Reggie's Gifts

by John Swan
A small Christmas Noir.

She placed one foot on his stomach, spiked heel at his navel.

"So, what should I do?" she asked.

"Humiliate me. I’m slime."

"But how?"

"You are my mistress. I must obey."

"Put out the garbage when you go, will you?"

"It's no good if you make fun."

Reggie saw herself in the hall mirror, black latex bulging. She was over fifty years old. How had she let Campbell talk her into this? Sweat tickled down the trough of her spine and she squirmed, hooking her heel on his innie.

"Ouch! Jeez."

"Well, you wanted pain."

"I want to anticipate pain, savour it, not get jabbed suddenly."

"Let's face it, I'm no good at this." Reggie peeled the rubber halter down to her middle, and scratched her back on a door jamb. Disappointed, Campbell removed his leather harness, chains, and the rest.

Later, in the dark, they cuddled before the TV. "I like you," he said during a station break, "a lot." Reggie sobbed quietly.

**********

"Hello?"

"Campbell. It's me, Reggie. How are you?"

"Fine."

"Where have you been? I haven't heard from you."

"Well...I've been busy."

"I’d like you to come over Christmas Eve."

"I was thinking of going to my sister's."

"I made something special for you to wear."

"Well..."

"Do not fail me. You’ll regret it."

**********

Campbell rang the door bell and shivered. His ensemble from Reggie had arrived that afternoon, an elf's costume: pointed hat with tassel; red T-shirt; brown vest; green tights; and brown, curly-toed slippers, also tasseled. Campbell was tall. The tights and shirt gaped at his belly. The hat and slippers, on the other hand, were much too large.

"Interesting," he’d said to the reflection in his bedroom mirror.

When Reggie answered the door, her hair was white and bobbed, her cheeks rosy. She wore a faded flannel robe.

"Pompom to the front, big fella," she said, pulling the point of the hat over his left eye. "Well, turn around. Let’s see you."

Campbell did a pirouette.

"You’ll do.” She gripped his left ear and pulled him into the house. "Though you look more gnomish than elfin."

Campbell bent and shuffled, arms flailing. "What's the difference?"

"Gnomes are uglier."

"Sure, in this get-up."

Reggie dug her nail into the sensitive flap of his ear. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ouch! Oww. The costume’s fine."

She brought him to the dining room. On the table were reels of scotch-tape, a pen, tags and brightly coloured paper. Unwrapped presents filled each corner.

"I want sharp, symmetrical creases." She lowered him into a chair. "Fold over all exposed paper-ends. Here's who gets what." The list was pages long and barely legible. It brought furrows to Campbell's brow. "When you're done, I'll inspect every parcel. If I'm not satisfied, you'll unwrap it all and start again."

"When you’re done that," handing him a blade screwdriver, a pair of worn pliers, and pages of diagrams with instructions incomplete in several languages, "I have toys in the basement that need assembling," she explained, for Reggie had grandchildren.

"There'll be paper cuts," she whispered, drawing the final word into a hiss. "You'll get bloody, scraped knuckles," and she pinched his cheeks and shouted: "and you’ll probably stab yourself with that rusty, old screwdriver," laughing, as Campbell shivered with delight. Reggie opened her robe, revealing black, thigh-high boots and a blood red merry-widow trimmed in white fur.

"Mrs. Claus?" the gnome ventured.

"You've all night to please me," Reggie ordered, "before the fat old elf gets home."