Jared Club, baby sitter

I rang the door bell and quietly fumed on the doorstep of the Cooper’s non-descript home in the suburbs of Riverdale.  I couldn’t believe that my boss, Kuan-Ti, God of War, Chivalry and Prosperity and the Guardian of the Brave, Loyal and Righteous was now lending out his bounty hunters for babysitting services.  He had made the excuse that it was a gesture of good will between the Myth department and the Nostalgic Americana department, but I knew it was payback for accidentally using the Dead Sea Scroll with the words “April Fools!” on it as toilet paper.  I did learn something important though; Montezuma was really a sore loser.  I had tried to argue my way out of it, after all I told Kuan-Ti, who the hell gets their seventeen year old daughter a babysitter?

 “She’s just a little unnerved about being alone after ten at night,” Kuan-Ti said defensively.  “Riverdale isn’t like the kind of city that you’re used to, Jared.”

The door opened and a heavy set middle aged man opened the door.  He smiled and shook my hand after I introduced myself.  He invited me into the house, explaining that the other two kids were staying over night at their friends’ houses so I would just have their one daughter to baby sit until about midnight when they should get home from their swingers party.

 “Don’t the kids around here usually hang out at some soda Shoppe?” I asked, hoping that perhaps I wouldn’t be stuck looking after some little shit for the entire night.

 “Oh it got shut down a few months ago,” Mrs. C said bubbly, “I read something about Old Tate running some sort of home-grown operation.”

I raised my eyebrow, “oh really?”

Mr. C threw in his opinion while chuckling, “well from the pictures I saw; the lettuce wouldn’t have looked good on a burger anyway.”

“Oh Bumble Bee!”  Mrs. C. cooed up the stairs, “Your babysitter is here!”

 “Thanks for doing this Mr. Club,” the hefty man of the house said jovially, “you know, she may look like a seventeen year old but to us she’ll always be the little piece of wood shaving that got stuck in when I pulled my pencil out of the sharpener!”

“Oh daddy!” I looked up the stairs and saw the blonde hair, blue eyed 5’6” girl next door dressed in a thick woolly bathrobe that went down to her ankles with it tightly tied around her curvaceous waist.  “You’re such a funny guy,” she said as she made her way down the stairs.

“Oh daddy, did you get that big tub of soft margarine that I asked you to stop off and get?”  The way too bouncy teen asked her father after giving him a peck on the cheek.

 “Sure did pumpkin!”

 “Oh goody! Mr. Club and I can butter some buns later on!”  Oh lord save me, baking – if this chick got any more wholesome I was in danger of throwing up the eight scotches I downed before I showed up here.

“Well, it looks your in good hands,” Mr. C said, clapping his hands, “So let’s get a move on, Ally.”  The Cooper parents put on their coats and walked out the door.

We watched the car back out of the driveway and I turned to my charge and asked if she wished to bake now.  She said sure so I walked over to the kitchen with her close behind me.  It made me a little nervous the way she was whistling Blondie’s “One Way or Another” but I thought, at least the kid appreciated the classics.   I looked around the kitchen, totally lost, “So, how do you make buttered buns?” I said turning to face the young woman behind me.

She smiled and tore off her bathrobe and stood in front of me wearing only a black boustiere that had either a loose string or she was wearing a very small thong.  She turned around and struck out her ass at me.  She opened the margarine container on the kitchen table, stuck her and in it and slathered her butt cheeks with a handful of it while she wiggled from side to side. She turned her head to me and with a mischievous glint in her eye said, “Are these buns buttered enough for you?”

 “Uh,” I was at a loss for words.  She turned her body around, leaned against the kitchen table with her legs apart and put a buttery finger to her lips, rolling her tongue around it.  “Or would you rather have a piece of this apple’s pie?”  She gave a little laugh and continued on.  “Aren’t you going to call me a bad girl and send me to my room?”

Thank goodness, at least one of us was thinking!  “Bad girl!” I said in my authoritative voice, “Go to your room!”

  “Don’t forget about my spanking!”

 “Yeah, I’ll spank your –“wait a minute, something wasn’t right about this situation, I thought to myself as she grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the kitchen and up the stairs.  I was missing something; I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I couldn’t help but have the feeling that what was going on wasn’t on the up and up as she closed the bedroom door and leaned against it.

Alarm bells finally clicked in when she put her hand between legs and luridly asked, “Well, aren’t you going to show me your spanking stick?”

I gave a nervous laugh and tried to divert her attention, “listen, shouldn’t you be doing this with those friends of yours?”

 “Like…who…could…handle…this?” She sighed between the ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ in reaction to where her fingers were doing the chord placement of ‘Sugar Sugar’.

“What about that Arch-“

 “Christ,” she snorted, “the little fuck goes off when you touch his hand!”

 “Oh,” I said, “well what about that slick looking kid, what’s his name?”

“Him?”  Another snort, “Hep C!”

“Really?”

“Yep, the little corn-dog got it on with that big Moose of a football player’s skank of an old lady a month after the lug spent a weekend in Vegas for a Varsity awards gala.”

 “Shit…”

“Tell me about it,” she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, “I’ve been stuck at seventeen years old for almost sixty six non fucking years and the most action I’ve gotten is from that fucking needle-nosed queer’s dog when it jumps up on me to say hello!”

 “Gee,” I said sympathetically, “that sucks…”

 I saw a glint come to her eyes, “no, but I do” she said with a hungry look in her eye.

I said nervously, “you know I seem to remember you’re so sweet; wearing a pig tail…” She pulled the elastic out of her long blonde tresses, grabbed my waist and tore my pants down with one fluid motion.

She grabbed my member and slid a ring around it and shoved it as far around as she could and then bent my shaft in the middle, and came nose to nose with me and yelled,  “is that a good enough pig tail for you, bitch?  I’ve had that cock ring in my hair for decades waiting for one of those limp-dicked pansy’s to notice.”

Oh boy.  “Listen Bets-“

“No talking,” she growled as she pushed me forcibly onto her bed and straddled my chest. 

The phone rang and I tried to reach out it, but she saw who was on the call display and picked up the phone.  She tossed it against the wall, turning it into nothing but a mass of wires and broken plastic.  I looked at her questioningly.  She bent down and licked my nose and then whispered in my ear, “That little black haired rich bitch always stills my thunder…not this time.”

I managed to get on my elbows and push myself up; I heard a ripping sound as the seventeen year old fell on her ass to the floor.  I looked down at my shirt and saw several blonde curly hairs sticking out of my two middle buttons.  I looked down at the laughing girl rubbing herself with one hand while bracing herself up with the other.

 “Oh, you like it rough, baby?”  She gave a little growl, got up and knelt on the floor, grabbed a three ring binder from her desk and opened it. She gave a wide grin said, “Well, so do I!”  She snapped the binder’s rings down on both of her nipples and shook the binder side to side.  “Does this get you off, baby?  Well does it?” She said through her teary baby blues.

She leaped at me, I managed to roll and dodge her grasping hands.  She landed so hard that the binder shattered under her.  Before she had a chance to turn to her side, I flew off her bed and threw the Teddy Rough-split that was sitting on the chair beside the bed at the wild little girl.

She slammed the bear on the bed and pulled out a strap on from underneath her pink frilled pillow and tied it to the bear.  She rammed herself into the bear under her and screamed out, “Fuck, YES, YES!  TEDDY SPLIT ME LIKE A PIECE OF TIMBER!”

Teddy Rough-split’s response was, “Da ho got everything.”

The overloaded hormone factory, leaned down onto her elbows, her bottom bouncing violently up and down, and screamed at me, “C’mon bitch!  Two for one deal – tonight only!  Oh Teddy you fucking animal you! OOOOOOHHHHH”

I was able to sidle my way to the door while she was busy attempting to swallow her bed post and went down the stairs.  I found some twine to keep my pants up and listened for several hours until the thumping, crashing and cries of “Harder, bitch, harder” quietened and finally died down to nothing.

I thought I better check on her so I crept up the stairs.  I found her asleep on her bed, ass stuck up in the air with the empty husk of Teddy Rough-split stuck on her cheeks.  I managed to remove the bear with much crinkling and crackling off her right cheek.  I gently rolled Bets onto her back and gently took out the doorknob from between her legs and covered her up with her frilly pink blanket. Though it took over a half an hour, I found most of the bear’s stuffing thrown about the room.  I put the stuffing back in the bear, he looked at me, his batteries almost dead, and said, “Da bitch bled me dry.”

I went back down stairs, sat and the couch and turned on the television set.  It was only minutes before the Cooper’s walked in the front door, all smiles.  They asked me how it went.  The only thing I could think of to say was, “it was smooth as butter.”