Loving the Babysitter

By: Cassandra Dee

He grinned knowingly.

“Yep, just like Spiderman, so I go by Pete, not Peter,” he rumbled. “So call me Pete from now on,” he said with a wink before softly shutting the door behind him, exiting soundlessly like a big cat.

I rolled the name around on my lips experimentally. Pete. Pete Parker. It sounded good and I smiled to myself. I really was growing up, if Mr. Parker asked me to call him by his first name. And you know what? I was a big girl now … and ready for big girl adventures.



Holy shit, when had my neighbor become so sexy? The transformation was shocking to be honest. My ex-wife and I had used Mandy as a babysitter before, even as recently as last summer. But what I remembered was completely different from what she looked like now. I had a hazy memory of a greyish person with braces and frizzy hair, really skinny. That’s all I could recall honestly, nothing more no matter how much I tried.

But shit, that was all history. Because the brunette who’d shown up at the door tonight had been ravishing, really fucking gorgeous. Huge tits curved softly beneath her sweater, and a round, juicy ass stuck out behind her, outlined in a plaid skirt. And her face, but god her face, had been the stuff of wet dreams. Big, brown eyes gazed innocently and that full pout was straight up Angelina Jolie, if not more plush, more sensuous.

So yeah, my dick hardened immediately because who was this goddess on my doorstep? And when her mouth had opened to say, “Hi Mr. Parker,” I practically fell over. Mandy? This was mousy little Mandy, our old babysitter? Oh fuck, oh fuck. I wanted nothing but to cancel my date and sweep up the beautiful girl in my arms, but at that very moment, my daughter came barreling down the stairs, throwing herself into my arms. And good thing too, because my erection was getting really hard, poking up against my pants, so thank god there was a distraction, somewhere else for my babysitter to look.

But shit, back to reality. Because things have been hard for Violet lately. My wife, or ex-wife I should say, took off a couple months ago, leaving her little girl behind. I wasn’t upset about Vivian leaving to be honest, it’d been a long time coming, we hadn’t had sex in god knows how long, and barely even spoke to one another anymore. But shit, taking off with our pool boy? That was fucking unexpected because that shithead couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one, and he was a fucking boy, for crying out loud. Vivian was into money and prestige, so what the fuck was she thinking, had her priorities changed?

But I grunted. Carlos had done me a favor, the final nail in a marriage that was already dead. But that didn’t mean that Violet understood any of it. Despite the fact that her mother had barely paid attention to her, Violet still knew that a major adult figure in her life had abandoned her, leaving for parts unknown. I reassured my daughter, over and over again, that her mother loved her, that Violet was her number one. But fuck, Vivian hadn’t come around for a long time, so those words were hollow and the five year-old could feel it, kids aren’t idiots.

So yeah, the tot’s been a handful since, acting out. My cute little daughter has transformed these last few months into a small monster, a tiny child who screams and yells non-stop, impossible to control. Even Mrs. Bee, our old nanny, finally had enough. The old woman has taken care of a lot of kids, hell she has five children of her own, but Violet proved too much for her. After one particularly brutal day after my daughter screamed non-stop for hours, refusing to eat, tearing through the house naked, Mrs. Bee handed in her resignation.

“Sorry Mr. Parker,” she said apologetically, her plump form clad in an apron. “Violet has been very sad lately, very difficult. Have you thought about taking her to a psychologist?”

I was stunned. My little girl needed mental help? Therapy even? Hell no! Suddenly I was overwhelmingly angry with my ex, really pissed that she’d done this, dropping her daughter like a hot coal without a thought for her well-being. And what the fuck was I going to do? I needed to work, I had shit to do, money to make, a household to support. But I couldn’t persuade Mrs. Bee to stay despite the desperate tone in my voice.

“Please,” I growled, “I’ll double your salary, even triple.”

The old woman shook her head regretfully.

“No, Mr. Parker, I’m too old and your daughter’s more than I can handle. You need someone else, someone young with more energy.”

I shook my head, frustrated. Where the fuck was I going to find someone on such short notice? Fuck, I was fucking screwed, and nothing I could say would change Mrs. Bee’s mind. But frankly, I didn’t blame her, Violet’s been so tough recently.

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