Martha Kringle slipped out the side door of the huge kitchen just as the tardy oven bell jingled its belated warning."Oh, dear, I must have a ciggie",...she whispered to no one in particular.The sexy Mrs. Kringle inhaled the plume of white smoke with a shuddering sense of satisfaction. Her husband was very critical of her smoking and had even used his thick black belt on her bottom several times to reinforce his displeasure for her giving bad example to the North Pole workers. Martha wouldn't. Secrets leak out, don’t they?There’s only one place I feel I can go to find out if I am as easily identifiable as I think am, where the risk of exposure is minimal because no-one has the slightest interest in that, indeed whose business relies on some form of discretion.I spend the rest of the evening thinking about this, and contemplate it in quiet moments at work the next day, but really I’ve already made my decision. After work, I drive to the sex shop I sometimes visit, the one where men. More

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