Page 8 of Little Boy Toy

“Just that, um, well, I’m not sure. You seem like you might belong in one of the other rooms here. People would like that, someone like you.”

“Because why?”

“You’re big. People like big guys.”

“What people?”

“The people who come here to the club.”

“People like little guys, too. And some like to take breaks and come into a room where it’s not so fogged with sweat and lube and other liquids.”

“You’re not a daddy. I can tell.”

“No.”

“But you like being in here with the boys and littles?”

“I just found out that I do.”

“Are you a little, too, deep down?”

“I don’t think so. I just like the feeling in here.”

He smiled for the first time. “That’s okay, Zale. It’s okay with me if you come back to read with me. I’ll be here tomorrow night.”

My stomach flipped in a sweet way I hadn’t felt in years.

“Then I’ll be here, too.”

5

Kendry

Iwent home, put on my bunny PJs with the feet, and climbed into my big bed with the cartoon sheets. I lined up my collection of bears around me, said goodnight to each one, and a good night to Clovis, wherever he was, then pulled the covers up.

I couldn’t sleep no matter how hard I tried.

Good thing tomorrow was Sunday. I didn’t have to get up early.

The reason I couldn’t sleep was almost annoying. It was Zale. I couldn’t stop seeing his face with the overgrown dark bangs parted to the side, and his long, muscular body splayed out from the little chair halfway across the reading nook floor.

And his scent. It was like it had permeated my skin though he had never ever touched me. The fine leather smell of his jacket along with a kind of brawny soap scent had stuck inside my throat and lungs. I clung to my second favorite bear after Clovis and imagined Zale in his place, me hugging him, warm and big and firm. What would that be like?

It was a mistake to indulge myself with that question. Zale wasn’t interested in me. He had said he wasn’t a daddy and he only liked to come to the playroom for a break. And if I ever did want to have someone more permanent in my life, I needed someone who understood that I was a little who wanted my way of life twenty-four-seven, and not just for hookups and sexcapades and then let’s forget about me until next time. I needed a real daddy, not a play daddy.

Zale and I would never work out. It wasn’t in the stars.

Still—a boy could dream. No harm in that.

Tomorrow night I would see him again. A liquid warmth coursed through my stomach at the thought.

I opened the door to the playroom. It wasn’t busy yet. There were about five littles playing, and several daddies relaxing with drinks and adult talk on one of the couches.

I came early because I didn’t want to stay out late. I had work in the morning. Ugh. I worked from home on web design Monday through Friday, but I had clients who started emailing me quite early. Some days I worked long hours into the evenings and other days I quit by noon. I loved that aspect of it, but it did mean tonight I wouldn’t be able to hang out long.

Zale and I had not discussed a time. Last night I’d found him already in the playroom and I’d arrived around nine o’clock. It was seven now.

For tonight, I wore the cutest outfit in my closet, purple short-shorts with purple and green plaid suspenders, and a lacy stretch t-shirt that barely covered my ribcage. To complete the outfit, I had knee socks that matched the suspenders, and black patent leather strap shoes. I felt very little boy femme, so I’d added a colorful bracelet made out of teething beads and a candy necklace.

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