The room was filled with a warm, golden glow as the lights on the Christmas tree flickered gently. The young woman sat relaxed on the soft, snow-white carpet, her delicate crocheted throw loosely draped around her shoulders. The fabric left just enough slack so that the view of her soft, flawless skin was a silent promise. Her eyes sparkled in the glow of the tree as she thought about the tradition that captured her imagination every year: the neighbor played Santa Claus. He was a handsome, strong man with broad shoulders, striking features and a deep, penetrating voice that always evoked a mixture of excitement and curiosity in her. His role as Santa Claus had become something of a ritual, but to her he was much more than a friendly neighbor who dressed up in a red coat and white beard every year. Underneath that disguise was a man who could fill the room with his mere presence. She leaned back, the crocheted shawl slipping easily from her shoulder, and she couldn’t help but imagine how he might come in this year. Last year, his greeting had been warm and effusive, a classic “Hohohoho!” with a charming wink that was unmistakable. But what awaited her this year was not just the role of Santa Claus. She wanted to feel the man underneath – and she wanted him to know that she was no longer just expecting an innocent game. A muffled knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Her heartbeat quickened. It was time. She stood up slowly, pulled the throw tighter around her and walked with springy steps to the door. The knock sounded again, this time stronger, more insistent. She opened the door a crack – and there he stood, with his red coat and the sack over his shoulder, but the intensity in his gaze told her that he was bringing more than just presents. “Merry Christmas,” he said in his deep voice, which instantly filled the room. His gaze traveled slowly over her, lingering on her shoulders where the fabric of the throw had slipped slightly. A slight grin played on his lips as he closed the door behind him and put the bag down. “You really went to a lot of trouble,” he said quietly, almost harshly, as his gaze fell on the perfectly decorated tree – and then went straight back to her. It was as if time had stopped for a moment. The room suddenly seemed warmer, more intimate. “That’s part of it, isn’t it?” she replied, her voice almost a whisper as she approached him. Her smile was an invitation he couldn’t refuse. He slowly pulled off his Santa hat, the game was over. For a moment, they just stood there, facing each other, the tension palpable. His gaze wandered to her coverlet, which now hung loosely over her arms. Without another word, he stepped closer, took the crocheted shawl and let it slide gently off her shoulders.
“Maybe I should give you a very special present,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. The night was long, and the ritual had taken on a new meaning – no more masks, no more roles, just the two of them, caught in the glow of the Christmas tree and the heat of a passion that had gone unspoken for so long. She would not soon forget this Christmas.
