Hired Help, part 1

“Now, now, my little nervous Nevill…”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“W-w-w-wha? What...what’d…you…what’d you…call me??” the cute little young man standing on my dining room table asked me. I smiled as I looked him over from the top of his dark haired head with its clean, neat fade, down to his strong shoulders, his pudgy abs covered with his black tee shirt, then down his legs with his long, cargo style denim shorts that ended with somewhat smooth legs, finely ribbed crew length white socks he scrunched slightly and didn’t pull all the way up his shin. I also noted that he wore black suede trimmed white leather Nike skaters. He watched as I reached over to him slowly. For him, at least by the expression on his face, I took forever to bring my fingers over to him at the pace I took—but I was not gonna rush.