“Hooo-haaaa!” I roar, my Al Pacino impression leaving a lot to be desired but nonetheless full of enthusiasm.
“Hoooo-haaaaaaaa!” Skeet squeals, taking it somewhere else entirely as he waves his arms above his head.
Skeet and I burst through the door of my apartment, still giggling from the improv exercises we did in class. The evening acting session ran long tonight, but it feels worth every minute. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and my voice is a little hoarse from all the character voices we practiced.
“Romper time!” Skeet declares, already kicking off his shoes and heading straight for the small pile of clothes I keep folded on the couch for nights like this.
He grabs one of my spare pastel colored rompers—the soft, stretchy kind with little ruffles on the straps—and wiggles into it right there in the living room. I do the same, slipping into my favorite ruby-red one with tiny white hearts. The fabric feels cozy and safe against my skin, the perfect signal that it is time to let the big stresses of the day melt away.
“Movie star stuffies night!” I announce in my best dramatic Hollywood voice, clapping my hands.
Brando sits proudly on the arm of the couch, his floppy ears perked as if he knows exactly what is coming. Skeet’s stuffie, a fluffy unicorn named Zane, joins him.
We push the coffee table aside and start building our set with whatever we have on hand—couch cushions become a grand staircase for the red carpet, a couple of stacked shoeboxes turn into a makeshift stage, and I dig out my tub of Lego bricks to create a sparkling city skyline backdrop.
We spread out juice boxes, strawberry for me, apple for Skeet, a big bowl of popcorn, and a bag of gummy candies shaped like little stars and hearts.
The sugar and the silliness help us drop straight into Little Space.
My shoulders relax. The constant worry about auditions, bills, and that confusing pull toward Kirill fades into the background. Right now, I am just Teddy the aspiring movie star, playing pretend with his best friend and fellow Little.
“Okay, okay,” Skeet says, arranging Brando and Zane on the makeshift stage. “Tonight’s movie isThe Great Stuffie Heist! Brando is the clever detective bunny, and Zane is the glamorous unicorn thief who steals all the sparkly jewels.”
I laugh and grab a handful of popcorn, tossing a piece into my mouth. “And I’m the director!Action!”
We dive in, acting out scenes with exaggerated voices and wild gestures.
Brando investigates by hopping across the Lego skyline while Skeet makes Zane twirl dramatically and steal a shiny keychain we pretend is a priceless diamond.
We switch roles every few minutes, dissolving into giggles when one of us trips over a cushion or delivers a line in the silliest accent possible. Juice boxes get sipped through straws with loud slurping sounds, and we cheer every time a stuffie escapes or solves the mystery.
It feels so good to let go like this.
No schedules.
No grumpy clients.
No dark, commanding Russian men who make my stomach flip and my thoughts go places they probably should not either…
We collapse onto the couch after a particularly chaotic chase scene, both of us breathing hard from laughter. Skeet pops a gummy star into his mouth and sighs happily.
“You know what happened a few weeks ago,” he says, his voice dropping into that mischievous, conspiratorial tone we only use when we are deep in Little space. “I went to that private club downtown… the one that’s super discreet for Littles. And… I got spanked by a Daddy. Likereallyspanked.”
My cheeks heat instantly.
I’m not a prude. Far from it. But the blush that floods my face has nothing to do with embarrassment over the topic. It is because the second he says the word spanked, my mind flashes straight to Kirill…
I picture his large, firm hand coming down on my bottom, that accented voice telling me I have been bratty and need correcting. The way he would hold me in place, calm but unyielding, turning my protests into whimpers and then something much hotter.
Skeet notices my reaction immediately. His eyes widen with delight. “Oh my gosh, you’re blushing so hard! Tell me everything. Is it because of that hot gym guy? The one you mentioned. You know, the older one with that whole sexy salt-and-pepper thing?”
I cover my face with both hands for a second, peeking through my fingers.
The rompers, the juice boxes, and the stuffies make it easier to be honest. We are safe here. Just two Littles having a sleepover vibe in the middle of the week.
“Okay,fine,” I admit, lowering my hands. My voice comes out small and giggly. “It’s him. Kirill. Every time I think about him being all bossy and commanding, I get this… flutter. And when you said spanked, I imagined him doing it to me. Like, over his knee in that private gym or something. His hand is probably huge. And he would probably say something likeYou will learn to speak to me properly, boyin that deep voice.”
Skeet squeals and kicks his legs in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn bowl. “That soundssoDaddy! Tell me more. Does he look like he gives good spankings? Firm but fair? Or the kind that leaves you sore and sorry but also all tingly?”
