The Babysitter

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Marybeth was a great baby sitter. The kids loved her and I knew I could trust her to be sensible when my wife and I were out. She was recommended by some of the other parents around the neighbourhood, so we gave her and go and hadn't looked back since.

My wife and I were just coming back from one of our monthly date nights when she volunteered me to drive Marybeth home. I just wanted to go to bed, but then I looked at her little pouty face and caved.

She climbed into the passenger seat and we started to drive down the dark streets, heading for her house just on the outskirts of town.

'So, got much planned for your night?' I asked to fill the silence.

'I was just going to go to bed. It's quite late. What about you, Mr Johnson?'

'I don't think I've got much left in tank, so it'll probably be bed for me too.'

'And what about Mrs Johnson?' She asks turning in her seat.

My eyes turn from the road to look at her. When I do I have to do a double take. The way she twisted in her seat to face me, she'd lifted one of her legs onto the chair, giving me a view straight up her skirt to her pink kitten underwear. I quickly turn back to the road and look away. Obviously she hadn't realised and it would have been wrong for me to look.

'I... er... she'll probably be asleep before I get back.'

'On date night?' She queries.

My eyes flick back to her eyes, down to her panties and then back to the road.

'Er... Yeah.' I reply to her question.

'Is that not a little sad?' She asks, her eyes burning into the side of my head.

'How so?'

'Shouldn't date night end a bit more... excitingly?'

All of a sudden my mouth felt dry. I wetted my bottom lip with my tongue, before sucking it between my teeth.

'What's wrong, Mr Johnson? Am I making you uncomfortable?'

I don't reply, I don't respond. I just keep my eyes on the road a head of me. But I can still see her in the corner of my eye. I can see her running the tips of her fingers up her other arm, across her collarbone and then down the front of her chest, where she pulls her top down just a fraction, before letting it spring back into place.

'I... er... I don't think my wife would like you touching yourself like that and asking me all these personal questions.' I stutter.

'But what about you, Mr Johnson. What do you want?'

My eyes flick back to her. Her eyes locked onto mine as she pulls her skirt further up her legs.

'Marybeth, please stop. This isn't right.'

'What's wrong about it?'

'My wife...'

She turns and looks in the back seat like she's looking for something.

'No, I don't see her.' She teases.

'Don't you have a boyfriend or something?'

'Yeah, so?'

'I don't think he'd be too impressed.'

'I don't see him here either and plus he's not very good. I need a man with some... experience.'

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