We did hear the door click behind us, just as I slipped inside Dria. She let out a moan of surprise, which I felt as a soft vibration. But we were alone, as true lovers always are, in the slippery warmth.

By morning, there was a fresh coat of snow on the ground. Madelina set out a breakfast to feed the Huns. The fire was already blazing. We were gathered in the den, drowsy and grateful, our doubles lives neatly tucked beneath the tree.

“Did anyone hear Santa last night?” Bud said.

Dria, seated primly beside me, rolled her eyes. “He asks this every year.”

Suzanne looked at Sandro. This was his cue.

“I didn’t hear a thing,” he said sulkily.

“That Santa,” Bud said. He turned and flashed me an almost imperceptible wink. “He’s one quiet son of a bitch.”

STEVE ALMOND

on “A Jew Berserk on Christmas Eve”

I’m not sure where this one came from, honestly. It may have come from many years spent lusting after shiksas and fantasizing about the perversities that might lie beneath their seamless family veneers. We’re all freaks. That’s the truth. I wanted to capture that idea in action, to keep upping the ante.

When I first wrote “A Jew…” I didn’t think much of it—it came too easily. I always mistrust the stories that come too easily, that don’t incur enough suffering. (That’s how you know I’m Jewish.) But looking back at it, I can see how tenderhearted it is, ultimately, how strenuously it argues for forgiveness over judgment.

Casting Couch

Serena Moloch

The Job Applicant (Trixie)

I’m so nervous about this interview. I really want this job.

Let me go over it all again. Why I want the job: I’m interested in getting into film and video production, and I’d like to learn from the ground up; producer’s assistant would be perfect. Why they should hire me: I’m organized, responsible, learn fast, and…what was the fourth? Oh, right, responsive, I’m responsible and responsive d to my employer. Previous experience, two years as personal assistant to an executive director. Why I left that job: tricky, but stick to the standard answer, no more room for growth. I just hope Gillian wrote me a good reference, like she promised. Typing speed, eighty words per minute…I certainly did Gillian enough favors—a good letter is the least she could do for me in return. Oh, I’m tapping again, I have to stop that. Should I go fix my hair? No, better stay here. Do I have copies of my résumé? What time is it? Early still. Ten more minutes to go.

The Boss (Jane)