No Messes Sir
I look up from my position on the floor. I tilt my head like a puppy to focus on the footsteps outside my door. I know those footsteps, the steady and confident stride, to belong to my Sir. I smile and turn to face the door. I don’t put down my paints or brushes solely because I’ll make a mess and Sir doesn’t like messes. The door opens and Sir walks in with his arms open and a smile lighting up his handsome face. I squeal and drop my tools, quickly forgetting about messes and clean up afterwards. I jump into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. Sir easily takes me into his hold and keeps me close against him. I sit back and look at his elegant features. He looks at …