The Last Babysitter | Requiem

Unrequited Love, Hatcher's Investigation, and Trapped in Ella's Web

Hatcher was lying on the bed watching television when an intriguing idea came to mind.

Before leaving Springfield, they decided to stay the night at a motel. The idea of getting rested up before the long drive back to Cold Harbor City sounded amazing to them both. But now, as Hatcher laid in the bed, the neon lights from the motel sign shining through the windows, all she could think about was Michael Jerico.

His room was only two down from hers. She got up, pulled the blinds open, looking around the dark and empty parking lot. Hatcher considered her move then removed her clothes.

Dressed in only black silk panties and a white, thigh length robe, Hatcher walked outside and two rooms down to Jerico. It was chilly. Good, she thought. Her nipples would be hard. He liked that. The thought of Jerico sucking on them in the doorway, out in the open for all to see, excited her. They were in Springfield, New York. Hundreds of miles away from home. No one around here knows who they are. So who would care?

Jerico answered the door in only his pants. Hatcher's eyes fell to his pecs, the shape of his nipples, and all his muscles. Jerico's arms and body were cut. Not an ounce of fat anywhere. The thought of dragging her tongue around the lines of his body caused pulsations between her legs that were fucking begging her to do something.

"If you aren't gonna make the first move, I am." Hatcher said.

Jerico exhaled, leaning on the doorjamb with his shoulder. "It's not a good idea, Marie."

"That's kind of the point, daddy."

"Stop, please?"

Hatcher opened her gown and allowed Jerico's eyes to scan every inch of her. "Put your hands on me."

Jerico didn't move.

"Michael? Put your fucking hands on me."

"We can't, Marie. It's fucked up. It's SO fucked on so many levels. Can't you see that? We're betraying Danny. Your fucking husband. My fucking brother."

"Are you turning this down? Seriously?" Hatcher held her gown open. "What is it with you? You never cared before. You certainly weren't stopping me when I let you ass fuck me in the bathroom at Verne's bar. Or when you bent me over in the middle of the street that one night in SoHo. What gives?"

"I told you. I don't wanna do that anymore. Was all of it fun? Was it good? Yes. Hell yes. But I feel guilty about it, too. I can't even look Danny in the eye these days."

Hatcher closed her gown. "If you turn me down tonight, that's it. Don't come looking for me when you change your mind. It's closed. All of it."

"Okay."

"Unfucking believable." She walked back to her room and slammed the door.

Hatcher ended up finishing herself off in the shower. Soaking wet, she climbed into bed and turned on the television while she scrolled through TikTok. And Jerico? He went back to texting with Ella.

* * * *

Detective Hatcher turned left on Broadway and parked her white Escalade in an empty spot in front of Carl's furniture store. It was midday, high in the 90s, and busy. That was good. All the chaos would help hide Hatcher as she followed Ella.

Since their return home, Hatcher and Jerico have only spoken about the case and nothing else. So far, the jerk seemed to be serious about his stance on not fooling around anymore. It made Hatcher curious, though. The only time a man gets that way is when there's another woman. It's rare for a man to set up boundaries all by himself. A woman, or when a man finds God, are the only reasons a man says no to pussy. And Michael Jerico sure hasn't found God.