Hot Damn, Ms. Claus by Lisa Barry

To Trish Collins ~ thank you for the first line that led to such a fun little yarn!

A Santa costume isn’t the easiest place to hide a gun. 

Especially when it’s a cheap Mrs. Santa Slut suit and some asshat decided to ship you a size too small when you needed it fast. I had no idea where I was going to find another in less than a day so I had to improvise.

I went and found a ridiculous pair of thigh high boots and fashioned a furry white topper for each. After placing a buckle on the sides, I was able to tuck the gun inside my right thigh inside the boot. It would be an evening event so the darkness would be on my side.

I was certain that the decorator Mr. Grayson McNeally had hired would keep his home muted and candle lit, soft and seductive for the party, just the way he would like it. Just the way he had set it up at the Halloween costume party. The one I had stumbled into blindly and had my heart crushed.

I stood in front of my full length mirror and smiled. I’ve always been a pretty conservative dresser, hiding my curves in suits or sweats, but it turned out I can rock a whorish outfit with the best of them. The red and black Mrs. Claus suit resembling a teddy more than a jacket hugged me like a glove and then some. The gun pressed into my thigh was hidden beautifully. Mr. McNeally was going to pay for being such a jerk.

I fluffed my long blond hair. Usually pulled back in a ponytail or bun, it hung in golden waves to just below my shoulder blades. Hot damn, Ms. Claus. My eyes sparkled in amusement. I crack myself up.

When I arrived, as I suspected, the house was muted and dimly lit. Classical music played softly in the background, people dressed in just about every holiday costume I could imagine littered the hallways and ballroom. The house was huge. It took me twenty minutes to find the big boss.

He was chatting with the CFO, a tall, elderly woman dressed elegantly but with antlers. Subtle but nice, I approved. Mr. McNeally was dressed impeccably and beautifully–as the Scrooge. His dark hair hung softly over his forehead and curled just a touch at his neck. His deep dark eyes were bright and alert and when they found me, they widened slightly. His full lips turned up slightly and he nodded. I smiled and slowly blinked.

He quickly ended his conversation and moved like a shadow to my side. Without speaking a word, he directed me to the hallway, up a set of stairs, and into a dim room. A game room if I remembered correctly.

As soon as the door shut behind us, without any delay, I bent slightly and pulled the gun from my boot.

“You look so amaz…” he started. The gun went off, the silencer turning the noise into a cough. The bullet ripped through his stomach and ended up in a chair behind him. His hand covered the wound and he staggered back a foot before regaining some control.

“What on bloody earth did you do that for?” he demanded, his English accent melting my heart a bit.

“You take advantage of me and then leave without a word,” I said softly, “That is rude and you needed to know that I don’t take lightly to such treatment.”

I put the gun down on a nearby side table and then moved to sit in a stool by a pool table. I pointed at the table.

“That was fun.”

He chuckled and then growled softly. “You know; you could have just asked. I have a perfectly valid explanation and when you hear it, you are going to feel bad about this.” He waved a bloody hand at her before starting to wipe it off on his pants.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “It’s not often a person gets to shoot someone knowing full well the person will heal in just a few moments.”

“I certainly hope this isn’t going to be a customary way to let your betrothed know that you’re angry.”

“My betrothed needs to learn that he doesn’t get to woo me and then leave me until the next time he wants me. He has to share what’s going on in that thick skull. In his life.”

“I stand here bleeding and thoroughly corrected,” he said and I had to smile.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not bleeding anymore.”

“True, true,” he muttered. I went and took his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your guests.”

“You are unlike anyone I’ve known before, Ms. Blade,” he said as they walked toward the door.

I smiled and my heart fluttered. “I know.”


1 Comment

Filed under Lisa Barry

One response to “Hot Damn, Ms. Claus by Lisa Barry

  1. Reblogged this on Author Lisa Barry and commented:
    A little fun!


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