Who do I write for? ME. But this being Christmas, I suppose I could be nice enough to share. Don't say I never gave you anything...
by Helen E. H. Madden
(originally aired on the Heat Flash Erotica Podcast, December 2007)
"Elf patrol! Open up!"
George stumbled into the living room, fumbling with his robe. Elf patrol? What the hell kind of joke was that to play on Christmas Eve? He flung open his front door, ready to chew out the pranksters, but stopped cold when he saw who was standing there.
"Are you George Greer?"
"Uuuuuuuuh..." George gawked. A midget, an Amazon, and a reindeer stood on his porch.
"I'll take that as a yes," the midget chirped. "Mr. Greer, I'm Fred Finklestein of the Holiday Elf List Patrol. That's H-E-L-P. This is Reggie, the Brown-nosed Reindeer, and uh, my partner, Mable."
"Sable Mable," the Amazon said, with a toss of her glossy black hair. She sauntered into the house, brushing up against George as she passed. She and Fred wore matching red and green outfits, but hers was leather and very low cut.
"Mr. Greer," Fred prattled on. "We're just here to double check the list--"
"List?" George croaked as Mable hitched up her skirt and draped herself across the couch.
"You know," she purred. "The one that decides who gets presents and who gets a lump of coal?"
"Oh! The list!"
"Exactly," Fred chimed in. "Before we can authorize any gift deliveries to this house, we need to ask you just one question. Answer correctly and you'll get your heart's desire. Answer wrong, and well, there will be consequences."
George blinked. "Um, okay. Shoot."
"Mr. Greer, are you now, or have you been, at any point during the past calendar year, to include federal holidays and weekends, with allowances made for standard and daylight savings time, annoying, bawdy, contrary, disobedient, disorderly, evil, exasperating, fiendish, fractious, froward, headstrong, ill-behaved, impish, indecorous, insubordinate, intractable, lewd, mischievous, obscene, off-color, perverse, playful, rascally, raunchy, recalcitrant, refractory, ribald, risque, roguish, rough, rowdy, sinful, teasing, ungovernable, unmanageable, unruly, wanton, wayward, wicked, willful, worthless, or just plain bad?"
"In English, Floyd," Mable drawled.
"Whatever. Mr. Greer, what Shortie here wants to know is, have you been naughty, or nice?"
Mable got up from the couch and stalked toward George, hips swaying with every step. She pressed up against him, backing him into the artificial tree until the angel on top threatened to fall.
"It's an important question," Mable said, chest heaving with every word. "So think carefully. Have you been a good boy, someone who goes to bed early, never drinks, never fights, never swears - you just stay home every Friday night, safe and snug in bed? Or is there something you've done this past year that you shouldn't have? Something you're ashamed of? Something you wouldn't want Mommy to find out about?"
"Mommy?" George squeaked.
"Mm-hmm," Mabel replied. She leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Tell me, Georgie, which is it? Naughty or nice?"
George closed his eyes and whimpered. Mabel towered over him, a dark, sultry presence that threatened to eat him alive. Her breath blew hot against his cheek as she waited, like a predator, for his answer.
"Well?" she prompted.
Mabel stepped back and smiled. "Shortie, you and the reindeer take a hike. Georgie boy is all mine."
As the door slammed shut behind them, Fred threw down his clipboard.
"God dammit! That's the twelfth guy in a row. I don't get it, Reggie. He's got no priors, not even a parking ticket. So why does he fuck it up at the last second by lying about being naughty, huh? Can you explain this to me?"
Reggie peeked through the front window in time to see Mable yank down George's pajama bottoms and draw him over her knee. The man yelped as her gloved hand came down hard across his bare buttocks.
"Well duh!" Reggie said.