I love sitting for Carly Adams. She's got this huge bathroom with all mod cons. The whole thing is tiles and mirrors and glass. It even has a drain in the middle of the floor, so if you slosh water out of the bath it doesn't matter.
The first time I ever sat for Carly I'd asked if I could use their bathroom after the kids had gone done for the night, and she'd laughed and said no problem, just leave it clean and tidy. And that was easy to do. Just a quick wipe of the tiles with a towel and everything was fine.
I was sitting for them one warmish summer's night. The kids were in bed and asleep. I'd half-filled the bath with warmish water, hot enough to feel good, cool enough to not overheat me on a hot night, added bubble bath and dived in. Not literally, of course, even though the bath seemed big enough. More like a mini swimming pool than a bath.
After a quick wash, I started clowning around in the water. I'd push myself along the bottom, sending waves cascading up and down the bath. I didn't need to worry about spills because the splashes just swished straight down the floor drain.
I'd switched to lying on my tummy, making more waves by bobbing up and down, when I received a swat on the bottom. It wasn't a hard swat, more of a friendly swat, a way of saying hi. If I'd been dressed and walking around I wouldn't have done more than turn around and given the swatter a firm look.
But I wasn't dressed and walking around, was I? I was naked in the bath, with my bottom sticking high in the air as I prepared to make a big splash, and I was supposed to be alone. Not providing a show for anyone who might be passing through the bathroom.
You can understand that I felt just a little disconcerted. I squealed, promptly getting a mouth full of water, because while my bottom was up, my head was down. Choking and spluttering I rolled over onto my back, realised immediately that I was now showing off even more of my charms, and curled up into a ball, still spluttering and trying to see who had swatted me.
I had vague hopes that I'd see Carly there, laughing at my antics. No such luck. There was this man there and I'd never seen him before in my life.
"Whatcha doin', kid?" he said, and he was most definitely laughing at me.
"I'm in the bath," I shrieked. "Who are you? Never mind, just get out. And I'm not a kid."
"I was speaking figuratively, kid," he said. "The way you were clowning around I thought you were a kid. Then I saw your hips and decided that they were a little too well developed to belong to a kid. I'm Carly's dad, by the way."
Too well developed? What did that mean.
"Are you saying I've got a fat bottom?" I asked suspiciously, feeling I'd been insulted.
"Not really. From what I saw, and I'll admit I saw a lot, you have a very nice bottom. How old are you, kid?"
"I'm not a kid. I'm nearly twenty," I pointed out.
"Really? How near?"
I glared at him, then sighed.
"Oh, about another eighteen months," I admitted. "Um, do you mind leaving so I can get out and get dried?"
"Don't let me stop you," he replied, not moving.
I just looked at him, and he looked back, smiling.
"Tell you what, kid," he finally said. "I didn't get a proper look at what appears to be a very nice chest, what with you splashing and waving your arms and legs around and all. You sit up nicely with your arms by your side and I'll consider going into the other room and wait until you're decent.
Not," he added thoughtfully, "that you don't look pretty good just curled up like that."
I wanted to rant and rave at him, but you can't do a good rant while clutching your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. To do a good rant and rave you need to be able to wave your arms around and stamp your feet. My choices seemed to be to sit in water that suddenly seemed cold, or sit up as he suggested. Figuring that the swine could outwait me, the choices quickly narrowed down to one.
I sat up, arms by side, but you can be damn sure my hands were folded in my lap. Breasts were all he'd see, the old perv.
He was nodding appreciatively.
"Very nice," he murmured. "Very nice indeed."
If he'd left it at that I would probably have felt slight flattered, but did he leave it at that? He did not. Would you believe he reached down and cupped one of my breasts, running a thumb across the nipple until it was standing proud? And then he moved to the other breast and did the same. I just sat there, mouth open. I couldn't believe his gall.
Did he then turn and leave the bathroom? He did not.
"You said you would now go into the other room," I gently reminded him.
"Not exactly," he pointed out. "I said I would consider it, and after careful consideration it seems like a lousy idea."
Now what did I do? For a start, I covered my breasts again. How long was he going to keep me trapped here?
Not long it turned out. He reached for a towel and held it up. It was a big fluffy towel and right then I wanted it more than I've ever wanted anything. He dangled it, just out of reach.
"OK, kid, hop out now. I'll even pat you dry."
I was furious, but what could I do. The man was just so arrogantly sure of himself that argument would be useless. Reluctantly I got out of the bath, feeling even angrier when I saw that both my nipples were still standing proud. I have to admit it. The old bastard's consummate arrogance was getting to me.
I waited for him to pass me the towel. Rather, I waited, hoping he would pass me the towel, but suspecting he would use the opportunity to pat me dry the way he said he would.
He did neither. He just stood there, running his eyes over me. I'll swear I could feel his eyes actually touching me, probing my secret places. I was breathing a little harder now and if he didn't get a move on with that towel I would be doing a rant and rave.
"You know, I can't quite decide," he said. "Part of me wants to pat you dry and then carry you off to the nearest bed. The other part wants to lay you on the floor right here and now and take you while you're all wet and slippery."
I went scarlet and it suddenly dawned on me that the odd feeling I was having was arousal. This man was seriously getting to me and I had no idea why. I'd had lots of boys chase me without really impinging on my consciousness. I mean, I always just considered then to there.
So why was I so aware of Carly's dad? He was in his forties, for crying out loud. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore his comments. Well, I guess I couldn't ignore them, but I could let him know his hopes weren't going anywhere.
"I'm sorry to dash your hopes, sir," I said politely, "but I don't sleep around. I'm still a virgin and I'm staying that way."
