Livingston and Little Bit (The Little Showman, Book 2)

De: B.J. Scott

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

“Little Bit!” Livingston called out.

“Little Bit is sleeping.” A soft giggle sprang from the lips of the man hiding behind the curtain. “But he isn’t snoring.”
“Where is Little Bit?” Livingston sang. “I can hear him but I can’t see him.”
Fletcher came into full view of Livingston and spun around. “Here I am!” His unkempt, wavy brown hair, green eyes, and semi-sweet, semi-naughty smile gave Livingston fantasies of the two of them together.

***
One of the clowns that escaped the circus was a talented little man rarely without his signature red lipstick. That was his tell… red lipstick on the supple lips of a man. His name was Fletcher.

A new circus, Grumbles and Growls, sprouted up overnight not far from Mongrels. Dr. Mongrelston had his suspicions that Fletcher might have been taken by the owners of the new circus so he sent one of his counselors, Scott, to find him and bring him to paradise.

Scott looked everywhere, walking the circus grounds several times. But there was no sign of Fletcher. He was discovered when Scott heard a thunk-a-thunk on his return to Mongrels. When he stopped the car, he noticed two green eyes staring at him from behind a black mask. He looked closer and realized that a man had scrunched himself into a tight space so he wouldn’t fall when the car moved.

“Hi, I’m Scott. What’s your name?” All he heard was a giggle. "What’s your name?” he asked again.
“Fwetch.”
“Fwetch?”
“Yes. Fwetch.”
“Come on out.”
“I'll try,” he said with a giggle.

After only five minutes Fwetch freed himself and scooted out from underneath the car. When he noticed that he was naked except for a mask, he ripped off his mask and held it over his privates. “Oops!” He stifled a giggle.

Once seated inside the car, Scott said, “I can get some clothes for you at the place I call home. “We’ll be there soon."

***
Livingston was painting when he noticed a pair of big, green eyes sneakily watching him. The eyes belonged to a man happily sucking on a candy pacifier as he stopped to watch Livingston make strokes on the canvas. Whenever Livingston glanced in the direction of the curious interloper, he would scamper away.

Livingston smiled. When the shy man came around again, there was a second easel set up next to Livingston’s. “Try it. I have every color you could imagine. And call me Livingston.”

“I’m Fwetch,” the man said as he began painting.
Livingston stood behind him and studied the painting. “You’re very talented,” he said.
Fwetch turned his head and nodded.

Dr. Mongrelston stopped in an hour later and admired Fwetch’s work. He motioned for Livingston to talk to him in private. “I realize this is short notice, but Fwetch needs someone to care for him… someone to live with him. The two of you share a passion.”

“We’re decades apart in age,” Livingston acknowledged. But he thought it might work out. "Finally, someone who appreciates the mind of an artist has found his way into my life. Let’s do this."

Fwetch couldn’t contain his excitement. “I can’t wait!” he exclaimed. "And my name is Fletcher, not Fwetch."

Livingston somehow knew this was the start of a relationship and not a brief affair. Despite the age difference between them, this felt different. Fletcher needed someone to watch over him and love him. Livingston needed a friend and also someone to love him. Fletcher was giggly and playful, quirky and sexy, and Livingston couldn’t get enough of his twisty little body.