Elf Ears

As she walked by the mirror in the employee lunchroom, the elf stopped and looked deeply into the reflection she cast. In order to see herself completely, she found herself standing on her tip-toes and looking down into the edge of the mirror until her green shoes came into view, silver bells jingling as she hopped from foot to foot. She was dressed from head to knee in fine green velvet trimmed with silver, the epitome of a Christmas elf, with some notable differences. The costume she wore was quite expensive, and had cost her several times the amount the store had spent on their Santa outfit. She wore it proudly, and her dedication, appearance and personality made her a highly sought-after character throughout the Rose City this time of year.

Standing 50 inches tall in her belled slippers, Erin was perfectly proportional in all ways, although her appearance at first glance was by and large childlike and androgynous. Her gender was suggested more by the carefully understated makeup she wore than any other physical factor. Her face, slightly oval, was quite stunning, however. She reflected her mother's Polynesian heritage in her facial structure as well as her complexion. Her lips, deep red carefully outlined with green sparkles, were full and a little pouty when relaxed, although they were usually drawn into a genuine infectious smile. The eyes looking back at her from the mirror were a deep brown, almond shaped and tilted up at the outsides, bearing long lashes her girlfriends yearned for. Raven black hair, braided with red and green ribbons intertwined with tiny bells, exited her elf hat to fall nearly to her knees.

Erin sighed quietly, walked out of the locker room and started down the hall to the service elevator. The concrete corridor echoed with the sound of bells as she walked, and a wide smile lit her face as the elevator door slid silently closed.

Nine hours later, the smile was still there, but the braid was a little looser, the slippers were smudged from little kids standing on them, and her walk was a little slower. As she spun the knob on her locker, she was looking forward to nothing more than a cup of tea and a nice chair. She was grateful that she had a couple of days off, but was already thinking about volunteering for another shift at a hospital tomorrow. She used a stall in the women's restroom to change into jeans and a University of Oregon sweatshirt over a silk camisole. Her costume went into her backpack after her winter boots came out, and she made her way to the Max station nearby to wait for the Blue Line home to her apartment near the Willamette River. Erin made small talk with Mrs. Hansen, an elderly neighbor, as they rode to their floors together, each enjoying the chat. They wished each other a happy holiday season as they went their separate directions on the 20th floor.

As her door closed, Erin reached up for the light switch as she kicked her boots off and hung up her sweatshirt near the gas fireplace. As the flames danced, Erin stood by the window and looked down on the river below her. In the twilight, the sky was dimly reflected in the gray ribbon 200 feet below, light snow still sharpening its edges. She shivered in the cold from the glass, her nipples pinching pleasantly as they grew hard. Standing with her arms crossed over her non-existent breasts, she unconsciously rubbed the back of her thumbs against the pea-sized bumps. Hearing the click preceding the ventilator fans engagement, she stripped the camisole off over her head, walked the few steps back to the fireplace and stood in the rush of warm air escaping from the grill above the glass. As her skin warmed, she stepped out of her jeans and pink lace string bikini panties and stood, her tawny skin reflecting the firelight. Her wrinkled areolas, deep brown and the size of quarters, held her turgid nipples slightly away from her chest as she looked down at them. She ran her index fingers under each bud. Lifting them to the horizontal and letting them go, she frowned a little as they slowly pointed toward the floor.

"As if it wasn't bad enough that I have no tits, I have sagging nipples. I don't think that's fair," she said to no one in particular.

She released her nipples and slid her hands slowly down her muscled belly to her smooth, hairless mound. Her rose colored clitoris pointed its eager head out of the upper terminus of her wrinkled labia just above her pubic mound, as if reaching for the heat from the fire. As her body pulled in the heat, her inner labia unfolded and dangled, like a satiny pair of brown, wrinkled flower petals. Erin placed her middle finger into her crease, and trapped her dark lips between it and the nearest two fingers and pulled down. Her labia strained against the tension, and the mouth of her vagina made a liquid noise as it spasmed shut in response to the stimulus.

Erin tapped the head of her clit with her right index finger as she rhythmically pulled on her lips with the other hand. Her breathing became ragged and her eyes fluttered shut as a look of sublime concentration came over her face. She began to hum softly as she exhaled.

"Mmmmm. Mmmmm, uh huh. Mmmmm. Ohhhh. Mmmmm."

Her face grimaced, perfect white teeth showing. Her knees started to tremble and her hips began to buck as her tiny body swayed in place, her finger beating a staccato against her swollen clit.

"Mmmm, MMMMM. Gonna cum. GonnaCUM.Gonnacumgonnacum gonnacum GONNACUM!!" As she yelled out the last words, she sank to her knees in front of the fireplace. Panting with effort, Erin sat on her haunches as two silvery strings of her cum slid off of her labia and stretched to the soft carpet under her slim, childlike ass.

"Whoa. That was not bad. Not bad at all. Of course, a dick would be nice," she chuckled.

Legs still shaking, she gathered up her clothes and walked naked to the bathroom, depositing her load in the hamper just inside the door. As she walked back into the kitchen for a glass of water, she noticed the message light on her machine flashing. She poked absently at the button. "Hey, Erin; it's Laurel at OHSU. Would it be possible for you to make an Elf appointment tomorrow afternoon? I know it's a Saturday and all, hun, but we have a great Santa, and I think he's gonna need your help. It's at the Children's Oncology unit at 1:00. I updated the info on your scan card to get you in, OK? Please call me right away if you can make it, all right? Luv ya Darlin. Buh Bye."

Erin leaned gently against the counter and thought for a while. She balanced the desire to spend a solitary Saturday against the gratification she felt doing hospital visits. The kids really needed to have a miracle, and the decision was made before she picked up the phone to return Laurel's call.

The next afternoon passed in a blur of children and teenagers with no hair, haunted expressions only momentarily relieved by the genuine mirth and kindness of the most talented Santa Erin had ever seen. From the moment Mark had introduced himself to her, they had functioned as a flawless team, each anticipating the other's needs in a smooth dance of compassionate energy. Some children were unable to leave their beds, which were lined up out the door and down the hallway of the children's cancer ward. Erin had wondered how well these bedside visits would go, but was further stunned when she realized that Santa was in a wheelchair, a burgundy Quickie decorated with silver, red and green garlands. She needn't have worried, because "Santa" effortlessly hoisted himself out of the chair and into the bed beside those children he'd been given permission to approach. The fact that Santa's legs remained in place on the chair seemed unimportant to all concerned, in fact, it seemed to sooth the fragile emotions of those many children who had lost limbs to the awful disease.

Just before dinnertime for the children, last child was spoken to, and the nurses gathered around to thank the two costumed characters. Hugs were given, hands were shaken, and suddenly Erin looked around and Mark was gone. A nurse pointed her to an empty room down the hall, and since the door was cracked open, she quietly entered. Mark's wheelchair was in front of the window, and as she walked quietly toward him, she noticed his shoulders shaking and realized that he was weeping. She put her hand on his broad shoulder, and to her surprise, he spun the chair slowly toward her and put his head on her shoulder. After a while, he pulled away from her a little and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. She took his chin in her hand and dried his face more thoroughly with a tissue from the counter near the window.

"I'm sorry about this, Erin, I just know that this will be the last Christmas for about half of those incredible kids," he said quietly.

"Why are you embarrassed for caring, Mark? I think you were magnificent today! I've never felt so good about the time I've spent here on Christmas, and this is my eighth time. I thought I was going to cry dozens of times today, Mark. I have no idea how you kept it together so long. I'm babbling, so I'm going to shut up now," she said, her face feeling hot. He smiled at her comment, and then said, "Your eighth time? Did you start coming here in grade school?"

"I'm 26, Mark," She said, looking at the floor. He felt like his heart had stopped; his embarrassment was complete.

"I'm sorry, Erin. I just...OK, I'm going to blubber some more now. I wouldn't hurt your feelings for anything. Please forgive me?"

She mumbled something.

"What did you say, Erin?"

She looked down and actually scuffed her foot on the shiny floor. "I said I'd forgive you if you'll buy me a beer."

"Really, I mean, that's a deal, my elf girl. Let me get changed and we'll go."

Mark produced a bag from the closet of the empty room, and they agreed to meet down the hall in a few minutes. Erin rushed to the break room behind the nurse's station and changed, spending a little extra time on her makeup. She was glad she'd brought something besides jeans, and when she met Mark in the Oncology waiting room, she was dressed in a forest green sweater tunic over matching winter tights, a festive Santa hat with bells on her head. In her leather boots with 3" heels, she was almost eye to eye with Mark, who sported a black leather jacket over a U of O polo shirt and dark green Dockers, sewn shut just below the pockets. It appeared to Erin that he had no leg stumps at all, but her eye was drawn to the obvious bulge between the pockets.

They made their way to the nearest elevator, and as they entered, Erin noticed the belt around the top of Mark's hips, and before she thought about it, said,"You must be a dangerous driver to need a seat belt." Mark didn't even hesitate before he answered, "If I stop too fast, I fall out the front." Erin felt her face flush, and fell silent.

"Hey," Mark said. "It's cool that you feel you can say anything around me. I really, truly appreciate it. You are not going to hurt my feelings, so please don't censor yourself. I believe in honest frank communication, Erin. Okay?"

Feeling better, Erin answered, "You got it. But I expect the same from you." When they reached the parking garage, Erin walked alongside Mark, her hand on his shoulder. As he wheeled along, she felt his powerful muscles flex, and found herself wondering what that shoulder would look like without a shirt on. They stopped beside a bright blue Honda Element, and after Mark let her in the passenger side, she watched as he transferred effortlessly to the driver seat, then turned and put the wheelchair in through the suicide door.

In a few minutes, they were on their way to Helvetia Tavern, a famous burger and beer place on the west side. As they drove, the small talk flowed easily, and as they turned off the 26 onto N.W. Helvetia road, Erin blurted out, "So...where's your lap?" Mark looked at her with surprise, and burst into laughter. "It's back at the hospital. I only use it at Christmas. It's really kind of cool, Erin; it's a platform that I sit on, and the legs have the Santa pants on them. The prosthetist, Andy, made it for me for free, using some trade-in legs with a little extra foam so they feel more real. I don't think I could do it without them, and I really look forward to my Santa gig. I lost my legs in Iraq in 2005, and it's really given me something to keep me going."

"I can't imagine the pain and the guts it must take to keep going, Mark. You're pretty amazing."

They pulled into the long, narrow parking lot and Erin headed around the Element to find Mark already in the Quickie. "Wow. You're pretty fast at that."

"I'm pretty excited, I guess. I haven't been out for a while and certainly never with somebody as pretty as you."

Erin smiled at the compliment, but it was all she could do not to question the 'pretty' part of the statement.

She held the screen open for her friend, and they found a place at the family sized tables, she at the end corner, and Mark at the end. The pretty waitress came right over with menus. Erin automatically produced her I.D. and after a thorough examination of it, the waitress asked for their order. They ordered a pint and a glass of Guinness and a Jumbo Cheeseburger to split.

"So I've already made the inevitable 'little sister' mistake. That's gotta get old, huh?" Mark said.

"It's a pain in the butt sometimes, but how I respond to it depends on the tone and intent. Mostly it's a normal mistake that I'd probably make myself. There are some times, though, when people just won't let it go, like in bars. I keep my license in my pocket, because it seems like every time I order, they ask for it. I can't drink very much because I'm so little, but I really do like beer. So, what do you do for a living, Mark?"

"I'm an architect, actually. I design accessible housing and environments for homes and commercial buildings. I had taken some classes before I went into the service, but after I came back, I realized firsthand how much of the public sector is either unavailable to people with physical challenges, or so difficult to interface with that they end up not going certain places. So, I went back to school and got my degree, and I've been working ever since. How about you?"

"I guess you could say I'm a professional volunteer. My parents both worked for Microsoft, and after they died, I didn't really have to work. I was exposed to the healthcare system during my Mom's illness, and it was less than inspiring, to say the least, so I use my time trying to help out where I can."

"I'm sorry about your Mom, Erin. What was the illness?"

"She had ovarian cancer. It showed up in 2001, and returned in 2003. She passed away on Christmas Eve, 2004." My dad literally died of a broken heart a couple of days later. The Doctors called it "Taka Tsobu" or "Broken heart disease".

Erin's head dropped, and she looked so miserable that Mark slid out of his wheelchair onto the bench next to her and gathered her into his arms, pressing her head against his shoulder and patting it gently.

Erin found herself in a very pleasant bear hug. Her hands were trapped between her chest and Mark's, which by all indications was made of iron. She was debating whether to continue to cry or just start kissing the wonderful smelling neck in front of her face when the waitress appeared with their burger.

"You, Sir, are a very good hugger," she whispered.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, darlin," he replied, his breath in her ear warm and quiet. Her nipples surged erect, and she was glad for her padded bra.

Erin slid over on the bench and her arm wrapped around Mark, pulling him along until they were side by side. the waitress brought them another plate before they asked for one, and they dove into the meal.

"Thshi rulli guud," Erin mumbled, her mouth mostly full.

"Oh yeah," answered Mark.

By the time they had finished the burger and fries, they were touching from hip to hip. Erin leaned her head on Mark's shoulder and patted her tummy. "I have puppy belly," she said, pointing to her rounded abdomen.

"I can just imagine."

"You can imagine what?"

"I can imagine a lot, but in this case, I'm imagining your adorable little tummy, all full and round."

A murmur from the other diners took their attention away from Erin's tummy. She looked over Mark's shoulder at the country road outside.

"It's snowing!"

Mark slipped back into his chair and wheeled to the window beside Erin. Without looking, she sat on the seat just ahead of him and put her feet on the web strap he had never used. In that moment before she drew his arms around her, he knew he'd found the treasure of a lifetime. As they sat looking out the window, Erin turned her head and whispered into his ear, "I love snow."

'And I'm pretty sure I love you,' he thought.

They made their way back to the Honda just as the parking lot disappeared under a white blanket. Mark could not get very good traction, so Erin ended up pushing partway, while the laughing Mark attempted to steer. They avoided the rear bumper of the Element by inches, and Erin jumped up into the driver's side in front of Mark, straddling the seat and facing him.

"I have to tell you something," she said with a shy smile. "I can't explain this, 'cause I've never felt this before. I think I'm falling in love with you, Mark."

"I know exactly what you mean, elf girl."

He took her face in his hands, and they kissed, eyes wide open. Her stomach fluttered happily, and she was surprised to find herself breathless.

"Oh my," she said.

"Yeah," Mark responded.

"My condo is on S.W. River Drive. How long do you think it will take to get there?" Erin asked.

"In the snow, it'll probably take around an hour. Why?"

"Because I may explode if it takes any longer. You need to drive, baby."

The trip to the Willamette River was surreal. Erin couldn't take her eyes off of Mark. She memorized his face, the way his hands moved smoothly on the wheel and hand controls of the Element. Her eyes strayed to the well disguised but evident bulge at his legless pelvis, and on the one hand, she drew imaginary lines in her mind about how the mechanics of all that would work, while on the other hand, she couldn't wait to figure it out. She wondered how to tell him about her physical problems, and hoped desperately that they wouldn't matter to him.

Unbeknownst to her, Mark was thinking exactly the same thoughts. His heart was near to bursting with the need to be with this diminutive woman, and his greatest fear was that she would see his scarred, broken body, and run away.

"Pull into the parking structure over there, OK? I have a space, but I don't have a car, so it will be empty. There," She pointed to a spot beside the elevator. Mark was around the car before Erin was done gathering her bag from behind the seat, and they moved quickly toward the elevator. The snow had stopped, but the frigid wind seemed to blow through their bones. The elevator door closed, and Erin threw herself onto Mark's chair, embracing him and planting tiny kisses on his face. He rubbed her back thorough her sweater, eventually allowing his hands to slide down to cup her butt gently.

"That's nice. My cheeks are cold," She said, between kisses. As the door opened, she swiveled around in the chair so that her feet were on the footrest. As they turned into the hallway, she waved at Mrs. Hansen, who winked and waved back.

She dug through her purse for her keys, and directed Mark to her door. "This chauffeur thing is fun. We should do it more often. It will keep you in shape."

"I am in shape," Mark said, indignantly, as he pushed them through the door into Erin's apartment.

"I, mister, will be the judge of that," she said with a wink and a wicked smile.

"Umm. About that..." Mark said.