Page 58 of Little Boy Toy

“Yeah?” Where was he going with this?

“You should wear them after your bath sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re adorable.” The legs and slippered feet hung limply from his grasp. “And I’d love to see you in them.”

“You would?”

“Well, everything is adorable on you. But these—these have feet.”

I didn’t see why that made a difference. I loved feeted pajamas, but I was a little. Zale was Zale. What was it about the feet?

“Do the feet parts make them cuter?” I asked.

“Yes. And they would make me feel more like a daddy,” he replied.

My body jerked in shock. My mouth dropped open.

Zale chuckled at my reaction. “Why are you looking so surprised? I love feeling that way toward you.”

“You really are the best daddy-like not-daddy ever,” I conceded. “Plus, you let me call you daddy when you fly me over the moon.”

“I am the pilot of that story, so yes.”

He certainly was.

“I can wear those tonight then. After our bath.”

“Great!” Zale smiled, holding them out to me.

I folded them nicely and placed them on the counter by the sink.

I was quietly playing on the floor in front of the TV with my racetrack and cars. Zale sat on the couch with the TV on and the computer in his lap. How he could concentrate, I wasn’t sure. When I worked, I had to have total silence.

I set up my track in an elaborate loop where they had to go upside down to make it through to the end. That meant I had to have the starting point at a high mark so my cars could get up enough speed. I added track all the way to the EZ chair and made my little starting platform there.

The first car crashed and burned. So did the second. And the third.

I took track out and brought the loop closer to the chair, hoping that would add speed for when the cars reached the loop.

Nope. Nothing worked. I had done this before just fine. I suspected the chair wasn’t high enough.

Dejected, I glanced over at Zale. He didn’t seem aware of my troubles, engrossed in his computer.

I made a humph sound.

Still no response.

I banged one of my cars against the racetrack. “Damn.”

I peered over my shoulder at Zale. Still no response.

“Damn,” I said again. That should have gotten his attention. Littles didn’t cuss. Well, except for the bad ones who got spanked.

He showed no sign of hearing me.

Slowly, my favorite red race car in hand, I crawled over to Zale and bumped up against his legs. Then I put my head on his knee.

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