1 comments/  5405 views/  4 favorites

Santa's New Job

By: Andre_Sillitoe



Bob woke up with a pounding headache and his head felt heavy as if it had grown to twice its size. He looked at his alarm clock and realized that it was 5:54 p.m. "Son of a bitch," he said out loud. He had to be at the mall by 6 p.m. for his evening shift at the Christmas display. He didn't have time to shave or shower. He got dressed in the same clothes he had warn the night before, took some ibuprofen, threw on his coat, grabbed his keys and walked out the door. 

As he drove to the mall in his beat up Camry, he glanced at himself in his rearview mirror. His face was puffy and his eyes were bloodshot with large bags under them. Years of stress and smoking had turned his skin leathery like an old catcher's mitt. He felt his face and wondered where his life had gone. He was fifty-five years old and his birthday was in a few days but he had no plans to celebrate. 

When he arrived at the mall, he stepped inside like he was an inmate on death row headed for the gas chamber. The place was crowded and the bright lights hurt his eyes. He walked passed the North Pole display, which was located outside of a Foot Action, where families were already lined up to take pictures with Santa and made his way into the back room. 

"Where the hell have you been?" his coworker Tim asked as he rushed up to him dressed in his elf costume. 

"Uh, I had a long night," Bob said wiping his mouth. 

"You look like dog shit. Vicky won't be happy about this," Tim said shaking his head. 

"Get off my ass, will ya?" 

Bob changed into his Santa costume and put on his beard and hat. At that moment, his supervisor, Vicky Donner, walked into the back room wearing a red blazer with a red skirt, tan nylon stockings and high heels. She was also wearing a plush reindeer antler headband. She was in her mid-thirties but she looked much younger with natural blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. 

"You're late," she said with her hands on her hips. 

"It won't happen again," Bob said. 

"I'll need to see you in my office after your shift is over."

Bob nodded. 

He needed a cigarette but he didn't have time for a smoke break. He made his way back to the North Pole display and took his seat at his throne, which was a red velvet chair with presents stacked on both sides of it. Behind him were a Christmas tree and a snowman setup next to two large candy canes. 

He took a deep breath and scanned his eyes over the long line of children and parents and he felt his stomach drop to the floor. I think I'm gonna pass out. 

Tim walked over to him and whispered in his ear, "Get in character."

"Ho-ho-ho, Merry Christmas!" Bob said as he waved to the crowd. 

A father and his crying son approached him. Oh boy, he thought. The father picked up the boy as he screamed his head off and placed him on Bob's lap.

"What do you want Santa to bring you this year, little boy?" 

The boy continued to scream and cry until his father had to take him away without getting a photo taken. Next, a girl approached Bob and stopped. She turned around and glanced at her mother who waved with her hand to keep moving forward. She turned back to face Bob and cautiously sat in his lap. 

"What do you want Santa to bring you this year, little girl?" 

"I want a pony."

"Well, that's a tough one but I'll see what I can do." Bob posed to take a photo with the little girl and when they were finished, she smiled and gave him a hug. As Bob looked at the front of the line, he noticed an older boy who looked like trouble. As the boy approached and sat in his lap, Bob felt uneasy and his beard began to twitch. 

"What do you want Santa to bring you this year, young man?" 

"You smell funny."

"That's not very nice to say. Where are your parents?"

"You don't even look like Santa. You're a fraud!" At that moment, the boy pulled on Bob's beard until it came off. All the children gasped as they caught sight of Bob's ugly mug. Some of the children even started to cry. As the boy tried to run away, Bob grabbed him by his arms. 

"You little shit!" 

Tim rushed over and escorted the boy away from the display. Bob put his beard back on and tried to calm himself down. I need a drink, he thought. 

After his shift was over, Bob headed back into the back room to change. At that moment, Vicky walked in. 

"In my office. Now."

Bob stepped into her office still dressed in his Santa costume but without the hat or beard and took a seat in front of her desk. 

"What were you thinking, cursing in front of those poor kids like that?"

"I...I wasn't. I apologize for that."

"Your performance has been unsatisfactory. This is the third time you've been late in recent weeks. I'm afraid I have to let you go."

"Please, I can't lose this job," Bob said. 

"Don't you dare 'please' me."

"Give me another chance. I'm begging you."

"You've been given enough chances already," Vicky said. 

"I'll do anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Anything," Bob said with desperation in his eyes. And he could tell that a part of Vicky was enjoying how pathetic he looked. 

"I'll make you a deal. I'll let you keep your job if you can perform a special task for me." 

"What's the task?" 

She grinned and said, "Well, I've been running around in these high heels all day and my feet are really starting to ache..." 

"And...you want me to rub them?"

"Not quite," she said as she removed her heels one by one, revealing her stocking-clad feet, which she placed up on her desk. "I want you to smell them."

"You want me to what?"

"I want you to smell my feet."

"Are you crazy?"

"No. If you want to keep your job, you'll have to swallow your pride and smell my feet."

"But they're all sweaty."

"Do you want to keep your job or not?"

Bob stared into her eyes and lowered his head. "Yes."

"Then you know what you have to do."

Bob grimaced slightly as Vicky pointed to her feet. He leaned in close to her damp soles and scrunched up his nose as she wiggled her toes in his face. And he could smell the musky odor of sweat mixed with leather wafting from her feet. 

"Geez, I can really smell them from here," Vicky said with a laugh. "You're in for a real treat."

Bob gave her toes a quick sniff and immediately jerked his head away. "There. I did it," he said trying not to cough. 

"You'll have to do better than that," she said. 

"But your feet smell."

"Awww, of course they do. But don't worry. You'll learn to love the scent of a dominant woman's feet. Now bury your nose in my stinky toes and take a deep breath."

Bob couldn't believe what was happening. He had never felt more humiliated in his life but he couldn't afford to lose his job. He was facing eviction and he needed the money to pay his rent. He gulped and buried his nose in her toes and gave them a longer sniff. And he closed his eyes as the powerful aroma overwhelmed him. 

"Harder. I want to hear you sniffing."

Bob sniffed a little harder.

"That's it. Good boy. Sniff that sweat." 

Bob continued sniffing but he had to force himself to endure the odor. 

"How long do I have to do this?"

"Until I order you to stop. Keep sniffing."

Bob's humiliation continued for what seemed like an eternity and he was starting to feel light headed. 

"That's good," Vicky said. She was enjoying humiliating Bob and seeing the pitiful look in his eyes. 

"So I can go now?"

"Of course not. We're just getting started. Now take off my stockings."

"Come on, haven't I done enough?"

"Take them off. Now. And don't make faces."

Bob slowly peeled off her stockings and set them aside. 

"Don't you just love my new pedicure?" Vicky asked as she wiggled her red painted toes with white snowflake nail art designs on them. "Now, I want you to sniff my bare feet. Get your nose right between my toes where all the sweat is."

Bob stared at her soft soles and tried to imagine that he was somewhere else. This isn't happening. He leaned in and buried his nose in her toes and sniffed as the vinegary scent filled his nostrils. And he let out a whimper that made Vicky giggle. 

"Mmmmmmm. Doesn't that smell nice?" Bob shook his head. "Keep your head still." She clamped his nose between her big toe and her second toe and laughed. "What's the matter? Is the smell too strong for you?" Bob nodded. "Awww, too bad. I'm having way too much fun with you now." 

Bob continued sniffing as she used his nose to message her sore, tired feet. She pressed her toes to his lips and smothered his nose so all he could breath was her essence. 

"Now I wonder, will the smell go away if you lick my soles?" Bob eye's widened. No, please, no, he thought. "Stick out your tongue." Bob shook his head. "Stick it out. Now. Do as I say or things will get worse for you." Bob didn't want to take any chances so he stuck out his long, wet tongue. "Lick." He then pressed it to her sole and licked up her arch. He grimaced from the salty taste of her sweat, which made him want to gag. "Get all the sweat off of them." He continued to lick and taste her salty sole. "Good. That's good. Now the other one." He pressed his tongue to her other sole and licked until it was glistening wet. "Now how do my feet smell?" She covered his face with her soles so he could give them a sniff. 

"They smell worse," he said. 

"Good. Keep sniffing. I want your face to smell like my stinky feet for the rest of the night." He continued sniffing as she rubbed her feet all over his face. "From now on, you will be my personal foot sniffer. It's your job to sniff my tired, sweaty feet whenever I please. Do you understand?" Bob nodded. "Good. We'll talk more about this later. You're free to go." 

Bob pulled his head away and stood up. Thank God she didn't make me lick between her toes, he thought. 

"But before you leave, I need you to kiss my mistletoes and thank me for not firing you."

Bob lowered his head and kissed her toes. "Thank you Supervisor Vicky." 

"That's a good boy."