Page 7 of His Secret Santa

Behind the mask, the stripper’s eyes glistened. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Holden wondered.

The young man smiled and kissed him softly. “For the same.”

“What do you mean?”

Stroking his thumb along Holden’s cheek, the stripper murmured, “Come back when you’re eighteen… and your secret Santa will tell you all his secrets.”

• • •

When Cole noticed only one of the kids at the table near the stage, he began searching for the other. The birthday boy. He spotted him emerging from a private booth, followed by a young dancer in red leather. The dancer bid the kid goodbye and headed off toward the restrooms while the boy returned to his friend.

Cole wasn’t upset with the kid—what gay boy wouldn’t break the rules on his sixteenth birthday if it meant getting some action with a hot stripper? It was the stripper that seized his attention.

Following the dancer, Cole entered the restroom to find the young man in a stall—beating off. Out of courtesy, Cole held his peace until the young man finished and emerged from the stall. He halted, startled, when he saw Cole leaning against the wall, arms folded over his thick chest.

“Mind telling me who the hell you are?” Cole asked, straightening. “’Cause you’re not one of ours.”

The stripper stood frozen, just staring at him.

“The customer you took into that booth was a sixteen-year-old kid. Did you know that?”

The young man nodded and swallowed hard.

“And you thought that was okay? Because here at the Phoenix, it is damn well not okay. Not with our dancers and sure as fuck not with posers.” He stepped forward suddenly and the stripper flinched when he snatched the mask off his head. “Now, get out and don’t ever let me see you in here—” Cole abruptly went silent.

Blond locks fell across the young man’s forehead and into his frightened, damp eyes.

He’s just a kid. No older than the birthday boy.

Dialing back his temper, Cole cleared his throat. “Explain yourself, kid.”

Present Day

“In love there is an instance of forever

So shy and lovely it eludes the eye,

The sense of being home when we're together,

More enduring than a reason why.

As love is born of passion, borne by will,

So may for many years we choose love still.”

- May This Christmas Be the First Of Many, Anonymous

Chapter 1

“Hey, where you going?” Holden closed his locker and adjusted the books in his arms.

Jamie turned back and jerked his thumb down the hallway. “Come on. It’s quicker this way.”

Holden held his ground. “We have time. Let’s just go around.”

“Why?”