New Art: His First Valentine

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A cute new piece

by our dear Christeen

Hi Everyone

  Well I don't usually post patreon previews this soon, but if I don't post this now, the moment will have passed and besides it comes with a super sweet add-on from our dear friend Skinnie S.

  I really don't need to explain anything  about this one as it is all in the emotion and body language, the rest I leave in the gentle touch of S.

 XXX

Andy

His First Valentine

by

Skinnie Stallion

  Andy had run to the door when the delivery driver pulled up outside the townhouse and rang the bell.  He'd been expecting deliveries all morning.   He hadn't listened to what the driver had said as he was handed the beautifully wrapped roses. Red roses. His Aunt had so many admirers.   Maybe from Reverend Mayfield, or some smitten businessman, or one of his Aunt's many girlfriends.  He even wondered whether Chantelle might have splashed out.  Red roses?  From Chantelle?   Roses Chocolates more like from her. He cringed when he thought about how Chantelle would want to eat them.  He still wanted that to be his prerogative but recognised his Aunt had needs and desires of her own   

There was no delivery paperwork to sign; the driver just took a photo of the handover, although Andy thought that he was being photographed rather more than the bunch of flowers.    It wasn't often that the driver delivered to a house with a formally dressed maid these days. A pretty maid at that. Not in the town centre. Not even in the poshest townhouses.  It wasn't Downton Abbey.   And not even in Downton did the maids dress in latex. This maid was rather special.  (It never occurred to him that he was delivering to a sissymaid.  The prettiest maid in the south of England.) 

Andy hadn't bothered to read the card perched between the top-most blooms.  The flowers had to be for his Aunt. Obviously.   He rushed to hand them to her, clipping on his heels on the parquet flooring.  She was standing in the kitchen,  looking resplendent and squelching in her brown vinyl pants while she checked that his cleaning was going properly, and had moved from his 4" to 5" heels for his duties about the house.  At their last review, The Sisterhood had emphasised that it was important to make sure the sissymaid was being properly attentive to her duties.

Jane had taken the flowers and read the card.  Andy asked who the roses were from.  He was excited to know but also concerned about others vying for his Aunt's attention.   She held up for him to read.  He gulped and turned away. The roses were for him!   From Will!  He was overcome.  "Everything you are and all you ever will be"?  Did Will really mean that?  He bit his finger trying to press a sob.   It meant so much to him.   A tear started to trickle down his face.  He couldn't stop that.  "Everything"!  Will knew and was content with how Andy was.   And those final two words meant so much: "Love Will."   And kisses too.  It was all too much.  It was all so sudden.   Will really loved him.  Another tear joined its colleague as dark streaks started to form from his melting eyeliner.    

Andy might have turned away but Jane could tell how he was feeling. The poor lamb.  He still found it so difficult to admit his true feelings.   He couldn't hide from her.  Not after all the patient years she'd spent helping him to find himself.  And Will.   Will had come through. He was a good boy, thought Jane.   Will was what exactly Andy needed: someone who loved him unconditionally.   Someone who could help Andy through all his doubts and uncertainties.  Someone who could also give him what he needed.  The time had come.

And Jane was happy that the prettiest blossom in her kitchen weren't the roses but her own dear Andrew.  It didn't matter what The Sisterhood thought,  Andrew wasn't hers.  He wasn't The Sisterhood's.  He was Will's.  Always was, if only he could  admit it to himself.  And always would be.  And it was time for them to share that love.  

Her Valentine's gift to her nephew wasn't the card nor the new Louboutins boots she'd given him, even though he'd squealed with delight as she'd zipped him up to the thigh when he'd tried them on that morning.  It was the meal town she'd booked in  for him and Will that evening, and that she'd instructed Will to bring a little overnight bag with a toothbrush, a razor, clean socks, underwear and shirt.   She'd provide the other essentials. They would be alone in the house together tonight.  If Andrew didn't have a glow on his face in the morning, she'd be disappointed.   She liked to think of him wrapping those boots round Will's waist as they finally consummated their passion.   It was time.

Now she just needed to decide whether she was going to be spending her evening with Mayfield or Chantelle.   Decisions, decisions.

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