A NAUGHTY LITTLE CHRISTMAS by Tara Fox Hall
Let me be the first—and possibly only person—to wish you a naughty little Christmas!
There’s the saying that you have to be nice at Christmas, or Santa won’t be bringing you
anything but a lump of coal. But for those of us who savor a little wicked fun over the holidays,
candy canes dipped in sugar plum sweetness just won’t cut it. We need something hearty to
satisfy our robust—and mischievous—appetites on these cold December nights, as we wind
down the ever-shortening days to the New Year. Long dark nights, especially the longest night of
the year, are here within reach; it is time to make the most of them.

Start with warmth: a blazing wood fire, a thick fleece blanket, perhaps a steaming mug of something delectable (or a tempting glass of wine). Add some lighting, bright enough to enfold you, but dim enough to be soothing. Get comfy in your favorite chair or couch; someplace you
can both relax, but also have easy access to all your comforts. It’s here where clothes come in; sometimes less is more. Sure the teddy, garter belt, and high heels combo is sexy, but this is all about you tonight. Wear whatever turns you on, be it your fleece-lined flannel PJs or your birthday suit.
Now…let’s begin.
Tracy felt a charge go through her. “Isn’t it kind of late?”
“For a social call, yes,” Robert agreed. “But I had something else in
game.”
Was this really happening? Tracy pinched her lower left
shifted in her chair, trying to keep from trembling. “What?”

“Let’s call it another kind of research,” Robert replied evasively. “Can you imagine a villa, rustic, some of the paint peeling. A courtyard beneath, and a balcony overlooking fields of dark swaying grasses and low trees.”
Tracy nodded, then felt dumb. “Yes,” she replied. “I’ve seen pictures of Spain.”
“Imagine you are there on the balcony, looking out, the wind ruffling through that short fiery hair of yours. A simple halter top, a long silk skirt blowing in the gusts of wind. Can you see it?”
Tracy nodded. Spain would be so beautiful. “Yes.”
“Good.” Robert’s voice deepened. “Can you see me there, waiting in the shadows,
watching you?”
Tracy’s breath caught in her throat. “No,” she said, letting out a shaking breath. “I
thought I was alone.”

“Never,” Robert whispered. “I have watched you, walking the fields, loving the light on your hair and the tenderness in your gaze. So long, Tracy, have I watched. I have wanted you since that first moment.”
Tracy’s heart was racing. How was it possible to be this excited, just hearing his voice? “Why?” she managed.
“Because you were meant for me,” he whispered in silken tones. “We were meant for each other.”
Tracy found her voice, the sheer wanting in it making her flush as she said, “Then why are you in the shadows? Come to me.”
“No,” Robert said. “I will not cross the distance. You must come to me, my
shepherdess.”
“What would you do if I did?”
“I would take you in my arms. But instead of
bit of the fire that I have been holding back since that moment I first saw you, my mouth
ravaging yours until you were swooning in my arms. Only then, when you could no longer
resist me, your eyes wide and filed with desire, your breath uneven eager panting, would I
slowly undress you, slipping each fold of cloth from your flushed skin as I kissed every
Read the climax of “Identities” in Make Me Behave II. Best wishes for a wickedly good
Christmas!