Caregiver

As the professor turns his back to write his next item on the board, my cell phone rings, the class laughs as the music of Bon Jovi emanates from my pocket. Sheepishly I pull the phone out, not knowing the person on the line I answer it with a meek little voice.

"Hello."

"Hi, this is Sarah Branson, I know we haven't had the courtesy but I saw your ad in the grocery store and we really need a sitter. My husband has to go to a get to know you party for his new job tonight we just moved into this town and can't afford to miss it. Would you be able to get here by say four PM? We would really like to talk to you before leaving if that is OK," comes the voice on the other end, soft lilting little accent marking her as coming from Alabama or maybe Georgia.

I look up to find the whole class staring at me, Professor Stevens included. Turning at least four shades of red I whisper a hang on into the phone and then ask for permission to take the call outside, it being a job.

"Of course Ms. Hathaway, just try not to take too long," he tells me with a smile.

I guess I am lucky in having baby sat for his wife and him on numerous occasions. Quickly scampering outside I put my attention back on Sarah on the other end of my phone.

"Sorry for the delay, you caught me in the middle of class. Now I would be quite happy to be there at four, my last class ends at three so should be no problem."

"Oh wonderful, we shall be looking forward to your arrival, hopefully we shall strike it off well so I don't have to play the absent wife. It never goes over well."

"Oh of course, I would imagine that does not go over to well, though I shall need to get your address before you hang up."

"Oh gracious me you're right I suppose it's the curse of being blonde, I do hope you're not blonde. Anyway we are at 143 Daunting St., can't miss us, the house is a little beat up outside, we just moved in yesterday."

"Oh I am not blonde, I am happy to say I am a redhead, and I shall try ever so hard to be there at four tonight."

"Thank you so much, I can't tell you how much this means to me," she tells me almost bursting the words out at once before hanging up.

Amidst a few stares, and any number of whispers I return to class and try hard to pay attention, though failing badly at it. Finally the class is over and I hurry across campus to my next. Normally I have no problem paying attention in this class, Math being one of my better subjects. Sadly even in this class I can't think of anything but this mystery woman who just moved into town, with a husband and child.

The bell has me scurrying across campus yet again, this time to my dorm room to grab up my essentials, a couple books to do studying and homework with, not to mention a nice steamy romance for in between study periods. Shoved into my backpack I open my door and head for my car, except instead of getting anywhere I run straight into Rob, his arms going around me instantly.

He pulls me up for a kiss and he moves us back into my room despite my sputtered attempts at dissuading him. With an outraged oomph I find myself on my bed, with him atop me, his hands roaming over me despite my attempts to say no around his persistent tongue and lips. Before I get a hand free and pull on his ear he manages to get my shirt pulled up and one breast popped free of my bra.

I have to admit I am reluctant to pull him from me his lust filled kisses, not to mention his hand atop my bared breast, had me breathing a bit more heavily than the struggle would warrant.

"Dangit Rob I am in a hurry, I really miss you atop me but I gotta get going now, got a job tonight. Due there in less than an hour," I scold him as I straighten my clothes.

I didn't hear his answer I had already dashed out the door, my clothes mostly fixed, backpack held in one hand. Faces pass by in a blur, there is Susan my roommate, she admonishes me to have fun and not neglect my boyfriend as I dash past her. Just outside the door to the dorm I almost bowl Steven over, we had dated last year, my freshman year in college. We were going great until I caught him boning Susannah on our last day of classes that year.

I yell over my shoulder how I'll get him next time. I turn my head back to face forward a goofy grin on my lips when suddenly there is a massive wall right in front of me painted in the college colors. I have enough time, barely, to get an eek past my lips when I find myself sitting down. I look upwards at the wall, eventually seeing a smiling face. I had run dead square into Jonathon, this most impressive hunk of muscle is our star linebacker.

Laughing he reaches down for me and pulls me upright, my feet not actually touching the ground again until I start hitting him with my free hand. He feigns puzzlement as my hand beats on his chest before setting me down on the ground again.

"Gotta watch where you are going there Beth, one of these days I may think you're coming on to me," he laughingly tells me as his hands reach down and tug my shirt back into a semblance of place.

"You wish now get outta me way, I got a job to get to," I tell him as I poke him in the stomach, his muscles evident even through his jacket.

He moves out of my way and watches me struggle to get through the crowd of people intent on getting to the dorm I just left. I can hear his laughter behind me for a moment before his voice booms out.

"Hey turkeys get outta B.A.'s way, she is in a hurry."

Everyone scoots to one side of the sidewalk or the other, grins on their faces. I stop moving, face turning at least seven shades of red before I turn back to eye him with what I hope is an evil eye.

"I am so going to get you later, it will be worse than the incident with the jock straps I swear to you," I tell him with half a snarl before turning and dashing for my car.

He's just too darn sweet to stay mad at but dang I hate when he calls me B.A. My full name being Beth Ann or not, admitting to having a childhood crush on Dirk Benedict otherwise known as 'Face' on The A-Team had to be the second lowest moment of my life in college so far. My lowest was finding my then boyfriend naked on top of Susannah.

Of course I find myself regretting admitting my crush more than dating Steven he at least was good in bed and fun to be around. I've never met Dirk, so I have no idea if he is good in bed or fun to be around, not that I would say no if he appeared and asked me to sleep with him. It's hard to lose certain crushes I guess.

Reaching my car I shove my backpack in and plop down on the seat. I take a moment to sigh as some guy I have never seen before walking by says something before calling me B.A. again. Repressing the urge to pound my forehead into the steering wheel I start my car up and head off to my job.

It is amazing how much traffic there is for a Thursday, I wish I could say there wasn't. I spent the next twenty minutes bumper to bumper with I don't know how many other cars all trying to go the same way I am. Some lanes went faster than mine then slower so I find myself having a duel of sorts with all sorts of guys all fixated on listening to rap as loud as possible, Rolling my windows up doesn't help, they are that loud. About ten seconds before I just shut the car off and walk, traffic actually starts moving and I manage to make it to the home of my future employers with a scant five minutes to spare.

I get out of the car intent on straightening my clothes finally and dashing for the doorbell. It's all going according to plan my clothes are straightened somewhat into a normal fashion when I look up. Looking up was a bad idea, I was struck with the house all at once.

Scant I could do except stare up at the house it is not a big house by any stretch mind. It is a two storey, maybe fifty feet from corner to corner. That's not what stops you dead in your tracks it is the look of the house.

The upstairs has two widows, just like most every house on the block, nothing unusual there. The wood on the other hand, is bleached bone white, with here and there specks of black from cracks in the wood or something else. Under each window it is darker, I know in the back of my mind it is simply water stain, perhaps mildew, but I am not listening to the back of my mind, the front is saying the house is crying.

There is a grand porch leading up to the door, it is also bleached a bony white, not much in black spots though it has grayish streaks, making the support beams look like bones left out in the sun to dry up. The roof over the porch is one of those raised up in the middle to make a sort of triangle. The wood in the middle part just over the doorway is bleached white like the rest of the house, except on the middle is a sort of arrow pointing straight at the front door. Almost as if the house is sad and wants you to come right on in.

The second storey windows are lit up from within though the glass is tinted so it looks like they are great big old black eyeballs with a faint reddish light coming through them. I can't help but get a case of the willies looking at this house, I can't even put into words to fit the scene before my eyes, except to say the house is evil looking.

I am all fit to turn and leave when the left window shuts off making it look like the house is winking at me. That freezes me in place again, so there I am standing there staring up in fear at an old bleached house when a shadow appears in the right window.

It pauses for a second, seeming to get a little shorter and wider at the top, then I can hear a voice coming from the house. I don't get long to wonder what the voice said scant moments after I hear the voice the front door opens and a tall man comes out, striding toward me with a confident stretch.

He looks to be about the same height as Jonathon, though not nearly as wide. His brown hair is tussled into a sort of sweep across his head that waves about as he walks toward me. His lean body is encased in a slate grey business suit, with a white shirt, red vest and fittingly enough, a gold pocket watch, well the chain dangling from one pocket of the vest to the next.

Before I know what is what, his hands are holding one of mine and he is talking a million miles a minute about how great it is that I could come, how excited he is to meet someone not from his work. On and on he prattles, about what I haven't the slightest, though his incessant fountain of words ceases as we reach the front door.

There standing in all her resplendent glory is a petite little blonde woman. Her hair cascading down about her shoulders in the classic southern belle style. Her lithe body, shown off to great detail by her dress, is reclined against the doorway. I can't help but gawk at the incredible dress she is poured into.

It is a deep resplendent purple, svelte and clingy in all the right places. The dress starts at her shoulders, leaving them mostly bare, except for a teensy bit about her neck from there it sweeps down across her chest to cover her breasts before plunging down into the folds of the skirt. The skirt starts in folds, though quickly turns into just one layer that hugs her curvaceous hips before dropping down towards her knees. There is a slit cut into one side to allow her normal movement and still reveal a bit more of her hip than necessary though not quite showing off all there is to be seen.

"Jameson, darling, please stop and let our guest catch her breathe. I told you that would happen," she breathes out as we reach the doorway, her supple fingers prying my hand from his before she turns and draws me after her into the house.

As we enter the house my eyes are drawn to the stairs ahead, a simple red runner carpet running down the steps stained a deep brown with white support. The riser, an intricate carved example of early American handcrafting, dyed an equally dark brown. The floor in the entryway is also dark stained wood that creaks as we walk over it to the left.

There is a sitting room, the far wall mostly bare besides a single painting and an impressive cabinet/TV stand. Huge speakers lay to each side of the cabinet, though the TV itself is stuck in sideways, a few cables dangling out of the space created by the diagonal TV. In the middle of the room is a long coffee table, one of those elongated oval ones, though this one catches my eye carved into the top is a very intricate flower and vines ornamentations. It starts at one end then extends following the shape of the top coming shy of the actual edge by a few inches. Here and there are offshoots of leaves and flowers. One end of the table is run over with leaves and flowers, making for a very attention grabbing mess of flowers and leaves. The whole table is beautifully browned the carved recesses are a darker brown, almost reddish in color.

Two piles lay atop the table in the middle, one composed of two magazines, the other a larger pile of manuals, the top one of course is for the TV, slightly offset from the rest. As we near the sofa she looks to the left at the TV then looks over her shoulder past me.

"Jameson dear, do please hurry right on up and get that TV working for us would you."

She releases my hand from her feathery touch before waving toward the sofa. Moving on toward the chair sitting at the end of the coffee table she turns towards me again, not sitting yet, she waits for me to sit.

Daintily reaching a hand for the arm of the sofa I lower myself towards the plump cushion, only to end up falling back against the rear support. The cushions are not just plump, they are plush as well. It feels like I sank at least a foot into this deceptively soft sofa.

She laughs at my sudden relaxed position on the sofa, after a moment I can't help but join her. Our mirthful laughter is interrupted by Jameson who utters a curse before somehow wedging himself in between the TV and the opening in the cabinet the two of them are now occupying.

We both eye him and his new predicament for a moment before she turns to me and begin to grill me on my past experience in babysitting and qualifications. After a few moments she seems satisfied and then stares at me for a moment, saying she wants to get a look at me.

As her eyes are boring into me, I cannot help but look right back at her. I find myself lost in her amazingly blue eyes. So close are we that I can even see a faint hint of myself reflected back in them. I get lost in the swirl and eddy of the blue and black underlay of these eyes. We sit and stare for an indeterminate time before she looks downwards at the rest of me.

I can't help but do the same, gazing longingly at her lithe body. Seeing as if for the first time the swell of her breasts, not large, but not small either. The way her breasts expand and contract with her breath is almost mesmerizing. With an effort I look lower, seeing the skin stretched taut across the bit of her torso revealed by the dress. Lower still is hidden by the voluminous folds of the skirt.

I cannot help but imagine what lies underneath this skirt. With a longing foreign to me I imagine pulling her dress free of her, laying her back on the chair with her legs spread wide, dropping my head down to sniff at the folds of skin hiding what I am sure is a most delicious flavor.

For whatever reason I see and want to experience the folds of her secret sensuous opening as it opens to my tongue and fingers. I want to taste her tangy juices as I finger and lick away at her. I want to listen to her moans of lust as I explore her depths before reaching up and taking both breasts in my hands. Feeling those precious orbs under my fingers, I am sure, would be the height of enjoyment for her and me.

So salacious is my thinking that I have gotten us to the point of staring back into each other's eyes before we move in for a kiss, our tongues intertwining hungrily for the longest moments before she pulls free, her eyes clouded in lust as she kisses her way down my body. With each hot little kiss planted to me I groan and squirm under her, my legs parting ever wider to allow her access to every little bit of me. She reaches the junction of my legs, pulls back a little and stares at me, as if begging permission to lick.

My attention is returned to us sitting there as she puts a hand to my shoulder and shakes me gently. Her mouth is asking if I am alright, though her eyes are alight with mirth. I turn a few shades of red and apologize for not listening.

Whatever she was going to say dies on her lips as Jameson appears at her elbow.

"Sarah dearest, you really must stop tormenting our babysitter, it is time for us to be leaving. I am sorry but the TV is being reluctant. We have a small radio in the kitchen if you wish and on the fridge is a list of numbers to call in an emergency. Feel free to order out or have your pick at what we have in the fridge," he says to her then me as he helps her stand.

"Oh Beth I am sorry, our baby Michael is upstairs asleep. He is quick to trust so should be no problem, though if he starts when you walk up to his crib, simply call him booba and he will be happy as a clam. We have a baby monitor upstairs in our room and another receiver in the kitchen, I must apologize for the lack of cookies and crackers I've not had time to do a proper shopping," Susan tells me at the door as her husband drags her to their car.

I watch them leave, waving back as the car backs out of the driveway and off they go. Shutting the door behind me I go up the stairs finding first their bedroom. A number of boxes are stacked neatly against the wall besides the door, their bed made up perfectly. I am sure a quarter would bounce if I happened to have one to drop, though I could simply gaze at the plush looking king size bed in jealousy. The single beds that are little more than cots in the dorms are barely above the comfort of a sleeping bag on the concrete.

Tucked into a corner is an impressive ornate dresser, the handles seemingly carved right into the drawer. Along the wall on the opposite wall is a closet door, one of those extra wide hinged fold up numbers, seemingly painted white though yellowed with age. At either side of the headboard are small corner dressers, one drawer apiece, the tops partly covered in identical alarm clocks. The left dresser also has a receiver for the baby monitor that Sarah said was up here.

Luckily there is nothing more than the sleeping baby noises coming from the receiver. Still needing to get the lay of the house down, dealing with a screaming baby would be a little much. Picking up the receiver I check the back, no batteries. The drawer on the corner dresser however has an unopened package of batteries, opening the package I fish out two batteries and stick them into the receiver as I head back downstairs to peruse the kitchen.

Turning right at the bottom of the steps I find myself in the dining room. There I stop dead in my tracks. In the middle of the room is an impressive table, not the rickety new ones mind, this is an old table. There is one incredibly thick single post with several arms sticking out at the base. The arms end in a claw clutching at an orb, while the top is egg shaped extending maybe six feet across. Running across is an ornate white lace runner, held in place by a silvery bowl of flowers.

Placed just so around the table are six chairs, each one beautifully carven wood. Placed in the seat of each chair is a deep red cushion tied to the runners of the back. The runners are spiraling twirls of wood, while the side posts are round columns carved with the intricate rose and vines pattern of the coffee table. The roses spill out onto the head rest of the chairs, while the legs are simple columns that thin at the top near the seat. In the middle of the thinned section is another orb.

On the far side of the table from me is a china cabinet, the dark wood carved with the same rose and vines design yet again. The vines trailing up the pieces of wood in an eccentric twisting way, here and there broken up by a rose, the glass shelves inside are festooned with glass globes, one filled with a number of small yellow roses, another with red roses, the largest one has a small little sailing ship in it. The ship looks to be floating in a roiling sea, the sails drawn up and tied besides one up in the front. It looks for all the world like there before me is an old freighter battened down for a heavy storm.