“Right! So, we figured that Santa doesn't wear jeans, or dress pants, or khakis. He wears red pants, and this is all that we have that would fit you...” Leslie said, explaining their reasoning.“Okay. What was the other option?” I asked, completely oblivious to what they were getting at.“You could wear no pants, which was Leslie's idea,” Janice informed me.“I don't think I've ever seen a Santa without pants,” I argued.“It would just make my job easier!” Leslie joked in an effortlessly sensual. My father embraced me and congratulated me saying, "Saheb, do you know that you are the first graduate in our family." No, I didn't," I said truthfully."Yes, your grandfather studied till intermediate and your uncles and I passed matriculation exams with difficulty," he laughed, "A graduate is not expected to do his own work. I have the right person to do your work."He then called a young boy whom I had seen waiting outside his office. He said, "This is Abdul, son of our very loyal and faithful. Anna felt the cold hand of fear as the sheet was whipped off of her. Several gasps were heard as her body was displayed. Anna was proud of her body. She was slim and trim. At 5’6′, most of her was legs. She had a slightly rounded bum with just enough flesh to grab nicely. Her measurements were a sultry 35C-23-33. Her breasts were perky with creamy flesh that held a hint of rose on it. Her nipples and aereoles were a slightly darker rose, hard and puckered because of the cold. Anna kept her. Or an address to overnight the paperwork.”“Done, buddy. Here...”Next step is to walk into Alan’s office, breaking the news to him. That’s a pushover. I know how he’ll react. Our careers track too close. And I know about the transportation thing. We have to tell Cindy. Cindy, who’s named that twin Cessna ‘Songbird’ after the plane that starred in the Sky King TV series of the Fifties and Sixties. Lord only knows where she got the videos. Doesn’t matter.Legality? Cindy’s still only a private.