“Eleven months, one week, and three days. Not that I’m counting or anything.” Santa laughed. “And what have you been doing in the meantime?”...Victoria blushed again. “I have toys. And sometimes my husband and I have a naughty Skype chat when the girls are in bed.” Santa’s ungloved hand caressed her bare arm and his fingertips brushed her breast. “Would you like it for someone to touch you again?” “I’ve been a faithful wife,” she said. “I know,” he said, “but this is about what you want and need. "No, Daddy," she said, her own grin slightly lop-sided. A dimple flashed on her flushed cheek."Oh, well, dear, when you become a famous femme fatale, you will say in your memoirs that your parents tried, won't you?" her mother said, cupping her lovely daughter's chin and kissing her lightly on her dewy lips."Yes, Mom." Good. Now go up and take a bath. Dear God! How you do attract the dirt!"It had not occurred to the Carpenters to worry that their daughter had run into trouble. She was a cut-up. More

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