“Dinner was delicious, as usual,” Brody grins after taking the last bite of his Christmas salmon, which is nothing but a regular baked salmon finished with a topping of cranberries, parsley and pomegranate seeds. “I didn’t even know something called Christmas salmon existed, but your commitment to making something holiday-themed for every meal up until the big day is very impressive, honey.”
I smile, blushing at the compliment as I rinse a few dishes at the kitchen sink.
“Yes, but you know Christmas is my favorite holiday, so of course I have to go all out. Plus, you’ve finished eating just in time,” I giggle while putting the last of the gingerbread cookies onto a plate before bringing them over to the dining room table. “Hopefully, these are good.”
As if to reassure myself, I take a big bite of one of the cookies, letting my teeth sink into the soft dough. Mm, it’s crumbly, cinnamon-y and very sweet all at once. These definitely came out perfect, and it seems my ex-stepdad agrees because Brody devours one of the gingerbread men in two bites.
“Delicious,” he growls. “You know, I’m really glad you came to stay with me during your Christmas break, sweetheart, because if I knew you could cook like this, I would have invited you over a lot more often.”
“Well, thank you, I think. And remember, I make a special dessert for you every day too,” I tease.
Brody grins, his smile like a movie star’s.
“I’m not going to pretend that I don’t like that part of it,” the older man agrees. “But you know how much I enjoy your company, Cleo. It’s nice getting to spend some time with you, and I’m glad I don’t have to be by myself during the holidays this year. Maybe I’m just getting old and cantankerous,” he jests. “So no one wants to hang out with me anymore.”
I merely flap my hand at him, giggling.
“No, that’s not it. You’re friendly and warm, so I know you’re popular. But thank you for inviting me because you know how my mom is. I thought I’d be exchanging gifts with Jeannie, but she’s not available this year…”
My ex-stepfather frowns as my voice trails off.
“Yeah, I don’t think either of us saw that coming. Where is she exactly? I mean, the prison’s name.”
“Lockwood Women’s Correctional Facility,” I say with a wrinkle of my nose. “And you know what she’s in there for, right?”
Brody looks thoughtful.
“Something to do with purses? Stealing them or the like?”
I nod while sighing.
“Sort of. It turns out that Jeannie was hawking fake designer bags while also trying to pass them off as real. She was basically making off like a bandit, but the law finally caught up to her and she’s in the slammer now. I think her sentence is almost over though. Maybe just another few months, if they grant her early release on good behavior? To be honest, I’m not too sure either. I’ll have to call her lawyer to ask.”
Both Brody and I are silent for a moment because my mom (who’s also his ex-wife) is really a character. I love Jeannie, don’t get me wrong, but selling fake purses to rich ladies isn’t exactly something that makes me proud. I missed out on the “stick it to the wealthy” gene, so being vindictive isn’t really my thing. But the long and the short of it is that my mom’s currently behind bars, and I’m spending Christmas with my ex-stepdad because I had nowhere else to go. Trust me, it’s a surprise to me as well.
After all, as a freshman at Coleman University, I was stunned to find out that the dorms close for Christmas. Even more, I literally had nowhere to go, seeing that my mom’s in the slammer. But I happened to talk with Brody, and he invited me over for the holidays, to my relief. It’s turned out for the better, and I’ve had a nice time with the handsome man, even if it’s a little awkward, seeing that he used to be married to my mom.
“Well,” Brody says before clearing his throat. “I know you and your mother used to enjoy spending the holidays together—”
I fix him with a look.
“Brody,” I send him a look, shaking my head. “I’m fine, really. I’ve accepted that my mom is currently starring in Orange is the New Black. I get it, and don’t worry about me.”
He sighs, his handsome face rueful.
“It’s not that I’m worried, exactly, it’s just that it’s strange,” he murmurs. “It must be hard for you sometimes.”
I take a deep breath
“Not as hard as it could be,” is my reply. “At least I have you, don’t I? You didn’t have to stick around after you and Mom got divorced, but you did. You went out of your way to keep in touch with me and now you’re letting me spend my first ever Christmas break from university here. I’m fine because I have you, Brody.”
My ex-stepdad waves me off, but I think he does feel better about the situation. Not that he has any reason to feel bad in the first place because no one forced Jeannie to turn to a life of crime.
But to be honest, this isn’t the first time my mom’s gotten up to no good. After Brody and Jeannie divorced, my mom was convicted of kiting checks. She got off with probation, but really, that was only the beginning. Now, she’s in the slammer for real, and as a result, I’m chilling with my ex-stepdad over Christmas break. Brody easily could have brushed me off, but he didn’t, and I’m grateful for that.
Then again, I always wonder how Jeannie landed my stepfather because my mom’s not exactly a beauty queen, while my stepdad is really handsome. Brody’s maybe about forty-five, with night-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and the physique of an Olympian. He could pass for a Greek god, and it’s because he works out a lot. Every morning, Brody hits the gym, and I’ve been the lucky lady to see him with his shirt off when he gets back, hot, sweaty, and oh so delicious.
But how can I even be having these thoughts? First, the older man is totally out of my league. He wouldn’t be interested in a nineteen year old girl who’s nerdy with frizzy brown hair and a little too much junk in the trunk. He probably has all sorts of sexy divorcees pounding on his door, hoping for some time in his bed.
Even more, this man used to be married to my mom, so I absolutely have to stop thinking these thoughts. It’s just so wrong, and I can’t believe that they’ve even popped up in my head. As a result, I force myself to smile winsomely in his direction, but the handsome man frowns as if remembering something.
“Oh shit,” he curses. “Are you free tomorrow morning? Like early, early?”
I stare at him.
“I guess. Why?”
He clears his throat, looking torn. “Well, you know that I’m a professional photographer, right?”
“Yes, it’s been your job for the last decade, Brody” I deadpan. “But why?”
My stepfather nods before slapping a palm to his forehead.
“Because shit, I’m supposed to be at the mall tomorrow morning to take Santa photos. But my usual elf, Clarissa, told me she couldn’t make it this year and I completely forgot. Can you substitute for her? It’s easy, honey. Basically, you just have to put on an elf costume and press the remote to operate the camera.”
I nod.
“Oh, sure,” is my slow reply. “I don’t mind helping you out. I love Christmas, I love kids, and I love Santa,” I add. “But who’s going to be Santa?”
Brody shoots me a wry look.
“Actually, it’s me. Real Santas are in short supply this year, so you’re looking at him.”
My brow creases.
“But aren’t you the one taking the photos?”
He shakes his head.
“Nope. You are. I’ll be there with the kids in my lap, and then you just have to press a button. The remote’s connected to the camera, and it’s easy, I promise. Besides, I’ll prep everything beforehand so you won’t have to touch any dials or anything.”
I nod dubiously.
“Oh okay. But I mean, are you sure you can play Santa?”
Brody shoots me an amused look.
“Why, what do you mean?”
I take a deep breath, surveying his muscular, athletic form.
“Well, it’s just that Santa’s kind of rotund with a big gut, right? And a red face? You don’t look like that at all, Brody.”
The older man chuckles, the sound deep and attractive. “Thanks honey, but it’s not a problem because first, the kids don’t really know or care. They just see the big white beard and red suit and begin to squeal with excitement.”
“Oh, I guess that’s true,” I murmur. “Makes sense.”
He grins.
“Yeah, and besides, with a white beard and a pillow stuffed under my Santa suit, no one’s able to really see me anyways. I actually did this last year too, and there were no complaints.”
“That makes sense,” I nod dubiously. “Well sure, no problem then. I don’t mind helping, and I’m certain it’ll be fun.”
The handsome man chuckles.
“It’s more than fun, trust me. It can get a little chaotic when dealing with children, but I like it. You’ll see,” he grins.
I wave off his warning, standing up to stretch.
“I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle because I adore kids. Speaking of which, I better go ahead and get to sleep now so I don’t end up looking like an evil witch in the morning. I don’t want to scare off our customers,” I joke.
“No problem,” my ex-stepfather chuckles. “Go ahead and get ready for bed, sweetheart. I’ll wash up a few last things while you do.”
“Thanks,” I smile before turning to the living room. It’s always a little awkward during the evening because I sleep on the living room couch of Brody’s one-bedroom apartment, while he’s in the room itself. He offered to let me have his bedroom, but I insisted he stay put. After all, what kind of guest am I if I kick the host out of his own sleeping spot? Besides, the sofa is good enough for me because it’s about a thousand times more comfy than the stiff extra-long twin I occupy in the dorms.
I hum quietly to myself as I go through my things, trying to locate my PJs. Meanwhile, Brody moves around the kitchen, cleaning up and putting some last things in place. Then I dart into the bathroom, and shut the door before getting ready for bed. My jeans are off in a sec, as well as the ugly Christmas sweater that I insist on wearing every chance I get during the month of December. Of course, Brody thinks the pullover’s ridiculous but I can tell that he likes the reindeer with the pom-pom nose.
Smiling to myself, I pull on my sleep set, which isn’t more than a cropped tank top with spaghetti straps, and matching flimsy pink booty shorts. Despite it being the middle of winter, it gets hot in the apartment because it’s one of those living spaces where you can’t control the thermostat. The building turns on the heater in mid-December, and then the residents are left to suffer the effects of an over-active boiler. With an apartment on the third floor, let me tell you, it can get hot at night.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I open the door and step out, just as my ex-stepfather walks out of the kitchen. He pauses when he sees me, two harsh streaks appearing on those high cheekbones.
“Bathroom’s all yours,” I say in a cheery voice. “I’m all done.”
Brody stares at me for a few seconds longer, but it feels as if time slows to a crawl as those gorgeous blue eyes roam my body. As a stand there, trembling, they deepen to an almost-black as he stares at my tits, round and full beneath the thin cotton of the camisole. I bite my lip, waiting with bated breath, as my heart starts to race. Moisture pools between my thighs because maybe this is where Brody’s going to make a move. It would be so wrong, but I have to admit that I’d welcome it. I’d love to feel his hands cupping my curves, and that sensuous mouth sucking on a nipple. I’d love to see his black head buried between my thighs before he finally takes me with one vigorous thrust, making me cry out with pleasure.
But nothing like that happens. Instead, when he finally opens his mouth, he simply mutters, “Goodnight,” and then stalks away before shutting the door to his bedroom.
Deflated, I creep to the sofa, pulling the blanket over my curves before turning out the light. Why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he say anything? I suppose I should be grateful that the man of the house has morals because I clearly don’t. But still, it would be so nice to finally acknowledge the attraction between us.
Frustrated, I turn on my side, then onto my back, and then onto my other side, all within the span of a minute. But I can’t seem to get comfortable. I’m just too restless, and I don’t feel sleepy at all because I want my stepdad, as awful as that sounds. Of course, technically, Brody’s not my stepdad anymore and hasn’t been for years, but I suppose it’s in how you phrase it.
Then again, I don’t know. I don’t know whether us being attracted to each other is wrong or right. All I know is that I’m definitely drawn to the older man, and I have my suspicions that he feels the same way about me. After all, I’ve caught Brody staring at my figure for just a few seconds too long. I’ve seen how his jaw clenches as he takes in my bouncy tits, and how a harsh flush descends on his cheeks while watching my hips sway. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? But the problem is, how do I get the older man to act? After all, what I want is utterly taboo, but I also know it’ll be worth it.