There are definite perks that come with playing Santa Claus. Sure, I may look Jewish and I may be only in my thirties, and I may need a great deal of padding to pull off the illusion, but there are moments that make the effort worthwhile. Cute teenage boys sitting on my knee, for example. Or, handsome full grown men who have a couple of drinks at the office Christmas party and want to sit on Santa’s lap. Confessing that they have been bad all year.
So many ways that fantasy could play out. There is something about wearing a disguise which causes people to drop their guard a bit and become more forward. With a total stranger. That must be part of the fantasy, too.
I had an interesting gig on Sunday night, at a corporate Christmas party. The client was a woman who runs a successful software company. She wanted to give back to her her employees, so she spared no expense. It was an impressive affair. There were several attractions, including a money booth! I’d never seen one of those at a party. Not surprisingly, it was a big hit.
The party was not an easy one for me, though, since the music was very loud and the room was very warm and the people were very drunk. Boisterous Nick Goomba drunk guys getting overly physical with Santa. Drunken flirtatious ladies throwing themselves at me. I mean throwing themselves. Jumping into my arms, knocking off my hat and pulling my beard. Drunk people are not fun.
I had to escape twice into a private room, to remove some of the layers and lower my body temperature. Drenched with sweat. Kept repeating how much money I was earning. Since the music was so loud, there was no way to speak, so I had to keep my performance limited to posing for photos and dancing. That was not easy. I lose weight when I am merely sitting, under all the padding. Dancing? Oy.
It was interesting to see the straight guys who have a few drinks and start to act out homoerotic urges with one another on the dance floor. No point in paying any attention to that. They are drunk and straight. It was, however, an opening for the few gay men there to relax and be more themselves.
The cutest of those was a young Latin doll, in a tight purple sweater. Nice build. Bright smile. Adorable. He came up to me and asked for a photo, in front of the professional set up they had as one of the attractions. The guests could pose in silly hats and funny props, getting a printout as a souvenir. He threw his arms around me and made a big goofy face. When I bumped into him a few minutes later, he pulled the photo of us out of his back pocket. So cute, how happy he was to show me.
Later still, I was on the dance floor with some crazy hip hop music playing. People laugh when they see Santa getting down. I turned around and the purple sweater cutie was standing next to me, wanting to dance. I have to say that was the happiest moment of the night. Dancing with him. It occurred to me that if I were not hidden behind a costume, this would not be happening. A guy this cute and this young would never ask me to dance.
When the song ended, he gave me a huge hug. He had already given me one after we posed for the photo. Another when he showed me the picture. Then one more when he went in the money booth. (I happened to be standing next to him when his name was called.)
I have to say, he looked really sexy in there, with the wind machines revealing how toned he was. Bending over on all fours to scoop up the money that had reached the ground, his shirt was blown up, baring his torso. Sexy red briefs peeked out above his belt-less slacks. No need for one, the fit was trim. In another setting, it would have been easy to imagine dollar bills ending up in his possession by another means…
Before he went in, I whispered in his ear, telling him to wet his fingers. It was a neat tip, one that was sure to give him an advantage. When he came out, he rewarded me with that dashing smile and a playful body check, while carrying off a bundle of money in his arms.
As I was leaving, there he was by the front door. I was in my own clothes from the waist up, and wanted very much to go over and meet him properly. It could have been a very romantic way to meet. It also could have been embarrassing, if he did not find me attractive out of the costume. Which he was sure not to. He was so young. Sweet and adorable, but very young. Better to leave him his fantasy flirtation with an imaginary hot stud under the red and white fur.
Still, it was nice to dance with him.