Judy’s long fingers were draped possessively over Scott’s shoulders as she cradled him against her right bosom on the walk up the cobblestone path to Sylvia Lockwood’s house. The driveway itself was a winding rope of a road that twisted between several patches of tall oaken trees, ensuring the residence wasn’t even remotely visible from the street. It wasn’t until Scott, seated in his childhood car seat behind his mother for safety purposes, was unclicked from his straps that he could even get a good look at the place.

            “I can’t wait to hear all the good things she’s going to tell me about this visit, sweetie,” Judy said. Her broad thumb curled under his narrow chin. “I really can’t.”

            “Neither can I,” Scott said.

            The façade of Sylvia Lockwood’s home was smaller than he’d been anticipating. Humble, almost, with a small upper floor and old rain-eaten fencing surrounding the back yard. One-car garage and ample flower and plant life in the soil beds surrounding the foundations. The palace-esque homes of Judy’s other friends and political contributors were proudly displayed from the grass-shaven curbs of their expensive neighborhoods; Sylvia, though, seemed to prefer a quieter abode. What that meant, Scott couldn’t say; all he knew was that Judy was willing to literally hand-deliver him to this woman for solitary time together on one of his weekly mandated outings, and that made her significant in his mind.

            “C’mon in, you two, don’t be shy!” Sylvia beamed as she threw open the front door. The knob was turning before Judy even had a chance to reach out for the doorbell. The dark-haired woman’s gaze fell almost instantly to the twelve-inch-tall young man curled up in his mother’s arms like a newborn.

            Scott immediately offered a smile and a friendly wave as he was carried into the foyer of the house. He was well aware of his expected performance this morning in Sylvia’s home, because Judy had spent the past few days carefully rehearsing it with him. He was to be polite, complimentary, and kind as he’d been during the last coffee-wine hour, which was what had attracted Sylvia to the idea of a personal visit in the first place. This wasn’t an outright political ad, this was a buttering-up. Simultaneously, Scott was to avoid any and all attempts at cheeky commentary of his own on his legal and personal circumstances. Not a drop of passive-aggression. When asked about his current home life, he was to offer up nothing but glowing praise, which Judy had helped talk him through and even memorize by offering a mock interview with herself in Sylvia’s place.

            Of course, Judy had been thorough in the authenticity of the mock interview by seating herself on the living room couch and resting her bare soles on her son’s miniature body while firing questions at him. Odds were, his morning in Sylvia’s custody would proceed in a similar manner. He would need, Judy insisted, to be prepared to answer under literal pressure.

            The inside of Sylvia’s house certainly matched the exterior. Most of the furniture was made of some kind of reclaimed wood, and what wasn’t wood was trying very hard to give the impression of polished junk, like something from a barn, minus the cow smell. From the limited knowledge gleaned from the various house-decorating reality shows Maggie had forced him to watch while playing with him in her lap, Scott would’ve identified the place as shabby-chic.

            “You’re looking well this morning, Sylvia,” Judy said. Her arms rocked back and forth, but she showed no signs of putting Scott down yet. “You’ve been putting in time with that pilates streaming program that Nancy went on about, haven’t you?”

            “Oh, you’re too good to me, Judy,” Sylvia said with a blush, resting her hands on her curvaceous hips. “Not as much as I should have, but Lord knows if I could have a figure half as svelte as hers, I’d be putting in the hours. You can be sure of that.”

            Scott watched the woman’s hands moving as she jabbered to Judy for a couple minutes. No rings, as far as he could see. It seemed likely she wasn’t married or even necessarily in a relationship, from the kind of secluded residence she kept. He estimated her to have a few more years on her belt than his mother, though she still hadn’t peaked fifty yet.

            “I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting up the drive today,” Sylvia said. “There was a lot of wind coming through last night, thought I might’ve had a tree down. I keep telling myself life would be easier if I left myself live closer to my neighbors, with a place that doesn’t blend into the trees.”

            “I wouldn’t be too hasty,” Judy said. “I sometimes envy you the privacy.”

            “I’m sure you do,” Sylvia said. Her attention drifted finally away from Judy’s face, the twinkle of her eye instead refocusing to Scott. Her smile grew ever broader. “But now, who do we have here?”

            “Just a little special delivery,” Judy joked. Her fingers tucked under Scott’s chin again, forcing him to look directly up at Sylvia’s face. “What do you say?”

            “Hi, Ms. Lockwood,” Scott said cheerily. He struggled to sit up higher in his mother’s arms, but only succeeded in sinking deeper against her chest as Judy clutched him closer. Rather than try to rebalance himself, though, the young man bit his lip and accepted the obedient, doll-like face he’d sworn up and down to maintain in Sylvia’s presence.

            “Oh-oh, looks like you could use a hand there, cutie-pie,” Sylvia cooed. She reached forward, scooping both hands under Scott’s rear end and back, and drew him up from against Judy’s cleavage. “Or two.”

            Scott yielded into the woman’s curious grasp. Even at his largest size, her hands were broad, rivaling his mother’s for sheer scale. She held him with a certain assurance, accepting him into the cradle of her arms almost immediately, where he found himself in a regretfully warm embrace. At the very least, he could say he felt safer than when Nancy or most of Maggie’s friends held him.

            “I’ve got a couple of errands to check off the list. I’ll be back in an hour and a half, so we have plenty of time to get him home,” Judy said. She fumbled through her purse slung over her shoulder.

            “Take your time,” Sylvia joked.

            “I can go ahead and put him down to an inch or two for you,” Judy offered, that sly smirk crossing her lips as she drew the PMRD out of her bag. She pointed the dull green barrel at Scott’s head, her fingers already poised over the trigger for firing.

            “Mmm… I thought about it, but I think we’ll give “tall Scott” a try first and see what he can do,” Sylvia said. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes as she gazed down at the young man cuddled against her breasts. “But keep it handy for next time, ya hear?”

            “Suit yourself,” Judy chuckled as she tucked the device back into her purse. She turned back toward the screen door. “I’ll be back in ninety, all right?”
            “Sounds wonderful. And thank you again for the delivery,” Sylvia said, wagging her fingers as Judy saw herself out the door. “Feel free to drop by a little earlier. I make a mean mango iced tea.”

            Scott watched his mother descend down the cobblestone and drive off down the long entrance road. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the next hour and a half of semi-revolting drudgery. After the strange conversation he’d had with Judy two weeks before at the foot of her bed while she trampled him into the mattress, there was more than enough reason to believe there had to be something useful he could get from this woman. But he’d have to work for it, as always.

            In times like this, it was necessary to remind himself that Judy had once sent him off on an overnight with a woman who wore him for ten hours in her slippers, spending some of that time with her feet propped up on a radiator. That one would be hard to top as far as rentals of his body went.

            “Well, hon, looks like it’s just you and me now,” Sylvia said, the soft southern twang of her voice infusing her words with an unearned charm. She palmed Scott below his legs, letting him balance atop her hand.

            “Yep.”

            “Let’s not waste our time, though, seeing as we’ve only got a couple hours of it,” she said, narrowing her gaze as her smile creased again. “I’m eager for another round from those famous little hands of yours.”