My Secret Santa's Secret Baby

“Would you like a drive home?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay. Meet me at the café across the street. We’ll go from there.”

“Okay.”

By the time I left Inga was gone along with Skye. Undoing the lock from the inside, I slipped out, locking the door behind me with my master key. It was possible Sky and Inga were still on the elevator, so I took the stairs, buying even more time. It was a lot of stairs but nothing I couldn’t handle. The night watchman didn’t even look up as I walked through the lobby. His only concern was with people who were trying to get in.

Looking both ways both for traffic and potential witnesses, I dashed across the street when it was safe as it was going to get. Hoping Inga hand’t offered to by Skye a coffee. It seemed unlikely but I like to be prepared for every potentiality. An impossibility of course but I wasn’t the sort to let silly things like ‘odds’ or ‘facts’ concern me.

Skye was sitting at one of the little round tables, sipping from the smallest size cup they had. Which was still the size of a medium most places. I sat across from her and immediately took her hand.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Yup.”

Getting Skye back into her coat, I led her to my car, a third hand BMW that had been my grandad’s, holding the door open for her. With the heat on full blast, Skye gave me directions to her place over the bridge. She stayed glued to the window as we crossed marveling at the sight of the bridge at night. I smiled to myself, remembering when I was still impressed with such sights. I still enjoyed them but there was nothing like the first few times.

It was an example in trick parking but though skill, focus and the help of the gods, I managed to get my car into the space left by two other residents. The BMW coming to a stop at the foot of her stoop.

“Would you like to come in?” Skye asked, shyly.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to keep casual.

Skye led the way, bundled up in her heavy coat. With me close behind, in case she happened to slip, Skye clomped up the front steps and granted me access to her humble home. It was really quite impressive really. As close to a detached house as most New Yorkers were likely to get without going upstate. It was also tastefully decorated in a way that maximized the space. I wondered how she could afford it with what the job paid but decided not to ask. Suspecting some sort of parental involvement and I still remembered well the need to at least feign independence at that age.

“Do you drink wine?” Skye asked, hanging up her coat.

“Sure.”

“I only have red but it’s the fancy kind,” she said, heading for the kitchen.

I couldn’t help but smile. She was so damn cute. Soon enough she would learn that red is almost always fine and ‘fancy’ wasn’t something most adults said when referring to the finer things. For the moment I let her roll with it, just enjoying the moment.

Hanging my coat next to hers next to the door, I followed her into the kitchen. When I got there, she’d managed to get the foil off but was having some trouble getting the twist of the corkscrew into the cork.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“Please,” she said, making room.

She handed me the bottle, the corkscrew still stuck in the top. Getting it set properly, I twisted it down into to cork and popped the bottle in a smooth movement. Fumes escaping the mouth of the bottle. I smelled the cork as well. It was indeed fancy stuff.

“Glasses?”

“Right.”

Quick as you please, Skye got down two wine glasses and I carefully filled them to half. I didn’t often indulge but when I did I like to do things nicely.

We took our glasses into the living room and settled onto the couch, a full cushion between us. Setting her glass on the coffee table, Skye reduced her number of tops down to the t-shirt again, the other layers no longer needed. Her tits looked great in her t-shirt but I did my best not to ogle. I doubted she would mind, but I was still trying to be tactful.

“How’s the new manuscript going?” I asked.

“Really good. I love the story and am almost done reading. I’ll have to buy a copy if it’s published. Should I have told you that? Is that inside information or something?”

“No, no, its fine. You were going to put it in your analysis anyway. Probably with more words and such and likely not the bit about wanting to buy but still. It’s just a bit early that’s all. It will still be up to me to publish it or not. Though no one would be surprise. We’ve handled her last three books. If anything it would just be status quo.”