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Santa Enters the Back Door
By Whiskey McNaughton
Copyright 2011 by Whiskey McNaughton
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Published by Crescent Suns eBooks on Smashwords
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Santa Enters the Back Door
Chapter One
God, would the temperature never stop climbing? Pauline checked the thermostat once more and it was over eighty degrees. She glanced outside. It was late evening on December 24th. Christmas Eve and it was as hot as summer. What the hell was wrong with the weather, anyway?
She walked over and tried the switch for the air conditioner once again. It still wasn’t working, so she slapped the small box several times. “Like that’s going to help any,” she sighed. When the temperature first began climbing two days ago she had switched on the air conditioner only to have it break down after the first couple of hours. It had never worked the way it was supposed to, and she’d meant to get it looked at, but as the end of summer neared and she had weathered the weather, Pauline had let the fixing of the unit slip to the back of her mind. The weather had started turning colder, just the way it always did this time of year as the seasons passed from summer to fall to winter, but then something had happened and a flash of heat had engulfed the region and everyone was sweating up a storm.
Pauline walked about her small home dressed only in her panties. She’d tried wearing her bra, but she was too well-endowed and the sweat accumulated underneath each of her breasts in the bottom of the bra cup and she had been too uncomfortable in it and finally discarded it. If anyone had bothered to glimpse through one of her windows, which were all open with the shades up to get the maximum benefit of air currents blowing through, as slight as they were, they would have gotten the best view of this slender, though shapely vixen anyone had ever seen.
She picked up a sheet of printer paper she’d folded into a fan, just the way they’d always done as children, she’d thought as she was folding it. It wasn’t much, but at least it helped in moving the air about a tiny bit.
On the table was a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Pauline walked over and unscrewed the lid yet again. She took the folded washcloth and held it over the opening and tipped the bottle over, letting a decent amount of the liquid saturate the corner of the cloth. Once it was wet she rubbed the cloth all over her face and then used it on her chest, moving down and around each breast to not only wipe up the perspiration, but to allow the cooling effect from the alcohol as it evaporated stem the sweltering heat. How many times today had she used this now? It was going to dry her skin out if she kept it up, but it helped, for a few minutes, anyway.
Pauline continued to wave her home-made fan, but as each wrist gave out she gave up and tossed the sheet of paper on the table. She flopped down onto the sofa and stretched out with her legs out in front of her spread wide. For long minutes she remained in this position and she ran her gaze all along her nearly naked body. Then a chuckle started deep inside her and found its way up through her throat so that she almost sounded like one of those people wandering the sidewalks of downtown who had nowhere to go and no one to take care of them. Had she lost her mind, or had she just realized how much like a tired old whore she must look sprawled on her sofa this way, as though she were waiting for the next customer to walk through her door and offer her money for sex? She had to admit that when the thought had first struck her it had seemed pretty damn funny. Now it just made her hotter, thinking about sex. Who in her right mind would want to have another sweaty body joined to hers in this heat? Sure, she loved sex probably more so than most women her age, but to engage in such physical exercise when she was already overcome by this heat? No fucking way.
The thought of having visitors made her sight wander over toward her fireplace. She had thought there’d be a roaring fire going in the large box beneath the flue by this time of year, but instead there were only dry ashes where the previous fire more than a week earlier had burned out. She’d left the flue damper open, but only because it afforded another egress for air to waft down and through, perhaps sending a bit more of a breeze – if one ever decided to come this way. So far the air had remained unmoving, far too still and too humid.
She got up and went into the kitchen. Opening up the freezer she was disappointed to find the ice cube trays still hadn’t frozen over enough since the last time she’d filled them. Already she had used up all the ice cubes that had been there, rubbing them all over her body the way she did the rubbing alcohol, but at least the ice cubes wouldn’t dry out her skin. The problem was she hadn’t been able to make ice cubes fast enough to replace her quickly diminishing supply.
The thought of alcohol made her think of having a drink. She didn’t like drinking too early in the day, but anything that would help take her mind off how hot it was would be welcome right now. Pauline walked over and unscrewed the top from the Seagram’s Seven bottle and she poured a short glass almost half full. Then she took a bottle of Seven Up from the refrigerator and filled the rest of the glass with the bubbling cold soda. A Seven & Seven was far from her favorite drink, but it was easy to make and cold and she had all the ingredients without having to get dressed and drive to the store. She lifted the glass and tipped it to her lips, allowing the sweet taste of the alcohol to burn slightly on the way down. It both tasted and felt good, even though she was certain it only made her sweat more. Her hope was that if she drank enough she’d pass out and not have to put up with this unbearable heat any longer.
Taking a seat back on her sofa she once more sprawled out. Oh. What was that? Had she actually felt a slight breeze blow along and cool her between her thighs? God, that was almost erotic it was so good.
She finished off her drink and then got up and mixed another, adding one of the not-quite-frozen ice cubes, to help cool the drink further. She swirled the half-frozen water about inside her drink and then tipped it back, swallowing almost all of it in one gulp so the ice would slither down her throat and give her a better feeling.
The effect of the alcohol started to make her a little giddy. She realized she hadn’t eaten anything lately and thought about food, but instead she got up and fixed another drink, added another almost ice cube and tossed it back the same way once more. Now she was really feeling the effects of the alcohol and she turned on her radio. All that was playing for the next day or so was Christmas music and she found first her foot tapping to the lively music that poured out over the speakers and then the rest of her body began twitching and moving. She started to dance about and imagined herself as one of Santa’s reindeer when the song Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer came on.
Only she wasn’t quite festive enough to be a reindeer, she decided. Not with nothing but her panties on. She went into her bedroom and changed into red panties so brief they were almost non-existent. Then she located a pair of high-top stockings – the kind that didn’t need garters holding them up – and she rolled them up and onto her feet and up each leg. When she was finished she stood and looked in the full-length mirror and was amazed at the sexiness of her appearance.
“God, how erotic can you be, Pauline, my girl?” she giggled to herself. The stockings were red-and-black stripes running down along the length of her legs with black and red lace at the top. It made a nice, festive, Christmassy effect and she decided she was now a perfect candidate to be a reindeer, only when she got back into the living room the song had changed and Rudolph no longer played over the speakers. That made her a little sad, so she mixed another drink and added perhaps more Seagram’s than Seven Up. It tasted a bit strong, but by then she really didn’t care and it only added to her carefree attitude and that was a good thing, right? When she’d downed the entire glass she realized she had forgotten to add ice cubes this time and she’d really wanted the coldness in the drink so she made yet another, but found there was hardly any Seven Up left. She shrugged and filled the remainder of the glass with whiskey and a few small ice cubes, then tipped the glass to her lips and was surprised when she realized the glass was suddenly empty. Where had it gone? Had she drunk it down already? She couldn’t remember if she had or not, but the glass was empty, so she must have, right?