Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 33048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
I step back and let him in, but I’m biting my lip, unable to speak. How will I eat? I’m so nervous that my stomach is flipping around.
Noah shuts the door at his back and reaches out to lift my chin. “You look so very pretty, Amelia.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I murmur. I do not know who this shy Amelia is. I’ve never met her. I wonder if she’s just nervous, and she will loosen up in a few minutes.
“Are you hungry, Little one? Would you like to eat first?” He nods toward my kitchen area on the other side of the open space.
I clasp my hands behind my back and rock on my feet. “I don’t know.”
He tickles my neck. “How about if I set the bag on the table, and you can show me around your apartment first?”
“Okay.” I follow him to the kitchen area. Why the heck am I so nervous? I know Noah. I’m totally out of my element. Freaking out a bit.
“You don’t usually have Daddies come to your place, do you, Amelia?”
I shake my head, sending my pigtails flying. “Never.” I glance toward the hallway where my bedroom and my special room are located. He’s going to see my Little space. I can do this. I’m already doing it. He’s here.
He glances around. “There’s nothing in your living room or kitchen that would indicate to anyone that you have a Little side, so I assume you have a special room?”
He’s perceptive. “Yes, Sir.”
“Will you show me, Little one?”
I nod and reach out impulsively to take his hand so I can guide him to my sanctuary. I hold my breath as we enter. I’m squeezing his fingers.
Noah looks around. “This is amazing, Amelia. I love it. I feel like I know who Little Amelia is much better already.”
“She’s not bratty or naughty,” I tell him.
“Mmm. Are you sure? She’s kind of messy.”
I giggle, surprising myself. He’s making this easier than I expected. “Well, except for that.”
“Does Little Amelia pretend to have a Daddy?”
“Sometimes,” I murmur.
“Does he make her put her toys away?”
I shake my head. I’ve never really thought about that. I wonder why not. “No, silly. He can’t make her do anything because he’s never here to punish her.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Noah wanders in deeper, keeping my hand in his so I’m forced to stay next to him. “Did you paint this rainbow on the wall, Little one?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Wow. It looks professional.” He steps closer.
“I’m a muralist.”
He shifts his gaze to mine. “A muralist?”
I nod. “I paint things on people’s walls. Almost anything they want.”
“And you work at the restaurant, too?”
“Yep, because that’s steady income I can count on. I can’t always be certain Ellie will have enough jobs to pay the rent.”
“Ah. That makes sense. This is stunning and so professional.”
I smile broadly. It pleases me that he likes my work. It makes me feel all warm and proud inside, even though it’s kind of confusing mixing Ellie with Amelia. Amelia only colors pictures. Ellie is the artist. I wonder if other Littles keep their adult side so separated from their Little side as if they two are different people.
“So, there’s a theme in here. A rainbow theme. Everything is so colorful.”
“I like bright colors.”
“I see that.” He strokes a finger over the puffy sleeve of my bright yellow dress. “This is very pretty, by the way. I feel underdressed. You look like you’re going to a party.”
I glance down, feeling self-conscious.
Noah lifts my chin. “I didn’t say that to make you feel overdressed, Little one. I love that you’re wearing such a pretty dress. It tells me a lot about your Little. I do have a question, though.”
I bite my lip, waiting.
“Did you change into this after I spoke to you, or were you already wearing it?”
“I was already wearing it,” I whisper, hoping that doesn’t make me sound too weird.
He beams. “Good.”
“I like to pretend I’m going to a party,” I tell him.
“Ah. That’s fun. Except when you’re at home pretending, you never actually get to go to the party and see other people, do you?”
I shake my head. “No, but it’s okay.” I point toward the small white table I have in one corner of the room where I have propped up three of my dolls as if they’re guests at the party with me.
As Noah wanders around my space, I look at it, wondering what he’s thinking. In addition to my table, I have two bookshelves and a toybox. All the furniture is white. The rugs, beanbag, pillows, and curtains are colorful.
He returns to the mural. “If you lived on the island, you would never run out of work,” he comments.
My breath hitches. I’ve never been to the island where Littleworld is located. I’ve always wished I could go, but I’ve never been in a relationship with a Daddy who could take me. Littles can’t just show up on the island. They have to have a caregiver.