Erotic Short Story: The Babysitter

TheBabysitterCoverWebA bored twenty-one year old girl goes on a free holiday with her parents to an idyllic tropical island in the Indian Ocean. She accepts a babysitting job from a wealthy couple in order to earn some money to party. The enchanting pair soon arouse her interests… and maybe much more. Feeling frustrated, she lets her curiosity get the better of her and uncovers a saucy secret about the glamorous older pair. What the inexperienced teen discovers leads to an experience that surprises and delights her.

The burning sun, screaming kids, and loud music were all conspiring against me. My thumping head had zero chance of recovering in these conditions. The pool was positively buzzing. Sweaty bodies displaying far more flesh than my queasy tummy cared to see were jammed together on sun loungers and towels, faithfully worshipping that ball of yellow light. Smaller bodies jumped and splashed in the water, probably pissing in there for all I knew. What was fun about this?

“Lemon in the coke for you Miss?”

And then there was José.

I turned back to the pool bar to find him aiming that gorgeous lopsided grin at me, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. My aviator shades didn’t do much to hide my flaming cheeks. “Yes please,” I mumbled, looking down, fiddling with the money in my hand.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweetheart. It was an easy mistake to make. I’m just impossible to resist.” He did some little pouty thing with his lips, and I wondered how I’d ever got it so wrong, it seemed so obvious now. “And if I did swing the other way. You’d be the first girl on my list.” He added in a loud whisper.

Wasn’t it enough that I’d humiliated myself by drunkenly attempting to snog to the campest man in the whole hotel? Did he have to make my life more of a misery by taking the piss out of me too? I offered only a tight smile in response, and handed him enough notes to cover the drinks, making a hasty retreat with the tray without bothering to wait for the change.

The sun continued to beat down relentlessly as I navigated through tables and chairs, bodies and sun loungers. My head continued to pound. A trickle of sweat ran down my forehead. I was seriously starting to regret taking up my parents’ offer of a free holiday in the Indian Ocean. We’d arrived at the resort less than 24 hours ago and so far it had been an unmitigated disaster. Granted, the island was stunning, but that really didn’t make up for the fact that my parents were controlling my every move, using the fact that they had paid for me to be here as a means to boss me around. I’d managed to escape their clutches for a few hours last night, convincing them to go to bed while I ‘finished my drink’. That had led, quite a few drinks later, to the José incident and also to a severe lack of sleep.

“You can’t just stay in bed on the first day,” Mum had insisted at eight o’ clock this morning, after banging relentlessly on the door of my hotel room, adjacent to theirs. What the hell? Surely eighteen is old enough to decide when I get of bed? Apparently not. And now it seemed I was their personal waitress too. I vowed things would change when we returned home. Screw trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I would get a job, move out, and finally have some real independence.

I dumped the tray on the tiled ground at the head my parents’ loungers and bit back a sarcastic comment. After all, they were funding this holiday, and pretty much most other areas of my life. I would try to show some gratitude, however much I hated the situation.

“Thanks love. Why don’t you go have a swim and cool off, you look awfully hot?” Mum asked, looking up from her conversation.

“I think I’ll pass thanks,” I replied, sitting back in the plastic bar chair I’d parked under the palm tree after breakfast and had been slumped in, zombie-like, ever since apart from the occasional trip to the bar for drinks and lunch. Stuffing my earphones back in I turned up my iPod, sipped my coke, and surreptitiously studied the woman my mother was talking to, perched on the edge of a sun lounger next to hers. People watching, one of my favourite past-times.

The two women looked to be about the same age – mid forties – but that’s where the similarities ended. They were a study in contrast. My mother, like me, had tanned skin, unruly black curls, and blue eyes. She was also slightly dumpy, completely free of makeup, and wearing the most hideous floral swimsuit I’d ever seen, which surely had to be a relic from the seventies.

The other woman had smooth pale skin and hair that could only be described as strawberry blonde and appeared to be shampoo-ad silky – at least, what I could see of it escaping beneath her huge sunhat. The main difference was that, unlike my mother, her new friend seemed so glamorous, as if she’d stepped right off the front of one of those Danielle Steel books I secretly loved to read. Huge oversized sunglasses hid half her face, and beneath them her lips were a gash of coral pink lipstick. Her tall lean body was clad in an elegant black swimming costume with subtle gold trim, and a black gauzy sarong. My mother could certainly take some styling tips! I had to admit though, something about the woman kind of intimidated me. She’d barely said a word in the hour since mother had captured her in conversation, simply smiling and nodding in response and calling her two spookily well-behaved children every now and again to have their sun cream topped up by their father, her accent impeccable queen’s English. Her husband appeared to be much more chatty and relaxed as he talked to my father, but he was still intimidating in a school principal kind of way.

I took another sip of my coke and shifted my chair to escape from the sun as it chased the shadows away, and Young Money started singing about how he could make my bed rock. Hmph, little chance of anyone making my bed rock on this holiday. After last night’s disaster with José I was steering well clear of the opposite sex. I managed to stick to that intention for the whole of that song and most of the next, until two lads at the pool bar caught my eye. Topless, dark haired, in their twenties, and from what I could see, complete fitties. My headache was soon forgotten. What harm could there be in looking? I watched them finishing their beers before taking to the pool, roughhousing and challenging each other – loud and raucous and far more interesting than watching the old people nattering.

A hand on my shoulder made me nearly jump out of my chair. Pulling out my earphones I looked up to see a pretty blonde girl smiling down at me. I recognized her as one of the girls I’d been chatting to last night in the bar, before the José incident.

“Hey, I was calling you,” she smiled.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, tryna drown out all the screaming kids!”

“I totally know what you mean. You look about as rough as I feel, no offence. How many sambuca shots did we do last night?”

“Uh, I stopped counting at five. Feels more like twenty though!”

“Hair of the dog, that’s what we need. Come on, Lisa’s at the bar.” I looked over at the bar where a small black girl with a turquoise bandana tied around her hair was perched on stool and waving at us. Lisa. The other girl I’d been hanging out with last night. Anna and Lisa, that was it. Enjoying a carefree girly holiday to celebrate their last summer before starting uni. It was all coming back to me. It was the kind of holiday I should be on. Which made me feel even more lame. But they were nice girls, and anything beat sitting here like a whiny five year old.

“Okay cool, let’s go,” I said, standing up. Then I remembered my lack of money. I wasn’t about to let her witness me begging my father for some more. “I’ll just get my shit together and I’ll meet you at the bar in a min.”

She walked back to her friend and I stood up and tried to discreetly catch my dad’s attention.

“What is it buttercup?” he asked. Okay, not exactly the kind of discreet I’d had in mind. Both my parents and their friends looked at me expectantly.

“I was just gonna go sit with my friends over there. Could I err, borrow, a little money please?”  Oh God, how demeaning.

“Go on then love. Here you go.” He made a big display of pulling his wallet out his pocket and handing me a small bundle of notes. I could see the other man watching me from the corner of my eye. Really, far from the relaxing getaway I’d imagined, this holiday was fast becoming one humiliation after another. I took the money, pulled my denim hot pants over my white bikini, and hotfooted it to the bar.

“Oh thank you angels for rescuing me. This morning has been pure torture!” I sighed as I slipped into a stool.

“I don’t envy you one bit love, I went to Greece with my parents last year and it was a nightmare. Bet yours are nowhere near as embarrassing as mine.” Anna replied and Lisa let out a snort.

“Anna, your parents are full on dope smoking, free loving hippies. They couldn’t be more cool if they tried!’”

“Yeah, like I said, embarrassing. You wanna know what my mother’s advice was before I left for the airport? Go get some honey, there’s a big world out there and lots of experimenting to be done.” She turned her gaze from me to Lisa, sitting either side of her, to make sure we’d taken in the full meaning of her statement, her neat black eyebrows raised comically. “Seriously. That’s what she said. Then she tucked a super-sized pack of chocolate flavoured Johnsons in my bag.”

“Oh My God that’s awesome!” I squealed. “I think my mother thinks I’m a virgin! And my father still calls me his little princess!”

“Aww that’s sweet babe,” Lisa offered, but couldn’t mask her expression of sympathy. “Okay, our mission is that we get your mind off your folks and have you a holiday to remember.”

“Well lemme get a drink in and I’ll drink to that!” I exclaimed, waving my money in the air to get José’s attention.

“Well hello again gorgeous, what can I get for you?” He asked with a wink.

“Well if you’re body’s still not on offer, I’ll have what they’re drinking!” I teased, feeling decidedly more playful than I had earlier. I was pleased when the girls laughed along with us. Suddenly last night’s antics didn’t seem quite so tragic. What the hell, I was young, I was on holiday. Why not have some fun? The pink cocktail José mixed me was tasty and very potent. It certainly took the edge off my hangover. Things started to look up over the next couple of hours as we chatted and laughed, eyeing up anyone of the opposite sex that looked to be eligible, giving them marks out of ten.

“What about him?” Lisa asked, nodding towards a rather severe looking mustached man with a full head of grey hair who’d just stood up from his sun lounger.

“Oh my God, Lisa! He’s ancient!” Anna exclaimed, a look of horror on her face.

“Not that ancient, he can’t be more than fifty. And I prefer to think of him as experienced rather than old.”

“You’re sick girl.”

“Look at him though. He kind of reminds me of my sociology teacher at college. I wouldn’t say no to him bending me over his desk.” I struggled to stop myself spitting a mouthful of drink all over the bar. Had she really just said that? None of my friends back home were quite like these two!

“Right that’s it, no more cocktails for you Miss! You are clearly off your head,” Anna joked, “and thanks for the disturbing mental image by the way. I’ll never be able to look at a classroom desk again without seeing your white butt.”

“I’m just saying. There’s something kind of appealing about a more… worldly gentleman. Don’t you think? Would you?” She asked me.

I’d never really given it any thought before but did find it a bit weird, the thought of shagging someone older than my dad. Though as I watched the man gather his belongings and head into the hotel, I couldn’t deny there was something intriguing about the idea. Elicit sex with an older guy. I felt myself dampen. “Hmmm. Undecided.” I concluded, shaking the image from my mind.

“You are two sick puppies. That’s all I’m saying! José. Gimme another drink!”

And so the early afternoon passed in a pleasant haze of drinks and giggles. The sun no longer seemed so hostile, in fact it felt rather nice. The kids playing in the pool no longer annoyed me, and my head had finally mellowed out and stopped thumping. The day was definitely looking up. Until I noticed my mother gesturing to me sometime around mid-afternoon. Ugh. I’d actually managed to forget that about the parents for a while there!

“Sorry girls, it looks like my playtime is up. I’m being beckoned.”

“Oh don’t go!” They chorused.

“I wish I could hang out all day but I gotta spend some time with them or I’ll be labeled a selfish cow and my life will be even more of a misery!”

“Okay, how about this. Go spend a few hours with them, and then meet us this evening. We’re going into the strip, checking out some of the bars and clubs.”

“Ooooh now that sounds good!”

“Excellent! Meet us in the bar at nine okay?”

“Sure thing. Sounds like a plan!” I hugged my new friends and walked back to my parents, trying to figure out how to ask them for yet more money so I could go out. They were alone now, gathering up their belongings, which made it slightly less awkward.

“Hey honey. Are you having a nice time with your friends?” Mum asked with a bright smile.

Be nice, I reminded myself. “Yes mum, thanks.”

“Oh good! They look like nice girls. I’m glad you’ve found some kids of your age to… hang with.” I cringed. Well, at least she hadn’t said play.

“Yes, they’re cool. Actually, about that. They’ve invited me to go out with them into town tonight. Would that be okay with you guys?” Was I really asking for their permission? Man, this sucked.

“And by that you mean can you have some more money?” Dad asked with a smile.

“Well, yeah kind of.”

“It just so happens I might have a solution or you. We’ve invited Phil and Jenny to dinner tonight and we thought you wouldn’t mind babysitting their little’uns for a couple of hours. They’ve offered to buy you room service for dinner and pay you too.” It reminded me of when he’d arranged my first paper round, and when he’d arranged with our neighbours for me to wash their cars every Saturday. Nothing had changed since I was thirteen.

“They’re loaded,” Mum whispered with a wink.

“Well you’ve done plenty of babysitting before,” Dad added, “and I have to say they seem like no trouble those two youngsters, good as gold. What do you think?”

I was about to protest, but as I thought about it, I realised it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. At least I’d be earning the money to go out and feel less guilty about constantly sponging. “How much will they pay me?” I asked.

“Well we didn’t talk exact numbers but if it’s not enough to go out with I’ll top it up.” Dad smiled.

“What time do they want me from?”

“We’re meeting at six, so just before that I guess.”

“And I’ll be free to go out at ten?”

“I would reckon so! You know your mother likes to be in bed by then, I can’t see us oldies all staying out later than that. I’ll make sure you’re free before ten.”

“Okay, sure. Why not?” I concluded, and wondered what my chances were of being allowed a siesta before then.

As it so happened, a siesta was exactly what my parents had in mind too, and I slept heavily for a good two hours and awoke feeling pretty refreshed and excited about the evening ahead. Not just the going out, but the babysitting too. At least it was a bit more time alone to chill out, and I’d always got on well with kids. After a quick shower to rid my body of the sheen of sweat that had built up while I slept, I pulled on my yoga shirts and vest top, and captured my wild black curls in a band, figuring I could do my makeup and get ready after the kids had gone to sleep. I only hoped they were as well behaved as my father seemed to think, though I had to admit they’d certainly struck me as being so at the pool.

Contrary my parents’ idea of me as scatty and unreliable, I liked to be on time for things, and by quarter to six I was knocking on the door of room 604. The dad pulled it open, and stepped aside for me to come in, smiling in welcome as I stepped passed him into a small kind of lobby.

“Thanks so much for agreeing to this. We really appreciate it.”

“Oh no problem Mr…” I paused questioningly.

“Oh goodness, call me Phil.” He extended a hand and I shook it, my small hand feeling lost in his large rough paw like one. I hadn’t realized quite how tall he was when he’d been sitting by the pool. He towered over my five foot four. His short cropped brown hair peppered with grey, he reminded me of my old art teacher. He looked rather dapper actually, in a fresh white shirt and beige chinos. He smelled good too, I noticed.

“Okay. No problem Phil.” I smiled.

“Come through, come through.” He gestured me ahead of him through a doorway and I stepped into a large lounge area that could have fit my single room into it at least three times. In the centre were two fancy couches, one facing the huge sliding balcony doors and one at right angles to it, facing a large television screen. To the left was a dining table with four chairs and to the right a desk, which sported a massive Macbook and a jumble of papers. The whole room was bright and spacious and completely luxurious, adorned with beautiful bright rugs and vases of fresh flowers.

“Wow,” was all I could think to say.

The guy, Phil, laughed, “let me show you the boys room.”

I followed him to the door past the dining area, which led to a bedroom just as spacious as the lounge, featuring two single beds, a whole wall of inbuilt cupboards, a large dresser, and another huge television, to which the two little boys were currently glued.

“Hi boys,” I called cheerily, “now don’t tell me, let me guess your names. Hmmm. You must be… Tom and Jerry?” They looked at each other and giggled, theirs eyes lighting up in delight in that way kid’s did when a grown up took the time to play with them. “No? Okay. Let me try again. It must be… Phineua and Ferb?”

“You’re funny!” The little one exclaimed.

“Is that your polite way of telling me I’m still wrong?” I asked with a mock frown and he nodded his head, a huge grin spread across his face. “Okay, okay, I give up. You must be secret agents with no names?”

The little one found that hilarious.

“He’s Thomas and I’m Aaron,” the older boy informed me seriously, taking on the role of spokesperson.

“They are definitely secret service names. You just wait. The queen will be signing you up any day now! You must be nearly eighteen right? Am I allowed to know your ages too or is that top secret too?”

“I guess it’s okay. I’m seven and Aaron is five so we won’t be eighteen for about a hundred billion years.”

“Well they are totally awesome ages to be! I’m eighteen and I wish I was seven or five again!” I winked. “Well okay you guys finish watching your show while I just talk to your dad, and then maybe you can beat me at some games?”

“Yeah, cool,” they chorused, bouncing up and down, and I turned with a laugh to find Phil watching us, a smile on his face. He closed the boys’ door as we walked back into the main area of the suite.

“Well I can see you’re a natural with kids, we definitely picked the right girl for the job. So there’s not really much I need to say. The boys have eaten dinner already. They can get into bed at seven and watch telly for half an hour, but I pretty much guarantee they’ll be asleep before the half hour’s up.” He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a glass decanter full of some kind of spirit. “Whisky?” he offered and I shook my head.

“No thanks.” In truth I’d have loved some. My parents still frowned upon me drinking alcohol at all and would never have offered me hard liquor, but I didn’t want to seem irresponsible when I was looking after the guy’s kids. Maybe it was some kind of test?

“You’re sure I can’t tempt you?” He asked again, and I noticed how nice his smile was. Geez, what was wrong with me? It must have been all that talk of older men earlier.

“Um, no thanks Mr, um, Phil. I’m fine.”

“Not a spirit drinker huh? Bet you’re more of a wine fan. Well here, have this with your dinner.” He handed me a bottle of red wine that looked far pricier than any I’d ever laid my hands on before.

“Oh, thanks Phil.” I accepted the bottle and smiled up at him. It made such a nice change to be treated like a grown up.

“You’re very welcome. You are on holiday too, You should be having a good time. Don’t think of this as a job, relax and enjoy yourself. Order anything you like for dinner. I mean anything. Just tell them to put it on the room tab. And feel free to use the bathroom in our room,” he gestured towards a door at the opposite end of the lounge, “to get ready. I know you’re going out tonight, and I know how you young girls like to pamper yourselves. There’s a nice big tub in there and good lighting for doing makeup, according to Jenny.” He glanced at his watch. “My wife takes longer and longer to get ready with every year that passes,” he laughed.

As if summoned by his words, the door opened and the lady from the sunbed emerged. She wore a simple long red dress, which matched her lipstick exactly, and was stunning against her pale skin. Her hair was twisted on top of her head, and for the first time I could see that her eyes were an icy blue. She was no less intimidating now than she had been earlier. She nodded in my direction, her plump scarlet lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners, by way of a greeting.

“Right Phil, we’d better be on our way. I trust you’ve briefed our young lady?” She fastened elegant gold earrings to her lobes as she spoke, click-clacking across the room in her high black heels.

“Yes dear, all is well.” He assured his wife and turned back to face me. “Right, I’ve left our mobile numbers on the table in case you need anything, and I’ll make sure we’re back by half nine so you’re not late to meet your friends. Have fun!”

“Thanks. You too.” I smiled, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them. What was it about that woman that made me feel about two foot tall? I scanned the room again, unable to take in the luxury of it. I’d never seen anything like it in my life. I never even knew hotel rooms like this existed!

“Okay boys,” I called, “who’s ready to play hide and seek?” A patter of footsteps preceded the bedroom door being thrown open to cries of “me, me!”

The next hour flew by in a blur of games and laughter. We played all the old classics; Simon Says, Hide and Seek, even Hangman, to ensure that the little ones were well and truly tired out mentally and physically, by bedtime. They were the easiest babysitting charges I’d ever known, and didn’t even kick up a fuss when I told them it was time to brush their teeth and get into their pyjamas. I indulged them with three bedtime stories and I was delighted to realise they were both completely sound asleep by the time I’d finished reading the third. Wow, that was easy! No need for the telly at all. Checking my watch I realized it was only quarter past seven. I had a couple of hours to get ready, eat some dinner, and relax before a night out on the town. I sighed with contentment. This was more like it.

I chose a posh sounding pasta and vegetable dish from the room service menu, feeling decidedly grown up as I ordered it. On a whim I added chocolate gateaux for dessert. Well, he had said order anything. Pouring myself a glass of wine, I stepped onto the balcony, and whistled with amazement. It was about ten times larger than my one three floors below and on the opposite side of the hotel, and furnished with a glass patio table, a wicker sofa, and lush pot plants. I sat down at the small glass patio table and took in the view. The ocean, visible across the road, was a swipe of aquamarine glittering like a million jewels in the evening sun, the white beach practically deserted at this late hour. Above the ocean, the sky grew a deeper blue as the sun moved to the West. The view was exquisite. I could get used to this life. Maybe that should be my plan of action – marry a rich older man with money and live a life of luxury.

The wine was smoother than any I’d ever tasted and slipped down very nicely indeed. By the time my dinner arrived I was on my second glass and feeling more than a little mellow. The meal was delicious. I savoured every last bite. This was a million times nicer than the free-for-all self-service restaurant we’d eaten in the night before. After licking every trace of chocolate from my spoon and desert bowl, I pushed the tray away from me and leaned back happily. Wiping a hand across my forehead, I realised how hot and sweaty I was again. The heat in this place was relentless. I’d definitely need another shower before going out.

It felt weird opening the door to Jenny and Phil’s bedroom, like encroaching on their private territory. Part of me wanted to use the boys’ bathroom instead, but Phil had insisted, and I didn’t want to be rude. Their mammoth bedroom looked like something out of a magazine spread and boasted the same level of glamour as the rest of the suite. The centerpiece was a huge four-poster bed. I walked through to the adjoining bathroom and gasped with amazement. It had not only a walk in shower that looked like it could fit ten people and had gadgetry all over the wall, but a massive tub sunken into the floor, with water jets. There was absolutely no way I could resist. I ran myself a bath, pouring in generous amount of the fancy apple bath soak from the shelf, and added to the indulgence by lighting the scented candles that lined the edge of the tub, turning out the main light. After checking on the boys, who were still sleeping soundly, I locked the bathroom door, slipped out of my clothes, and into the tub. It took me a few minutes to figure the jets out, but once I did, I was in paradise. They fired against my body, tickling and massaging my skin at the same time. I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes, slipping once again into my rich older man fantasy. It was becoming more and more appealing all the time.

I washed my hair and then dragged myself out of the tub after ten minutes, realizing it was after eight and I needed to get ready. Wrapping my body in one of the soft white hotel towels and my hair in another, I applied my makeup in the bathroom mirror. Jenny was right – it was perfect lighting. My going-out makeup routine was a cinch these days, I practiced it so much. My large blue eyes were framed by dark lashes and really didn’t need much enhancement, but I knew they really popped when I outlined them with smoky shadow and black eyeliner. I didn’t bother with foundation in this heat, blessed with clear dark skin anyway, and instead of lipstick I smeared my full lips in my favourite colourless cherry lip gloss. Done. I moved through to the bedroom, seeking a hairdryer, and found one on the dressing table. Seating myself on the padded stool, I let my shoulder length curls loose from their towel and brushed them out carefully before blasting them with the hairdryer. I only half-dried them, and then applied serum through the lengths, ensuring they would dry wild and silky, just how I liked them. I assessed myself in the mirror and smiled, happy with the results.

Then my gaze took in the reflection of the room behind me, and I liked the picture. Me, in this setting, lady of the manor. What was it like to live like this? I wondered. What was it like to be Jenny? The woman was a mystery. So aloof. I opened the lid of the large makeup box on the dressing table. It was bursting full of expensive brands. My eyes surveyed the top of the dresser – perfumes, lotions and potions. I sprayed one of the perfumes on my neck. It smelled musky and dark. I liked it. My eyes were drawn down towards the dresser drawers. Before I knew what I was doing I found myself pulling open the top drawer. It was stuffed full of the most amazing materials, all thrown in together – nothing neatly folded like I’d have expected from such a lady. Lace and satin, leather and silk, all jumbled together in a rainbow of delight.

I pulled out the first garment my hand touched and gasped. It was a black leather bra. Nipple-less. Oh my God. I tried to imagine Jenny wearing this, and somehow I actually could. I could see her wearing this, with matching knickers, and thigh high boots. Bright red lipstick on her half smiling lips. An image of Phil entered my mind then. I felt myself dampen between the legs. I was seeing him in a totally new light.

I pulled out another garment – a red lacy bodice. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I wondered how it would feel to wear it, how the lace would feel against my skin. I glanced at my phone. Not even eight thirty. I had plenty of time. Letting the towel fall to the floor, I stood naked in front of the dresser and then pulled the bodice over my head and laced the red ribbons that latticed across the front, tying them together in a bow at the top. I pulled out a matching red thong and slipped it on, shocked to discover a hole I the crotch. Crotchless panties. I’d heard of them but I’d never seen a pair. I ran my finger down them, across the lace, and suddenly I was touching my own moist lips. I gasped.

Did Phil like this kinky stuff? Did it make him hard? Had he screwed him wife while she was wearing these? I studied myself in the mirror. My young body was small and tight, toned and lithe, my tanned skin complimented by the deep red of the lace. The corset top made my firm breasts spill out the top like a hooker in a cowboy and western film. The thong looked good on my slender hips. I’d never felt so feminine, or so sexy. Putting one hand on my hip, I posed, feeling like an underwear model. I spread my legs and pouted at myself. Playboy model. I smiled. Stockings and heels. That’s what I needed to finish the look. I was getting carried away by this fantasy now but I didn’t care, my heart was racing my body was buzzing.

I sat back on the velvet stool and searched through the drawer for stockings, my hand bumping against something hard. I pulled it out. A large black vibrator. Hard and long, and very tempting. I pressed the on button and it started humming, vibrating in my hand. I wrapped my palm around it. Lowered it towards my sweet spot, imagining how good it would feel. I touched it against myself and sighed with pleasure, but then suddenly, switched it off and placed it on the dresser. I couldn’t. That was just too weird.

A pang of guilt struck me suddenly, pulling me back to the senses from the fog of lusty fantasy I’d been lost in. What the hell was I doing? I was supposed to be looking after those kids. What if they woke up? I quickly wrapped the towel around myself and tiptoed to the boys’ bedroom, reassuring myself that they were still, in fact, fast asleep. Okay, enough messing around, it was time for me to get dressed.

It was as I was walking back across the lounge that I heard the key in the door. My heart jumped in panic. Time slowed down. I clutched the towel around me and looked toward the bedroom door. There was no way I’d make it in time. I just stood frozen as the door swung open and Phil walked in.

“Oh, gosh, sorry.” He said, when he noticed my state of undress, though he didn’t look away. In fact his eyes flitted down to my bare legs. I shifted the towel higher under my arms and prayed none of the red lace was visible beneath.

“That’s okay, I was just. I, uh, I was… I just got out the bath and checked on the boys.” My face was burning.

“Of course. I am sorry, I came back early. Thought you might like to get away sooner to see your friends.  But I can see you’re not ready yet.” He had trouble keeping his eyes on my face as he spoke, his eyes roaming down to my legs and back up again, his voice sounding a little flustered. Despite my embarrassment I realised I quite liked the effect my near nudity was obviously having on him. I was suddenly seeing him in a completely different light. His deep voice, his broad shoulders. His long legs in those chinos, his… oh my God… was that… did he? Yes! That was a definite bulge in his trousers.

“Oh, I, uh… okay. I was just getting dressed.” I mumbled.

“Of course, go ahead. Pretend I’m not here. I’ll go sit on the balcony with a drink. You carry on as you were.” I nearly laughed at that. Carry on as I was? If only he knew what I’d nearly been doing before he came in. Had down, I turned and scuttled to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Leaning against the door I took several deep breaths to get my heart back to its normal rate, still clutching the towel around me. Then, with my free hand, I grabbed my bag, put it on the bed, and began digging through for the underwear and dress I’d packed for going out.

A soft knock at the door. “Are you decent? Can I come in?” He asked. I looked down. Decent? Well, the towel still hid his wife’s lacy undergarments; I guessed that was good enough.

“Okay sure.” I answered and he opened the door and entered, carrying a glass of red wine.

“I thought you might appreciate this while getting ready?”

“Oh, yes please. That’s lovely, thanks.” Why couldn’t I stop thinking of him naked? Why couldn’t I stop thinking of him kissing me? Why was my body growing softer and wetter as he walked towards me? I took the offered glass with a shaking hand and he just stood in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said again.

“You’re very welcome,” he said, and as if remembering himself he turned to leave. He paused then, looking to the dresser on his left as if something there had caught his eye. I knew what it was immediately. Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit.

“Oh my,” he said, walking to the dresser in two strides and picking up the vibrator. He turned to me with it in his hand and a half smile on his face, “been doing some snooping I see?”

“I was just… I was looking for something and. I… I’m sorry.” I thought I was going to cry then. I was mortified.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Really it’s okay.” He walked over to me and put an arm around my back, rubbing my shoulder. “I was only teasing. We all like a little snoop. We all get a little intrigued from time to time. Were you intrigued sweetheart?” I found myself nodding then, a strange sensation of falling coming over me. Something to do with his closeness, his scent, his voice. “Did you use it?” He asked, his voice husky.

“No.” I replied, in a small voice, unable to make eye contact with him.

“But you wanted to right?”


“You wanted to know how it would feel inside you yes?”

“Yes,” I nodded, my voice, smaller still.

The room, rushing away from me. All I could see was him and my pulsing desire.

“Do you want me to show you how?”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t answer. Was this real? Was this okay? I realised I was nodding and spreading my legs, as if my body had a mind of it’s own. He reached towards me and released my hand from the towel, causing it to fall to the floor at my feet.

“Oh,” he gasped. “Oh wow.” He stepped back and looked me up and down as I stood before him in his wife’s red lacey underwear, legs spread. “Turn around for me,” he said in a husky voice, more of a command than a request. I did as he asked. “Wait, there’s one thing missing.”

He turned and opened one of the inbuilt cupboards, scrabbling inside for a moment before returning with a pair of red stilettos in one hand, the black vibrator still in the other. “Here, put these on.”

The shoes were a size too big, but I slipped my feet into them anyway, and turned around again without waiting to be asked. I’d never felt more womanly, or more beautiful. I watched him as he watched me. A glazed look overcame him as he took in my breasts, my tiny waist, my round bottom, naked but for the tiny thong, and my slender legs, made long by the heels. Without another word he swept me up in his arms and carried me to the bed, laying me down on top of the covers.

My body shook with anticipation, my breath coming faster, deeper. I was practically melting with need.

“Open your legs,” he whispered and I did so, closing my eyes. I heard the buzz of the vibrator as he switched it on….

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Have a delicious day,


109 thoughts on “Erotic Short Story: The Babysitter

  1. jevy sang says:

    Damn…that was fuckin awesome

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Seven Wonders says:

    Great read!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. ShadowStorm says:

    Very nice


  4. Ariel says:

    Ever since I found your blog a few days ago I’ve been amazed at your stories. They are so well written, interesting, and exactly the kind of thing I like to read. Thank you so much for writing these! I was sick of reading about male fantasies, these are like my fantasies, written better than I could ever write them.


  5. NaomiFraizer says:

    the stories get my juices flowing. awesomely sexy….


  6. Tinnell says:

    LOVE LOVE LOVE This was exactly what I was looking for I can not wait for more 😘. You have an incredible talent and Knack for taking the reader without even realizing into the moment in essence directly into the fantasy itself Mmmhmm amazing Thank You.


  7. SamanthaChesterfield says:

    i love your work. Gets me going everytime 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Found your blog yesterday….can’t wait to read more. Definitely getting the whole book. Juices certainly flowing, as well as inspiration. I’m going to go back to writing….thanks!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. shama says:

    that was super awesome

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Monty Haskell says:

    Stimulating story!!!

    der Raskell


  11. Rita says:

    Awesome, I kept fingerfucking myself the whole time. need a hook up with a white and handsome guy. +2348129136070


  12. Started with How to write erotica and Erotica Sells and went on to read some of your shots. Enjoyed them very much. See my review on Amazon.


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