When we were kids, it was this time of year that put us on our best behavior knowing there was a big man in red watching our every move, tallying our good deeds, and noting how many times we tripped our sister and laughed as she tumbled down the stairs.  We had to be good to get what we wanted.

I was never one of those kids.  I was the little bitch that would have tripped Santa down the stairs and made off with everything that fell out of his goody bag as he laid there in a crumpled mess at my footie-pajama-clad feet.

Fortunately for my mate that naughty streak is alive and well this holiday season, and I’ve traded in my fuzzy footie pajamas for something a bit wilder.  I’m no longer luring a fat man in a red suit down the chimney with promises of good deeds (while contorting my fingers and toes to cross in unnatural ways behind my back).  I’m instead luring the sexiest man alive to the bedroom with visions of dirty deeds ankles crossed around his neck.

Christmas is about giving.  Christmas is about love.  Christmas is about sex on the coffee table backlit by a thousand lights on a beautifully decorated tree.  And Christmas is about gifts, dammit.  The most memorable gift we can give our men is desire… ours for him, and that which we ignite in him.

Wrap his gift in leather or lace.  Tie it up the back.  Put sparkles on it.  Put a bow on it.  Decorate his gift beautifully because this time he’ll appreciate the wrapping as much as the gift.

Leave the being nice to the kiddies.  Being naughty is wayyyyyy more fun.