“Camp NaNoWriMo is a virtual writer’s retreat, designed for maximum flexibility and creativity. We have Camp sessions in both April and July, and we welcome word-count goals between 30 and 1,000,000. In addition, writers can tackle any project they’d like, including new novel drafts, revision, poetry, scripts, and short stories.” –from their website
I am taking this opportunity play along with Camp NANO, and the writer support I find there to power through the rest of the stripper shorts. This excerpt is “RAW” and unedited, cranked out just this month.
The music changed dramatically from loud and booming, to tinkling and light. Christmas music filled the air, and Katie could hear the woman next to her singing along with the music.
The stage curtains slid open revealing a man half dressed in a Santa suit lounging on a throne. Two ripped men dressed as elves pushed the throne forward down stage. The audience squealed in excitement and delight.
The “Santa” lounged on the throne. It was elaborate, tall gilded, ornate, it was everything that a throne should be. The “Santa” was not. He defied anyone’s preconceived notion of what a Santa was. There was no body fat on the man, he was lean and muscular. His long limbs betrayed his extensive height. His long scarlet robe of velvet, lined in ermine fur, cascaded around his frame, open, displaying an impressive collection of chest and abdominal muscles. Matching red britches and knee high boots completed his costume. There wasn’t a gray or white hair anywhere on his head or face. Thick wavy ginger hair graced his head under a crown of holly leaves and berries, no stocking cap with a ball of fluff on the end for him. The smirk across his face denoted his withering scorn for the scene before him. He kicked lazily in time to the music.
Now that’s a bad-ass man who clearly drinks tea. Holy Crap! Katie covered her mouth in an excited silent scream as she realized she could leverage tonight’s show for her blog. She let out a particularly loud cat-call to celebrate that this evening had just become a tax write-off. It looked like the wishing tea really did work.
The elves slid the throne back and to the side. Katie recognized her morning ogle victim as one of the two elves. Katie’s jaw dropped open. She had thought he looked hot and cute wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Now, shirtless with an open vest, poofy pants, and curly-toed shoes, he made a ridiculous elf costume look sexy. Santa deigned to get off of the throne. He tossed his long velvet cloak back onto the throne, the elves flanked him.
Three sexually-intimidating, ripped, with more abs than should be legal, Christmas characters stood poised ready to thrill.
“That’s one elf that can be on my shelf anytime.”
©2017 Lulu M. Sylvian