Bimbo Babysitter

Bimbo Babysitter

The wrought iron gates loomed taller than any Sophia had ever stood beneath. They suggested both security and power. Ivy curled through the metal like it had grown there for generations, as if even plants had pedigrees in this neighborhood. Beyond them, the drive slithered toward a house that didn't just sit on the hill--it ruled it.

Sophia adjusted the strap of her tote and took a breath. She didn't belong here. That thought looped in her mind like a broken record. Her scuffed flats crunched on the gravel as she approached the callbox. Her fingers hovered.

"Just press it, dammit."

She wasn't timid, not really. Just careful. She'd avoided the traps so many freshmen fell into--no parties, no useless electives, no debt for things she didn't absolutely need.

Babysitting some silver spoon-fed nepo-baby for a couple of disgustingly rich socialites? That, she needed if she wanted to pay her way through college.

Still, her eyes darted around as if someone might scold her. The neighborhood was a parade of privilege: white stone walls, manicured hedges shaped like chess pieces, and not a single car older than three years. Even the silence felt expensive.

She caught her reflection in the polished brass intercom.

Unremarkable. That's how her aunt Diane often described Sophia. Pretty, but like a daisy--bland, forgettable beside the roses. Brown hair in a no-nonsense braid, minimal makeup. Swaddled in a beige cardigan, a pleated skirt that reached past her knobby knees. Bony hips, pale skin, no curves to speak of, so she hid under unflattering layers.

If her cousins were blossoming into young womanhood, Sophia was a stunted weed.

But she was there out of a steel sense of resolve. And resentment. Resentment at the ignominious fate of spending her twenties accruing student debt.

She exhaled and pressed the button.

Static. Then a sultry voice purred, "Yes?"

Sophia straightened. "Hi. Um--hello. My name is Sophia Mendel. I'm here about the babysitting position?"

A pause. "Of course, Sophia. Come on up the drive. We've been expecting you."

The gates opened.

Sophia stepped forward. The house was three stories of sprawling grandeur, all cream stucco and French windows, framed by climbing roses in full bloom. The lawns and manicured gardens were immaculate.

She could do this.

The ad had been posted on a campus job board. A powder-pink sheet with fancy curling font that caught the eye. It whispered of money. The hourly rate was absurd. Even a dozen hours a week could net Sophia a debt-free future.

As she passed into the shadow of a stone portico, the front door swung open.

"Sophia, welcome! Please do come inside, sweetie!"

The vision of beauty greeting Sophia was not what she expected.

She'd imagined someone older, more refined. Pearls. Garden parties. But this woman looked fresh from a fitness shoot, with her glowing skin, slender limbs, sumptuous curves and glossy amber hair piled in a stylish quaff.

She was lean, stunning and...

young.

Perhaps only a year or two older than Sophia's eighteen years.

A barely-legal knock-out attired in a short tennis skirt and crop top which clung to her covergirl figure, exposing a swath of toned midriff. White sneakers with a slight wedge heel and frilly socks completed the country club look. An elaborate gold necklace glinted at her throat, dragging the eye to her sumptuous chest with the inevitable pull of a gravity well.

Sophia froze, suddenly stricken by feelings of inadequacy.

"Yes--uh, hi," she said. "Sorry. I thought I'd be meeting, um, someone older. Mrs. Hapsburg?"

"Bless your heart. I get that all the time. And yes, I'm Adrianna Hapsburg. Come in, sweetie!"

Sophia hesitated, then stepped inside. The foyer was twice the size of her dorm suite--marble floors, a chandelier, faint scents of citrus and lavender.

Adrianna shut the door. "You're right on time. I was playing a few sets with Hubby dearest. He has so much energy these days. It's tough to keep up, but what can a girl do?"

She shrugged with a coy smile before strutting forward, her sensual hips swaying.

Sophia's brain snagged on

Hubby dearest.

Adrianna didn't look old enough to rent a car, much less be married or own this extravagant home.

Adrianna glanced back. "You okay, sweetie? You look like someone dumped cold water on you."

"Oh no, I'm fine," Sophia said quickly. "I just didn't expect... I mean, you're very... young."

Adrianna laughed. "Aren't you a doll? Thank you, but I'm older than you think. Healthy living and a positive attitude, that's my secret. We girls must always put on our best face for our menfolk, no?"

That last part hit Sophia in the chest.

Best face...

Adrianna had nothing to fear there. She was sculpted perfection. Smooth skin, high cheekbones, kissable lips--airbrushed into existence. A modelesque beauty like her wouldn't have been out of place on a yacht cruising the Mediterranean. Her hoarfrost blue eyes rimmed with thick lashes were almost too much.

Sophia could lose herself in them.

"Sweetie, you're staring," Adrianna teased. "I must look a fright after tennis." Not a hair was out of place.

"Now, I know you're dying to see the nursery--what woman wouldn't? But alas, my precious lamb is sleeping." She sighed dramatically. "Instead, let us adjourn to my parlor and discuss renumeration, responsibilities, and the terms of your employment."

"T-terms?" Sophia blinked. "Beg pardon? I'm only here for an interview--"

"Of course you are, sweetie!" Adrianna linked arms with her. "And you're doing fine. What are you studying?"

"Early childhood education."

"Wonderful! Teaching is a respectable role for an

unattached

young lady. Come now. I'll give you the tour, then tea. If you're still interested."

Sophia nodded, clutching her tote tighter.

Still interested?

If Sophia could earn even a whiff of the abject wealth on display, she'd be

committed.

________________

"This is Hubby's smoking room." Adrianna pushed open a heavy oak door, and a different world unfolded before Sophia. "You will not enter unless invited."

The room was drenched in masculinity. From the rich, wood-paneled walls to the burnished leather wingback chairs gathered near the fireplace, every inch had been crafted to project old-world refinement.

The fireplace, carved from sandstone with a mantle the color of aged bone, housed smoldering embers. Above it, a portrait hung in a gilded frame featuring an older man with tugsten gray eyes, a swarthy build, and a sly smirk.

Sophia took a tentative step inside. The air was infused with scents she couldn't quite place--cigar smoke clinging to the drapes, a trace of brandy, leather polish, and something else... something heady, primal. A musk. Subtle, but undeniable.

It should have been off-putting. And yet, something about the smell pulled at her. Soothing, nostalgic.

Then she saw the hunting trophies.

A stag's head, antlers sprawling like a crown. A boar's snuffling snout. The glassy eyes of a fox caught mid-snarl. Dozens of them. Frozen expressions of animals long since silenced, their deaths mounted as macabre décor.

Sophia's stomach twisted. She quickly looked away, willing her features to remain neutral.

However, Adrianna noticed.

"Your reticence is understandable; they scared me at first, too. You get used to them after a while," she rolled her eyes, wrapping a supportive arm around Sophia's waist. "Men and their trophies, am I right?"

Trophies...

The word sparked a haptic tingle in Sophia's brain.

Adrianna was a trophy. A picture-perfect housewife who dressed like a country club member and played tennis all day and called strangers "sweetie." She didn't have to worry about silly things like studying or paying the rent.

Sophia gave a weak laugh as her gaze slid back to the lion. There was something about it--too lifelike, too knowing. She pulled the cardigan closer around her skinny frame.

"Well," Adrianna said, breezing toward the door, "you won't spend much time in

here,

anyway. Unless you're a fan of boring business talk and taxidermy."

"Not especially," Sophia murmured, following her into the corridor. "What does your husband do, besides hunting big game?"

"Hubby mostly complains about inflation when he isn't acting as the research executive for Grayson-Nixon pharmaceutical. He's something of a genius. The luckiest day of my life was when he scooped me up and told me to be his."

"He... told you? Just like that?"

"Oh yes, sweetie. Real men--powerful men don't dither or question. They

command."

Adrianna waxed nostalgically, her hoarfrost eyes misting. "I was like you once, steeped in the foolish notions the self-proclaimed adherents of progressivism force-feed us. Then Mr Right walked in off the street and

poof!

None of it mattered anymore."

Sophia frowned; something about that felt wrong, though she couldn't pinpoint what exactly. "Walked in off the street?"

"That's the funniest part." Adrianna giggled. It sounded nice. "I used to work at a diner. Can you believe it? Me. Slinging burgers. What was I thinking?"

That

was

funny. As the door closed behind them, Sophia allowed herself to giggle too. Felt good--a release of tension.

The aroma of musk and old smoke still clung faintly to her clothes as they moved on.

She couldn't shake it off.

________________

"Here we are. Much better than that stuffy smoking room, don't you agree?"

The parlor was very...

pink.

"I-I guess?" Sophia hazarded, blinking owlishly.

The parlor looked like someone had taken the inside of a jewelry box and expanded it into a full-sized room. Pink--soft, shimmering, deliberate--was everywhere in fuzzy layers. Chaise lounges, love seats with plush upholstery, and gauzy curtains that danced ever so slightly in the filtered light. Silver frames lined the walls, some displaying watercolors, others empty but no less ornate.

The air was heated, liberally perfumed with something herbal, intoxicating--a dizzy blend of rose, lavender, and something darker. The odor assaulted Sophia before she'd even entered the space. Classical music whispered from invisible speakers, as if the room itself sighed contentedly in the presence of company.

At the far end stood two tall, blonde women in French maid uniforms: short skirts, lace aprons, thigh-high stockings--almost too scanty to be practical. Their features were exquisite, their bodies toned yet imminently busty, like bikini models cast as domestic help.

They stood motionless, expressions unreadable as steam curled from a fine china tea set on a nearby table.

"This is my parlor," Adrianna said with a small smile, lingering in the doorway behind Sophia. "It's where I come to relax. To be... reset."

Sophia barely registered the words--her senses were overwhelmed by the scent, the softness, and the warmth. She stepped cautiously toward a pink velvet loveseat, but Adrianna was already beside her, hand at her elbow.

"Here," she said, her voice lowering. "Sit. It's designed to hold you just so."

Sophia sank into the chair. The cushions were impossibly inviting, welcoming her like an old friend. She hadn't realized how tired she was until her limbs settled onto the armrests. Her body responded instantly, growing leaden, her thoughts fraying around the edges.

Adrianna, perched on a chaise across from her, reached for the teapot.

The maids had not moved a muscle. Their faces blank. Barely breathing.

"You two can go now," Adrianna said with a wave of her fingers. Her voice was light, but there was steel underneath. "Hubby dearest will want his scotch. Make sure you attend to him properly this time. He found last week's performance... lacking."

The maids bowed demurely, murmured, "Yes, ma'am," before gliding from the room.

"Honestly," Adrianna muttered, watching them leave. "They're all so beautiful when they arrive. But it rarely lasts. That pair has maybe another six months before the shine wears off."

Sophia blinked. The words registered slowly. She frowned, but said nothing.

Adrianna turned back to her with a smile that was too bright, too rehearsed. She poured the tea carefully, an amber red liquid that caught the light unnaturally.

"You look flushed," she said, handing over the china cup. "Are you feeling alright?"

Sophia shook her head gently. "I mean--I'm not sick. Maybe a bit flustered. The chair, maybe. The smell..."

Adrianna tutted softly. "Oh, sweetheart. That's just the air in here. You're probably not accustomed to an atmosphere so... refined."

She leaned in, her hoarfrost eyes narrowing.

"This will help," Adrianna said, nodding to the tea. "Drink it. You'll feel better. It'll clear away the fog."

Sophia hesitated. The cup was warm in her hands, grasped before she realized it. She brought the rim to her lips and sipped. The flavor was floral with an earthy undertone, sweet... too sweet.

Adrianna watched her drink with vulpine satisfaction.

"There," she purred. "Much better. We like our girls to be amenable. Not jittery. Not distracted. Simply... acquiescent."

Sophia blinked again. The heat in her chest spread outward. Her limbs were loose and comfortable, though her thoughts were too scrambled to digest. She tried to set the cup down but misjudged the distance, clipping the saucer.

Adrianna didn't flinch. She kept smiling like a cat in a cage full of canaries.

"You'll find," she said, voice steamy and rich as the tea, "that things here work a little differently than you're used to. But that's alright. You're adaptable. I could tell the moment you walked through the gate."

Sophia opened her mouth to speak, though unsure what to say, but Adrianna stood, brushing invisible dust from her tennis skirt.

"Let's begin the process, shall we?" she said brightly. "You'll want to look your best before meeting my darling husband, no? First impressions are so important, sweetie."

Sophia didn't nod. Not exactly.

But she didn't say no.

________________

The parlor was illuminated in the afternoon's golden light, air dense with floral incense and the faint music. Tasseled pillows spilled across the fainting couch where Sophia sat, her cheeks pink and thighs pressed modestly together.

Across the room, Adrianna stood before an open armoire. The interior was lined with lace, satin, and pastel silk, and each hanger held a more scandalous confection than the last. Adrianna hummed softly as she scrutinized a lavender crop top edged in frills.

"Oh, this one's

darling,

" she mused, holding it up. "But will it show off your new figure enough?" She turned, eyes twinkling as she looked over Sophia again, gaze gliding slowly over the soft swell of her bust, the subtle but undeniable curve rounding out her hips.

New figure?

Sophia squirmed on the couch. Her clothes felt tight, unfamiliar. Her bra pinched. Her blouse gaped. Her skirt clung. Every breath felt weightier in her chest, her flesh flushed and tender as though her body was waking up in ways it never had before.

Adrianna selected a pale pink skirt--pleated, micro-mini, with a violet ribbon belting the waist. She held it up. "Mmm... this might be

too

flirty," she said with a theatrical sigh. "But then again, why not enjoy looking delicious?"

Sophia bit her lip. The heat in her core was spreading, tingling through her thighs, fizzing beneath her breasts. The tea made everything feel soft and floaty, as though she were suspended in a dream.

A hot sticky dream where blood pooled in her slickening sex, dampening her plain panties.

"I used to be like you, once," Adrianna said, glancing over her shoulder with a knowing smile. "So serious. So

eager

to prove myself. All that work, slaving away at a dead-end job, hoping to impress a deadbeat manager... it never made me feel

wanted

. Not really."

She sauntered over, trailing the outfit in one hand. "And then I met my beloved husband." Her voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "He saw

through

me, past the drab, busy girl I thought I had to be. He peeled it all away and showed me what I was meant to be. A woman. A

wife."

Adrianna sat beside Sophia, so close their knees touched. She placed the skimpy skirt in Sophia's lap, slowly brushing it with delicate fingers. Fingers that were dangerously close to another place that yearned to be stroked.

"He taught me to let go. To stop chasing and start receiving. I don't worry about serving stinky customers anymore. Or choices. Or 'making something of myself.' I already

am

something--I'm His. I love, support, and serve my Man so he, in turn, can strive for greatness. His success

is

my success. My value is derived from

His

accomplishments. His pleasure is my reward."

Her voice was honeyed, melodic, hypnotic. Sophia's thoughts felt distant, slippery. Her body was heavy and drunk with sensation. Her breasts were somehow fuller, pushing insistently at her bra. Her waist cinched like it was circled by invisible hands, hips flaring outward. Her pussy ached, thighs churning. She squirmed again.

Adrianna's hand found her leg and gently squeezed it, sliding beneath the bunched skirt.

"Isn't it

freeing,

sweetie? To imagine yourself as

His

girl? A perfect servile doll. Pregnant and pampered. No pressure. No plans. Just pretty dresses and womanly duties."

Sophia's mouth opened slightly, as if to protest, but only a tiny, breathy sound came out.

Adrianna leaned closer, moist lips brushing the shell of Sophia's ear as manicured fingers traced the gusset of her panties. "You don't

really

want to spend your life writing term papers and sucking up to crusty old professors, do you? Not when you could be glowing and adored... dancing in the kitchen with a happy baby bump..."

Sophia whimpered, legs snapping shut and trapping Adrianna's wrist before she could venture into forbidden territory.

Virgin territory.

"You shouldn't... You can't..." Oh God, what was happening? Sophia's body burned like a forest fire, consuming her ability to reason in an inferno of sensual stimuli. "I'm not... this isn't... something's wrong--"

"Nothing is wrong, sweetie. Your responses are well within expectations. You're doing fine." Adrianna cooed, pulling back just enough to proffer the teensy crop top with her free hand. "Let's see how this looks on you. After all, we must ensure you're done when

He

summons you..."

Done,

she said it like Sophia was a roast dinner, not someone seeking gainful employment.

Her icy gaze drilled into Sophia's spinning skull like augers. The sudden humidity prickled her itchy skin. The pervasive perfume and gently insistent music saturated

everything.

She couldn't...

She

shouldn't...

But under those mesmerizing hoarfrost eyes, Sophia floundered, lost at sea in the heart of winter.

________________

Sophia stood stiffly at the center of the room, half-dressed, half-aware, garbed only in her ill-fitting underwear, bare feet sinking into the white shag carpet.

She didn't understand how matters had reached this point. Sophia was cripplingly body-shy and would never expose herself before a complete stranger. But Adrianna was insistent. Charismatic. Gorgeous. It seemed best to do as she said.

The stifling room didn't help, fogged with a wealth of saccharine sweetness. Every breath sheared away another layer of resistance. Dissolved another battery of concerns.

The heat from the tea still roiled in Sophia's center, dripping into her nethers, which dripped in turn. Her panties were a soiled misery.

Adrianna circled Sophia like a predator, a measuring tape looped around her neck, her elegant fingers occasionally caressing Sophia's sweaty skin or adjusting her posture. Each touch carried sparks, imparting exquisite shivers.