One Shots

'Mon Petit Oisea' (MxF)

*Age Gap!*

"Sir," I heard through the speaker above my desk.

I sighed and then pressed down the red button as I spoke, "Yes, Walton?"

There was a brief pause that irked the shit out of me, "There's a young lady here to see you, Sir."

A fan, most likely. Probably a stay at home mother wanting to meet the man behind the stories that made her panties wet with the desire that no man could ever give her.

My characters were made up, too romantic, too sweet, and caring; no one was like them in the real world and that's what brought these Stepford wives to my doorstep. They wanted to meet the man who put their fantasies on paper.

"Just the one, Walton?"

"Yes, Sir. Just the one young lady."

Why did he keep insisting she was young? The only women who came by were in their 30s and while I would call them younger than me as I was in my early 40s, I wouldn't call them young.

"Send her in, please, and bring us up some tea," I said and stood up from my desk.

I went to the window and opened the heavy red curtains to let some light through. I had thought it was beginning to feel stuffy, but I worked better in the dark.

Opening the window to the autumn breeze, I sighed. It was my favorite season and I was missing it because I had all of these ideas fluttering through my head and if I didn't put them to paper soon, they would poof from my mind like they never existed and I would be left with another ten years of writers' block.

I heard a knocking sound on the heavy wooden door and took a seat in my dark brown leather armchair and placed my right ankle over my left knee.

"Come in," I called after I cleared my throat.

I had requested not to be disturbed for the last week and my voice was little hoarse from lack of usage. I felt as though I might've needed to speak up again, but Walton had obviously had his ear to the door or something.

I saw Walton stick his grey head in the cracked doorway and look around until his eyes fell on me, "Sir, are you ready?"

I nodded and he opened the door further and ushered the woman—or girl, rather— into the office.

I stifled my chuckle, she couldn't be older than 20 years old. What the fuck was she doing here?

When her eyes landed on my seated figure they widened and her mouth fell open into a very excited smile.

"You may leave us, Walton. Do not forget the tea. Tea is alright with you, yes," I asked the girl in a low voice.

She seemed to register the question after a moment and shut her mouth before nodding.

"Very well. Off you go, Walton," I gestured for the girl to sit on the couch across from my chair, and without another word the door shut behind my butler.

I stared at her for a moment as she did me. I don't think she realized how old I was as she still looked at me as if I were in a boy band, but this...this girl...she was beautiful.

Long jet black hair, large blue-gray eyes, plucked and sculpted brows... And her nose, the dainty little thing with its pointed end and those lips.

They were plump and the bottom was bruised purple from where she had been worrying it. Her skin was clear of any blemishes except for the two dimples in her cheeks, but who would dare call them that?