"Andrea, Susan, can you two come down here for a minute?"
I heard mum calling us and felt my cheeks flush angrily. I know Susan was still young but I wasn't a child anymore and didn't want to be treated like one.
"Andrea, don't start young lady, my taxi's here." The neutral tone couldn't hide her impatience and I could picture her looking at her watch whilst standing at the door, waiting for me to show myself. Knowing she wouldn't leave until I'd done as asked, I resignedly sauntered to the top of the stairs.
"Yes, Mum, I know."
I deliberately used a condescending tone because, as I suspected, the babysitter was standing there and, although I wanted to ignore him, our eyes briefly met, before I began a staring contest with Mum, accompanied by a short painful silence. Finally, running out of patience, she smiled in resignation and spoke again. "Now listen carefully, young lady, I'm going and probably won't be back until very late. Susan's ready for bed and, as for you," her eyes spat fire, "I've decided... as part of your punishment, ten thirty is late enough for tonight and that's final."
My mouth opened to object but mum's stern look silenced me. "Now, don't be a pain in the ass for Mr Daniels, Andrea, or you'll regret it. Do we understand each other?"
"Yes, Mum," I replied truculently. I'd seen Dean arrive in his nice shiny car and he was sooo good looking. Without a word, he looked up at me and, after a curt nod, moved towards the couch in the living room. Within seconds of making himself comfortable on the soft leather, the TV remote was in his hand. Aware I was staring at him, I returned my attention to mum. Despite her angry expression, the presence of Dean caused a shiver of excitement to run down my spine.
"Andrea, I'm depending on you to look after your younger sister because Dean's only here in case of an emergency. Now promise me you'll behave," she ordered, interrupting my train of thought. Stop treating me like a baby. I wanted to scream at her but just kept staring instead.
“Andrea?" The tone was different and I knew I was teetering on a knife edge now.
"Yes Mum, I promise. Now go or the taxi will leave without you."
She gave me a long hard stare. Torn between a night out with the girls and her duty as a single mother was making her cranky. Of course, having one of her daughters being awkward didn’t make life easier. She seemed at a loss at what to do with me. Susan was precocious, eleven-and-a-half years old, and adorable. She was the apple of Mum’s eye and couldn't do anything wrong.
I'd celebrated my sixteenth birthday only a week ago and, although I was a young adult, at least according to the law, in her opinion, I’m a gigantic pain in the ass. My latest indiscretion, smoking in school, was just the last in a long line of incidents and that's why Mum was so angry with me and the reason I was being punished.
I decided to try and convince her that I could be trusted and treated her to one of my most appealing smiles and descended the stairs. Standing next to my sister, I asked if it was really necessary for Dean to babysit. Still not completely believing my intentions were sincere, Mum nodded resolutely before hesitantly walking towards the front door. I tried to hide my disappointment at her decision but failed miserably.
At the door, she looked at me, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Oh, another thing Andrea, I work with Dean's mother, so don't embarrass me tonight. Okay?” The warning was accompanied by a tight-lipped peck on my cheek. “Because the last thing I want, is to hear about your behaviour when I’m standing at the coffee machine. You've been warned.”
She gave me another long, cold, hard stare before giving Susan a quick kiss. "Okay Susie, Mama's going now and I'll see you tomorrow. If you want something, just ask Andrea, okay?" Then she turned on her heel and before I could sarcastically say, “Have fun!” she was gone.
"About time," I mumbled. Now I had Dean all to myself.
o0o
"Do you want something to drink, Dean?" I was on my way to the kitchen and I thought he was ignoring me because he didn't answer. As I was about to repeat the question, he finally spoke.
"Sure, what d'you have?" After hearing I was taking a Cola up to Susan, he said that would be fine. "Do you have Doritos?" he asked as an afterthought.
"Sure."
o0o
"What yer watching?" I asked, plopping down next to him on the couch. Susan was settled and now I could give Dean my undivided attention.
"Something 'bout travelling in space in the future. How one day, we'll all be using a giant space station as a springboard to visit far away planets."
Boring! Trust Mum to choose a nerd to babysit us.
"It's all part of my study. When I've finished high school, I'm hoping to qualify for Cambridge so I can learn from the famous Mr Hawkins." I looked at the TV screen and just heard gobbledygook. Not only did I not understand a word being said, I’d never heard of the famous Mr Hawkins.
I looked Dean over and wondered how could someone that hot be such a nerd? He was tall, well built and drop-dead gorgeous. Long wavy hair, high cheekbones and soft brown eyes to drown in and a delightfully sensual mouth that I could have kept kissing for ages. Exasperated, I slumped back into the couch. Life isn't fair .
In a huff, I stood up and went to the kitchen to get another bottle of Cola. When I returned to the living room, I sat in the chair opposite him. As he watched the stupid television, I folded my long legs beneath me and studied him.
"How old are you, Dean?"
"Nineteen, almost twenty. Why?" he asked distractedly.
"Oh, no reason," I said, plucking truculently at my shorts. "How old do you think I am?"
“What?" he asked absently, his attention preoccupied with the programme.
"I said, how old do you think I am?" thrusting my adolescent chest forward, trying to impress him.
"I dunno, fifteen, sixteen I guess," he said, clearly uninterested.
"Yes," I said proudly. "I’m sixteen. Celebrated my birthday last week."
“Congratulations," he offered, but indifference oozed from him.
"Have you ever been with a girl?" I asked and saw his gaze flicker towards me as I pulled the neck of my t-shirt over my shoulder, revealing a bra strap.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked wearily, returning his eyes to the TV after throwing me a cursory glance.
"Just curious," I replied coyly. "Do you want some more Cola?" He nodded absently, and feeling frustrated at his total lack of interest in me, I stormed off into the kitchen to sulk.
o0o
"Dean?"
"Huh."
I'd been up in my room for a while, putting on some makeup and changing my outfit. In an effort to look older, I swapped my shorts for a mini-skirt and removed my bra. Now, back downstairs, I sat opposite him again, hoping he'd notice. From the split second glance he gave me, I guessed it hadn't helped much.
"Do you think I'm sexy?"
"No!"
Talk about saving one's feelings. I felt tears well up and wondered why he was being so beastly. He could have said, ‘No Andrea, you're not my type,' or 'Sorry Luv, I prefer brunettes, not blondes,’ but he hadn’t. He just said No!
My bottom lip began to tremble. Why didn't he like me? My eyes began stinging and I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. Wiping them away as quickly as I could, I turned towards the television so that Dean wouldn't see me crying. Biting my lip, I wondered why boys were so mean.
"Look, Andrea," he said apologetically, apparently realising he'd upset me. "It's not that you're unattractive... you're just too young for me. What are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?"
"Sixteen," I sobbed, "I just told you... About my birthday..."
"Okay, you're sixteen," he said, sighing heavily. "You're at least three years younger than me..."
"So what?" I cut in.
"So," he spoke slowly as if he could hardly believe he had to spell it out for me. "You're much too young for me. I only go out with girls my age. Sorry Andrea, it's a rule I have. So don't go beating yourself up about it, that's the way things are, no reflection on you. You’re just not old enough. There's no need to get so upset. Okay?”
"So you don't think I'm ugly?"
"No Andrea, on the contrary, you're very attractive. If you grow up to be as sexy as your mum, then you'll have the boys baying at your door."
Although I appreciated his compliment, I was surprised to hear what he said about Mum. I'm not saying she's ugly, she's not, but it never occurred to me that someone would think of her as sexy or desirable because… well, she’s just Mum.
"Do you think Mum's sexy, then?" I asked, grimacing and trying to keep surprise and disbelief out of my voice.
For the first time that evening, he seemed unsure of what to say. Taking a swig of Cola, he sat there contemplating, probably wishing desperately that I would go away or at the very least, forget about what we were discussing. For what seemed an eternity, he said nothing while I waited, just staring intently at him, my curiosity piqued. Eventually, he caved.
"Fuck yeah." His admission sounded both embarrassed and enthusiastic.
"How? Why?"
"Why what?" he asked evasively.
"Why do you think she's sexy?"
He shrugged his shoulders. ”Jesus, I dunno, she just is," he said, sounding a bit nonplussed. I watched with interest how his eyes focused on a point just in front of him and I realised he was trying to find the right words. "For one thing," he said evenly, pointing at me as he made his explanation, "have you really looked at her?"
I shook my head.
“Well, take my bloody word for it, she looks pretty fucking good, you know, for her age." I slowly nodded whilst listening. "She's intelligent, witty and understanding.”
That comment made me snort. I hadn't noticed any sort of understanding when it came to me. The only thing she seemed good at lately was punishing me for stupid, silly things. "What else?" I asked tersely.
He paused, then summarised enthusiastically, "Well, from a bloke’s point of view, she's got it all. Looks... style… and a fucking killer body.”
I just looked at him, gobsmacked.
“What do you mean?” I was determined to find out what she had. He grinned wolfishly before answering.
“Before I say anything else, Andrea, you’ve got to promise me you'll never tell anyone what I've said.”
Mischievously, I hesitated before nodding. “I promise?” I sighed and raised my hand and pretended to pledge a solemn oath.
Finally reassured, Dean continued. “Like I said, she’s got a fucking amazing body. Her tits look great. I'd love to get my hands on them and, from what I've seen, there's no sag to them whatsoever. She's nice and trim without being a stick insect, and her legs... well, they seem to go on forever. Does she go to a sports school?"
I shook my head. "Not that I know of," I answered honestly. "Why?"
"Because, if she does, I've definitely got to me a membership there," he said before laughing at my astonished expression. I couldn’t believe my ears and continued to stare at him incredulously. Seeing my expression, he blushed a little and shrugged his shoulders. “What? You asked. Whether you like it or not, your mother is hot. That's a fact. Now you can accept it or not, that's your problem but don't give me grief because you don't like hearing what I've got to say."
Hearing his rebuke, I realised I was acting like a spoilt bitch.
“Sorry Dean, you're right. No, don't stop, go on please, it's fascinating.”
Reassured I wasn’t taking the mick he continued. “Anyway, like I was saying, your mum is hot, a real MILF and instead of being a pain in the ass, you should be proud of her. There aren't many mums that look that fucking good. I can see where you get your blonde hair and long legs from. Jesus Christ girl, don’t you know how lucky you are having a mother with such good genes?" He shook his head.
“Most women her age are fat and frumpy and wouldn't know sex appeal if it hit them in their pie hole. In fact, I bet she doesn’t have any fat anywhere, does she?”
I thought and shook my head slowly, realising he was right.
"I don't know what it's called,” he continued, almost without taking a breath, “but she's got it. Big time!"
"Have I got it? You know, what she has?"
“Jesus, Andrea. You’re like a broken record," he said, clearly exasperated. Then he looked at his watch and grinned. "Okay, if I tell you, do you promise you'll go to your room, it's almost eleven?"
I nodded my head and waited.
"Hmm,” he muttered. “It's too soon to tell," he said and looked at me seriously. "Sex appeal is different for everybody, but what your mother has... well, it’s apart. What people call the ‘X’ factor. It's not one thing in particular but a combination of so many things.”
I could see he was trying to explain himself coherently.
"It's the way she carries herself, the way she walks, the way she talks to you.” He started speaking more rapidly, his thoughts apparently tumbling through his consciousness. “The way she looks at you, making you feel as if you're the most important person in the world. And she listens. When we talk, she makes me feel so important, not some dorky college student and... and… oh, I dunno. Have I mentioned how great she looks?”
I nodded wryly.
“Well, what can I say? To be honest, I can't understand why she's still single. I would have thought she'd have hundreds of blokes standing in line to be with her."
He sounded very wistful and I was about to speak when he held up a hand. "I know, I know, I haven't answered your question," he acknowledged. "Like I said, Andrea, you've got the looks, at least for now, and as long as you take care of yourself and don't stuff your cake-hole with loads of junk food and refrain from using makeup like it's plaster of Paris... you'll be.... hmm, not half bad in my opinion." He paused, and I guessed he was trying to find the right words, not wanting to hurt my feelings.
"And for the rest?" he said thoughtfully. "I think that comes with age and experience, although not acting like some spoilt bitch goes a long way towards making people like you. Anyway, what's the big rush? You've got your whole life in front of you."
He looked at his watch again. "Now it's time for you to go upstairs. If your mum still finds you here, she'll kill both of us." His smile was both cute and self-effacing.
Feeling a lot perkier, I stood up, brushed my skirt down over my thighs and crossed the room. He wasn't such a jerk after all. Standing in front of him, I leant forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Dean," I said cheerfully and wished him goodnight.
o0o
In my bedroom, I put on pyjamas and picked up my diary, eager to write everything Dean had said while it was still fresh in my mind. After I'd finished, I went to clean my teeth, but as I was crossing the landing, I heard something that sounded like a giggle. A feminine giggle. I froze. I hadn’t heard the front door bell, but that didn't mean Dean couldn't have invited a girlfriend over.
My mouth formed a sly grin and, to avoid revealing my presence, I stood still, hardly daring to breathe. Then I heard a long sensual groan and had to smother a fit of the giggles. The dirty bastard! He had invited a girlfriend over and they were fooling around. This I had to see.
I slowly sank to my knees and crawled very cautiously towards the banister, poking my head over the landing to see what was happening downstairs. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to avoid giggling and betraying my position because what I saw wasn't what I expected... it was much better.
There was no girlfriend in sight. Instead, Dean had found mum's porn films, not that she really hid them, and was avidly watching one. From my lofty position, I could see him lounging on the couch, his lithe body stretched out beneath me. His muscular build was clearly defined beneath his thin t-shirt and his tight jeans were something to behold.
Although totally engrossed in the action on the screen, I was sure Dean would freak out if he knew I was spying on him. So, when I moved, I did it very quietly. Despite my reluctance to take my eyes off the eye candy lying on the couch, I cast a look at the screen and saw a hot three-way, which was obviously turning on my babysitter. From my vantage point, I watched fascinated how his hand caressed the bulge between his legs. It was very arousing seeing the thick, sausage-like shape developing beneath the tight denim and my excitement grew.
On screen, one of the actresses was getting a good licking and, honestly, I don't know what turned me on more; spying on Dean or imagining him doing to me exactly what was happening on screen.
I did know I was having serious trouble keeping quiet. My nipples were rock hard and, every time I moved, no matter how slight, they rubbed deliciously against the soft cotton pyjama top. Delightful erotic sensations coursed down my body towards my core of sexuality. Kneeling there, I could no longer fight the urge to play with myself. Reaching beneath my top, I cupped a pert little titty and kneaded the tight cherry red nipple, biting hard on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning.
Suddenly, as if aware of my gaze, Dean casually looked up in my direction but, luckily, I managed to duck out of view. Lying flat on the floor, my heart was pounding so fast, I had trouble catching my breath but I couldn’t hear any shouting and assumed I was in the clear. Having gotten away with my brief encounter of voyeurism, I heaved a huge sigh of relief and wondered if I should return to my room. Not wanting to miss anything, I decided one more peek would be enough and I’d just have to be a bit more careful. Although the excitement I felt was heady and intoxicating, it didn’t stop me being scared. Eventually, after mustering enough courage, I peered over the edge and almost gave myself away again.
While I was cowering in the corner, Dean had apparently become so turned on by the film, he'd decided to pleasure himself. His jeans were unzipped, pushed down over his thighs, and sticking out from his lap was the first real, honest to God, erection I'd ever seen. It looked huge. His hand was wrapped around it, moving up and down in a leisurely manner and there was still a good portion rising out above his fist.
I clenched my fist and looked at how small it seemed and then returned my gaze to Dean's lap. Watching him masturbate was intriguing. Yeah, yeah, that and a whole lot more.
The sight of him pulling his foreskin back over his huge glistening knob was so exciting that the crotch of my pyjama shorts was now damp. Crouched into a hump on the landing floor wasn't the easiest position for slipping my hand inside my bottoms. So, wanting to make things easier, I slid my legs from under me and sprawled out on the landing carpet.
From this angle, his prick was pointing right up at me and I could see his tiny slit. I was surprised at how shiny his helmet was and wondered if that was entirely due to pre-cum. I’d never seen anything like this before, and thousands of questions raged through my mind. Despite my curiosity, my hand slipped beneath my waistband and moved over the smooth skin towards my sex.
I was shocked at how much pubic hair Dean had in comparison to my sparsely covered mound and wondered absently what it would be like like to run my fingers through it. Caressing my excited clit with the palm of my hand, I pressed my fingers into my labia and instantly felt a warm wetness accept the intrusion. Slowly, I moved my hand, sending all sorts of delicious sensations searing through my body, and I couldn't believe how naughty I was being... and how delicious it felt.
Despite trying really hard not to make a noise, it wasn't easy and every time a soft moan escaped my lips, I quickly ducked out of sight and froze. Then, after a couple of seconds silence, I would look back down into the living room, checking to see if my handsome babysitter was aware of my presence. Luckily, he seemed so absorbed in watching the orgy on television that his mind and hand were fully occupied. In fact, he probably wouldn't have heard my moans or any other noise. Mind you, he wasn't the only one guilty of that mistake.
We were both so busy masturbating to the visual stimulation before our eyes that neither of us had the slightest inkling of what else was happening in the real world. That changed the moment Mum purposefully strode into the living room and didn’t stop until she was standing in front of Dean. Although she hadn't seen me, my heart missed a beat all the same, and this time, instead of just ducking out of sight, I instinctively crawled backwards until I slumped against my bedroom door. Not only was I shocked, I was very frightened, especially as I was already in her bad books.
Knowing her temper, and realising how bad things looked, I could only imagine the consequences for me if she found out I'd been spying on the babysitter. And he was in enough trouble as it was without becoming entangled in our private little war. Even though my sense of self-preservation was paramount, I couldn't help wondering how Dean was faring against the tempest that my mother could be. Unfortunately, the only way I could find out was by stretching my neck and peeking through the banisters. To be honest, scared shitless, I daren’t move.
Sitting there with my heartbeat filling my ears, I had expected an approximation of World War III to break out downstairs. Then it dawned on me that all I could hear was the sound of the television. I couldn’t decide which was scariest: a full-scale argument, accompanied by things being hurled across the room, or the total absence of shouting and screaming. Though I was petrified, curiosity overwhelmed me. I needed to know what was going on.
Bolstered by the belief that no one knew I was there, I crawled cautiously - no, very cautiously - towards the landing's edge.
Mum and Dean were facing each other. He was cowering on the couch with nothing more than a cushion to cover his private parts, his eyes filled with terror while his mouth opened and shut like a goldfish on speed. Standing provocatively between the couch and the coffee table was Mum, hands on hips, tight-lipped and a wild look in her eyes. I'd expected her to be furious and, looking at her now, I thought I’d guessed correctly.
Boy, was I wrong?
Watching her from above, I kept thinking about Dean's words, "If you grow up to be as sexy as your mum, you'll be alright," and tried looking at her objectively, despite my antipathy towards her.
As he’d pointed out, she was tall. Not just tall but athletically built and the dress she wore, which I hadn't taken any notice of earlier this evening, subtly displayed her body in a way that was both sexy and erotic without being slutty. I studied the garment with my new objectivity and, suddenly, things that Dean had said earlier, started making sense. The dress wasn't low cut, short, or for that matter black. It was cream coloured, knee length and stylishly fastened down the front with inconspicuous buttons. A black leather belt fastened loosely around her waist and red high heels completed the outfit. It looked good and suited her perfectly.
Earlier, I hadn't seen it, but now looking through Dean's eyes, it was strikingly obvious. Watching the way she stood, very cool and composed, despite being confronted by something very out of the ordinary, she exuded style, intellect, and a certain amount of arrogance. To tell the truth, she looked hot, and I couldn't help feeling a certain amount of pride.
Her blonde, shoulder-length hair was cut in a fashionable bob and complemented the curvature of her face and. because she'd been out on the town with girlfriends, she was wearing makeup, something she rarely did. It transformed her appearance remarkably. Her sharp cheekbones were softened and her succulent lips, made up with a blood red lipstick, looked stunning. I also noticed how tanned and relaxed she looked, especially set off against the cream dress. But the thing that remained imprinted in my mind was her eyes.
Like me, Mum has green eyes and, although I'm biased, I think they're sexy and something special. However, the dark and mysterious eye shadow she wore, seemed to emphasise the colour in the soft lighting. Tonight they shone like emeralds. Not only did they shine, they sparkled... not with fury, as I expected, but with mirth and mischief. It wasn't just confined to her eyes either. I thought she was having trouble keeping a straight face and, even after she moved a hand to her mouth, I could see she was having difficulty not smiling. That was definitely weird. I'd never seen her act like this before.