by LSF Publications
by Eric Essex
There was only a dusting of snow on the ground, but David Hammond took his time as he made his way through the private little cemetery. He would probably be able to get back up on his own if he slipped and fell, but with not a single living soul within earshot it seemed prudent to be careful all the same. The sun was going down and there was a sharp wind blowing in from the north. Now that he was in his eighties, every winter seemed colder than the last. And longer too. The heavy overcoat and authentic leather gloves he wore protected most of him from the wind's bite, but his face was numb before he even reached her grave.
Grateful that he was still spry enough to do it, the old man knelt down and tenderly placed a wreath of lilies against the marble marker that read:
Aug. 29, 1935 - Dec. 24, 1988
"I never met a man I couldn't learn to like."
That was it. That was all she wanted. No mention of the dozens of films she appeared in, nor even the three Oscar nominations she had earned. Just that one line from Harriet's Secret, the one everyone always remembered her for. And of course her stage name. On her death certificate she might have been Helen McAllister Hammond, but to her fans and the world at large, she would always be Helen McCoy.
"It's that time of year again," her husband sighed as he adjusted the wreath so that it was sitting just right. What he wouldn't say was Merry Christmas.
Never that.
Not once in all the years they had been apart.
The walk home was not a long one. That was the compromise they agreed on as she lay on her death bed that long ago December. She would keep her stage name and she would have her famous line, but she would be buried in the little graveyard that was less than half a mile from their home - and half a continent away from her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Good thing, too. At his age, Hammond was in no condition to be making a longer journey than that to pay his respects. His last visit had left him short of breath and with a pain in his side that hadn't wanted to go away. No such problems now though. In fact, he felt as good as he had in months.
The brisk air, he told himself. That was what had him feeling like a new man. Had to be.
All thoughts of this sudden improvement vanished when he was coming up the drive to his house though. "It can't be," he muttered as he squinted his eyes and kept on walking. There were lights in the front windows, tiny lights that blinked red and green. Christmas lights!
Scowling the kind of scowl that only old men - and particularly cantankerous old men at that - can scowl, David Hammond trudged home.
Sure enough, the whole place was lousy with the stuff. A pair of plastic reindeer flanked the front steps while an artificial green wreath hung upon the door. Inside, ropes of silvery tinsel had been threaded through the banisters and bushels of fake holly hung from every light fixture. The air smelled of pine-scented candles and everywhere were strings of tiny colored lights. Like hyperactive vines, they seemed to run throughout the house, turning its interior into a flashing kaleidoscope of holiday cheer.
Hammond was still cursing under his breath when he found his chauffeur in the main hallway.
Her name was Valerie and she was built like a valkyrie. An inch or two above six feet, her powerfully built frame somehow combined feminine curves with sculpted musculature to create a statuesque physique. High Nordic cheekbones and a wealth of long, lustrous blond hair completed the look. Hammond doubted that one of Odin's handmaidens would have ever been caught dead in the get-up Valerie was wearing though. The red and white Santa hat atop her head matched the rest of an outfit that consisted of little more than a rather short vest and an even shorter skirt. Beneath the fluffy white hem of that skirt she wore black fishnet stockings and since she was at that moment standing on a step ladder and reaching up to hang something above her head, a glimpse was afforded of where those stockings ended - and then some.
Tall as she was and with one foot on the top step of the ladder, Valerie was having to stretch to reach the archway above her. Before the master of the house could speak, he saw her start to totter and lose her balance. A lifetime of chivalrous conduct overrode any concern for his own brittle bones and he stepped forward to steady her. That he could only do this by taking firm hold of her hips was an unavoidable, if awkward, necessity.
"Oh, hey, thanks for the hand, boss!" she said as she smiled over her shoulder at him.
"Come down from there! Come down from there this instant!"
This she did, but Hammond was scolding her again before she had even gotten both feet on the floor. "What are you even doing here? I thought we had an understanding."
The understanding David Hammond had with all of his household staff was simply this: in addition to their regularly earned vacation days, each of them would get the entire week that Christmas fell on as a paid vacation. All that he asked in return was that there be no mention of the holiday before or after they took their leave. Absolutely none. No festivities, no decorations... not so much as a single Christmas song being played on the radio. That's how he wanted it and that's how it had been for the past twenty-five years... until now.
With a grin and a shrug of her shoulders, Valerie explained, "Every year we all go off to spend the holidays with our friends and families. Meanwhile, you stay hear by yourself and mope around. Well, this year things are going to be different... because this year I decided to stick around and spend Christmas with you!"
David shook his head in disgust as she moved around behind him and helped him out of his coat. "Well, that's very... thoughtful of you, but you really shouldn't have bothered. I have my reasons for avoiding this particular holiday and I intend to continue doing so. And for your information, I do not mope around while all of you are away. I use the time for quiet reflection."
"Pffft!" the blond chauffeur in the sexy Santa suit retorted, "You can have quiet reflection any time. It's Christmas! And look, we're under the mistletoe!" She pointed up at the spring of green she had just finished hanging. "So what do you say, boss?"
Leaning forward to put them at the same height, she closed her eyes and pursed her lips in anticipation of a kiss.
Hammond stood frozen with uncertainty while his brain tried to sort out all the conflicting thoughts that were racing around in it. Valerie had always been the most outspoken of the girls who worked for him, but she had never acted like this. Good God, if it weren't the most ridiculous thing imaginable, he might have thought she was flirting with him!
Resisting the urge to ask if she had been drinking, he told her instead, "Enough of this foolishness. I want you to take all this... this... frippery down."
"Are you really going to be that much of a Scrooge?" she asked as she straightened up.
"Yes I am," he insisted stubbornly. "And I don't want to hear another word about Christmas, understand?"
"No." Hands planted on her hips and chin held high, she radiated defiance.
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I mean, no, I'm not taking down these decorations."
"What has gotten into you?" her employer blurted out in exasperation.
"It's called the Christmas spirit and it's time you got a little of it yourself, you old fogy!"
That she said with an impish grin on her face did nothing to lessen the anger rising in him. If anything, it only stoked the fires.
"Now, Valerie, I'm not going to tell you again. Get rid of this junk and get rid of it NOW!"
Seemingly unimpressed, she replied, "Or what? You'll fire me? Are you really going to throw me out in the snow on Christmas Eve of all nights?"
At a loss, the old man just shook his head and made to brush past her, but she stepped in front of him to block his way. "You know what I think? I think this whole anti-Christmas thing of yours is just an excuse to be the mean old man you really want to be. Yeah, I bet that's exactly what it is! So what's next? You going to start beating us whenever we displease you?"
"I've had just about enough of this!" the master of the house fumed.
"Have you? All right then, go ahead. If that's the way it's going to be, then do your worst!"
With that, she turned and leaned over the step ladder so that her bottom was elevated in a most conspicuous way.
If he was conflicted before, David was downright flummoxed by this. A kiss was just a kiss, but this... this was something else entirely. He had always had a penchant for spanking, though it had been a long, long time since he had done more than just fantasize about it in idle moments. More than twenty-five years, to be certain. Thus it was with considerable surprise that he recognized the stirring of desire within him.
And it was with even greater surprise that he realized that desire was winning out over his own sense of what was appropriate and sensible behavior for a man in his position.
Hesitantly, he reached out and lifted the red and white skirt with his left hand. The tiny black panties she wore didn't cover much of her athletically-toned buttocks and were made of a sheer, see-through material on top of that.
"This is going to kill me," Hammond muttered, picturing how it would all happen. He could just imagine what the paramedics would think when Valerie answered the door in this outfit and told them that the eighty-three year old man she worked for just had a heart attack.
Before these morbid thoughts could really take root, he delivered a solid and resounding smack. When the recipient of this swat neither stood up nor even made a sound in protest, he gave her half a dozen more, alternating from one cheek to the other.
"Come on, boss," the chauffeur finally said when he paused for a moment. "You can spank harder than that, can't you?"
Incensed by this, the old man went back on the attack and put all he had into it. The report of each swat echoed loudly through the high-ceilinged hallway and though Valerie made hardly a sound, her milky-white backside took on a decidedly rosier hue.
He ceased spanking her when the tingling in his hand went from annoying to slightly painful. Not knowing what else to say, he told her, "Let that be a lesson to you then."
The serious face she affected when she stood up looked faker than the wreath on the front door. "Yes, sir!" she barked out and gave him a military salute before turning to walk away.
Just before she disappeared around the corner though, she stopped and with a hint of laughter in her voice told him, "But I'm still not taking down the decorations!"
It was a big house and there was no telling where she went. As he moved through the garishly decorated place, Hammond couldn't quite make up his mind if he was trying to avoid Valerie or not.
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