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Man's home . . . .
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Young Master, your father is due to be home in less than an hour.”
The beautiful boy looked up from polishing the counter, flicking his luxurious glossy hair as he glanced over his shoulder..
“You worry too much, Peterson.” A wan smile played across the young man’s painted lips. “My father is well aware of my feminine activities and we both came to a silent agreement about them: As long as I do it away from his eyes then he does not complain. Second, father’s assistant just messaged me that he’s in route to Europe. He will be gone for two weeks.” Peterson tried to ignore the feminine boy’s overly ample rump hanging out of the bottom of his uniform but it was proving to be too difficult a temptation.
“You like my uniform? I love how it shows off my legs. They are the one thing I’m glad I inherited from mother.” the young man said in his practiced sultry tone. It amazed Peterson how easily the effeminate boy slid into his alter ego. “Catalina had it made for me. She agreed that I should have my own. How long have you been my bodyguard, Peterson?” the young boy’s heels clicked on the tile as he strutted from the counter with an easy grace most girls dreamed of having. He was well aware that his bodyguard’s eyes were boring a hole into his exposed bottom. He paused for effect, leaning against the counter to refresh his lipstick.
“A little over a year, young master.”
“In that time you’ve become very adept at handling me. I’m sure my father approves of the firm hand you’ve taken with me. You don’t put up with my tantrums, you don’t flinch when I’m insolent, and you don’t let my position get in the way of the job. Most of all, you didn’t blink the first time you saw me in a dress. You knew exactly how to handle me and showed me my place.” There was a hitch in the pretty changeling's voice, giving his already dulcet words a husky quality. Peterson stood his place, refusing to let the rising tension shake him. “You know, my father doesn’t think I listen to him but I share of lot of his ideas. Females have a certain role to play at the side of men. He believes they should serve males and provide comfort to them. I feel the same way - I just prefer to be on the subservient side of things.”
“Young mas. . “
“Blair, Peterson. I feel my given name suits me better in this situation. With my father out of the house for a while, there is only one man in this house. There is no reason to be formal with the help, Master.” Blair moved around the hulking man, helping him remove his blazer. “My duties are to attend to your needs. How may I assist in this endeavor?” They eyed each other, Blair’s face full of undisguised desire - his as calm as a rock as he reached up to loosen his tie.
“Draw me a bath, Blair. You’ll be bathing me of course. Don’t forget my whiskey on the rocks.”
“Certainly, Master” The young thing curtsied and coolly walked out of the room, though she couldn’t hide the smile of contentment from her lips.