The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Believing In Santa Again

By Frost-MC

I was home on Christmas Eve. The living room was aglow with the warm light of the fire crackling in the fireplace, and the comforting scent of apple pie filled the air.

The scene was festive, with the tree sparkling in the corner and laughter filling the room. Dinner and dessert had just finished, and everyone was relaxing, the contentment of a family Christmas all around us.

I was dressed in a cozy red sweater and black leggings, my feet tucked into soft, fluffy socks. My hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands framing my face.

My Uncle Dave, with his ever-present mischievous twinkle, turned to me. “So, Amanda, what are you hoping to get from Santa this year?” he teased.

I laughed, playing along with the holiday fantasy. “Well, you know, just a few little things... maybe someone tall, dark, and handsome in a red suit.”

“Do you still believe in Santa Claus, Amanda?” he asked, a playful smirk on his lips.

I gave him a sly smile. “Maybe I believe in the spirit of Santa. And hey, a girl can dream, right?”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was unexpected, a break from the tradition of our family gatherings. Who could it be at this hour?

I got up, curiosity piqued, and made my way to the door. The festive air, the warmth of the fire, and the mystery of the knock all mingled together, creating a Christmas Eve that felt both familiar and excitingly different.

Opening the door, I was met by a skinny guy, probably in his early 40s, dressed in a Santa suit. It was a little big on him, the belt cinched tight around his waist to keep the pants up. His beard was more salt-and-pepper than white, and his eyes, a striking shade of blue, were the most enchanting part of him. He seemed like a modern, somewhat disheveled version of Saint Nick.

“Good evening! I’m Chris,” he introduced himself with a smile that reached those captivating eyes. “I’m a Christmas storyteller.”

“Hi, I’m Amanda,” I replied, a little taken aback by this unexpected visitor. His gaze was intense, almost magnetic, making the introduction feel more personal than it should have.

“With your permission,” Chris continued, “I go from house to house, sharing the story of Christmas in exchange for a cup of hot cocoa.”

I thought the idea was a bit silly, but before I could say anything, my mom and Uncle Dave, buoyed by their festive spirits and wine, cheered, “Yes! A Christmas story!”

Even my dad, who had been half-dozing in his armchair, gave a reluctant nod of agreement. The living room soon became our impromptu stage, with Chris standing before the fireplace, ready to perform.

Mom returned with a steaming cup of cocoa, handing it to Chris with a flourish. “Here you are, Santa,” she said, her voice merry.

Chris took the cup, warming his hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Claus,” he joked, eliciting a round of tipsy laughter from my mom and uncle.

The room settled as Chris began his tale, the fire casting dancing shadows that brought an almost magical feel to the evening. Despite my initial reservations, I found myself drawn into the story, the warmth of the room, and the charm of this Christmas storyteller.

Chris began weaving a tale of Santa and his reindeer, his voice calm and melodic. He painted a vivid picture of a winter wonderland, where snowflakes danced in the air and the night sky was lit by a brilliant full moon. His storytelling was captivating, and I found myself visualizing every detail.

But as he continued, my eyelids started to feel heavy. A wave of drowsiness washed over me, and I couldn’t help but yawn. Glancing around, I noticed that my father and mother had already succumbed to sleep, their heads tilted back, mouths slightly open. The rest of my relatives were also dozing off, their snores softly filling the room.

“This is strange,” I thought, trying to fight the sleepiness. Chris’s story was soothing, but it was odd that we were all falling asleep so quickly.

My eyes fluttered closed, and I struggled to reopen them, but it was no use. I was being pulled into a deep, irresistible sleep. The last thing I remember was the sound of Chris’s voice, still narrating the magical journey of Santa and his reindeer, as I drifted off into darkness.

We all stirred awake almost simultaneously, a collective sigh rippling through the living room as consciousness returned. Mom blinked, looking around the room. “Wasn’t someone just here?” she asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

Dad shook his head, stretching out his arms. “Nope, it’s just been us,” he replied confidently.

I tried to grasp at the fading edges of my memory, the image of those enchanting eyes that seemed so vivid before sleep claimed me. But now, it felt like a distant dream, something conjured up from the depths of my imagination.

Uncle Dave suddenly stood up, his voice carrying a hint of excitement and belief. “Come on, everyone, off to bed! Santa won’t come unless we’re all asleep!”

I found myself nodding along, Santa suddenly as real to me as it had been when I was a kid. It was a comforting thought, one that filled me with an unexpected joy.

Mom and Dad were quick to agree, their faces lighting up with a childlike anticipation. “Santa is definitely coming. We have to sleep!” Mom declared, already ushering us toward the stairs.

We all exchanged hurried goodnights, the need to get to bed urgent and pressing. Climbing the stairs to my bedroom, the belief in Santa Claus felt as natural as breathing. Everything was set for his arrival, and I didn’t want to be the one to keep him away.

I started getting ready for bed, peeling off my festive sweater and leggings. I quickly rummaged through my drawer for something comfortable to sleep in. Pulling out my pink satin V-neck with bow strap pajamas, I slipped into them. The fabric was soft and cool against my skin.

Standing in front of the mirror, I observed how the pajamas fit. The top was sleeveless and cropped, revealing a hint of my toned midriff. It clung just right, accentuating my large D-cup breasts, while the shorts were snug, highlighting my curves. The satin material shimmered slightly under the light, giving a delicate and feminine look. I felt a sense of confidence looking at my reflection. It was nice to feel attractive, even if it was just for myself.

Climbing into bed, I couldn’t help but chuckle at a sudden, playful thought. “What if I actually met Santa?” I mused to myself, the idea absurd yet oddly thrilling.

Lying there, the moonlight streaming through my window, the fantasy of meeting Santa Claus brought a smile to my face. Maybe, just maybe, there was a little bit of magic left in the night.

A sudden realization hit me like a bolt—we forgot to leave out cookies and milk for Santa! Panicking at the thought of Santa skipping our house, I slipped out of bed, determined to fix our oversight.

I tiptoed out of my room, carefully avoiding any creaky floorboards. The house was silent, save for the soft snoring of my family. I imagined them in their beds, dreaming about Santa and Christmas morning, unaware of our critical mistake.

Making my way to the kitchen, I moved as quietly as a mouse, not wanting to wake anyone. The cool tiles of the kitchen floor sent a shiver up my legs, the satin of my pajamas offering little warmth.

I flicked on the kitchen light and rummaged through the cabinets, finding a plate for the cookies. I chose the best-looking ones—Santa deserved the good stuff. Then, I poured a glass of milk, careful not to clink it against the bottle.

Balancing the plate and the glass, I sneaked back to the living room. The moonlight cast a serene glow over the room, the Christmas tree lights adding to the magical ambiance.

I set the plate and glass by the fireplace, arranging them just right. “There, perfect for Santa,” I whispered to myself, feeling a sense of satisfaction. I stood for a moment, looking at the cozy scene, the stockings hung with care and the soft glow of the fire. It felt like I had just saved Christmas.

As I turned to head back to bed, a deep, jovial “Ho ho ho!” echoed through the room. Startled, I spun around and there he was—Santa Claus! He looked skinnier and more vibrant than any Santa I had ever imagined. His suit was a brilliant red, his beard more pepper than snow, but his blue eyes sparkled with a merry twinkle.

“Amanda,” he said, his voice rich and warm. I was taken aback—he knew my name. It had to be Santa; how else would he know?

A mix of shock, excitement, and a hint of disbelief swirled within me. “Santa?” I uttered, barely above a whisper, my heart racing.

He chuckled, that classic Santa laugh, and sat down in a chair next to the fireplace, the firelight casting a warm glow on his face. “Yes, Amanda. I’m glad you remembered the cookies.”

I stood there, suddenly conscious of my revealing pajamas. I felt almost naked under his gaze, but Santa just smiled, taking in my appearance with an approving nod. It was odd, but in that moment, it seemed perfectly normal that Santa would be okay with it.

He beckoned me over with a gentle hand gesture. My feet moved of their own accord, bringing me closer to him. The surreal nature of the situation hit me—I was about to have a conversation with Santa Claus, in my living room, while wearing my most suggestive pajamas.

“Have you been a good girl this year, Amanda?” Santa asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

I nodded, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “I think so, Santa,” I replied, my voice a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Santa gestured to his lap. “Why don’t you sit here, Amanda? I need to ask if you’ve been naughty or nice this year.”

Hesitantly, I moved closer, unsure of the etiquette of sitting on Santa’s lap as an adult. “On your... knees?” I asked, feeling a bit awkward.

He chuckled heartily. “No, no, scooch all the way onto my lap, dear. We need to have a proper chat.”

Feeling a blend of nervousness and excitement, I carefully positioned myself onto his lap, trying to be as graceful as possible. As I settled in, I felt something underneath me—a soft, round shape, like a lump of coal. The realization made me giggle a little.

“Comfortable?” Santa asked, his voice warm and friendly.

“Yes, Santa,” I replied, feeling surprisingly at ease. Sitting there, on Santa’s lap, in my satin pajamas, felt surreal yet oddly right. I was fully aware of the contrast between my suggestive outfit and the innocence of the situation.

“So, Amanda, tell me, have you been naughty or nice this year?” Santa asked, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

I bit my lip, pondering the question. “Well, Santa, I guess that depends on your definition of ‘naughty,’” I said playfully, entering into the spirit of the moment.

Santa leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, Amanda, it’s the naughty girls who get the best presents.”

His words sparked a playful idea in my mind. I wanted those best presents, so I decided to play along with his game. “Oh, in that case, Santa, I’ve been really naughty,” I said, emphasizing the word ‘really’ with a suggestive tone.

Santa raised an eyebrow, his smile broadening. “Is that so? And what exactly have you done that’s so naughty?”

I leaned closer, getting into the role. “Well, I might have broken a few rules here and there,” I whispered, giving him a coy look. “You know, staying out late, bending the truth a little bit, that sort of thing.”

Santa let out a hearty laugh, the sound rich and deep. “Well, well, Amanda. I’ll check my list twice for you.”

“So, Santa,” I said, shifting slightly to make myself more comfortable, “what kind of present does a naughty girl like me get?”

The twinkle in Santa’s eye seemed to shine even brighter. “Oh, I’m sure I can think of something special for you, Amanda. Something that a naughty girl would appreciate.”

I was enjoying every moment of this unexpected Christmas Eve adventure, curious to see what ‘present’ Santa had in mind for me.

Santa leaned in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, with a bit of Christmas magic, your satin top is now a present.”

I looked down in astonishment. There, right on my chest, was a perfectly tied bow, transforming my top into a gift-wrapped package. It was incredible—my top did indeed look like a present, hinting at something special inside.

“Wow, that’s some magic,” I said, amazed. The bow was beautifully tied, making me feel like a special gift waiting to be unwrapped.

Santa chuckled. “Yes, it is. And what’s inside is even more special.”

“Can I open it up before Christmas?” I asked, my voice laced with playful curiosity.

Santa nodded, a gleam in his eye. “Since I’m here with you, I suppose we can make an exception.”

The excitement of the moment was palpable. Here I was, sitting on Santa’s lap, my top transformed into a present by his Christmas magic.

With a smile, I reached up to the bow, my fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. “Let’s see what Santa brought me then,” I said, ready to unveil the ‘special gift’ inside.

I cautiously untied the bow, allowing my top to fall open, revealing my breasts underneath. Santa looked at them and chuckled, “Ah, fun bags!”

I stared down at them, feeling a strange disconnect. They were my breasts, yet in that moment, I couldn’t recognize them as such. “Fun bags?” I echoed, genuinely puzzled.

“Yes,” Santa explained. “They’re bags of fun! You’ll see.”

Curious, I reached up and started to play with them, my fingers exploring their softness. They felt foreign yet familiar, and as I touched them, a pleasant sensation began to spread through me. “They are fun,” I remarked, a smile spreading across my face.

Santa nodded. “The tips are especially sensitive. Try licking one.”

I hesitantly brought a finger to the nipple of the fun bag, then to my mouth, tasting it. The sensation was surprisingly intense, sending a ripple of pleasure through me.

“I’ll lick one while you lick the other,” Santa suggested.

As he leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth, I mimicked his action with the other. The feeling was incredible. His tongue was warm and soft, and the sensation of both of us licking simultaneously was overwhelmingly pleasurable. My body responded instinctively, a warmth spreading from my chest down to the pit of my stomach.

As I continued to explore the sensation of Santa’s mouth on my nipple, I felt something underneath me beginning to grow. The lump of coal in his pants was expanding, becoming harder and more pronounced.

I wiggled my hips, curious and slightly amused. “What’s this?” I asked, feeling the increasing bulge beneath me. It felt firm and insistent, pressing against me in a way that was both surprising and intriguing.

Santa looked up at me, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Ah, that’s another present for you,” he said playfully.

Another present? The thought piqued my curiosity. “Really? Can I open this one too?” I asked, the playful tone in my voice matching his.

“Yes, you can,” Santa replied. “But you’ll have to unwrap it yourself.”

The thought of discovering another ‘present’ was exciting. The growing lump beneath me, the warmth of Santa’s body, and the intimate setting by the fireplace all contributed to a sense of playful adventure. I was ready to see what this new gift was, eager to continue exploring in this whimsical, fantasy-filled Christmas Eve.

I slid off his lap with a sense of anticipation, ready to unwrap my next ‘present.’ I reached down, my hands finding the hard and warm shape of it. It felt solid in my grasp, a curious weight and texture that seemed to throb with its own life.

Santa watched with an encouraging smile as I hesitantly touched it. “It’s the most delicious candy cane stick,” he said, his voice filled with a suggestive hint.

Looking down, it appeared different from any candy cane I’d ever seen. It was large, warm, and the color was more natural than the bright red and white stripes I was used to. It was strangely captivating.

“It’s... it’s beautiful,” I said, my voice a mix of wonder and naivety. The shape, the warmth, the way it seemed to react to my touch—it was like no candy I’d ever encountered.

Santa nodded, “It’s very special. Only the best for you, Amanda.”

I was caught up in the fantasy, the playful innocence of the moment tinged with an undercurrent of something more. I held the ‘candy cane’ in my hand, marveling at its form and the implications of Santa’s words, ready to discover just how delicious it could be.

Curiosity piqued, I leaned in to taste the ‘candy cane.’ As my tongue made contact, a surprising flavor greeted me—it was delicious, unlike anything I had ever tasted before. It was a complex blend of sweet and savory, a taste that immediately had me wanting more.

Encouraged by the flavor, I wrapped my mouth around it, taking in more of the candy cane. The texture was intriguing, firm yet giving, and the warmth of it against my tongue was a sensation that I found oddly satisfying.

I couldn’t get enough of the taste. It was addictive, drawing me in further. I found myself eagerly exploring it with my mouth, savoring the unique flavor. Every inch offered a new experience, a new taste sensation.

Santa watched me, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. “You seem to really enjoy that candy cane,” he noted, a playful tone in his voice.

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmured in agreement, not wanting to break away from the delightful experience.

I continued to taste the ‘candy cane,’ completely absorbed in the experience. It was unlike any candy I’d ever had—each taste seemed to be better than the last. I moaned softly, the flavor so good that it elicited a physical response from me.

“Mmm, this is amazing,” I murmured, my voice muffled as I continued to explore the candy with my mouth.

Santa responded with a deep, resonant “Ho ho ho,” but it was a moan rather than a laugh, a sound that seemed to vibrate through me.

As I savored the candy cane, I felt Santa’s hands on my ‘fun bags.’ His touch was gentle yet firm. My fun bags felt incredibly sensitive under his fingers, each caress sending tingles through my body.

The combination of the delicious taste in my mouth and the feeling of his hands on my breasts was overwhelming. I found myself moving instinctively, leaning into his touch, wanting more.

The room was filled with the sounds of my enjoyment and Santa’s playful moans.

As I continued to savor the taste of the ‘candy cane,’ Santa suddenly gasped, “I have another present for you, Amanda.”

Surprised, I looked up at him, curiosity piqued. “Another one?” I asked, my voice filled with wonder and excitement. The idea of yet another gift from Santa added to the surreal nature of the night.

“Yes,” he said, his voice a little breathless. “It’s something very special, just for you.”

I sat back, eagerly anticipating what this new present might be.

“What is it, Santa?” I asked, my eyes wide with curiosity.

Holding the ‘candy cane’ in my hand, I heard Santa say, “Amanda, your satin shorts have magically turned into wrapping paper. Your present is underneath. Once you take them off, you’ll see your new present.”

I opened my eyes and looked down in astonishment. My shorts did indeed resemble wrapping paper, shimmering and decorated with festive patterns. The realization made me giggle—it was such a whimsical and unexpected transformation.

“Really, Santa?” I asked, amused and intrigued by the magic of the moment. “So, if I unwrap this present, I’ll find something special?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Santa replied, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Feeling a mix of excitement and a playful sense of adventure, I began to remove my shorts, the ‘wrapping paper’ slipping down my legs.

As I revealed what was underneath, I looked down, curious about this new present Santa had mentioned. The anticipation was thrilling, the idea of uncovering yet another surprise adding to the enchantment of the night.

Initially, when I looked down, all I saw was my shaved pussy, but Santa’s words transformed my perception. “It’s a candy box,” he said, and suddenly, that’s exactly what it seemed like to me.

“A candy box?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. The idea was novel and intriguing.

“Yes,” Santa explained. “It’s a magic box that allows you to feel the taste of candy. The candy cane tastes delicious, right?”

I nodded, still holding the ‘candy cane’ in my hand. “Yeah, it’s amazing.”

“Well, when you put the candy cane in the box, you’ll be able to feel that amazing taste,” he said with a knowing smile.

“That sounds incredible,” I replied, my interest thoroughly piqued by the idea.

Then, Santa gently placed his finger into my ‘candy box.’ The sensation was unexpected—a wave of pleasure washed over me, making me gasp. It felt warm, tingly, and incredibly sensitive.

“See, your candy box makes a sweet taste too,” Santa said.

I looked down and saw his fingers glistening. Hesitantly, I brought his finger to my mouth and licked it. The taste was sweet and delightful, just like the candy cane.

Excited by the discovery, I asked, “Can I put the candy cane in the candy box?”

“Of course,” Santa said with a warm smile. “It’s the magic of Christmas.”

I asked him to hold the candy cane for me while I positioned myself over it. Standing before him, I felt exposed yet excited, my satin pajama top hanging open and my ‘candy box’ ready for the new experience.

“Tickle the box with the tip of the candy cane,” I instructed, intrigued by the prospect of this new sensation.

As Santa gently touched the tip of the candy cane to my ‘candy box,’ a shiver of pleasure ran through me. It felt teasing, tantalizing, and incredibly sensitive. I watched, fascinated, as the candy cane became glistening, reacting to the touch.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I lowered myself onto the candy cane. Each inch brought a new wave of sensation, a delicious mix of pleasure and anticipation. My body reacted instinctively, my hips moving in rhythm with the feeling. The deeper the candy cane went, the more intense the sensations became.

“Oh, Santa,” I gasped, “this feels incredible.”

Santa looked up at me, his eyes filled with a playful glint. “You’re such a naughty girl, Amanda.”

“I am Santa’s naughty girl,” I replied breathlessly, the words coming out naturally in the heat of the moment.

As he continued to play with my ‘fun bags,’ the sensations heightened. His touch was expert, each caress amplifying the pleasure I felt from the candy cane.

I found myself saying more naughty things, “I want to be naughty for Santa,” I murmured, each word punctuated by a moan of pleasure.

“I love my presents, Santa,” I moaned, moving up and down on the candy cane, feeling it slide in and out of my candy box. The sensation was like nothing I had ever experienced—it was as if I could actually taste the sweet flavor, not just in my mouth but throughout my entire body.

“Ah, Santa, it tastes so good,” I gasped as I continued to ride the candy cane, savoring the unique sensation. My body was alive with pleasure, each movement bringing a new wave of delicious tastes.

Santa watched me, his expression a mix of delight and mischief. “You’re really enjoying your Christmas treats, aren’t you, Amanda?”

I nodded, breathless. “Yes, Santa, it’s incredible!”

As I kept moving, I tried to feel as much of the candy flavor as possible, exploring different angles and depths. The taste seemed to intensify with each movement, driving me further into a state of bliss.

Meanwhile, Santa began to lick my fun bags, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tips. The combination of the sweet taste and his warm, wet tongue sent shockwaves of pleasure through me.

“Oh, Santa, your tongue... it feels amazing,” I panted, the sensations almost too much to handle.

His licks were rhythmic and purposeful, each one sending a jolt straight to my core. I could feel a climax building, a culmination of all the incredible sensations I was experiencing.

I was lost in a sea of pleasure, the taste of the candy cane, the sensation of Santa’s tongue, and the overwhelming feeling of arousal all merging into one incredible experience. It was a Christmas fantasy brought to life, and I was the star, fully immersed in the magic of the moment.

“Santa, I’m going to... I’m so close...” I stuttered, barely able to form words.

“Let go, Amanda. Enjoy your Christmas present,” he encouraged, his voice low and seductive.

As I continued riding the candy cane, my movements became more desperate and erratic, seeking that peak of ecstasy. Santa’s tongue on my fun bags added to the overwhelming sensations, each lick pushing me closer to the edge.

“Santa, I can’t hold it...” I gasped, feeling the pressure build within me. My whole body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

“You’re doing so well, Amanda. Let it all out,” Santa encouraged, his voice husky with desire.

With a few more thrusts onto the candy cane, I felt my climax hit. It was powerful and all-consuming, a wave of intense pleasure that washed over me. I cried out, a mix of Santa’s name and unintelligible moans escaping my lips as I rode through the sensations.

Santa continued to lavish attention on my fun bags as he bounced me on his lap, prolonging my ecstasy. I shivered and shook, the aftershocks of my orgasm rippling through me.

As I felt my candy box contract around the candy cane, a reflex from the aftershocks of my climax, Santa gasped, his voice filled with urgency.

“The candy cane is about to explode with the most wonderful syrup, Amanda. If you want it, you need to suck on the candy cane right now.”

Overwhelmed by the sensations pulsing through my body, it took a moment for his words to register. But the idea of tasting this ‘wonderful syrup’ was too enticing to ignore. Despite feeling almost paralyzed by pleasure, I slowly slid off Santa’s lap and positioned myself in front of the candy cane.

With effort, I wrapped my lips around it, my taste buds tingling in anticipation. Almost immediately, I felt a warm, delicious syrup squirting into my mouth. It was sweet and rich, unlike anything I had ever tasted. Eagerly, I sucked on the candy cane, trying to capture every drop of the syrup.

The flavor was intoxicating, and I found myself greedily wanting more, not wanting the experience to end. But after 15 seconds, the flow of syrup ceased, leaving me slightly disappointed.

I looked up at Santa, a mix of satisfaction and longing in my eyes. “Is there any more?” I asked, hopeful.

Santa shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. “That was all for tonight, Amanda. But you did wonderfully.”

I sat back on my heels before Santa, still savoring the lingering taste of the syrup. My fun bags moving with my breaths and my candy box glistening.

As I slowly came down from the high, I got back on his lap, resting my forehead against Santa’s shoulder, catching my breath.

“That was... incredible, Santa,” I sighed, my body still tingling from the intensity of the experience.

Santa wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. “Merry Christmas, Amanda. You truly deserve all the happiness and pleasure.”

In that moment, nestled in Santa’s embrace, I felt a deep sense of contentment and joy. After a few minutes, Santa stood up and I got off his lap, his presence still filling the room with a sense of magic and warmth. “Good night, Amanda. Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice rich with the joy of the season.

“Good night, Santa. Thank you for everything,” I replied, still awash in the afterglow of the incredible experience.

He gave me one last warm smile before turning to leave through the front door. I watched him go, feeling a mix of happiness and a twinge of sadness that the adventure was over.

After he left, I began to put my ‘presents’ away. But as I looked around, I realized I couldn’t find the candy cane that I had loved so much. I searched everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. “Maybe it was part of the magic,” I thought to myself, a little disappointed but still filled with the joy of the experience.

Finally, I headed back to bed, my body still humming from the sensations of the night. As I lay down, a curious thought crossed my mind. “It’s strange that he didn’t go up the chimney,” I mused. But then I shrugged it off. “Oh well.”

Drifting off to sleep, I hoped that I would see Santa again next year. The magic of this Christmas Eve was something I wanted to experience again, a blend of innocence, fantasy, and a touch of the sensual. With that hopeful thought, I slipped into a peaceful, contented sleep, the memories of the night dancing in my dreams.