Page 24 of Elf-napped

Fortunately, Sugar, Plum, Candy, and Winter did not arrive as twins. Each of them was born a year apart. The conception efficiency trait doesn’t work with a human partner. Thank gods.

I exit the rink to fetch my wife some hot cocoa. When I turn from the eternally-flowing hot coca fountain, I hear a small, hesitant voice.

“Sir? I mean…Nicholas?”

I look down, and it’s the mother of one of Plum’s friends addressing me, wringing her hands. Why the others feel scared to address me as one of their own is totally to blame on the previous Nicholas.

“Yes, hello,” I reply.

“I just wanted to say, the North Pole and Santa’s Workshop is so much happier now with you in charge,” she says.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my wife leaving the ice, heading our way.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you. Thank you for saying so,” I say to the grateful young mother.

I can successfully deliver gifts to billions of children in one night. Yet, I can’t escape small talk with people who are still traumatized by the old man. I just can’t get away from it.

None of the credit for this place being a happier environment to live and work in goes to me. Under my rule, the Common elves chose to continue making toys in the workshop. The Uncommon elves voted to dissolve the entire Naughty or Nice list and any and all surveillance of children. This move, I wholeheartedly agreed with. All children get presents now, no matter what. And the Uncommon Elves now use their powers of invisibility to help me deliver gifts. They serve as a sort of guardian angel corps for the rest of the year.

Plum’s friend’s mother and I discuss some of the finer points of some of the more recent changes at the factories. Soon, I feel my Clara slipping her arm around my waist. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think I have to show you the new toy in the workshop, El,” she says.

I know that voice. She’s jealous.

Plum’s friend’s mother bats her eyelashes and exchanges pleasantries with my wife before turning and scuttling away.

Moments later, the two of us are locked inside the empty workshop.

I can’t help but tease my jealous wife. “Darling, won’t the children wonder where we are?”

Clara looks back at me over her shoulder while she leads me down an aisle of workstations by the hand, her skates clanking together in the other hand. She was in such a hurry when she saw me talking to Plum’s friend’s mother that she didn’t even have time to put her skates away.

“Reba and Deacon are taking them for the rest of the afternoon.”

I smile wickedly. “Oh, you mean they aren’t going to Plum’s friend’s house?”

Clara arches an eyebrow.

I’m in trouble.

Because it is the day after Christmas, and all toymakers have the next month off, so no elf has any reason to be here but me and my queen.

Hoisting my Clara up on a worktable, I plant myself between her knees. “What did you have to show me, my love?”

Clara’s eyes flash as she hands me a box. “Open it. Your present.”

Inside the box is an array of new devices—the sort of toys that do not belong anywhere near Santa’s workshop.

“Human, how dare you?”

She smirks. “How dare you let that woman flirt with you when I take my eyes off you for five minutes.”

“Clara.”

“El.”

“How often do I have to explain to you you’re the only one for me, for the next several centuries? At least.”

Clara runs her hand over my hardening length and bites her lip. “I guess you’ll have to just pound it into me until I get it.”