Daniella is my name, Dani to my friends. I'm nineteen (just), blonde with brown eyes (I'd rather have blue or green – green would be nice), a nice figure (especially where my bust is concerned), and I'm a little on the petite side (height challenged).
I'm as virginal as the next girl and as she's probably nineteen you can make your own guess as to what that means. I also have a boyfriend. Um, I'd better clarify that last bit. I have a new boyfriend who may remain my boyfriend if he learns not to be quite so pushy in certain matters. I'll decide when we're ready to move onto the next stage of our relationship, thank you very much. He might consider the next stage just a small step but I don't, so he can keep his hands in his pocket and play with himself, not me.
I am gainfully employed as a Help Desk consultant. Boy, I could tell you some stories about some of our customers. If idiocy was contagious over the phone I'd be in the loony-bin by now. I also have a side-line of baby-sitting for a few people, mainly people I've sat for previously who don't want to get a new sitter. I'll probably drop the sitting entirely over the next year.
I was currently doing a gig for Margaret and Andrew Denton. She's a toffee nosed bitch but he's nice. How the two of them ever hooked up I'll never know. How they managed to have two kids is also a mystery. I guess it shows she was nice to him at least twice in her life. Fortunately, the kids take after him, not her, which is the only reason I'm still agreeing to sit for them.
I fronted up at the Denton's on time and was very quickly reminded why I'd been in two minds about accepting this job. Margaret is just too condescending for words. She's hiring me to watch her kids for a few hours, not reducing me to serfdom forever and a day. This was definitely the last time I'd sit for her.
She and Andrew departed, him smiling and thanking me for coming, her looking through me as though I wasn't there. After that the kids and I settled down for some serious fun-time before I packed them off to bed.
It was after midnight when the Denton's returned and I was rather sleepy. Andrew noticed and suggested that I have a cup of coffee before I left, to keep me awake on the road. Margaret just sniffed and told Andrew that she was going to bed and he should take care not to wake her when he came up. (I could have sworn I heard Andrew mutter, "I never do," but politely ignored the comment.)
First things first, Andrew paid me my fee. He's always very conscientious about that, paying the agreed amount per hour. Some clients used to argue about how long an hour was and how part hours don't count and generally try to stiff me on my fee. They never lasted long as clients. Who needs the hassle?
It was a fairly hot night and I had dressed accordingly, keeping in mind that I'd be playing with children. I had tights in some fairly incandescent colours and a loose t-shirt. I mention this because of what happened next.
Andrew made the coffee and we had it sitting around the kitchen table, Andrew telling me about the show they'd seen. After the coffee we both got to our feet and it was only natural for me to help pick up the coffee things and put them on the kitchen sink. I was turning away from the sink after putting the mugs there and Andrew was turning away from the cupboard after putting the sugar and coffee away.
So we bumped into each other. It happens. People bump into each other all the time. The problem was that Andrew's hand was still raised from closing the cupboard and when we bumped it was at the same height as my breast, resulting in Andrew suddenly holding a handful of breast. (Quite a nice handful, too, even if I do say so myself.)
I was blushing madly and we hastily moved apart. I didn't dare say anything. Andrew looked a little flustered as well.
"Ah, look, sorry about that," he said, and then he got this odd look on his face.
"You know something, Dani," he said. "I'm not sorry at all. Your breast felt very nice. Excuse me while I make sure."
Loose t-shirt, remember. His hands (yes, both of them) slid up under my t-shirt and closed over my breasts and he kneaded them gently through my bra. A bra, which I might mention, was just a flimsy slip on-bra, me not really needing much support for my bust. Not yet, anyway.
"Yes," he said slowly. "Very nice."
I was now blushing madly and hastily stepping back, wondering what I'd do if he started chasing me. He didn't though, just stood there smiling, as though it was perfectly natural to grab a girls breasts.
"Mr Denton!" I exclaimed, not knowing what else to say.
"Mr Denton, is it? It's always been Andrew up until now."
"Andrew never grabbed," I pointed out and he laughed.
"Well, now that I've felt them, and can appreciate how fine they are, will you please show them to me?"
I'm like, "What?"
"Show then to me. I really would like to see them. Just lift up your top and bra and let me see what felt so wonderful."
"Do you seriously think I'd even consider such a thing?"
I mean, seriously, what did he think I was?
"Actually, yes," he said. "You have a fine natural asset there. What harm can there be in showing me?"
I bit my lip, considering. Should I or shouldn't I. Stupid question. Obviously I shouldn't. The real question was would I or wouldn't I? Did I have the nerve to flash my breasts at him? I swallowed nervously and decided that I did.
Having made up my mind I acted quickly before I could chicken out. Blushing furiously I hoisted up the front of my t-shirt, lifting my bra away from my breasts at the same time.
"Yesss," said Andrew, almost hissing the word. "Do you know you have the most perfect nipples I've ever seen?"
To emphasise this fact the rotten swine raised his hands and place a finger gently on each nipple, rolling them around slightly. I could feel them stiffening under his touch and I'm surprised my face didn't catch fire it felt so hot.
I started to bring my top back down but he was faster. He caught my hands and continued lifting, baring me from the waist up. He tossed my things on the table and I immediately put on a hand-bra.
