An old elf approached the sleigh. His hair was white, and his beard long. He was taller than most of those around him. The inference was plain."Santa,... said Bob, softly."Not any more, my boy," said the old man grinning. "I'm retired. I go by Faerveren now. That means Christmas in English, but you can call me Joe." You were Santa," said Bob."That is quite true," said the man who called himself Joe, but who couldn't possibly be conceived of as merely "Joe." "But that was then, and this is now,. As she bent to kiss his neck her nipples brushed his back…an electric thrill coursed through her. ‘Tell me this,’ she said. ‘Why does this feel so right?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he offered, ‘But it does.’ They were silent as she continued to explore his body, her hands finding every part of him, kneading…caressing….needing. As she felt his body relax she crawled off of him and lifting his arm helped him roll to his back. ‘You’re clay, and I’m the sculptor,’ she whispered. ‘Stay where I put you and. More

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