When I was sixteen I had a perfect figure. The trouble was that the number assigned to that figure was the number one. Flat of chest and flat of bottom, that was me, while all my friends were blossoming with boobs and butts and noticeable hips. I did what all girls my age do in such a situation. I ate. By the time I reached seventeen my figure was heading from a one to a zero and my mother made me go on a diet. A proper diet, not one of those fad ones.
The result of this was that I slimmed down again. Nature had not finished with me though. I woke up one morning to find my breasts had changed from an A- to an A+. That was the start of a torrid few months for me. I was snarky and sulky and seemed to be changing every day. By the time I reached eighteen you'd hardly realise I was the same girl.
I had boobs. Large, shapely, ones at that. I had a bottom and nicely defined hips. Boys who used to flee when they saw me coming were now approaching from all directions. I had to carry my grandmother's walking stick with me when I went out just to beat the boys away. Did I mention my hair? Gone was the mousey blonde, nature deciding a platinum blonde was better for me. My hair dresser gave me some advice on shampoo and conditioner and my hair was silky and full bodied, just like the rest of my figure. And to top it all off my sunny nature had reasserted itself.
Not everything was sweetness and light with the new me. For one thing, my income took a hit. I'd been baby-sitting since the age of fifteen and had a number of parents who called me regularly. Some of the mothers took a look at me and quietly dropped me from their list of eligible sitters. Some of the fathers made moves on me and I dropped them from my list of eligible families to sit for. All things considered I was looking at saying, "Do you want fries with that?" in the very near future.
Some of my friends gave me references to help expand my sit-for list and also let me know which fathers to avoid at all costs. I finally got a tip that a new family in the area needed a sitter. The man was a single parent which made me tentatively chalk him in the no-sit box but a couple of girls I knew vouched for him. They'd both sat for him before with no problems and were quite willing to sit for him again, so I let them use me as an emergency sitter. Not that emergency sitters get called often. Prices are higher for emergencies.
All I really knew about Allan was that he was big and friendly and had two adorable little girls. Real sweeties and easy to sit for was my information. Becky had passed Allan over to me as her emergency as she came down with a severe case of date-with-a-honey. Seeing she was ditching the guy at the last moment I was sitting for normal rates as it wouldn't have been fair to charge him for Becky's misbehaviour. (Mind you, if he'd been at fault I'd have been quite willing to charge him double if I could get it.)
Allan answered the door and I nearly turned and bolted. When I'd been told big I hadn't been told how big. The man was huge. He looked big enough and mean enough to wrestle a grizzly bear and win. What stopped me running were the decorations on his arms. For a moment I thought they were a pair of miniature children, then I realised they were normal children, a couple of twin girls of about age four. They just looked extra tiny compared to their father.
"Hi, I'm Elaine," I said, all smiles. They really were two of the cutest kids I'd ever seen. Again, this was probably the contrast between them and the monster man they called daddy.
After that slightly nervous start by me we got on quite well. Allan was nice, a genuine Teddy bear type of man, and the twins were marvellous. We waved Allan good bye and played until their bedtime and they went down like lambs. All kids should be this easy to look after.
An hour later Michelle woke up and wanted daddy. She wanted daddy very loudly. Bethany woke up and cried in sympathy for Michelle's crying. I calmed Michelle down and then concentrated on Bethany. Michelle started crying again. Why was she upset this time? Just crying in sympathy for Bethany.
I finally managed to calm both the girls down and they slept the sleep of two evil little fiends in angelic disguise. I was exhausted. No wonder Allan needed the occasional night out.
I relaxed and watched the tellie for the rest of the evening. It was nearly midnight when Allen returned and he was in a happy mood. This is not to imply he was tipsy or anything. I don't think he was. He was just very relaxed and in a very good mood.
The first think he did was make some coffee. I took a sip and boy, did that coffee have a kick. I looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"Irish coffee," he told me. "Add a touch of Baileys and you can't get a finer drink. Don't worry about the kick. There isn't enough alcohol in it to get a baby tipsy."
I drank my coffee and related my experiences with the children. He was sympathetic about them waking and crying but he was also silently laughing, damn him. Couldn't blame him I suppose. It is funny when something like that happens to someone else. He was also right about the coffee. It tasted marvellous.
After Allen had finished his coffee he hauled out his wallet and dished out my pay. I counted it carefully, to his amusement, before putting it in my purse.
"Some parents try to short-change you," I told him. "I always count it straight away so that I can explain that they miscounted. It looks petty to try and get back the ten you were short-changed the next day."
"A sensible attitude," he agreed. "Oddly enough I did exactly the same think only half an hour ago."
He grinned when I looked a little surprised.
"When I was leaving the club I stuck a dollar in one of the poker machines. I couldn't have been more surprised when lights started flashing and bells started ringing. I almost expected balloons and confetti to rain down upon me. I hit a very nice jackpot. Quite a nice wad of notes they had to give me. They suggested a cheque but I told them I preferred cash."
