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With a beard. Dressed as Santa. I pulled out my phone and called Mom’s cell phone. Why that was my first action I don’t know but it was. To tell her where he was suddenly seemed the most important thing in the world. My uncle answered the phone. I heard but didn’t hear my uncle telling me to get to the hospital. That mom had been attacked and they had her in the E.R. and were trying to keep her alive. I didn’t focus on what he was saying because I was looking at my dad, in that hated blood red velvet Santa suit. He had walked to the center of the Christmas village and was looking around at all the shopping mothers, happy children, bored fathers, stupid teen girls, hoping to get laid teen boys and the one mall security guard who was not paying attention to anything but a woman with big tits in a tight sweater. I was walking towards my dad when the words sank in, and I knew it had been him. How many times had I heard him say shit like ‘I’ll never leave you for another man if I knew I. “Monsieur.” Eli’s heart raced in his chest, raced like it did when he put the blade to his scull each morning on the river, raced like when cold air blew in your lungs while you held a running start. “Monsieur, I am going to touch you.”He pulled hard, his arms stretched awkwardly over the back of the counter, his body taut and going no where. The harder he pulled the more their bodies collided with solid chest meeting solid chest and his cock bouncing off the abdomen of the frenchman, his struggles and grunts achieving nothing more than to expose his own skin under his whites as it made contact with Lluc’s and to agitate his aching cock to uncomfortably fill his kitchen trousers. “Fuck off De-Roche”. Lluc smiled and pressed his leg across front of the chair, he leaned in close enough so that Eli caught the humid sheen of sweat of his chest exposed by a snapped stud in his whites in the struggle, giving him a glimpse of the dark hair that covered his chest, and surrounded his.
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