This is a blog about Kinky stuff, at no point are any of the characters under the age of consent. This is the story of a young man discovering his true self with the guidance of a loving and understanding Aunt. It is a tricky world for those who are searching for identity and we should all offer our love and support to those who are struggling.
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Monday, 31 January 2022
New Art . Day Care
Friday, 28 January 2022
Christeen on Friday
Monday, 24 January 2022
Wednesday round-up. Skinnie and Holden, history repeating
"ANDREW? No, there’s no-one of that name here.” The floor manager of the Diner was quite clear. “Are you sure you got the right name, honey?”
The lady in the skinny black pants winced at his last word but maintained her composure. “Yes, Andrew, A-N-D-R-E-W. although he may be calling himself Andy.”
“Nope, no ANDYs neither. You must have gotten the wrong information.” The English lady was starting to annoy him. “You wanna order?”
“Do you do coffee?”
“Lady, of course we do cawfee.”
“I don’t mean that brown stuff that sits in a jug all day. I mean proper coffee.”
“Like I said, ma’am, we do cawfee. Proper cawfee. When there’s a Starbucks at the gas station 60 miles down the road, we have to.”
“I don’t see a machine.”
“It’s out back. And hey, where’s your friend gone?”
“Anita? She’s in the Rest Room, I guess. It’s been quite a drive to get here.”
“Yeah, right. So?”
“OK. Two double espressos, please. Do i wait at the counter?”
“No, take a seat. We’re not exactly busy except for the last of the big spenders over there,” he said looking round the joint. A surly looking trucker sitting in the corner overheard and glanced up from his phone. He took a slurp from his Mega-Gulp slush puppie and his eyes tracked the legs of the lady stood at the counter. He looked her up and down. Not so much out his league but outside of anything he’d want. She reminded him of those stuck-up bitches you get in Hollywood movies. He preferred the pretty waitress with her English accent. She was kind of cute and reminded him of his daughter back in Vermont. His eyes returned to Crossy Road his phone. “What’s the name?”
“Marianne.”
The manager punched the order on his till. “Ok, Marianne. The girl will bring it through.”
“And you’re sure you haven’t seen a young man come through named Andrew. He’d probably have been with an older lady. She’s not much to look at but he’s quite cute. Looks younger than his age – you might think he was more a boy than a man.”
‘Like I said lady, no Andrews here,” he said firmly. “Say, are you and your friend Bounty Hunters?”
“You could think of us as Bounty Hunters if you like.”
“So, what’s this Andrew done? Is he on the run?”
“Oh, nothing bad, if that’s what you mean. But he has walked out on a contract, or at least his lady has. We need him back.”
Her colleague emerged from the Rest Room. She was staring at her phone. “I’m sure he’s around here. The tracker’s still active,” she muttered to herself
“And the lady?”
“Let’s just say, she’ll be seen to. But first we need to find him. She’s never far from him. Or more correctly, she doesn’t allow him very far from her.”
The door to the kitchen started to open and a pretty blonde girl backed through it carrying a tray with their drinks. “Order for Marianne,” she called.
“Looks like it’s done,” said the manager. “Y’all better take your seats. Do wanna take the winder table? Hey, Mandy, over by the winder wid’ da ladies’ cawfee.” The trucker stirred again at the sight of the waitress. This time he took notice and his eyes stayed fastened on her. Her pink ra-ra dress and little bell-hop cap captured the fifties feel of the diner, but the shiny fabric made her look like something from a sci-fi movie. Latex. It had to be latex.
Anita’s phone started to bleep. She held it up. Marianne turned and started to point. “Is it him?” she asked her colleague.
Anita said, “It’s him!”
“Who’s him?” questioned the manager.
“That’s Andrew,” said Marianne.
“Lady, don’t be a dumb ass!” exclaimed the manager. “That’s Mandy.”
“Hey, Andy!” called Anita and the girl swung round to look at her. The trucker thought her little cap made her look cuter than cute.
“It’s definitely him,” said Anita comparing the features of the startled waitress with the image on her phone. “He’s gone blonde and looks quite the innocent bimbo, but it’s him.” In shock, the pretty girl let go of her tray and the cups went flying. The trucker could see that she looked terrified.
“He’s coming with us,” declared Marianne.
“I don’t think so, ladies. Amanda has to finish her shift before she goes anywhere.”
“Oh, he’s coming with us. And then we’re going to find his lady too. She’ll pay for this.” Anita moved to grab the waitress’s sleeve.
“But, I don’t want to go,” shrieked the waitress. “Auntie said I was to work here.”
“You’d better call her then,” said Marianne
“Ladies, Mandy ain’t calling no-one. There’s only one call gonna be made here: I’m gonna call a State Trooper if you don’t take your hands off her,” said the manager. Unnoticed the trucker slid from his seat and out the back of the Diner. He could sense trouble brewing. He didn’t want to be around if a State Trooper was on the way.
“There’s no need for that. I’m sure we can settle things amicably,” said Marianne. They heard a truck rev into life on the lot.
“My phone’s out back,” said the waitress.
“Well go and get it,” instructed Anita releasing Mandy from her grip. The waitress scuttled back through the swing door.
“How much do I owe you for the coffees,” asked Marianne, a brown puddle was spreading on the floor where the waitress had dropped them , “even if we didn’t get to drink them? I’m sure you’d like a special gratuity for your trouble.”
“There ain’t gonna be no trouble, lady. No need to pay just now. You’re probably gonna need a refill if not lunch.” There was a revving, crunching sound outside as the truck engaged its first gear and started to chug forward.
“We won’t be staying for lunch,” said Marianne. “We want to get on the road with Andrew as soon as possible.”
“Sure. And it’s Mandy not Andrew, and I don’t think you will.”
“Why’s that?”
“Were you ladies driving a Buick convertible? The one parked out front in the shade?”
“Yes, that’s us,” said Anita.
“Nice vehicle.”
“Yes,” agreed Marianne.
“Well, it was.”
Anita and Marianne rushed to the window of the Diner. A monster double trailer truck was slowly pulling across the lot. The rear end of their Buick was crushed where the truck had ridden over it. The ladies stared in shock at what had happened to their vehicle. From the passenger seat of the truck, the waitress gave a shy, little wave before the swung out from the lot back on to the highway.
“The swine. What can we do?” Marianne asked the manager.
“Did yer get his registrashun?”
“Er, no.”
“Way I see it, you got two opshuns.”
“Right?”
“I could call that Trooper?” The ladies looked at each other and nodded. “But seeing as he’s ma brother, and I’d say you wuz trying to kidnap ma waitress, I ain’t so sure that’d be a good idea.”
“Maybe not. So what’s the other option?”
“I call the recovery service.”
“OK. How long would that be? Not long. Maybe three. Maybe four.”
“That’d be great,” said Marianne. “Maybe a quick coffee then while we wait, please. He won’t get far in that lumbering truck.”
“Ok, honey.” This time the manager enjoyed seeing Marianne grimace. “Two cawfees coming right up.”
Marianne and Anita sat down, quietly cursing both Andy, the trucker and the manager.
Five minutes later they were pleased to hear the loud roar of a vehicle approaching the Diner’s lot. But it wasn’t a recovery pick-up truck, it was a low-slung red Ferrari 488. It halted outside the window of the Diner, its engine still running. The darkened driver’s window lowered slightly and a clenched hand emerged. Slowly an immaculately manicured and red nail varnished middle finger extended itself upwards. The finger stayed erect for a few seconds and then the hand withdrew back inside the vehicle and the window was raised. The Ferrari’s revs increased to a crescendo that shook the windows of the Diner and, with a squeal of tyres, sped away westwards as if in pursuit of the truck that had so recently left the lot.
Marianne and Anita sat frozen open-mouthed. They looked askance at each other. “How long did you say the recovery truck would take?”
“Like I said, three or four.”
“Well, it’s been at least five minutes already,” protested Marianne.
“Three or four hours, ladies.”
“Hours!” shrieked Anita.
“Well seeing as they’re in the next County, that ain’t bad. You sure you don’t want lunch? We do good burgers. The Pink Pansy Diner prides itself on its burgers.”
New art, Coming up at 9
Friday, 21 January 2022
Thank Friday it's Christeen
Monday, 17 January 2022
Monday Madness, with Skinnie S and Amanda Holden
And now for Skinnies glorious story. XXXX
What Auntie has in mind
By
Skinnie Stallion
This hardly seemed the right place to be finding outfits for the Halloween Ball. Was Aunt Jane being serious? It was hardly helpful that she’d gone away to browse the racks when the assistants approached him. Both were in the house uniform: white blouse and black skirt.
“Looking for something, honey?” the dark-haired one asked, her hair swept back in an austere bun.
“Oh, just looking,” he muttered. He was a bit discomfited. Both the assistants were beautiful and almost rivalled Auntie in their looks. He was almost surprised that Auntie had left him to be accosted by them: he was hers, after all.
“Don’t be embarrassed by being in this section, darling, it’s OK to be looking for a dress: Halloween’s a great chance for boys to dress up,” said the blonde in a tight latex pencil skirt coming up close to him. He rather liked her skirt. He could imagine Aunt Jane in it. He wondered what wearing a tight latex skirt would be like compared to the looser pelmet ones he wore as Auntie’s maid. The skirt hobbled the blonde who could only take short steps, even shorter than her 5” metal spiked stiletto Lipsinka Pigalles would allow. He’d admired them enviously when she first approached. It was nice that both assistants were wearing Louboutins: Aunt Jane only came to the best places. “Though I can understand a pretty boy like you wanting to wear a dress.”
“I’m not looking for a dress,” he protested, “I’m with my Aunt. She’s over there.” He gestured across the room towards Jane who was going through a rack of latex leggings.
The blonde followed his gaze and motion: “Really, dearie?”
Her bunhead colleague stared across at Aunt Jane too. “A boy like you?” Andy thought his Aunt looked magnificent in her tight red leather pants. He’d already enjoyed polishing her that morning to the highest of sheens before she declared herself ready to go out. She’d wanted buffing over every inch and crevice with his stiff bristled brush until she considered her shine to be just right. A lot of buffing. Especially the crevices. He felt particularly proud of how she shone from every angle. The more he thought about it, the more he understood what the assistants meant: she was so far out of his league. What could she see in him?
“Look honey, do you have anything in mind?” asked the blonde.
“Not sure,” Andy mumbled.
“What do you want to be, sweetheart?” asked the bunhead.
Standing amongst the dresses and costumes and recognising a particular Chinese style embroidered frock coat dress, he blurted “I like Captain Jack Sparrow.” At least he had the presence of mind not to say Elizabeth Swann. But in his heart, Elizabeth Swann was what he wanted (and maybe Elizabeth with a charming Will to escort him. Will Turner, of course! Any other Will would just be silly. Wouldn't it?) He'd love to be a courageous pirate, albeit a nice looking one like Elizabeth. Looking like Keira would be nice, but only for a ‘play’ night with Auntie. He’d like to nice for her; it’s what she would want. But he could hardly go to the Halloween Ball looking like Elizabeth Swann. That would be absurd.
“Jack Sparrow? Oh, I think your Aunt might have something else in mind.” The blonde assistant looked across at Aunt Jane who could obviously hear their conversation.
Aunt Jane gave a little negative shake of the head. “Stop fussing Andrew. We have lots of outfits to try on today.” She hadn’t brought Andy to a top of the range costumer for him to go all hesitant and silly.
Your Auntie obviously agrees,” said the bunhead. “No Jack Sparrow.” The lady clearly had some ideas about what her she wanted her nephew to wear. They just needed to persuade her about what would be appropriate. He might look like a boy, but his eyebrows had obviously been threaded, and his smooth chin must have been lasered. No make-up maybe, although a hint of eyebrow pencil, a trace of pink lip-gloss, and transparent nail varnish showed that she still liked him a particular way and to know what he was. Not just him, but any discerning ladies, or indeed gentlemen although they weren’t so good at picking up the clues. Ladies tended to have a better eye for these things. Men just saw what they expected to see: a rather sweet young man. Their Snow White costume was still awaiting the right customer and would fit this delicate boy perfectly.
“What about ‘Oliver!’” she said with a knowing look at her blonde colleague.
“I could never be Bill Sykes!” exclaimed Andy. “Far too nasty!”
“We weren’t thinking Sykes,” said the blonde.
“Or Fagin,” said the bunhead.
“I quite like the Artful Dodger,” said Andy.
“Not, you honey. You’re far too innocent,” affirmed the bunhead.
“But I don’t want to be Oliver. He’s far too meek.”
“Well in some ways it would suit you, but they’d be no fun in the costume. I see you more as a Nancy,” said the blonde.
“Yes, very much a Nancy,” agreed bunhead.
“But I’m not a Nancy,” cried Andy.
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” the blonde said as she began to pull his trousers down. “Let’s check your size.” As her hands slid his pants down, Andy was torn: he desperately hoped he wouldn’t embarrass himself with Aunt Jane watching, though he wanted the blonde to know he was all boy. But that was impossible with Aunt Jane watching.
They continued to review options. Jane called over a number of suggestions. The assistants wondered whether the lady was being serious when she said she wanted to him to try on Supergirl, Batgirl, Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman outfits. And she was quite insistent on him wanting him in latex too. But he was much too quiet for those costumes, although they had to admit with a little tucking (and, the blonde thought, it would only need to be a very little tucking) he would look good in a tight latex catsuit or miniskirt. He needed something much more fitting with his timid personality. Jo Stockton or Holly Golightly would fit much better with his looks and timid manner, but most wouldn't understand the references and Holly's cigarette holder was a definite 'no, no' these days.
They could always try him with a Dorothy outfit. Despite his obvious attraction to his Auntie and the that little flicker of response when they dropped his pants, he did look like a friend. Dorothy was quickly dismissed by the lady. So, Snow White? His purity really merited Snow White. It was just such a shame that they didn’t have Snow White in latex.
To Andy, the trips to the changing room seemed interminable. Eventually, the blonde and the bunhead took to stripping and dressing him on the floor of the store. The assistants had eventually persuaded Lady Jane to let him try the Snow White costume even though it wasn’t in latex. The dress was a little dusty from standing on display for so long. He Sneezed. He was Grumpy at being made to try it, but then Happy with his appearance once they’d given him a pair of heels to wear with the dress. He was Bashful when the assistants asked him to give them a twirl. But he loved pirouetting on heels in the way Jane had instructed him. He thought if he was properly made-up it would be nice to go as Snow White – he felt Dopey with pleasure at the thought and quietly dreamed about what it would be like to the end of the evening when he’d feeling Sleepy to slide into the arms of his prince.
But Aunt Jane wasn’t happy with the Snow White look; since the party was going to be held near the harbour perhaps she thought it’d attract passing Dockers. That wouldn’t do. “Do you have anything else?” she asked the assistants.
“Well, there is something that might suit him, but it is rather expensive,” said the blonde.
“Don’t worry about that,” said Jane. “Let’s see it.”
Bunhead went to the stockroom at the back of the store and returned with a transparent garment case. It shone yellow under the store lights. “I think you’ll like this,” she said as she unzipped the cover and delicately removed a shimmering long yellow dress.
“Come on Andy, help the lady,” instructed Lady Jane. Andy stepped into the dress and Jane zipped him up. “Now stand up straight. Wow!” All the ladies gasped. “You do look good. Is it possible to gloss him? I’d like to see how he looks when properly polished.”
“Certainly, Madame,” said the blonde.
“And can we talk prices while you do that?”
“Yes, Madame,” said the bunhead. “I thought you’d like it. It does suit him.” She took Jane’s arm and led her towards the counter in the corner. As they walked away, she said more softly, “We do have the companion piece if there is anyone. But I understand if you’d prefer him for yourself. He is rather young for a boyfriend.”
“You are a lucky boy,” said the blonde as she fetched a canister of beGloss and started to spray cool liquid on to him. “You’ll be the Belle of the Ball.”
“But I’d wanted to go as Jack Sparrow. I can’t go in a dress,” protested Andy.
When Aunt Jane returned, he was shiny and the blonde was helping him into a pair of matching yellow opera gloves. “I’m afraid he needs a bra to help with the décolletage,” said the blonde.
“That’s not a problem. He does have one or two at home, but do you have one in latex that will match this outfit?”
“Certainly, Madame,” said bunhead. “I’ll check out back and make that call too.”
“You really are a very lucky young man,” said the blonde, “this is such a beautiful costume. Do you like to dress up?”
“We love playing dress up, don’t we Andy?” leapt in Lady Jane. “We have lots of outfits at home. You especially like having your hair and make-up done …. Don’t you?”
“Ye… yes, Auntie,” stuttered Andy.
“Do you have matching shoes? He’ll need heels too. I was thinking a pair of Hot Chick 100s would look good.”
“Madame has impeccable taste. The Hot Chick Yellows would be an excellent pairing. But will he cope with a four inch heel?” queried the blonde.
“Oh, yes. Easily. I normally have him in five inch when we’re at home and he’s doing his chores. He’s still working up towards six inches: I was thinking he’d look good in Highness or Daffodiles. Or maybe some Lady Peeps?”
“Madame is so wise. A four inch heel will be easier if he’s going to be dancing. I’ll get the Louboutin store to send round some pairs now for him to try. We can add them to your account.” The blonde gave Andy a sly look. “And to think, he tried telling me that he wanted to be Jack Sparrow!”
While they had been chatting, the bunhead had been working in the corner. Now she was on the phone: “No, it is perfect. I am just checking on the Beast costume? Yes, to a different address. It needs to be sent to William O’Conchuir. ….. No, that’s c,h,u,i,r…… That’s right, like French leather without the ‘h’.”
***********************
The element of surprise had gone for Lady Jane Fullerton-Jones: the call on the intercom, the alerts from the sensors, the tracking of the security cameras. Even without her security systems, the crunch of tyres on the gravel drive would have alerted her well before the doorbell rang. “Andrew darling, your lift’s here,” she called to her nephew. He was back upstairs making yet more final finishing touches to his make-up. He’d been ready for over an hour, nervous with anticipation.
“Down soon, Auntie,” he called back.
“Good evening, Will,” she said opening the door. “My, you do look a handsome Beast. The whiskers suit you. You look very horny tonight.”
“Oh, Lady Jane, stop it! But thank you. Do you like the costume? There must’ve been a mix-up at the outfitters. I’d ordered a Skeletor onesie.”
“So, they sent you this? What a terrible mix-up! Maybe just as well, Andy doesn’t like onesies. ”
“Really? Is he ready yet? I want to see what he’s chosen. He’d said something about a pirate outfit.”
“He changed his mind when we were at the shop. He should be down soon. He’s just titivating himself again.”
“Well, we mustn’t keep the rest of the guys waiting. Pete’s dad has hired a limo to drive us the Ball. They can’t wait to see what outfits the girls have chosen.”
“Andrew,” she called upstairs again, “you’re needed now. You have to go.”
“Yes, Auntie, I’m coming.”
“Whaaa…..” Will couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise as a vision in yellow of loveliness and beauty slowly descended the staircase. “Andy?”
“Yes, Andy. Of course it’s Andrew, who else is it going to be?” challenged Jane.
“But he’s be…”
“Beautiful? Yes, he is,” affirmed Jane.
Will didn’t know what to do or say. He was flabbergasted at seeing his friend in a flowing yellow latex dress and looking immaculate. Andy seemed nervous and was moving cautiously, clutching the handrail. He was wearing high heels which might account for his slow tentative steps. Will didn’t know whether to shake his hand or give him a hug. But that would be silly. He held out his hand to help Andy down the final steps, then realised he was still clutching the rose that had come with his outfit. Andy had taken it before he could withdraw.
“A rose! Oh Will, how sweet!” exclaimed Andy. “How did you know I was coming as Belle?"
"I didn't but this costume arrived by courier. I assumed the shop had made a mistake, but I liked it and didn't have time to change. Far better than the Skeletor onesie I'd ordered. The rose came with it. I didn’t know what to do with it. I’d been planning to give it to some girl tonight."
“So, do you want me to give it back?” queried Andy.
“No. Definitely not. It’s perfect for you. You look so amazing, tonight. And your hair!" Andy turned away feeling embarrassed, but Will followed and touched his shoulder.
"Oh Will, my handsome Prince,” said Andy coquettishly, “thank you. I took the afternoon off work so Aunt Jane could me to her hairdresser: it’s wonderful what inserts can do. I had a manicure too. Your new costume is far better than a skeleton outfit. I love you as Beast.”
"Thank you .....Belle. ….. Do you like your rose?"
"I love it. And Will you take me to the Ball, my Beast” Andy laughed teasingly, “my horny Beast? We’d make a nice couple? Or will you be too embarrassed? ”
“Don’t worry Andy, we all know how your aunt loves to go over the top for these fancy dress parties. I mean, it’s not like she does it to you every day, is it? And besides, you look, you know …. Fine.”
The doorbell rang again. As she opened the door to small youth, Jane harrumphed to herself about Will’s words: ‘Fine! Fine?’ Her boy looked a lot better than fine. Why couldn’t those two just get on with it? When would they ever say to each other how they really felt. The little bundle in a morning suit and big stiff mittens spoke: “Are Will and Andy coming?”
It didn’t matter to Andy, ‘fine’ was good enough for him. At least Will hadn’t laughed at seeing him dressed as a girl. And he definitely hadn’t been repelled. As Will touched his shoulder, Andy felt warm inside and thought ‘I don’t care, as long as you are near’.
Jane spoke to the new arrival, “No, they haven’t had time for that …yet,” she joked. Fortunately it went completely over the head of the young man. “Please thank your father for taking you all tonight. I don’t think Andy would fit in my car in that dress. Sorry, we’re a bit slow, Andy was just getting ready.”
“Don’t worry, this is the last pick-up,” said the boy. Who’s the girl with Will? And where’s Andy?”
“Oh, he’s all there, sweetie,” smiled Jane looking at the young couple and her pretty nephew. Will and Andy were still chattering. Why couldn’t Andy just kiss Will and get on with it? "And you must be Lumière? It seems the theme has caught on this year. It's no use getting excited by Belle, it looks like he only has eyes for his Beast. I hope you find your Plumette, tonight."
The boy stared across at the picture of elegance in yellow. Could that be Andy? It seemed to be given the way Will was talking to her: “Are you sure, Andy? Do you want to be seen with me?”
“It’s more about you Will. Are you going to be OK escorting me? There will be girls, other girls, proper girls at the Ball.”
“Andy, don’t worry. You’ll be my Princess, my Belle. After all, it’s just a bit of fun, isn’t it?”
“Er, yes Will,” Andy turned to look at his escort, “of course it is.” Even in his 4” heels he had to look up slightly to face Will. “Just a bit of fun.” Their faces were close. Andy wanted the moment to last forever as he stared into Will’s eyes, but then collapsed in giggles as the Beast’s beard brushed against his cheeks. “Oh Will, that tickles!” he exclaimed. Quietly he was wondering whether other parts of the Beast would be similarly hairy. There were places he would definitely like a tickle. “Maybe tonight I can unlock your inner Beast?’ he said cheekily, ‘even if some petals have to fall before you return to Will in the morning."
Jane has been eyeing them throughout. Was it just by chance that the music changed to 'How does a moment last forever?' as Beast took Belle's hand and they started down the hall? “Time to go, kids,” she said. “Remember Andrew, home by midnight.”
“But Auntie …” Andy tried to protest.
“No ‘buts’ young man. Home by midnight. Will, I’m going to hold you responsible for getting him home and tucked up. He has a busy day tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s Saturday, Lady Jane,” queried Will.
“Yes, and Andy will have lots to do. Now go. And back by midnight!”
As soon as the limo pulled away, Jane leapt into action. Time for her to go upstairs and complete her outfit now her protégée was safely despatched with his paramour. She wouldn't need to change much. She could keep her vinyl pants and ankle boots; all she needed was get out or her pink blouse, replace it with a tight black PVC top, put on her black latex gloves with claw fingertips, don her latex hood, and paint on some whiskers. Her toys, harness and lube were ready in her bedside drawer so no other preparation would be necessary. She’d take Andy’s bike. At the speed she’d ride, she wouldn’t arrive much after the limo. And when she got to the Ball, she could keep an eye on Will and Andy with ease since neither was expecting her to attend and wouldn’t see through her disguise. Then it would be her time for a little Halloween fun: she would decide who she was going to seduce. Would it be Batgirl, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Deathstrike or some other super-villain? Whoever she chose, Catwoman would have them away from their boyfriends and purring contentedly before the night was out. Or might she go for one of the assistants from the outfitters since she’d kindly offered them tickets for the Ball. Such shame that at the end of the evening, she’d have to narrow her choice since only one would be able to ride pillion home. She just needed to check that the spare helmet was in the box on the back of the bike.
She’d leave it as Andy’s problem how he got home. If he got home. He’d better get home. She wondered whether she’d find Will joining them at breakfast tomorrow. That reminded her: she needed to put a packet of condoms and a bottle of lube on Andy’s bedside table before she left. Will would see a different side of Andy then, since she’d expect her nephew to be in his maid’s uniform serving them. She could drive them into town together to return their costumes. She’d feel sure the outfitters would want to see Andy properly dressed as her maid. She’d have to use the Tesla tomorrow rather than the Ferrari to take all three. Mind you, she pondered, she might need a third or fourth seat anyway if she was running one of the assistants to work. So many options.
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