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I closed the front door quietly behind me, my eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom of the house. Hanging my jacket and loosening my tie, I glanced upstairs to see only the faint glow of the nightlight from the baby's room and nothing else – and, more importantly, no sounds of crying or screaming to pierce the cool night air that I had brought with me. Strangely, though, there were no sounds coming from downstairs, and only a low light creeping under the living room door.
Walking softly, I gently pushed open the door to the living room, and could instantly see that the glowing light was coming from the silent TV, which was showing some late-night cable horror movie – I could see an attractive busty redhead running upstairs in a tiny skirt, mutely screaming, followed by a cloaked figure.
Across the room, supine on the couch, head propped on a pillow and remote dangling loosely from one hand, my babysitter Katie lay, somehow still managing to look beautiful even when sound asleep, quite the feat. Her thick long dark hair framed her heart-shaped face, and her outfit – knee-length green skirt, thin cardigan sweater (a little impractical for a comfy night on the couch, but I wasn't complaining) – clinging to her ripe, 18-year-old body. We had known Katie and her family for about 6 years, since we moved to the area, and I'd seen the lithe brunette transform into a tan teenager who turned heads wherever she went. As beautiful as she was, though, Katie dated infrequently, and, admirably, remained focus on her college studies. Even now I could see a small pile of textbooks next to her on the couch that she must have been scanning as she fell asleep, with the TV on mute as a silent companion. I looked down at her, eyes scanning her face and body, my head full of memories.
An image of pulchritude, Katie had developed well and early, and her current 38D-24-34 figure (my wife had taken her clothes shopping a couple of times when she was younger and her parents were away) was truly a sight to behold. She occasionally stayed with us when her parents were out of town, and even though she was now old enough to be on her own, and had been for some time, she enjoyed staying with us, sometimes cooking dinner for the family, or playing piano for us. I won't lie – having a gorgeous young woman in the house, wandering down to breakfast in tank top and pajama pants, or exercising on the back deck in tight yoga pants, did wonders for my libido. I found myself especially randy on the nights Katie stayed with us, and would screw my wife with a notable vigor, my mind racing with the possibility of Katie in the next room, hearing us fuck as she lay in bed.
I had come to terms with the strange mix of feelings I had for Katie – that of a surrogate father, who wanted to help take care of and nurture her, as well as the dark lusts that she stirred up within me – and we had a comfortable, slightly flirtatious relationship. We would often sit up and have a couple of beers when my wife was working late (which, these days, was increasingly often) and she was warm, witty and pleasant company, her throaty laugh filling the room and her wide, dancing eyes marking me, telling me that she knew all of my secrets.
Even as this thought flitted through my head, those deep brown eyes opened and Katie stirred, propping herself up on one arm, her ripe tits pushed together into the V-neck of her sweater, the deep cleavage enticing. I forced my eyes to lock onto hers as I smiled.
"Hey, sleepyhead," I said softly.
"Griff!" Katie started, looking around. "I'm – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep, is the baby-?"
I laid a comforting hand on her upper arm. "Shh... the baby's fine, sound asleep upstairs." I gestured to the monitor on the dresser, from which issued the soft sounds of breath. "The baby made it through a few hours, so I guess you get paid tonight," I added, smiling.
Katie sat up, rubbing the sleep out of one eye daintily, and I sat next to her on the couch, turned to face her with my arm along the back of the cushions. "You're such a tease," she said, lightly slapping my wrist. "You know you never have to pay me, I like to help out so that you guys can go out and romance it up." She winked exaggeratedly, giggling.
I frowned. "Fat lot of good that did tonight," I said.
Katie instantly picked up on this, sliding a little closer, a hand on my knee. "Something up, boss?" she asked with a smile – always trying to cheer everyone up.
"Ahh, you don't want to hear my troubles," I said, patting her hand. The night's young, I'm sure you could still go out clubbing."
"Griff," Katie said, sternly but with the ghost of a smile still on her perpetually pouty, bee-stung lips, "I'm sitting right here, ready to hear all about it. But first – how about I get you a beer?"
A smile crossed my face again. "You're an angel, you read my mind."
"Don't you move, mister man," she said, bouncing from her seat and hurrying to the kitchen, her firm ass switching in the little skirt. I felt an inappropriate thought about her – probably the millionth - cross my mind, and silently cursed myself for it, feeling like a dirty old man. Never forget, you're 20 years older than her, I told myself. Before I could chastise myself further, Katie popped back into the living room, 2 cold bottles of beer in hand, and sat with me, closer still this time, putting one in my hand and taking a sip from hers. "Shoot. Tell Katie all your troubles," she said, her head on one side, coolly regarding me with those amazing eyes.
"Not much to tell," I began, taking a sip myself. "Things were going fine – well, not bad – when I dared to mention that Jen's been working late a lot, working weekends, and we haven't had a lot of time together. She took it badly, kind of blew up at me."
"Poor thing," Katie said, rubbing my knee. "I can't say I'm surprised, though. Maybe it's not my place to say –"
"No, go on, please," I urged, smiling at her.
"Well, it seems like she's putting a lot on you. Working all those hours, expecting you to pick up the slack around here – I'm learning all about it in my social studies class, she's cast herself as the victim. Has... has your sex life slowed down, too?" she asked, looking down.
"It's like you've been peeking in our bedroom, cutie," I said, shaking my head. "She hasn't come near me in months."
"That's what I thought," Katie said, her hand still on my knee, stroking softly now. "Sorry, I interrupted your story, please, go on." I dragged my eyes from the deep well of her cleavage to her pretty face and smiled reassuringly before continuing.
"Things got worse when a girl from my office saw me and came over to say hello. As soon as she walked away from our table, Jen practically accused me of sleeping with her. After the meal she announced she's sleeping at her sister's house tonight."
"Why would she do that? Accuse you of sleeping around?"
"Well, I can understand – a little. This girl, Bryce, is very flirty, and she was pretty much ignoring Jen."
"What does this – girl – look like?" Katie asked, sipping from her bottle.
I looked up, as I remembered Bryce stopping at our table, touching my arm, thrusting her boobs in my face. "She's an intern, maybe 19 or 20 - about 5'8, long dark curly hair, big brown eyes, big tits – and she knows it. She shows them off whenever she can, and dresses kind of slutty." As I looked back down, Katie was smiling, her eyes alive, like we were sharing secrets.
"So is that your type?" she asked, giving me a knowing smile, knowing full well that, physically, I had pretty much just described my teen babysitter to a tee.
"Well, aside from the slutty part," I admitted, setting my beer on the table. "I like my girls to look a little more professional and demure."
"You like them to act that way, too?" Katie asked, leaning closer.
"In public, sure," I said, leaning in conspiratorially, enjoying this. "But in private, when we're all alone..."
"A total slut?" Katie asked. "Someone that will do whatever you say?"
"Something like that," I replied, not losing eye contact, a wry smile on my face. The beer, along with the wine I'd had with dinner, was creating a low buzz in my head and I knew I shouldn't be having this conversation with Katie, but something else told me to press on. I was talking about sex with a beautiful young brunette, which was certainly the highlight of my night.
"Griff?" Katie asked, biting her lip, a slight look of nervousness crossing that beautiful face.
"Yes, Katie?"
"You know we can trust each other, right? And that I would never dream of betraying your confidence – to anyone?"
"Of course, sweet thing," I said, patting her hand. "I trust you completely."
"Good. So did you fuck that girl?"
I almost spit out the mouthful of beer I had just taken; laughing and coughing, I set my bottle down. "Excuse me?" I said, still smiling.
"Bryce, the girl who was flirting with you at dinner. The one who's your type – almost," she corrected, smiling. "Is your wife right? Did you fuck her?"
Hearing that word from the mouth of this innocent young girl was shocking but, I had to admit, arousing. We had never talked this frankly before. I shook my head. "No. No, I didn't," I answered.
"Never even thought about it? Not even one innocent little kiss?"
I tried to maintain my serious, innocent face, but it didn't last and a smile broadened there. "We did have a little make-out session at the New Years' party at work, just a little drunken grope in one of the conference rooms," I admitted, remembering the brief tryst on the huge oak conference table, with Bryce's tongue in my mouth and my hands on her luscious ass, her legs around me as we ground together.
"Just kissing?" Katie asked, leaning further forward now, pupils dilated, as excited by this conversation as I was. "This sounds like a pretty hot girl. You didn't get to second base?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "Third? Alllll the way to home plate?" she added in a breathy, sex-operator whisper.
