Babysitting... And Sitting and More Ch. 02

All characters are at least 18 years old.

*****

My heart was racing as I lightly rapped on the front door of Mr. and Mrs. Jennings' house. I tugged aimlessly at the collar of my purple silk blouse. It had a low scoop and a wide collar. I had undone the top button, which showed off the tops of both of my breasts. I considered undoing another button, hoping to catch Mr. Jennings's eye. If I was lucky, I'd catch more than that.

I could hear voices coming from behind the house. The Jennings had invited me over for a cookout they were throwing for their friends. When Mrs. Jennings had invited me, she told me it was their way of showing gratitude for coming on short notice to babysit for them recently. In truth, the cookout was part reward and part job. They had hired me to keep an eye on their baby while they entertained their guests.

I stepped back from the door, and was intending to go around the house to the back yard. As soon as I stepped away, the door swung open and I was greeted by Mrs. Jennings.

"Hey, Jasmine! I'm so glad you could make it," she said, stepping through the doorway and opening her arms.

I closed the gap and embraced her lightly. She squeezed me tightly and patted me on the back before letting me go. I suddenly realized what an incredibly strange feeling it is to be greeted so warmly by a woman who had no idea you had fucked her husband. I could physically feel the guilt roll over in my stomach.

"Thank you for hiring me again," I said.

"No, thank you," she said as she led me into the house. "You did a great job with Alex last time, and since Rachel couldn't make it this time, we knew you were the person to call."

As I followed her into the living room, my eyes fell onto the couch where Mr. Jennings had pounded me almost senseless while she was upstairs sleeping. I didn't see any stains on the cushion and wondered whether Mr. Jennings had cleaned up the evidence of our lovemaking session or had simply turned the cushion over.

She led me into the kitchen where she had been mixing and flattening hamburger meat for the grill. There was a pile of hot dogs and two huge bowls of salad sitting on an island in the middle of the kitchen. At the other end of the kitchen was a spacious dining room dominated by a table made of thick glass. There was a bowl of fruit in the center of it and six black cushioned chairs were lined around it. The far wall stopped next to a sliding glass door that led out to a deck and into the backyard. There were several people standing near the bottom of the deck sipping iced drinks.

"Make yourself at home," Mrs. Jennings said. "Oh, but before you get too comfortable, could you take these out to Harold? He's down by the grill." My heart fluttered at the mention of her husband's name. She handed me a tin platter filled with raw hamburger patties.

"Sure, no problem," I said, accepting the platter.

"If he has too much meat down there, you can bring these back. There are coolers in the backyard and some food already out. Feel free to help yourself to anything," she added as I headed for the door.

"If it's alright, I'd be fine helping myself to your husband's meat," I muttered under my breath.

I walked into the backyard and was greeted by several of the Jennings' guests. As I turned the corner, I saw more people out in the main part of their spacious yard. Everyone looked to be in their 30s or older. Mr. Jennings was standing behind a large charcoal grill. The floppy, white chef's hat and apron he was wearing made him look like a fast food short-order cook. He was talking to another man who appeared to be commenting on either the grill or the food on the grill. Judging from Mr. Jennings's face, whatever the man was saying, Mr. Jennings' wasn't interested. He glanced up as I approached.

"Well, hello there stranger," he waved a spatula at me and offered a smile that immediately made my heart warm. The man he was talking to turned around. He was several years older than Mr. Jennings. His dark hair and beard had taken on a salt-and-pepper appearance. His eyes immediately fell to my exposed cleavage.

I rolled my eyes at him before returning my gaze to Mr. Jennings and returning his smile. "Hi, Mr. Jennings!" I mentally cursed myself. My voice made me sound like a squeaky little schoolgirl. I cleared my throat and tried to lower it an octave. "Mrs. Jennings sent these out. She said if it's too much for right now that I could take them back up to the house."

"No, these are fine, you can put them over there," he pointed to a nearby table. Without another word to me, he picked up his conversation with the older man. "So like I was saying, even if you use wood chips, you don't get the same flavor from a gas grill."

I thought about making a risqué joke about how good his meat probably tasted, but the moment passed. I frowned, feeling a pinch in my chest at the lack of attention. Mr. Jennings hadn't even looked me over. I'd gotten my nails and hair done in anticipation of seeing him again. I stepped around the grill, hoping to draw his attention. He continued to prattle on with the other guy as if I was invisible. I lingered there for a few more moments until it was clear Mr. Jennings was more interested in the aspects of grilling than with me.

I folded my arms over my chest and practically stomped away. I stopped at a cooler on my way back up to the house. I bent over at the waist, hoping that Mr. Jennings might look up and catch a glimpse of my ass in my tight jean capris. Of course, when I glanced back toward the grill, he was still fully engrossed in his conversation. My presence had been completely forgotten.

I don't know what I had expected. Mr. Jennings was married to a smart, beautiful woman. I was just a silly little girl that he'd fucked one night when he was drunk. How could I have ever expected it to mean anything more than that to him? Besides, I had a boyfriend. Still, the rejection from Mr. Jennings was making my blood run warm.

I snatched a bottle of water from beneath the ice and pressed it against my forehead. I shut my eyes and reveled in the feel of the cool droplets of water rolling down my face.

"Excuse me miss, is this cooler taken?" someone said behind me.

I opened my eyes and turned to see a freckled guy in glasses staring at me with a toothy grin. He had flaming red hair that draped over his ears. He was several years older than me but looked to still be waging a minor battle against acne. His wrinkled blue Hawaiian floral shirt seemed out of place for the gathering. As my eyes quickly scanned down his rail thin body, I was pleased that he had at least had the decency not to wear socks with his sandals.

"No, please, it's all yours," I said as I turned away from him and the cooler.

"Hey sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," he said, running to catch up with me. "My name's Patrick." He extended his hand to me. It was warm and clammy when I took it and I had to resist the urge to wipe my hand on my jeans. "So, do you uhh...come here often?" He still had the same silly grin on his face.

"No, I can't say that I do." I shot a quick glance around and quickly tried to think of an exit strategy. Everyone was either caught up in their own conversations or stuffing their faces.

"I work with Harold," he pointed toward the grill as if I didn't know who Mr. Jennings was. "They throw the best parties. Good food and good drinks. And now I guess they include beautiful women too." His smile grew wider.

If I had rolled my eyes any harder, they would've fallen out of my head. "Well, Patrick, it was nice to meet you. I'm going to grab some food." I started walking toward the table where hotdogs and hamburgers were set up.

"I'll go with you with. I could go for some grub too," he said, stepping into my path.

Unable to shake my shadow, I walked with him and listened as he began to drone on about how long he'd known Mr. Jennings and the work he did. As I fixed the toppings on my hamburger, I briefly considered shooting him with a bottle of ketchup just to make him go away. Just past his shoulder, I caught sight of Mr. Jennings working the grill. He was now talking to some short, stringy-haired, middle-aged floozy in a yellow sundress that was ten seasons out of style.

Patrick stayed attached to my hip after I got my hamburger. My eyes kept drifting over to Mr. Jennings and the woman at the grill. As Patrick and I walked through the yard, I shifted course so that our path would take us close to the grill. As we drew closer, I let out a huge laugh as if Patrick had something outrageously funny, and I lightly slapped him on the back. I leaned in close to him as we passed. I smirked when my ear caught Mr. Jennings stumbling over his words. I swayed my hips as I walked, certain that he was looking at me and certain that the woman would notice him looking at me.

Patrick and I took up station at a table further across the yard. I sat so that I could watch Mr. Jennings over Patrick's shoulder. Mr. Jennings had returned to his conversation. I shot eye-daggers at him and the woman with him as Patrick blathered about something I was not at all listening to.

A passing form suddenly caught my eye. When I looked up, it turned out to be Mrs. Jennings carrying a tray of hotdogs. I watched as she dropped them off at the grill with Mr. Jennings. She stepped around the grill and pecked him on the lips. Even from a distance, I could see the jealousy on the floozy's face. "Right on, Mrs. Jennings!" I silently cheered.

Mrs. Jennings turned and started heading back up toward the house. She caught my eye and diverted toward Patrick and me. I noticed Patrick's eyes drifting toward her chest. She was wearing a tasteful yellow tank top but it strained under the size of her full breasts.

"Hey guys, enjoying yourselves?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're having a great time," Patrick said, his eyes barely moving up to her face. "These burgers are delicious," he held up his barely eaten burger. He'd been running his mouth too much to eat.

"Sure, yeah, the people here are pretty cool," I said with a sideways glance at Patrick.

Mrs. Jennings picked up on it and started to grin but managed to hide it. As she turned to walk away, I pleaded with my eyes for her to stay. Another grin started to form on her face.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Jasmine, when you have a chance, would you mind checking on Alex for me?" she said.

I jumped up so quickly that I knocked over the chair I was sitting in. "Absolutely! I'll do it right now," I said. I all but sprinted past her toward the house.

"I'll give you a hand," Patrick said, getting up.

Mrs. Jennings stepped to block his path. "Actually, Alex is still getting over a cold. I'd rather not have him around too many people right now. Jasmine will be back in a few minutes."

Patrick looked a little stung but sat back down. "I'll wait for you here." It took every ounce of willpower for me to summon a smile that wouldn't look completely fake.

"Oh-em-gee, thank you for saving me," I said to Mrs. Jennings as we walked to the house.

"No problem, I could see you were kinda dying there," she giggled. "Patrick is sweet, but a little overeager."

As we walked up to the house, the memory of what I'd done with her husband suddenly came racing back into my mind. I felt the ball of guilt welling up in my stomach again. It was nauseating. It was almost enough to make me want to go back and sit with Patrick just to get out of her presence. As soon as we got into the house, I wasted no time separating from her and going upstairs to check on Alex.

He was sleeping soundly. He had platinum blonde curls like his mother, and the way they framed his face made him look like a doll. I pulled his blanket up over his tiny body and gently stroked his soft hair.

Beautiful child. Loving husband. Wonderful home. Successful career. In that moment, I was so envious of Mrs. Jennings I half expected my skin to turn green. That same envy is how I'd justified fucking her husband. It wasn't that I was some kind of teenaged homewrecker. I merely wanted to sample the life of a woman whose life was filled with all the things I hoped to one day have. I wasn't trying to take any of it away from her. I wasn't a horrible person.

I smiled as I watched her son sleep. His chest rose and fell as he breathed little puffs of air in and out of his body. He was so sweet, peaceful, and innocent. He had a loving home and was being raised by two loving parents.

"I promise you Alex, I'll never do anything to try to disrupt your life. You don't deserve to have anyone come between your parents." He continued sleeping peacefully. "I just...," I trailed off. I patted his head and left the room.

When I went back downstairs, Mrs. Jennings was filling cupcake wrappers with cake batter. I walked toward her, and against my better judgement, I intended to offer to help her in the kitchen. The guilt of being around her was starting to fill me up again.

"Hey, do you need a hand with anything?" I said.

She looked up and smiled when she saw me. "No, I think everything is under control. All the meat is outside. I just need to get these cupcakes into the oven and then I'm going to go change my shirt." She gestured to a large spot on the left side of her torso. "It's almost the color of my shirt though, maybe no one would notice," she said with a chuckle.

I tried to force a laugh but it came out more like a melodic cough. I stood wringing my hands while I watched her. After a moment, she looked back up.

"I know what's going on," she said soberly.

My heart leapt out of my chest and onto the kitchen floor. She knew. All this time she had kept up a warm front and a pleasant demeanor, but she knew what me and her husband had done. I wanted to run from the kitchen but my feet were nailed to the floor. I couldn't even tear my eyes away from her. Her eyes bored through me and peeled back the layers of my flesh until my soul felt bare before her.

She looked back down at the cupcakes. Silence filled the kitchen. I couldn't even begin to think of what to say. Not that it would've mattered. My jaw felt like it was wired shut.

"You know," she said after a long while, "you're going to have to go back out there and face him sooner or later."

Given a choice, I'd prefer sooner rather than later. I had no problem facing her husband. It was her that I was hating having to face.

She glanced at a large bowl on the counter island. "Well, if you want to avoid him for a little while longer, I guess you could help me with the icing. The cupcakes won't take long." She looked back at me and I took a step back. "But you're going to have to deal with Patrick eventually. He's clearly smitten with you." A grin spread across her face. I took in a huge gulp of air, suddenly realizing that I hadn't been breathing for the past several moments. Patrick! She was talking about me and Patrick!

"Oh yeah, well, yeah I think he likes me," I said.

Mrs. Jennings's expression turned serious again. "Just don't lead him on. He's a sweet kid, but like I said, he's very eager."

My heartbeat was thundering so loudly that I could barely hear her. "Umm, yeah sure. I would never do that." My voice sounded grainy like I'd swallowed a handful of table salt. Mrs. Jennings smiled and returned to the cupcakes. I crossed the kitchen on unsteady legs and walked to the bowl she'd set aside for the icing.

"You seem very capable in the kitchen," Mrs. Jennings said, "so I won't insult your intelligence on how to make the icing. But please don't make it too sweet. Harold likes it sweet but I'm trying to get him to cut back on sugar."

"Sure, I'll take care of it." My voice was still strained. I swallowed and tried to clear it. "I cook all the time at home. With just me and my mom at the house, I had to learn."

Mrs. Jennings nodded and let me go to work. She directed me to ingredients for the icing and I made substitutions for things they didn't have. I mixed everything into the bowl, step by step. I was whipping the white icing around the bowl when I heard the door in the dining room slide open. I almost dropped the bowl when Mr. Jennings walked in.

"Hey, honey," he said to her. "Hey Jasmine," he said, barely looking at me. Once again there was a pinch in my heart. I stared at him as he walked to his wife and embraced her from behind, pecking her on the cheek with a tender kiss. I tried not to be jealous, but it was hard not to be. I averted my eyes and violently stabbed my spoon into the icing mix.

"How is everything going outside?" Mrs. Jennings asked her husband.

"Everything is great. Everyone is enjoying the food. I was just about to put the chicken on the grill but I figured this party called for my famous, five-alarm, B-B-Quuuuue!" He clapped his hands and let out a loud whoop.

"Mmm, yum. That'll be delicious." I caught something in Mrs. Jennings's voice that suggested Mr. Jennings's barbecue sauce was anything but delicious. She shot me a glance and a smirk that confirmed my suspicions. I turned away to hide my smile.

When Mr. Jennings stepped to the pantry at the far side of the kitchen, Mrs. Jennings sidled up to me, grinning the entire way. She gave a conspiratorial glance over her shoulder to confirm that Mr. Jennings was out of earshot.

"Please, Jasmine, for the love of everyone at this party, you have got to do something about his barbecue sauce," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" I said.

She opened her mouth and stuck her index finger in, making a gagging motion. I stifled a giggle. "You know your way around a kitchen. Maybe you could make some helpful suggestions on how he could improve it." She glanced back in Mr. Jennings's direction to confirm she hadn't been heard. "I'll be back. I'm going to go change this shirt and check on Alex."

Without another word, she left the kitchen and headed upstairs. I went back to mixing the icing and it didn't immediately dawn on me that I was alone with Mr. Jennings for the first time since the night he'd fucked me on their living room couch. It also didn't immediately dawn on me that he had walked up behind me. I let out a scream when I felt arms around my waist.

"God, I've missed you," Mr. Jennings whispered. He nuzzled his nose into my hair and inhaled. He let out a low moan as I felt him grind against my ass. He was already hard.

My mind raced with a million thoughts at once. He'd been dismissive of me the whole day, as if I was just a silly girl with a crush. It was like he'd had his fun and then dropped me. I was good enough for a one-night fuck but wasn't good enough for him and his classy friends?

I stepped closer to the counter so that his body was no longer touching mine and I lowered my head away from his face. This movement exposed my neck and in the next instant, his mouth clamped down on it.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took in a sharp breath. The mixing spoon fell from my hand and clattered onto the countertop. My brain commanded my body to move away from him, but it felt like my body was slowly turning to jelly from the neck down. Mr. Jennings flicked his tongue against my skin and gently sucked it between his lips. My breath caught in my lungs when his teeth grazed me.

He pressed his body against me again, wedging me against the edge of the counter. I felt his hands snake their way up from my waist to my tits. I shuddered when his palms slid onto them. Even through my bra, his palms against my hard nipples sent spikes of pleasure through my body.

My resentment toward him was quickly draining away. I ground my ass back at him as he rhythmically rotated his hips against me. His fingertips found my nipples through my bra and pinched them, nearly causing me to fall face first into the bowl of icing in front of me. I gripped the edge of the counter to keep myself upright.