Christmas Tales - Brandon Witt Page 0,31

headed to the office door.

“No way.” Philip’s tone caused me to pause, but I didn’t turn around. “No fucking way. Brian McKay, Mr. Keep-It-In-Your-Pants-At-Work is going to go hunt around and find that hot bear that came in a while ago.”

I stiffened. “No, I’m not. I don’t even know who you’re talking about. I’m going to clean up room four.”

“Hey, no shame in your game, daddy. I don’t blame you. That guy is smoking hot.”

I glared at him. “He’s not your type. You’re a chubby chaser.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sweetie, that man is everyone’s type. And I thought you didn’t know who I was talking about.”

My cheeks heated. “Shut up.” I stepped out of the office and shut the door to cut off his laughter, which didn’t work considering the open space above the service counter.

“Go get your stud, daddy bear!”

I forced myself not to reply and went directly to room four.

The room wasn’t too bad. Just some sweated-through sheets. It was a five-minute job, tops.

And then I found myself wandering through the bathhouse. We were supposed to do it every fifteen minutes, check that there were no drugs or alcohol, keep things picked up, and make sure we didn’t notice any barebacking going on. It was a job I forced Philip to do. He loved the attention, and I loved avoiding it. Win-win.

I passed room twelve and forced myself not to look through the open door to the dimly lit room. I tried and failed. The man was there every night like clockwork. He was the stuff of legends at the bathhouse. He only came in during the nights between Thanksgiving and Christmas and wouldn’t be seen again until the following year. Like every night, he was lying on the bed, propped up against the wall in a partially seated position. He was shirtless but wore a cheap Santa hat, Santa boots, and Santa pants, which were pulled down just enough to allow him to stroke himself under his large belly as he waited for someone to take him up on a Santa fantasy. He was massive and sweaty, and his beard was real and more yellow stained than white. And Philip had enjoyed him on more than one occasion.

I kept going quickly.

There was a ton of action in the glory hole sections, but not what I was looking for.

The sling was occupied, but again, none of the men gathered around it called to me.

The silhouetted forms in the steam room didn’t look big enough to be James.

James. What the hell was I doing? Sneaking around hoping to see him naked? And then what? Ask him if he wanted his own Santa fantasy?

Gross.

What was more gross? If he wanted, I’d do it.

I entered the video room, which had mattresses spread out on platforms of varying heights. It was where the most exhibitionists hung out. And where I should’ve checked first.

James was near the center of the room in a seated position on one of the mattresses, his back against the wall. His legs were spread as some muscled man lay between them, his head bobbing up and down and cutting off my view of James’s cock. Two other men were on either side of him, running their hands over his heavily muscled hair-covered chest and shoulders. Other men were servicing the two focused on James, but I barely noticed them. The man was gorgeous. As much as I hated being called daddy or a bear, even though both facts were true, this man made those terms not only look good, but like the best things a man could be. Maybe if I looked even half as good as James, I wouldn’t mind being a bear myself.

His eyes met mine across the room, and I flinched at being caught staring at him. He smiled, similar to what he’d offered me before, but more heated. He lifted his hand from the back of the head of a man who was sucking on his left nipple and motioned in my direction.

At first I thought he was telling me to quit staring or maybe he needed me to get him something. Then I noticed his beckoning finger. I stared at it, taking way too long to add up the simple math. Though it wasn’t that simple. I looked away from his finger and into his eyes. His smile curved wickedly, and he lifted his chin, again beckoning me to him.

Me? He wanted me to join in? Of all people?

The men around him weren’t