House Sitter- Boyfriend feminised by girlfriend

Chapter 16: A nice afternoon with 'Aunt' Mauro

"That sounds great, really that sounds amazing, Mrs. Mauro" Blake said being honest, very much wanting the stress he had built up to go away. He had no idea what she had in mind to do such a thing. If it had been his mom, she would have handed him a controller for a game set to easy so he could just get that cathartic release. That didn't seem likely right now with the table, a folding table he guessed from the way it moved when he sat down and from a group called Savage Garden started to play.

"I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy."
"I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need."

As the music started he learned what they were actually going to be doing as Heather put a nail kit and bottles of nail polish on the table.

"First thing we are going to do is stop that Mrs. Mauro nonsense. I'm not that old." She said, rolling her eyes at herself, knowing full well the truth of her own age and what it meant. "My first name wont work, and I don't like Miss or Mrs Heather. That makes me feel like a Sunday school teacher. Hmmm. OH, I know." The hazel eyed woman said, excitement ringing clear in her voice. You can call me Aunt Heather, or Aunty Heather! Now, Blake, I'm going to do your nails and then you are going to do mine." Heather said with a big smile, adding more after seeing the girl's nervous look. "Don't worry honey, I will show you everything you need to know."

That was how Blake learned how to do manicures. Soak in bowl of warm salt water, then as Mrs. Mauro or Aunt Heather as she told him to call her, you tend to your nails. A process that included shaping, trimming, filing to make everything from the top of his nails to the edges smooth. The buffing of the top of the nails she stressed, saying how it was important to always use a super fine grit and to never use a coarse buffer. Then you push back cuticles after you wife way the cream, this was done with a little wooden pushing stick she had. Then she had him exfoliate... a word he didn't like till he learned what it actually meant. She said how exfoliating the hands wasn't really needed, but it was just one extra step to show love to your hands when giving yourself a mani. Then you moisturize, that left his hands smelling like cherry blossoms and tea rose according to the bottle. The last step, the only step he actually knew existed before he sat down was adding polish. Then just like that his nails had a pinkish red coloring to them, it left him a little confused as to what the color actually was considered. 'Shade of red, or shade of pink?' Either way, he didn't want the color on his nails. That part was a complete bust, but despite his own feelings on the matter, his hands felt clean and smooth and the slick even surface of his nails felt good. On more than one occasion he had run his fingertips across Liz's nails after she got them done enjoying the feeling and now they were on him.

Then it was his turn and considering it was his first time doing this, he thought he did a good job. Not a great job, but it didn't look like a little kid did it either.

"I like them." Heather said, holding up her hand, fingers spread, palm facing her chest. "You did a wonderful job Blake. I'm surprised you and your mom don't do this together."

He thought she would use the nail polish remover the second she could, what he wasn't expecting was her to tell him that he had done a good job. It didn't feel natural to feel pride at doing a decent job giving someone a manicure, but with all those steps it was a good deal of work and he couldn't help smiling, just a little at her remarks. With a small shrug and equally smile on his face he looked away from her, having no clue that he was giving off the impression of a shy girl not used to being complimented. "My Mom gets her nails done at a salon twice a month."

"And you never go with her?" Heather asked in a soft voice, getting more of a picture of what was going on in Blake's life.

Blake shrugged again, he never wanted to go, no reason to go, but as he rubbed the pad of one thumb over the nail on the other, feeling its soft smooth surface he could at least appreciate why girls liked this sort of thing. "She never asked."