Elf Service by Max Sebastian Page A

sleep and wait out the end of the party before making a run for it when it was light, cutting his losses, fleeing before anyone else could see his lack of success. 
    But sleep just was not coming.
    And this being the final social event of the calendar before Christmas just did not make the feeling of failure any easier to bear. 
    But now, there was movement. A shadow passing across the light emanating from the kitchen. From where he was lying, he couldn't quite see what it was – he couldn't quite see the kitchen, couldn't quite see what was going on. He could only hear the continuing music and the continuing sound of girls talking and laughing.
    Now, a pair of legs appeared in front of him: attractive legs, clad in green nylons under a short green skirt. Of course – most of the girls had come as elves. Just like most of the guys had come as Santa. Ah yes, that would explain the bright red outfit… he had taken those heavy black boots off, though. 
    He could smell her perfume – sweet, fragrant, intoxicating, addictive. God, he needed a girlfriend.
    "Any room for a small one?"
    What?
    "Sure," autopilot, and ironic to boot: he wasn't sure what was happening at all.
    The girl virtually collapsed on him, ending up lying between his body and the sofa back, wedged against him, her face right up against his, her body melding to his, arm across his chest, leg across his thighs. 
    "Hi," she purred, "I hope you don't mind – you looked like the best place to crash."
    Tara. So soft against him, her skin, that clean, long silky red-gold hair pouring over him, her sugary perfume mixing with a slight muskiness, the scent of a girl who had been dancing all night. What on earth was going on? This dream of a girl so close… "Uh… you're welcome," he replied, his voice rough but gentle, yet unable to conceal his surprise. 
    Damn, she was beautiful. He couldn't believe it – she was someone who made him tremble just looking at her from across the room. But wasn't she Todd "the Beast" Beaston's girlfriend? What if she was making some ridiculous alcohol-fueled mistake of identity? She'd open her eyes and realize that mistake, then humiliate him in public. He had suddenly become so incredibly nervous. 
    Joe had fancied her for ages, though always from afar – she was the most exquisite creature, the kind of girl everyone wanted for themselves, but no one could get near. Joe had always felt a burning sensation in his chest by just looking at her, and on the few occasions that night she'd looked at him as he had been gazing at her, he had felt suddenly weak at the knees, and had quickly turned away to keep from accusations that he was staring at her.
    But now she was lying next to him on the couch, draped all over him, in fact. What on Earth had he done to deserve this miraculous turn of fate? Had she got him confused with someone else? He didn't look anything like Todd…
    "Mmm… I like where your hands are," she said quietly, seductively, and suddenly he realized that one of his hands was up against one of her breasts, while the other – how embarrassing! – had come to rest on one of her inner thighs.
    "S-sorry," he said, pulling his hands away from her.
    "No, don't move them!" she whispered urgently as he put them back where they had been, her mischievous almond-shaped eyes locking on his. 
    God, he could feel the warmth of her breast, even through her green cotton top and, presumably, her bra. Just the thought of it made his heartbeat quicken. And as for the heat between her thighs, and the forbidden texture of her nylon-covered legs, he only hoped she couldn't feel the hardness between his own thighs.
    "Are you sleepy?" she asked quietly. He could feel her breath against his cheek, she was so close.
    "No," he replied in a similar near-whisper.
    "Don't act so shocked," she smiled again. "Relax. I'll go if you want me to…"
    "No, you don't have to…" he said, not wanting to act foolish, but not wanting her to leave,