Santa Sophie

Sophie waits beside a small, lit-up tree. Her red Santa suit clings where it should and slips where it doesn't. A quick tug at the zipper and the fabric parts, letting cool air find the soft skin beneath. She slides the jacket from her shoulders, the fluff-trimmed cuffs brushing her wrists. Next come the shorts, eased over her hips until she stands in nothing but a whisper of lace that barely covers her. Her hand slips beneath that lace, palm pressing, fingers teasing. Her breath catches. She pushes the panties aside, giving her fingers more room to work. One leg hooks over the arm of the chair, opening her up to the room's quiet. She finds a slow rhythm, dips inside, pulls out again, watching the sheen on her fingertips before they return. Her free hand cups a breast, thumb flicking across the tight nipple. She rocks her hips to meet each stroke, the tree's lights painting her skin in red and gold. The sound she makes is soft, greedy. Faster now. Her thighs tense. She comes with a quiet cry, fingers buried deep, the tree still glowing behind her.