The elevator doors closed on the last of the partygoers, and my shoulders slumped.

“Are you okay, Mr. Williams?”

I forced a smile and turned to look at my executive assistant – who was, of course, the last one to leave. “I’m fine, Justine, just tired. You have to admit, it’s been a busy time. I’ll look forward to getting some rest.” But I couldn’t quite meet her eyes, then covered it by laughing. “And now, it’s time for you to go home for Christmas. I’m sure you have plenty to do, and lots of family eager to see you.”

She looked at me uncertainly. “Yes… but Mr. Williams, if you need anything…”

“No, no,” I interrupted. “You run along. And Merry Christmas!” I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out her envelope. “Please spend this frivolously, okay? Do something you’ll regret later, please.” And I smiled, genuinely this time.

Reluctantly, she took the envelope, biting her bottom lip, “You… you didn’t need to give me anything, Mr. Williams…”

“Nonsense, Justine. I couldn’t cope without you. I’d completely fall apart. Now – get home, and enjoy yourself.”

She stood for a moment, looking worried, as she often did when she thought I was working too hard.

“Go on,” I said.

She looked down, then walked over, picked up her coat, shrugged into it, then pressed the DOWN button on the elevator. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.

The doors opened, she walked in, then turned towards me – and I thought I might have seen tears forming in her eyes when the doors shut. But I was probably kidding myself.

Now my shoulders did slump. I drew a deep breath and exhaled.

I was alone. For Christmas.

Again.

I was married to my work, to my responsibilities, and to the people who looked to me for direction and for guidance, just as I looked to them for help, ideas, and support. But now they were all speeding off to their warm homes and loving families. And all I had was a bloodless corporation.

Turning, I walked up stairs to my darkened office, then dropped into my chair, turning to stare into the night with all the city lights twinkling in the near and farther distance.

Christmas.

Once it had been a time of joy and cheer for me. Once I had been a child inside, long after I had grown up.

But over time, the idea that grew in my head became a business, a little thing, but one with great potential. Then it grew – and I reached out for help, and found good people who agreed with me about what was important. And together, we made things, things that helped people, that saved lives, and solved problems, and cured diseases…

It was a wild ride, and one I didn’t know how to manage. But everyone looked at me as if I were supposed to know – so I pretended and took advice, and found more great people, and they found even better people. And before I realized it, I was the head of a major multinational corporation at the forefront of technology.

All of the hopes and dreams and bull sessions of my college years had come true.

But I had spent so much time dedicating myself to the work, that I forgot to have a life. Yes, I had money. More money than any reasonable person could possibly spend in a lifetime. But I had it alone.

I was never one to let hangers-on hang around. I could smell a sycophant a mile away, and could unerringly spot a phony who was interested in my money rather than me, and turned them all away. I wanted real people with real opinions around me, and that’s what I got. And it worked a treat. Except…

The combination of too much work and too much money left me on my own.

Normally, it didn’t matter. I would just carry on working with whoever needed me involved – whether they actually did, or just needed me as a security blanket to encourage them as they forged ahead.

But not on Christmas.

I sat in my chair, turning back and forth, gazing out the window, and felt tears prick my eyes. I rubbed them with the back of my hand, ashamed that I felt sorry for myself. How many people thought it would be great to be me?

So why wasn’t I one of them?

I don’t know why, but I pulled a pad of paper out of my desk drawer, then hunted for a pen. I hardly ever wrote anymore – I always used a keyboard, or stylus and pad, or simply talked to my computer. But this I wanted to write in my own hand:

Dear Father Christmas,

How I miss your letters. You used to write to me every Christmas, and encourage me, and make me laugh with tales of the North Polar Bear’s antics, and the elves and all the others.

Then I grew up, and your letters stopped. I guess that’s natural. I wasn’t a child anymore, and I didn’t believe, so of course you stopped writing. I guess I stopped writing first, though, didn’t I?

But I miss you. If you’re out there somewhere, please write to me.

Yours sincerely,

James Williams

I stared at the paper, then threw my pen down and got up.

Normally, I would have gone home to the townhouse I kept in the city, but I had dismissed my staff and driver and told them to go home to their families and enjoy themselves. I kept a small apartment next to my office for those times when I needed to sleep after working too many hours. I went in, hastily brushed my teeth, threw on some pajamas, and fell into bed.

And was asleep as my head hit the pillow.

I knew I was dreaming because there was Justine – but not as I saw her every day. She was naked and beautiful and smiled knowingly as she swayed towards my bed.

I sat up, but she put her hands on my shoulders, then leaned down and kissed me. She pushed me down, drew aside the covers, and sat down on the bed next to me.

I opened my mouth to say something – but she put her finger on my lips. I closed my mouth and lay back on the bed.

She leaned over, a smile on her lips, and slowly unbuttoned my pajama tops, then slid the sides open. I leaned up and helped her push the sleeves off. Then she tossed the top over her shoulder onto the floor.

She pulled the drawstring on the bottoms, then very slowly drew them down, her hands sliding along my flanks, starting at my hips, then down to my knees. Standing up, she yanked the pajama bottoms off, then tossed them over her shoulder as well.

Licking her lips, she crawled up the bed until she was straddling my knees, then stopped, and lowered her bum. I could feel the heat from her pussy, and I could smell her fragrance, powerful, spicy, and enticing.

By this time, my cock was at full attention, jerking to my heartbeat. She looked down at it and grinned, then reached forward and gently cupped her hand around it, which made me jump. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched me there, and even longer since they had done it in a loving way.

Her eyes held mine as her hand grasped my cock. She stroked up and down, wanking me slowly and affectionately, eager to give pleasure. I could feel the precum starting to ooze from the tip and trickle its way down until it reached her hand.

Smiling, she leaned forward and licked her hand, then allowed her tongue to follow the trail back up to the tip, finishing with a flourish, licking the slit at the tip of my cock, and causing me to shudder with pleasure.

She paused then and smiled, then opened her mouth and slowly licked and sucked her way up and down my length. Her mouth was warm and welcoming. I closed my eyes and exhaled, trembling with an excitement I hadn’t known for many years.

Then slowly, slowly I sank into the dream, enveloped in her loving warmth.

And slept.

I woke to pale winter sunlight struggling through the window of my apartment. Looking down, I saw my pajamas were still firmly on my body – and sighed. I knew it had been a dream, but I had hoped that this life was the dream instead.

After lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I threw the covers off and stood up, then went into the bathroom to get my day started.

Next, I made coffee, then put on my slippers and bathrobe, and took the mug out to my office, just to sit and think. All I had to do was decide whether to go home or go back to work, but it seemed like a ponderous choice, one that I didn’t seem able to make.

But when I went to sit at my desk, I noticed that there was a sheet of parchment paper over the note I had written on the yellow pad. Unsure how it had gotten there, I sat cautiously in my chair, set down my mug, and picked it up.

There, in archaic, but flowing script, was a letter that said:

Dear Jimmie,

Or I guess it’s ‘James’ now that you are all grown-up.

I was delighted to get your letter after so many years of not hearing from you. I have watched your progress with great pleasure. How you started out, eager and ambitious, yet aware of the consequences of what you were trying to do. How you built a prosperous and rapidly growing company by treating your people well and listening to the needs of your clients.

I was particularly impressed when you said your goal was to pay your people as much as possible rather than the least you could get away with. Making everyone’s pay, including your own, transparent, and giving your people earned ownership shares was brilliant, and showed them how you valued them. That, and picking good people, has been critical to your success.

I have seen the good things you have done for your clients – and how you have avoided exploiting possibilities that would have been enriching, but damaging to others. You are a good man, which surprises me not at all. You were a good child.

If there is one part of your life where I feel you have not lived up to your potential, it is in your personal life. Work is important – but relationships are the true measure of a man. You have surrounded yourself with people, yet in your private moments, you are alone.

Let’s fix that. I’m leaving you the name and phone number of a friend of mine. Please call her and see what she can help you work out. Be sure to mention my name.

And may God keep you whole and happy.

Your friend,

Father Christmas

P.S. The North Polar Bear sends his greetings! He’s as foolish as ever, and now thinks he wants to be a bartender!

I stared at the letter for some time, reading and re-reading it, then finally put it down and picked up a smaller piece of parchment next to it. It had a name, “Sara Westheimer,” and a phone number.

Then, when I looked back at the letter, the words began to fade, until the parchment was clear. I held it up to the light, but there was no evidence that there had ever been any writing on it at all.

Hand shaking, I picked up my desk phone and dialed the phone number. It rang twice, then a woman answered, “This is Sara.”

I stared at the phone, stunned.

“Hello?”

Swallowing, I said, “Uh… is this Sara Westheimer?”

“It is. Who’s calling, please?”

Swallowing again, I said, “Uh, this is Jimmie – I mean James Williams. Look, I know this is going to sound funny, but… Father Christmas told me to call.”

There was silence at the other end, then a gusty laugh. “And how is Kris, the old geezer? I haven’t spoken to him for donkey’s years!” Then… “Wait – you said this was James Williams?”

I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me. “Yes.”

“Strange… I got a note delivered today, but no one saw who delivered it. It’s from Kris. It says that I should call and ask if I could interview a Justine McKenzie for a job as my executive assistant and assistant buyer. Do you know a Justine McKenzie?”

I stared at the phone. “Uh, yes. She’s currently my executive assistant – and an outstanding employee. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

I was struck because Justine also had great fashion sense, and once had confided in me that when she was in university, she had thought about going into the fashion industry.

There was a long pause at the other end, then Sara cleared her throat. “Uh, the note also said you were going to let her go because your company policy doesn’t allow employees to date each other. Is that true?”

My heart started beating faster. “Yes, yes – that’s our policy.”

“Do you recommend her? From the sounds of it, you wouldn’t want to be without her.”

I paused, feeling sweat breaking out on my forehead, then said, “Recommend her? Let me put it this way – if you could hire her, you would be a fool not to do so, under any circumstances. She is one of the most capable and most diligent people in our company – including me.”

There was another long pause, then, “Well, Kris says exactly the same thing. It’s almost as if you were reading from the same script.”

I found myself nodding.

“Okay, I’ll call Ms. McKenzie for an interview. I’d like to meet her. As it happens, I’m in desperate need of someone to help me just now. Thank you for calling – and for your recommendation, Mr. Williams.”

And she hung up.

I sat there, staring at the phone, then the note, finally putting the phone back in its cradle.

A week later, when the office staff returned from the holiday break, Justine knocked timidly on my door.

“Come in,” I called, heart pounding.

She walked slowly into my office, obviously on edge. “Mr. Williams, I… I’ve been offered another job, and I’m not sure…” She trailed off, eyes down.

“Let me guess. It was Sara Westheimer, right?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet mine. “You knew?”

“I called her to recommend you for the position.”

The color drained from her face. “But why? Haven’t I been doing a good job?”

I stood up and walked around the desk. “You are doing a fabulous job. But tell me – would you like to take Sara’s job offer?”

Justine nodded, once. “It’s like a Christmas present, all wrapped in my dreams.”

I felt pounding in my ears. “Then, Justine McKenzie, your employment here is terminated immediately.” And I handed her an envelope with her separation package.

“But… but why?”

“Because Justine – I’d like to ask you out. On a date.” Now it was my turn to stammer and look away, “That is if… if you want to.”

Her face flushed, then a smile spread slowly across it. She stepped in close. “I’d like that very much – James.”

And she kissed me.