Chloe Moore was having a pretty mundane birthday. It was 5pm which meant she had officially just turned 21 years old fifteen minutes prior, but she had yet to be in a celebratory mood all day. Although it was the first day of summer, none of her friends were available; some were still trudging through exam week(s), some had already started summer courses in order to inch closer to graduation, and one had even been whisked away to Bali by her doting boyfriend of a year and a half. All Chloe had wanted to do was go out in the flashiest outfit she could think of consisting of the smallest garments she owned in order to finally present a legal ID to a bouncer, but this plan sounded neither fun nor wise without several partners-in-flirt.
It seemed as though she and her friends had lived out their craziest party days when they were well below the drinking age; they had gotten fake IDs in sophomore year of Catholic high school and developed quite the reputation amongst students, teachers, and nuns alike. They had been known to show up to school dances with a fifth of vodka in each of their coat pockets, host parties at which many a girl lost some aspect of her virginity, and sometimes get wasted in throngs of a dozen up on a rock in Riverside Park while the sun set behind them. But since they had accomplished so much debauchery so early in their partying careers, Chloe and her friends had matured quickly and moved on to more adult pursuits before some people her age had taken their first sip. So here she was, on the first day she was legally allowed to make horrible, drunk decisions, without anyone to do it with.
She had known this would be the case for a few days, though, so when her next-door neighbors had asked her to babysit on the night of her birthday, she accepted the job. Chloe was in her third year of college at Marymount Manhattan but still lived in the downtown apartment her parents had left her when they died; it was certainly home to many bittersweet memories, but she couldn't bring herself to move.
Besides, living on a block with so many families that had 2+ kids each was a built-in babysitting business that was too valuable to give up. It especially sweetened the deal that most of the dads she worked for were incredibly attractive, tall, and friendly, making her feel as if she were part of their families and giving her ample opportunity to sneak lots of thorough glances their way.
Chloe began to get dressed for work. She opened her closet and giggled to herself, not for the first time, about how her wardrobe was not prepared to make her look family friendly. On the contrary, her drawers were full of cropped t-shirts, tight tank tops, and obscene logos, while her hangers were dripping with miniskirts, short shorts, and flimsy sundresses.
The undergarments weren't much help; Chloe didn't even own a bra that wasn't transparent mesh, and her underwear consisted of strings, lace, or more transparent mesh (for when she wanted to match, of course). But it was her birthday and she didn't put much thought into looking "appropriate," or whatever that meant, so she chose her current favorite high-waisted jean shorts with six buttons instead of a zipper and a white, v-neck crop top with strings for straps that looked like they were about to snap any second.
Which is not to say that Chloe had the substantial, voluminous breasts that she always envied of her friends'. She had so much fun splaying her hands out on each of her friends' boobs when they were all happily tipsy, marveling at how even her not-tiny hands couldn't get a solid handful of them because there was just too much to grasp. There had been many a night those handfuls had led to tongues in bar bathrooms, but those are stories for another time...
Even so, Chloe had always been proud of her smaller, perky, ski-sloped boobs. They were the perfect size to bounce mesmerizingly under her tiny shirts without actually hurting too much when she jogged up and down the subway steps. They were the perfect complement to Chloe's long, lean legs that flared out slightly at the thighs, offering some jiggle to match her boobs and leading up to a full butt that had been her most-catcalled feature for years. Her waist tapered in for an elongated hourglass figure that had prompted both strangers and family friends to ask, "Why have you never gone into modeling? You're putting this body to waste," her whole life, to which she always responded, "Thank you, but I'd like to maintain my self-esteem if I can help it."
Standing tall at six feet, three of which being her frequently bare legs, Chloe was a confident girl used to feeling men's eyes all over her. She had gotten used to it from an early age when, despite the fact that she was in a Catholic school girl uniform (not the sexy kind- she hadn't yet learned to roll her skirt waistband three times to show off more leg, or to only slide on the sheerest of stockings), men on the street three and four-times her age had begun to ask for her number ("I could be such a good mentor to you"), invite her to their apartments ("it's only a block away, I swear!"), and even suggest she meet them at a club later ("I know the bouncer, getting in will be a breeze") before she turned even fourteen. Chloe had quickly figured out that being a kind, friendly person would waste a lot of her time at best and potentially cost her life at worst. Her "don't mess with me" face became her default mask as soon as left her front door every morning, and her mischievous smile was now reserved for the men she already felt comfortable with and knew well-enough to customize their teasing. In short, she was a subtle seductress.
With her revealing birthday babysitting outfit in place, Chloe spent a little extra time moisturizing her long legs and putting on some mascara, blush, and lip tint. She loved to resemble a blushing, naïve girl when she encountered the Clarkes; on Oliver, the effect was to hopefully make him wonder if her other set of lips matched the ones on her face, and on his wife, it was to nudge her towards assuming Chloe was innocent and nonthreatening to her marriage. Chloe's lips had always been full and pouty, often called DSLs in middle school (she'd had to look that one up on Urban Dictionary) and her mouth was more expressive than she liked.
Everyone could always tell how she was feeling based on the shape of her mouth and Chloe hated to be that transparent. If she was biting her bottom lip, she was anxious. If her lips were sucked together and in, she was thinking. If her lower lip was pushed out, she wanted something. And when her lips were ever-so-slightly separated, she was incredibly turned on. Luckily, she didn't think anyone had paid enough attention to her facial expressions to learn the key to that puzzle.
Chloe grabbed her bag, slipped on her sandals, and left her apartment just in time to walk the two minutes to her neighbor's front door by her booked time, 6pm. She knocked on the door but quickly let herself in as was the norm for everyone on the block. They were all friendly enough to know that if the door was unlocked, their friends were welcome to walk in as long as they announced themselves. Chloe could hear the clinking of plates and silverware, indicating the kids' dinner was underway, so she called out, "It's Chloe!" so as not to sneak up on anyone. She hung her bag on a hook in the entryway before strolling into the kitchen to join the family. The kids jumped up to hug her, yelling "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" right into her face enthusiastically even though she was mere inches away. Chloe laughed and scooped up the 6-year-old while hugging the 12-year-old with her other arm.
"Thanks, guys! There's no one I would rather spend my birthday night with," Chloe lied, but not completely. These kids were some of her favorites and did constitute a close second to going out drinking with friends.
