Secret Santa
By Andy Morris
Partners were not permitted to come to Christmas parties, which was why Dean enjoyed them so much. He had left Helen at home telling her he’d see her in the morning, thus earning his ticket to freedom for the next twelve hours. Tonight, Dean was looking and feeling first-class. He allowed himself an admiring glance in the large gold mirror hanging above the festive fireplace in the hotel lobby before acknowledging his colleagues from Marketing with a casual wink.
Tina, a clingy bit of skirt tried to pounce on him as she did at every opportunity following that one night stand a few weeks ago but Dean told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested. He didn’t need some clingy girl who cried at the slightest rejection, pining after him all evening. No, tonight it was Vanessa’s night. He had been giving her the Rolls Royce treatment and tonight he would close the deal. If however, Vanessa wasn’t in the mood then there was Karen from Accounts again, she was always good for it.
Dean was just finishing a well-rehearsed anecdote chosen for Vanessa’s benefit when the Secret Santa presents were passed around. Dean unwrapped his gift and looked down at a garishly bright red and green Christmas stocking folded up in the wrapping paper. He showed Vanessa the tacky gift and she laughed at his disappointment. But as she gave it back to him he felt something in the bottom of the stocking. Reaching in he withdrew an electronic key wrapped in a note, which read “Room 231, midnight. Tell no one”. Dean chuckled and looked up and down the table for any indication of who could have sent it. This was going to be a very interesting night indeed.
After the meal the music started and Dean took to the dance floor with Vanessa. He had disposed of the ghastly Christmas stocking out of the window. Vanessa had promised him she would stay until the end, about 2 am so even if this mystery invitation fell through he still had Vanessa downstairs.
“Merry bloody Christmas” he toasted to no one in particular.
The evening passed well and Vanessa, who was looking stunning, was definitely into him. He didn’t tell anyone about the invitation and still had no idea who had sent it.
23:55 came round and Dean finished his Sambuca, slipped out of the party and made his way to the second floor. The warm quiet corridors seemed miles away from the heavy pumping party going on downstairs. He knocked on the door of Room 231, slid the key into the lock and entered the darkened room…
Two days later the cleaners still hadn’t been able to get rid of the mysterious sooty footprints that led from the fireplace in the lobby up to the door of Room 231. The room should be empty as no guests had been booked into this room for the last two weeks. Curious, the hotel manager had followed the footprints up to the room. He used his master key to open the door and took in the scene. Above the bed, someone had scrawled the word "Naughty" in large black letters while at the foot of the bed someone had hung a garishly bright red and green Christmas stocking and filled it with pieces of coal. The manager’s mind barely registered these details as his eyes were drawn to the pale body of a man lying naked on the bed. His eyes were screwed tightly shut like a child pretending to be asleep and, like the hideous stocking; the man’s mouth had also been stuffed with lumps of coal.
The hotel’s CCTV did not show who had left the sooty footprints or reveal anyone entering or leaving the room other than Dean. Neither the hotel staff nor the police ever found out who murdered the young sales executive or who had left the half-eaten mince pie and empty sherry glass on the table next to the bed.
Tina, a clingy bit of skirt tried to pounce on him as she did at every opportunity following that one night stand a few weeks ago but Dean told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested. He didn’t need some clingy girl who cried at the slightest rejection, pining after him all evening. No, tonight it was Vanessa’s night. He had been giving her the Rolls Royce treatment and tonight he would close the deal. If however, Vanessa wasn’t in the mood then there was Karen from Accounts again, she was always good for it.
Dean was just finishing a well-rehearsed anecdote chosen for Vanessa’s benefit when the Secret Santa presents were passed around. Dean unwrapped his gift and looked down at a garishly bright red and green Christmas stocking folded up in the wrapping paper. He showed Vanessa the tacky gift and she laughed at his disappointment. But as she gave it back to him he felt something in the bottom of the stocking. Reaching in he withdrew an electronic key wrapped in a note, which read “Room 231, midnight. Tell no one”. Dean chuckled and looked up and down the table for any indication of who could have sent it. This was going to be a very interesting night indeed.
After the meal the music started and Dean took to the dance floor with Vanessa. He had disposed of the ghastly Christmas stocking out of the window. Vanessa had promised him she would stay until the end, about 2 am so even if this mystery invitation fell through he still had Vanessa downstairs.
“Merry bloody Christmas” he toasted to no one in particular.
The evening passed well and Vanessa, who was looking stunning, was definitely into him. He didn’t tell anyone about the invitation and still had no idea who had sent it.
23:55 came round and Dean finished his Sambuca, slipped out of the party and made his way to the second floor. The warm quiet corridors seemed miles away from the heavy pumping party going on downstairs. He knocked on the door of Room 231, slid the key into the lock and entered the darkened room…
Two days later the cleaners still hadn’t been able to get rid of the mysterious sooty footprints that led from the fireplace in the lobby up to the door of Room 231. The room should be empty as no guests had been booked into this room for the last two weeks. Curious, the hotel manager had followed the footprints up to the room. He used his master key to open the door and took in the scene. Above the bed, someone had scrawled the word "Naughty" in large black letters while at the foot of the bed someone had hung a garishly bright red and green Christmas stocking and filled it with pieces of coal. The manager’s mind barely registered these details as his eyes were drawn to the pale body of a man lying naked on the bed. His eyes were screwed tightly shut like a child pretending to be asleep and, like the hideous stocking; the man’s mouth had also been stuffed with lumps of coal.
The hotel’s CCTV did not show who had left the sooty footprints or reveal anyone entering or leaving the room other than Dean. Neither the hotel staff nor the police ever found out who murdered the young sales executive or who had left the half-eaten mince pie and empty sherry glass on the table next to the bed.