

There was murmuring throughout the room. The big goth kid was counting on his fingers. One of the parking attendants was quietly singing Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer. His friend said, emphatically, “Eight.”

The goth girl said “Nine, if you count Rudolph.”

“Rudolph wasn’t one of the originals,” he replied.

“So where did he come from?”

“Gene Autry.”

“Dead white man,” she muttered.

The man who had been singing said, “The Night Before Christmas guy gave them their names.”

The skinny goth kid glared over the back of the booth at him. “But who said he was in charge of fucking reindeer?”

“He wrote the goddamn poem!”

“They didn’t know about Rudolph then!”

“Isn’t it nice to see how the holidays bring people together,” Roxanne said to Sporty.

“All right,” Clover said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s put it to a vote. How many people say nine?”

She raised her hand and the goth kids and the old lady joined her.

“Who says eight?”

Roxanne, Sporty, the parking guys and the old man raised their hands.

Clover looked at Sporty. “Put your fucking hand down, man, your vote don’t count.”

“Why don’t my vote count?”

“Because you ain’t hoping to get any pussy from me tonight.”

“You got that right,” he smirked.

Roxanne turned in her seat. “How many people say ten?”

They all looked at her, perplexed. No one raised a hand.

“That’s your cue to sit down and shut the fuck up,” she said to Clover. Clover looked around with a frown, then sat without saying anything more.

Sporty looked over his shoulder and said, “Who thinks Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

Everyone raised their hand.

“Goddamn right,” he muttered.

Roxanne nudged him with her elbow. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. He stood up and let her go by.

The parking lot guys were getting up to leave. They thanked her for the burgers as she went past their table and wished her a happy holiday. One gave her a big hug. At least he didn’t try to cop a feel, she thought as she went into the women’s bathroom.

When she opened the door to come out a few minutes later, Sporty was standing in front of it.

“You know how cute you look in that hat?” he asked.

“Do you know how desperate you sound when you try to sweet talk me?”

“Nah, I ain’t desperate. It’d be alright if you don’t want to go tomorrow. I get it. But don’t go saying you weren’t welcome to go, because you were asked.”

“Okay, that’s fair. It’s just that it’s a big step.”

“You got to take steps if you want to get anywhere,” he said.

She put her hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. Looking past him, she did not see anyone watching them. She gripped the waist of his pants and walked backward, pulling him into the bathroom.

Sporty pushed the door shut behind him, and let Roxanne tug him across the room until her hips bumped against the edge of the sink.

Roxanne leaned back, looking up at him and biting her lip.

He gazed down at her, his hands on her hips, and kissed her. She kissed him back, but then turned her head.

“At some point,” she said, “we have to talk about where we are going.”

“We do,” he replied, “but we ain’t got to do it right now.”

She draped her arms over his shoulders and they exchanged a long, hard, tongue swirling kiss. Sporty’s hands moved to her breasts, squeezing and caressing them, while Roxanne dropped her hand down to rub his stiff cock through his jeans.

“I think you’ve got something you want to give me for Christmas,” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t think you’ve been a very good girl.”

“Do you want me to be a good girl?”

“Aw, hell no,” he said. He took a half step back, seized her waist and spun her around to face the sink. Her Santa hat fell off, landing in the basin.

He ran one hand down between her legs and cradled her chin in the other.

“Look at you,” he whispered in her ear. Her glasses had slipped down her nose. She pushed them back into their proper position and gazed at herself in the mirror.

“Look and see what I see.”

Roxanne looked at his eyes in the mirror as his hand rubbed and squeezed her pussy.

“Don’t look at me, look at you.”

She stared at her own reflection, resisting the temptation to watch as he unfastened her jeans and pushed them down over her hips. But when his fingers slipped inside her, she leaned her head back and kissed the side of his neck.

His fingers probed deep into her, his thumb played with her clitoris. She reached back and rubbed his crotch. She fumbled at his belt until he gently pushed her hand away and undid it himself.

Roxanne felt his cock bump against her ass, then slip down between her thighs. He placed his hand between her shoulders and gently pushed her down until her elbows were on the sides of the sink. She picked up her Santa hat and put it back on her head.

Sporty kneaded her ass, then spread her thighs, pressed