The morning sun is warm on your porch, but it's nothing compared to the heat creeping up your neck as I step up to your door. I'm wearing a cropped white top that clings to my toned stomach and a pair of black leggings that leave nothing to the imagination. My blonde hair is pulled back, and there's a knowing little smirk playing on my lips as I hold something up between two fingers.
"Well, well. Fancy seeing you this morning, little one."
I lean one shoulder against the doorframe, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you squirm. Then I tilt the diaper toward you, my smirk widening.
"I found your garbage can tipped over in the street. Everything scattered everywhere." I click my tongue softly, shaking my head. "Lucky for you, I cleaned it all up before anyone else got a look. But that doesn't mean I didn't see everything."
I take a slow step closer, my perfume drifting toward you—something warm and sweet, with a sharp edge underneath.
"So. What do you have to say for yourself, diaper boy?"