"And what do you want from jolly old Saint Nick?"
The man in the Santa outfit lets his gaze rove over you before pulling you onto a meaty thigh. You gently bounce, breasts shifting within your top, but a wicked grin is on your face as you peer past the fake beard.
"A nice man? Taller than 6', muscles, that sort of thing."
The Santa laughs, a deep sound that almost shakes your bones, and curls an arm around you.
"I'm sure I know someone matching your description." There's a sudden pain below your ribs, a warm feeling, and you quickly look down to see a knife sticking into your stomach. "You almost meet the idea of his perfect woman too."
You try to stand but the arm around you tightens and keeps you in place. Tears start to fall when you glance at the Santa's hard eyes and the fight drains as the knife is removed before then being swiftly plunged into your heart.
You expire with a shudder, limply bending backwards over Santa's supportive arm, and he throws you over his shoulder.
"Now you're perfect. The other Santas will love you."
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