Don’t miss any of the delicious anticipation! Catch up on previous chapters before you read about the next James encounter below…
[Read Chapter 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ysv1bw/turning_the_babysitter_into_a_good_girl_chapter_1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
[Read Chapter 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/yv7e7o/turning_the_babysitter_into_a_good_girl_chapter_2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
[Read Chapter 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/z1aqns/turning_the_babysitter_into_a_good_girl_chapter_3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
[Read Chapter 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/z29zow/turning_the_babysitter_into_a_good_girl_chapter_4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
^(All teens are 18+)
It’s a babysitting day again, the Tuesday after last week’s incredibly eventful Thursday. *Blow job Thursday. “Good girl” Thursday.* I’ve had a thorough debrief with Elle about my night with Ethan, and based on my text exchanges with him, I’d say he has high ratings of our first sexual experience. *I do too. He’s so fucking cute.* It’s maddeningly typical for boys to pressure girls to do stuff before they’re ready, but Ethan has always been big on consent and respect, making me feel wanted but letting me set the pace.
Jacob and I enter the lavish home, and I head right to the kitchen to prepare him his typical after-school snack. I’m startled by an unusual sound on the first floor, and warily go investigate. *No one’s supposed to be home except James up in his office. Hmm.* The sound grows louder as I walk down the hallway, until I arrive at the source. I peer inside the gym to check it out.
*James.* My senses go on full alert, as I take in the unprecedented sight of him running on the treadmill. *Why isn’t he working?* I wonder. He raises a hand slightly in a wave of acknowledgement and calls out, “Would you mind handing me that towel?”
I see the monogrammed plush towel on a bench by the door. *They even wipe their sweat in luxury.* As he keeps pace on the treadmill, I present it to him. Every nerve ending on my body comes alive when his hand covers mine. There’s no way this is an accidental touch, as it lingers for a moment… then another… then-
I abruptly yank my hand back. *Why did I just do that?!* In my awkwardness to fill the silence I offer a lame, “Well, there you go.” I turn to leave and escape yet another embarrassing encounter, until I hear the beep of buttons, and the slowing of his steps.
“Wait a moment,” he says, and I stop, thankful for a valid reason to turn and look at him again, even if it means exposing my flaming red cheeks. I take in the sight of James mid-workout. *He’s not sweating, he’s glistening.* How have I not noticed until recently how utterly delicious this man is? He steps off the treadmill, toweling off his forehead and neck. His black t-shirt hugs his form, and the charcoal jogger sweatpants skim his legs.
“Do you typically have plans on Tuesdays and Thursdays after you leave here?”
My heart starts to pound, completely unprepared for the question, and immediately dying to understand what it means.
“Just riding home, dinner, and then nothing, pretty much. Well, unless I have homework.” *Why is he asking this?*
“Perfect,” he says resolutely. “I could use some help catching up on some organizational office tasks outside of work hours, and it’s much easier to hire you than a temp. We’ll have you stay for dinner, and when Jacob is in bed we can work uninterrupted for an hour or two.”
My brain tries to catch up with reality and comprehend what he’s saying. *He’s proposing that the two of us work alone together at night. Is this for real?!* I’m having a difficult time imagining him and I interacting for more than two minutes at a time. *Maybe I’ll actually learn how to form words properly.*
“I’ll pay you extra, of course,” he adds, perhaps taking my silence for indecision. “Double your babysitting pay. It’s the typical rate for my entry-level executive office assistants. And,” he adds with a cocked eyebrow and a curve in his lips, “if you are at all capable of helping make dinner those days, I know Jacob would love to be saved from my kitchen disasters and endless takeout.”
“Yes!” I practically cut off his last word. “I mean, uh, yeah, I could probably do that.” *Oh my God, this is real.*
“All right. I’ll plan on that for Thursday,” he says, gathering his towel, AirPods, and phone. “I need to take a quick shower and get back to work. Would you please bring me up a glass of ice water with a squeeze of lemon when you have a moment?” I nod as he walks briskly out of the room.
*Well, that just happened.* I take a second, glancing back at the treadmill, and then the doorframe where he just exited. I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, and switch off the light on my way out of the gym. *Back to the world of goldfish crackers and chocolate milk.*
—
After a few minutes, I get Jacob settled with his snack in front of the television. He’s allowed to watch his favorite show before we play together. It just takes a minute to wipe up after myself so the kitchen is spotless again. I go about fulfilling James’ request, putting entirely too much thought into trivialities like what glass he prefers, and what the perfect ice cube to water ratio is. I take the finished product upstairs, heading to the office. The door is open, and I peek in. It’s empty, and I recall he said he was coming up to shower first. *Should I just set it down?* But I don’t see a coaster, and I really don’t want to be responsible for making a permanent water ring on thousands of dollars worth of desk. Glancing down the hall, I see the master bedroom door is slightly ajar. *Should I knock?* I tentatively approach the bedroom, knock once quietly, and then again with more assurance.
“Come in,” James beckons.
I enter, and am immediately reminded of last week’s catastrophe. That is, until I see James, who is wearing only a forest green towel around his waist, and I lose the ability to think straight. His dark hair is wet, and there are post-shower beads of moisture on his skin. *So, so much skin…* I’m utterly dumbfounded and paralyzed by the sight, and have no idea what to say or do next. He takes a step toward me and gingerly plucks the cool glass from my hand, his eyes not leaving mine. He lifts it to his lips and takes a long drink. *Fuck, he has to know exactly what he’s doing to me, right?*
“Thank you,” he tells me, setting the glass down on the lacquered nightstand. I have no more reason to be here, but I can’t help but sense that I’m not supposed to leave yet. Sure enough, James walks right up to me, his height requiring me to turn my head up to meet his gaze. After a pause, he runs his fingertips down the side of my neck and combs them back through my hair. His hand comes to rest on the side of my neck again, fingers curling around to the nape, where it remains.
“I have a question for you,” he says. We are so far beyond the limits of what I thought our relationship would entail that I have absolutely zero idea where this is going. I still haven’t even fully acknowledged how completely undone I am by seeing his bare chest and shoulders. *Ohh, and that rippled stomach…*
“A… question?” *What is happening what is happening holy shit.*
“Did you like it when I called you ‘good girl’?” The low rumble of his voice is seductive; I’m completely disarmed by this man. His fingertips gently stroke the nape of my neck, and I nearly purr at the sensation.
“Yes.” I respond without thinking a moment more. In fact, I think the start of my yes overlapped his last word, in my eagerness to continue whatever this is.
His gaze shifts to my hair, hand running through the length of the long auburn locks again. “I’d like you to respond with ‘yes, sir’.” *Ohh.* I feel a flutter between my legs.
“Y-yes, sir.” He meets my eyes again, and softly takes my chin in his hand, his thumb lightly brushing over the length of my plump bottom lip. I’m motionless under his touch.
“That’s a good girl,” he almost whispers, while his eyes focus on my mouth. He then steps back abruptly, taking his palm with him. The pink flush on my cheeks keeps my skin warm.
“I need to get back to work,” he says, picking up a white t-shirt from the neatly arranged pile of clean clothing on the bed. “I’m going back to the office for the day.” He pulls the shirt over his head. “I’ll see you Thursday,” he says, picking up the clean boxer briefs next.
I nod with an “okay”, and quickly turn to go back downstairs to return to my regularly scheduled afternoon. I first check on Jacob, and he’s just fine. His show is thirty minutes long, and despite the fact that I could spend an hour reliving every moment of that exhilarating exchange, I notice only a few minutes have elapsed since I went upstairs. Even though Jacob is occupied, I still go into the bathroom for some privacy to recover from… whatever *that* was.
I click the lock on the door and lean back against it. The first thing I do is reenact James’ touch, the graze on my neck, followed by the fingers in my hair, back to my neck, the soft stroking. *Ohh.* The way he touched me… It was a caress, but it also was as if his hand mimicked a delicate collar you’d place on a pet. That he owns. *How can a brief touch convey so much?*
Next I place a hand on my chin, and trace the same path on my lip that he did. *Fuuck. This man is unbelievable. And clearly used to getting what he wants.* My eyes stay closed as I savor the memory of his touch.
Later, I wheel my bike from beside the house to the driveway. I glance up at the second floor, trying to determine which window is the office, hoping for the tiniest little glimpse before I ride away.
*I’ll have to wait two full days to see him again, I suppose.* I loop around the cul-de-sac twice, and head off, but not before glancing back one last time and catching sight of him at the window, looking down at me, expression unreadable. I throb against my bike seat the entire ride home.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/zb5v6j/turning_the_babysitter_into_a_good_girl_chapter_5
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