Mr. Santa slowly brushed my overcoat from my shoulders as it fell to the stock room floor. The room was full of boxes labeled with lingerie style numb...rs, sizes and colors. To regain my attention Mr. Santa moved angelically towards me, demanding my consistent eye contact. His nose and lips were just a breath away from mine. I could smell a trace of peppermint. The undisturbed gaze was surprisingly comforting. In the middle of the sweet gaze Mr. Santa shifted his head slightly to the right and. ?What’s your game cunt-biscuit. The deal was dinner for a shower.? Hemmingway played down his innocence and Tail’s figure. ?Yes, and you can’t go out to dinner dressed like a freighter pilot.?Tail’s head sharply turned to the side like a bird of prey examining an animal up close. ?Come again?? It was rhetorical and a dare for him to repeat the statement. Tail wanted a low profile and not to be stained by the stench of Ghetto. Whatever Hemmingway had in mind was not what she wanted.?I have. More

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