I fronted up at the Wallace's place ready to start the baby-sitting job. I was a little early and I spent some time talking to Mrs Wallace as she got ready. During the course of the conversation I mentioned that I had an invitation to a formal dance the next day, and I lamented over the fact that I didn't really have a decent adult ball-gown. Mrs Wallace turned and gave me a thoughtful look.
"If my memory serves correctly," she said, "you've got a 38C bust. I noticed as your figure is very similar to mine. Maybe you could use one of my ball-gowns. I'll leave a couple that I think might suit you on the bed and you can try them on later. If you're happy with one of them take it home with you. You can return it the next time you sit for us."
I thanked her and was actually eager to try one on right then and there but a sudden squall called me to my baby-sitting duties and I hurried off to sort out what was going on. From that point on the kids kept me busy until Mrs Wallace was ready to depart.
"I'll probably see you later," she said as she headed out the door, "but if Mike gets home first then there's no need for you to wait for me to return. Dun him for your wages and leave him to handle the brats. Serves him right for working overtime when he could have been going out with me."
Seeing that Mrs Wallace was going on a hen's night I suspected that there was no way known Mike would have gone with her, but I kept my mouth shut. I simply waved goodbye and turned my attention back to the kids.
An hour later the kids had finally worn themselves out and allowed me to tuck them into bed, whereupon they'd promptly fallen asleep. I returned to the front room and just flopped into one of the big armchairs and wondered where Mrs Wallace got the stamina to keep up with them every day. She had my sincere admiration.
Thinking of Mrs Wallace was enough to jog my memory regarding the ball-gowns. I hurried down to the main bedroom to see if she'd remembered to lay out the promised gowns, and there they were. One was teal and the other was multi-shades of yellow, and they both looked fantastic, although I had an immediate preference for the teal. That shade of colour really suits me.
I stripped off and put on the gown and it fitted me beautifully. It might have been tailored specifically for me. The only problem was my stupid bra. It looked terrible with the dress. A quick check showed that the dress had a built-in bra so I unhooked mine and ditched it and adjusted the dress. As far as I could tell it fit me even better. I did some twisting and turning and bending over to check that the built-in bra did contain me and I wouldn't spill out at an inconvenient moment and was quite satisfied with the result.
A couple more spins in front of the mirror and then I stripped off the gown and laid it reverently on the bed. I wasn't even going to bother to try on the yellow gown. As far as I was concerned I had my dress.
Before I got dressed in my own clothes I put my hands behind my head and did a big stretch to loosen up a bit. Then I gave a strangled scream. Strangled, because I didn't want to wake the kids. Scream, because Mr Wallace said, "Magnificent."
I spun around to face him, hand bra firmly in place. If I'd had time for second thoughts I'd have turned the other way so my back was to him, but I was a little off balance. I'm sure you would be too if you suddenly found yourself in front of a strange man wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of panties. Not really strange, I guess, as I knew him, but you know what I mean.
"Oh, ah, Mr Wallace," I babbled. "Mrs Wallace left a couple of ball-gowns for me to try on." I instinctively waved towards the two gowns, remembered what I wasn't wearing, and replace my hand bra with some alacrity.
"I saw the gowns," he said, at the same time taking hold of my wrists. He gently but firmly moved my hands away from my breasts, leaving me nicely exposed to his gaze, and he was certainly looking.
"Magnificent," he said again.
"You already said that," I sniped at him. "Would you please let go my arms?"
"Yes, well it was worth repeating," he said affably, releasing my wrists.
Unfortunately, while this sounds as though he was doing the right thing, it turned out otherwise. Not holding my wrists meant his hands were free to latch onto my panties and draw them down, leaving me in the position of trying to do a hand bra with one hand while covering my pussy with the other.
"If you don't mind," I snapped at him, feeling a bit incensed and hard done by.
"I don't," he assured me. "I truly don't."
His eyes were wandering all over me and he was smiling at me.
"You're older than I thought," he told me, "but I guess just like everyone else you've been growing older and I just haven't noticed. How old are you now, eighteen?"
I nodded, trying to pull away from him, but he was holding my wrists quite firmly. Not grasping them hard, but there was no give in his grip.
His hand dropped one wrist but promptly moved to cover one breast, stroking it. I could feel it swelling under his touch, my nipple puckering and pressing against his palm.
"If you don't mind," I said snarkily, and he laughed.
"Why would I mind?" he asked, and his second hand was on my other breast, repeating the fondling, and the swelling and puckering were also repeating. Now, however, I could do something about it. Or so I thought.
I went to back up and break contact, but it didn't work that way. Sure, I backed up, but he just moved with me, and then the bed was against the back of my legs. I had to catch myself before I fell flat on my back.
