Page 12 of A Very Fumbling Merry Christmas

Chapter 5

HUNTER

Faith has been makingheadlines again this week on TMZ. She and Zee have been gracing social media in snapshots from our elf night out. Coop’s been too busy with practice and games to be too bothered by it.

There have been a few Secret Santa items floating between the four of us, but nothing too crazy right now. I’m not expecting it to last with our trip to Aspen looming. We leave tomorrow, and I’m preparing myself for the prospect of some pretty embarrassing pranks. Zee is definitely biding her time after the elf costume.

So far, I’ve stuck to the more traditional version of our little game. I’ve sent Faith some smoking hot lingerie that really was a gift for me. I sent a Christmas kissogram to Coop during practice the other day, which I heard about from all the other guys on the team. I’m told his face was quite the picture when a jolly old man in a red suit showed up to serenade and plant a bearded kiss on him. I’m ninety percent sure he knows that was from me.

Faith has been up to her usual hijinks but on festive steroids. I think she felt bad about the elf costume even though Zee was pretty good-natured about it after the initial embarrassment. She was laughing about it the next day. I asked Faith where she got the outfit because I really want to see my wife in a sexy elf getup. It doesn’t need to be limited to an elf, she could be sexy Mrs. Claus—sexy anything really. As long as there are Christmas stockings involved and adorning her killer legs, I’ll be a happy man.

“Hunter, there’s a huge box out here with your name on it.” Faith appears at the bathroom door, her gaze traveling the length of me, fresh out the shower and sporting some morning wood after contemplating her in stockings.

“Open it.”

“Did you order something?”

“No.” Shit. This is a Secret Santa delivery, I’m sure of it.

Faith disappears for a moment, returning with a huge package.

“Love, I’d have gotten that.” She lays it down on our bed.

“It’s not crazy heavy. Come on, open it.”

“Is this one of your pranks?”

“This wasn’t me.”

“Damn. I was hoping it was. That means it’s from Zee or Coop, and my money is on Zee.”

“If it were Zee, the package would be much smaller. You don’t need a box for a banana hammock. It would fit in an envelope just fine.”

“Tell me she wouldn’t do the speedo thing. I can’t go out in public wearing nothing but a cock sock.”

“How is it any different than her being out with her booty and baps on display?”

“Come on! That isn’t a fair comparison. Plenty of women wear revealing dresses in a bar. If I went outside in a banana hammock, I’d be arrested. I don’t make the rules.”

“I’d bail you out.”

“Just open the box, and let’s get this over with. We’ve got a plane to catch in a few hours.” She rips off the tape like a kid on Christmas morning. She bursts out laughing, and I’m not prepared for what she pulls out—it’s a suitcase. There must be something in it. A suitcase isn’t worthy of tears in my wife’s eyes from laughing so hard.

“Holy crap!” She can’t contain her amusement. “This is straight-up amazing.” Turning it around to face me, I see what has her in hysterics, but I’m not laughing.

“Fuck off. This has Coop written all over it. He’s a twat. Not even Zee would inflict this on me. I’d gladly take the cock sock right about now.”

“There’s a note.” She hands me an envelope.

“Great. Is it my last will and testament? I’m going to die of embarrassment. The paparazzi are going to have a field day with this.”

“What does it say?”

“I don’t think I want to know.” I slide a piece of paper from the envelope, shaking my head because I can guess what this is going to say.

To Hunter, Santa says you’ve been a naughty boy this year, but he took pity on you and is giving you your Christmas wish. Be sure to pack your clothes in this suitcase, but first, remove the contents and make sure to carry them as hand luggage. Happy travels!

“What’s inside? Unzip it.” I’m glad my wife finds this so amusing. She knows fine well what’s inside the case.

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