The breakroom buzzed with the faint whir of the overworked air conditioning and the occasional distant shriek of a toddler on the sales floor. Allegra stood by the coffee pot, tugging down the hem of her elf skirt with a scowl.
“I swear,” she said, her soft drawl full of frustration, “if this skirt gets any shorter, I’m gonna need to start charging admission.” She glanced at the mirror behind the sink, grimacing at the way the fabric barely grazed the tops of her thighs.
“Come on, Allegra,” Riley said, lounging on the couch with her boots kicked up on the coffee table. The petite brunette grinned mischievously. “You’re rocking the whole ‘sexy Santa’ vibe. It’s festive!”
“It’s embarrassing,” Allegra shot back, crossing her arms. “I didn’t sign up to be ogled by every dad in this store. I feel like I’m workin’ a Christmas-themed hooters.”
Lakyn, perched on a stool by the counter, sipped her coffee and shrugged, her tone dry and disinterested. “It’s not that bad. Just stay away from the moving parts, and you’ll survive.”
Riley’s grin widened. “Oh, are we talking about the Christmas Train incident again?”
“Absolutely not,” Lakyn replied quickly, glaring over her mug. “We’re not talking about it.”
“Oh, we’re definitely talking about it,” Riley teased, sitting up straight. She gestured dramatically, as if addressing an invisible crowd. “Picture this: Lakyn, the epitome of poise, gets her sleeve caught in the train door—”
“Riley.” Lakyn’s voice was low, a clear warning.
“—and next thing you know, her skirt’s flying one way, and she’s stumbling into the chocolate river in her Victoria’s Secret best,” Riley finished, ignoring her friend’s protests.
Gabi let out a cheerful laugh from her spot by the fridge, her blond ponytail bouncing. “Oh my God, it was like something out of a sitcom! Lakyn, you were, like, so mortified. It was hilarious.”
Lakyn sighed, rubbing her temple. “Thanks, Gabi. That’s really helpful.”
Riley turned to Allegra, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But it’s not just Lakyn. You’ve heard about our little mishaps, right?”
Gabi chimed in, her voice light and bubbly. “Oh, totally. Like, when the wrapping paper machine went haywire, and it ripped Riley’s sleeves right off!”
“Not just my sleeves,” Riley added, feigning indignation. “By the time that thing was done with me, I looked like I’d been in a fight with a very festive lawnmower. I was standing there in my bra while the dads stared like it was their best day ever.”
“And then there’s Gabi,” Lakyn interjected, her lips curling into a rare smirk. “Let’s not forget her grand moment.”
“Oh, whatever,” Gabi said with a giggle. “The pie table was slippery! How was I supposed to know I’d, like, fall into a whipped cream avalanche and lose my top? It was funny!”
“Sure, Gabi,” Riley said, rolling her eyes. “Funny for everyone but you.”
Allegra leaned against the counter, her brow furrowing as she listened to their stories. “You ever think it’s weird, though? Like, why’s it always us? Why are we the ones losin’ our clothes in these bizarre accidents?”
Gabi shrugged. “I mean, duh. We’re the cute ones!”
“Yeah, but seriously,” Allegra continued, her tone half-joking but thoughtful. “It’s like somethin’s targetin’ us. Just the pretty girls. Doesn’t that seem a little… strange to y’all?”
Lakyn raised an eyebrow. “What, you think it’s ghosts? Or maybe Santa’s elves got bored and decided to ruin our lives?”
Allegra shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I dunno. Maybe it’s elves. Or Gremlins. Or somethin’. But I’ll tell ya one thing—it ain’t just bad luck.”
“Oh, come on,” Riley said, rolling her eyes. “You’re seriously gonna blame it on some supernatural force? It’s just Gabi being Gabi, and Lakyn forgetting how to use her hands.”
“Excuse me,” Lakyn said sharply. “I know how to use my hands just fine. The train was poorly designed.”
Gabi giggled. “Well, Allegra, you’ve been lucky so far. No mishaps for you… yet.”
Riley’s grin turned wicked. “She’s right. You’re next, Allegra. It’s like the universe is saving the best for last.”
“Oh no,” Gabi added, her eyes wide with mock horror. “You’d better watch out. Hope you’re wearing some cute underwear, girl!”
Allegra laughed, waving them off. “Y’all are ridiculous. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me.”
But as she tugged her skirt down again, her fingers tightening nervously at the hem, a small knot of dread settled in her stomach. The laughter of her friends echoed around her, but in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they might be right.
Above them, Lite and Brite crouched in the rafters, their mischievous grins matching Riley’s.
“Her turn is near,” Lite whispered with delight.
“Oh, what fun! Let’s ruin her night,” Brite added, barely containing his laughter.
With a flicker of Christmas magic, their plan began to take shape.
——-
Allegra knelt by the base of a display, carefully reaching for a box someone had carelessly kicked beneath the shelves. She shifted onto one knee, tugging her skirt down as far as it would go, conscious of the security cameras.
Her efforts were in vain. As she leaned forward, the hem of her skirt flipped up, baring far more of her thighs than she intended. Allegra muttered a curse under her breath and made a mental note to demand a longer uniform.
“Excuse me!”
The sharp voice cut through the din, startling her. Allegra turned her head, still crouched on the floor, to see a tall man glaring at her. His military posture and the irritation in his expression made him seem larger than life.
“Are you just going to sit there all day, or is someone actually going to help me?” the man snapped, his tone sharp enough to turn heads.
Allegra straightened slowly, brushing dust off her hands. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, her West Virginian drawl edged with irritation.
“Yeah,” he said, crossing his arms. “You can stop wasting time and do your job. I’ve been running around this store for twenty minutes, and not a single person can tell me where the Handsome Hector dolls are.”
Allegra narrowed her eyes, her patience evaporating. “You don’t have to yell. I just got off the floor to help you.”
Brad’s jaw tightened. “Well, maybe if someone here actually knew how to help customers, I wouldn’t have to yell.”
Allegra felt her cheeks flush, not with embarrassment, but with anger. She turned to face him fully, her hands planted on her hips. “You know, I don’t have to take this. If you’re gonna be rude, you can go yell at someone else.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Brad said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The one employee who actually shows up decides to cop an attitude. No wonder this place is a disaster.”
Allegra’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Really dude? You march in here like you own the place, yellin’ at people like they’re your personal servants, and I’m the problem?”
Brad took a step closer, his frustration boiling over. “If this store hired someone as clueless as you, their standards must be scraping the bottom of the barrel.”
Allegra blinked, momentarily stunned by the insult. Then, before she could stop herself, she shot back, “Oh, really? Well, the ‘Jerk Store’ just called, and guess what? They’re fresh outta you!”
Brad’s lips twitched, but his temper wasn’t ready to give way. “Classic. A dumb model in an elf costume trying to be clever. Bet they hired you for your legs instead of your brain.”
The words hit like a slap. Allegra’s cheeks burned, but her anger flared hotter than her embarrassment. “How dare you—”
Brad cut her off. “No, really. It’s brilliant. Stick someone who looks like you on the sales floor, and boom! The dads are happy. The kids cry less. Who cares if you actually know how to do your job?”
Allegra’s mouth opened, then closed again. She was too stunned to respond for a moment, caught between outrage at his objectification and bewilderment at the sideways compliment. “Are you… are you serious right now?”
“Dead serious,” Brad shot back. But even as he said it, something shifted in his expression. His words hung in the air, and for the first time, he really looked at her.
Her dark eyes burned with fury, her lips slightly parted as she tried to compose a response. The sharp lines of her cheekbones and the soft curve of her jaw stood out in the harsh fluorescent light. Her loose curls framed her face, giving her an untamed, striking beauty that made his frustration feel suddenly, inexplicably ridiculous.
Brad’s anger deflated, replaced by something softer and far more dangerous.
Allegra noticed the change and crossed her arms, glaring. “What?”
Brad blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. “You’re…” He hesitated, his voice quieter now. “You’re actually really beautiful.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I mean—” Brad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I’m just… frustrated. It’s been a long day, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”
Allegra stared at him, unsure whether to slap him or laugh. “So, first you call me a dumb model, and now you’re apologizing because you think I’m pretty? That’s some whiplash you’re givin’ me, buddy.”
Brad’s lopsided grin made its first appearance. “What can I say? I’m a complex guy.”
Allegra’s glare softened, though her arms remained firmly crossed. “Well, maybe next time, try not bein’ a jerk first. It’s a lot more effective.”
“Fair enough,” Brad said, nodding. “Let me start over. I’m Brad. My niece Harper wants a Handsome Hector doll, and I’ve been to four stores trying to find one. I’m exhausted, out of patience, and you didn’t deserve what I said earlier.”
Allegra tilted her head, studying him. “You always this dramatic, or is it just a Navy thing?”
Brad chuckled, some of his confidence returning. “Only when I’m desperate. So, how about it? Can you help a guy out?”
She sighed, shaking her head but smiling faintly despite herself. “I’ll check the warehouse. Just don’t yell at anyone else while I’m gone.”
“Deal,” Brad said, watching her turn toward the back of the store. As she walked away, tugging at her skirt again, he caught himself smiling.
“Thank you, Santa,” he murmured to himself,
——-
The bustling noise of the store faded as Allegra stepped into the warehouse, the heavy metal door swinging shut behind her. The sudden silence, broken only by the hum of machinery and the faint creak of shifting shelves, was almost a relief. Almost.
She shivered, goosebumps prickling her legs as the warehouse’s chill seeped through her thin stockings. “Damn skirt,” she muttered, tugging uselessly at the hem of the offending garment. “Might as well be wearin’ nothin’.”
The short red skirt had been a thorn in her side since she’d started this job. It wasn’t just the ogling dads or the leering security cameras; it was how exposed she felt all the time. Vulnerable. And now, with the cold wrapping around her thighs like icy fingers, she cursed the uniform for the hundredth time that day.
But it wasn’t just the skirt.
Allegra exhaled sharply, trying to shake the memory of Brad’s smug grin. That man had pushed all the wrong buttons—and some of the right ones. She couldn’t help it; Navy guys were her type. Broad shoulders, sharp jawlines, that quiet confidence (even when it spilled into arrogance). Brad ticked every damn box.
“Great,” she muttered, running her fingers through her hair. “Now I’m mad and turned on. Perfect.”
It didn’t help that, once he’d stopped being a jerk, he’d actually been… sweet. That awkward apology, the way he’d called her beautiful like he couldn’t quite believe it himself—it had caught her off guard. And damn it, she liked being caught off guard.
Allegra shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “Focus, girl. You’ve got a doll to find.”
She rubbed her arms, wishing she’d brought her jacket, and began weaving through the towering shelves. The warehouse was cavernous, rows of boxes stacked impossibly high, with faint dust motes drifting through the harsh fluorescent light. Her boots clicked against the cold concrete as she scanned the labels, muttering under her breath.
“Handsome Hector, Handsome Hector… Why’s it always somethin’ impossible to find?”
The thought of going back out there empty-handed made her stomach twist. She didn’t want to give Brad another reason to smirk at her expense—or worse, see his disappointment.
Her fingers brushed over a stack of boxes, sending a soft echo through the warehouse. The chill wasn’t letting up, and her skirt provided less protection than ever. Allegra glanced down and tugged at the hem again, muttering, “Might as well just work in my underwear for all the good this thing does.”
The cold wasn’t the only thing making her skin prickle, though. There was something else. A feeling. Like she was being watched.
She froze, glancing over her shoulder. The rows of shelves stretched back into shadow, empty and still. She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “Get a grip, Allegra. You’re just freakin’ yourself out.”
Still, the sensation lingered, sending another shiver down her spine. She rubbed her arms again and picked up her pace, her boots clicking a little faster as she scanned the labels.
“Come on,” she whispered, more to herself than to the warehouse. “Where are you?”
——
Above her, hidden in the rafters, Lite and Brite crouched with mischievous grins, their auras shimmering faintly in the fluorescent light.
“She searches in vain, her nerves on the edge,” Lite whispered, his tiny voice filled with glee.
“And soon she will stumble, pushed from her ledge,” Brite added, his grin widening.
Lite clapped his hands together, a faint spark of magic flickering between them. “The cold bites her legs, her patience grows thin.”
Brite cackled, finishing the rhyme. “Let’s see how she handles the trouble she’s in!”
They vanished in a burst of shimmering dust, leaving Allegra to her search—and their carefully laid trap.
——
Allegra craned her neck, scanning the top shelves of the towering warehouse racks. She was sure this was the right section. Somewhere up there, buried beneath layers of boxes, was the elusive Handsome Hector doll.
Her eyes landed on a promising stack just out of reach. A ladder leaned nearby, old and rickety-looking, but it would have to do. She sighed and adjusted her skirt—a reflex at this point—before placing her boot on the first rung.
“Alright, let’s make this quick,” she muttered, gripping the sides of the ladder as she climbed.
High above the warehouse floor, Allegra clung to the narrow ladder, the soles of her boots resting precariously on a slippery rung. The shelves loomed over her, towering like some indifferent monument to bad planning. Her fingers trembled as she stretched for a box tucked into the farthest corner of the top shelf.
“Please be the right one,” she whispered, her voice tight with both hope and desperation.
Her heart sank as she tilted the box and squinted at the faded label. It wasn’t the Handsome Hector doll she needed. It wasn’t even close.
“Oh, come on!” she groaned, her voice echoing through the empty warehouse. Her foot shifted slightly on the rung, and the ladder gave a quiet, ominous creak.
Allegra froze, her breath hitching.
“Don’t you dare,” she muttered at the ladder as if sheer force of will could keep it steady.
The ladder had other ideas. Slowly, it began to slide, the base scraping along the concrete floor below.
“No, no, no!” Allegra whimpered, clutching at the shelf for stability. Her boots slipped against the rungs, and the ladder tilted dangerously to one side.
With a sudden lurch, it slid completely out from under her, clattering to the ground with a deafening crash.
Allegra gasped as her body swung forward. Her jacket sleeve caught on the jagged edge of a screw sticking out of the shelf, yanking her to a jarring halt.
“Oh!” she squeaked, her voice high-pitched as she dangled precariously, her feet kicking uselessly in the air.
Her sleeve pulled taut against her shoulder, the fabric groaning under her weight. Allegra’s eyes widened in horror. “No, no, please don’t—”
With a loud rip, the sleeve tore clean away from her jacket, sending her lurching downward.
“Eeeeek!” she cried, managing to catch the edge of the shelf with both hands at the last second.
Her heart pounded as she stared down at the warehouse floor, twenty feet below. The empty ladder lay mockingly on its side, completely out of reach. She felt the cold air against her exposed arm, the absence of her sleeve a small but humiliating reminder of her predicament.
“This cannot be happening,” she muttered, her voice trembling.
Allegra adjusted her grip, her fingers aching as she tried to find some leverage. But as she shifted, a new sensation made her stomach drop: the gentle tug of fabric against her thighs.
Her skirt was caught.
She craned her neck, her face flushing as she saw the hem of her already-too-short skirt snagged on the corner of the shelf. The fabric stretched precariously, the seams creaking ominously with every tiny movement she made.
“Oh, come on!” she whispered, her voice a mix of panic and disbelief.
The cold air brushed against her exposed legs, sending shivers up her spine. She squirmed, trying to free herself without tearing the skirt further, but every adjustment only seemed to make it worse.
“Please, just stay together,” she begged under her breath, clutching at the shelf for balance.
The skirt groaned in response, the material pulling tighter against her hips. She gasped as the hemline crept higher, exposing even more of her thighs to the chilly air.
Her cheeks burned with humiliation. She could practically feel the imagined stares of coworkers who weren’t even there. “Of all the days to wear this stupid thing,” she muttered.
Her boots dangled uselessly as she tried again to free herself, tugging lightly at the fabric. But the skirt refused to budge. Instead, the seams gave a foreboding creak.
“Please don’t rip,” Allegra whispered, her voice shaky. “Please, please don’t rip.”
The fabric stretched tighter. Her breath caught as the waistband shifted slightly, threatening to give way entirely.
Allegra’s fingers tightened on the shelf. She wasn’t sure what she feared more—falling or losing what little modesty she had left.
The seams let out another groan, louder this time.
Her body swayed slightly, the skirt pulling tighter still. The cold air crept higher along her legs, brushing against her hips, mocking her.
“Hold it together!” she hissed, as though sheer willpower could keep the skirt intact.
But the skirt was done.
With one final, merciless riiiip, the fabric tore free, the sound sharp and brutal in the silence.
Allegra screamed as the last shred of tension gave way. For a split second, she hung suspended, the air rushing past her bare thighs.
“Aaaaaah!” Allegra shrieked as she plummeted downward.
Allegra crashed into the box with a dramatic whump, sending a puff of packing peanuts and loose cans scattering into the air. Her breath left her in a rush, and she lay stunned for a moment, staring at the blades of light dancing in her vision.
“Oooof,” she groaned, her voice muffled by the peanuts. Her head spun, and her body ached from the fall, but the faint hissing sound snapped her out of it.
She blinked, realizing the source of the noise: the cans of silly string. They weren’t just rolling around—they were primed. The pressure built audibly, an ominous crescendo that had Allegra scrambling to sit up.
“Oh no, no, no—”
POW!
The box detonated in a riot of pastel foam, covering Allegra head to toe in an eruption of sticky, colorful strands. She staggered out of the box, coughing and gasping, her boots slipping on the slick floor as she peeled the gooey mess from her face.
“What the hell—” she started, but froze mid-sentence. Something was… missing.
She glanced down, and her cheeks burned with horror.
Her skirt was gone.
Allegra’s heart sank as she craned her neck, spotting the remains of her skirt dangling from the shelf high above. It hung there like a defeated flag, shredded and utterly useless.
“Perfect,” she muttered, biting her lip as the cold air brushed against her bare thighs.
Her recurring nightmare had become reality—standing in public places without any pants. It felt as though every guy who had ever complimented her legs had collectively wished for this exact moment, and the universe obliged.
Her leotard, cut high on her hips with a thong back that barely qualified as clothing, left nothing to the imagination. From her hips to her knees, it was just smooth, toned skin, completely exposed.
She tugged futilely at the fabric, but it did little to cover her.
“Please, let no one walk in,” she whispered, crossing her arms over herself as best as she could.
But even as she stood there, coated in silly string, skirtless, and blushing furiously, Allegra knew her luck was running on fumes.
Nice timing. A post on Christmas!