Dad?" I ask the rotund, red-suited figure that's crept into the room."Ho ho ho!" Dad replies, his voice muffled by the thick fake white beardcovering ...is mouth. "Merry Christmas, little girl!" Seriously?" I ask. "I'm 21, don't you think I'm a little old for Santa?" No one's too old for Santa!" Dad replies. "Ho ho ho!" You said that already," I say, before letting out a quiet giggle andlaying back on the sofa bed. "Okay, fair enough. Just hope I've been onthe 'nice' list this year, heh." You?. "Oh, and don't touch anything else over there or I'll be mad," he said, turning his back on the girl.Michelle went to the shelves, her feet timid on the cold cement floor. Her nipple tingled from where he'd played with it and she wanted to wipe away the feel of his hand on her skin. But she didn't dare, he might get upset. The shelf was ahead of her and she shook when she saw all that was on it. Scalpels, cutters of all shapes and sizes, scissors, a variety of drill bits and an electric drill. More

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