Page 2 of Santa's Baby

The thought makes me grin, and another glug of champagne cements the happiness. Fuck anything else right now.

“Jesus Christ,” the guy who spurted in my ass says, “that was fucking incredible.”

“Amazing,” the guy turning his fist in my cunt says.

Yes, I am fucking incredible.

I am fucking amazing.

Fuck Carly.

Fuck babies, and happy families and dreams that will never come to life.

I’m nothing but a beautiful whore tonight, exactly where I belong.

1

TIFFANY

I’m a master at hiding both hangovers and holes stretched badly enough that I should be limping. My smile is bright, my laugh at full volume as I walk arm in arm with the girls, hitting the London streets for Christmas shopping. You wouldn’t think I was getting pounded by three strangers a few hours ago. They got me good.

I shake my sore butt and let out a cheer when we hear Mariah Carey blaring from one of the store entrances, even though I can’t stand that godawful tune right now.

All I really want for Christmas is for Christmas to fuck off. Fuck off and take its jolly fucking jingle bells with it. Just looking at Christmas decorations is like nail extensions down a chalkboard for me.

Usually, my larger-than-life nature embraces almost everything there is to embrace and then some, but the news of Caroline’s pregnancy is still twisting my insides like a bitch. Demons run deep and all that crap. I thought they’d have been long dead and buried after a bucketload of therapy, but they’re still there, sneering in the darkness, and I hate it. The vulnerability makes me feel sick.

“Christmas is the best,” Ella says, squeezing my arm. “Look, look!” She points to a massive inflatable snowman in front of a mall. “That’s amazing! And look at the little boy there. Awww. Oh my God. He’s so cute.”

Ella’s mega babied up now that she’s due to be an auntie, pointing out kids, babies and happy parents every other second, but she’s twisting knives in me she doesn’t know she’s twisting. She’d be mortified if she knew.

I don’t want to look at the bloody snowman and I really don’t want to look at the sweet little boy grinning up at it with his parents crouched at his side. Yeah, it isamazing. And he is cute. So cute, I could retch up last night’s champagne from the gut punch it gives me, but I let out another cheer instead.

“Oh my God, he’s such a cutie!”

My heart pounds when Ebony suggests we go in and get shopping. I’ll have to walk right past the happy family, but fuck it. I’ll be swimming in happy families and cute little kiddos throughout the holiday season, so I’d better suck it up and get my big girl panties on.

I make sure my smile is convincing.

“Let’s go, girls! Ho ho ho!”

Eb joins in with theChristmas is greatbanter as we pass the giant snowman and step into the mall. It’s mega busy, with bustling shoppers all around us, which is hardly a shocker since it’s a Saturday morning of gift-buying fervour.

I’m glad I’ve gone for casual today, with my clod hopping boots to keep me steady. I’m in my most comfy tattered black jeans and my hugeBad Girlhoodie. Ella is dressed up like she’s going to a goth black tie ball, as per, and Ebony looks fresh out ofVogue,but not me. I’m just a girl half-heartedly shopping for cards and gifts that’ll probably be gathering dust by the time the tinsel comes down. My hair is still in long waves down my back, and my fake lashes are still on from last night. Plus, to be fair Idid put on a fresh layer of scarlet lipstick to match my hair before I left the apartment, but that’s it. I wanted bed, not socialising. I’ve got sleep deprivation, double hole burn, and a craving for paracetamol, but I’d already promised I’d go out with Ells and Eb today – three hooker girls hitting the festivities – so here I am. I never break promises.

“Wait a second, I know this place,” Ella says, breaking away from me to do a spin. Something hits her, hard, and she looks like a gothic angel as she wells up. “No way! What the hell? I didn’t think this was the Central Parade shopping centre. I had a proposal here last year. A new client when I was a newbie myself.”

I can’t help but laugh, bursting through her tender moment as I point out a sign for a charity grotto up ahead.

“What happened? Did you empty Santa’s sack for twenty grand?”

She grins. “No, no. The clientwasSanta at the grotto, actually. But he wanted a plus-one for his work party. He said he was desperate for a companion. He didn’t want to go alone.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Right… acompanionfor Santa… that he could finger under the table, by any chance? Did you give him a desperation discount? You got suckered in there, Ells.”

Ebony gives me a side eye, and I realise I’ve let my party girl mask slip. I sound bitter.

“Sorry. I had a late one,” I say. “I’m a bit yowchy.”

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