Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Going to take care of this condom and get going,” I tell her, kissing the inside of her leg before stepping back. Her center clamps on my length, sucking what little I have left from me.
“Okay.” This time when I pull away, she drops her legs to the mattress and rolls over, crawling towards the head of the bed, her ass on full display. For a minute, I almost say ‘the hell with leaving’ and imagine what it’d be like to fuck her ass next, if she’s up to it. I turn around and head towards the bathroom next to the entrance of her room, ready to take this condom off my cock, even if the fucker isn’t going down anytime soon. Judging by the way she was getting into bed, I’d say we’re done for good. I click the light to the bathroom on, not bothering to close the door. She’s seen everything. There’s no reason at this point. I take care of business, throwing the used condom in the trash, and wash my hands then fix my clothes. Once I’m done with that, I head back out and stop at the door. A mirror is reflecting the bed. Even if I wanted to tell her good night, there’s no use in doing it now. She’s passed out asleep, a soft serene smile playing at her lips. Fuck yeah, there’s no denying tonight was exactly what we both needed.
ONE
Bailey
I’m sweating. Wait, that’s not the correct term a lady would or should use. I’m perspiring. I shouldn’t be. The weather is crisp and cool, but that doesn’t deter my body from being a nervous wreck.
“Press the button, Bai,” I tell myself under my breath, worried that the cameras the owners have set up around the house are being monitored. I’ve used the agency for the past seven years. I knew by the time I was in my last year of high school that college wasn’t for me. I thrived at babysitting local neighborhood children. Being recommended by word of mouth wasn’t so bad either. Well, minus the fact that some of the children I watched were not the greatest. Thankfully, if they called asking for my services again, the excuse that I was already booked wasn’t so much of a fib. I made enough money starting at the age of thirteen that by my eighteenth birthday, my savings account was plush. All these years later, now with a nanny agency, I’m making way more money, and not needing a home of my own at the age of twenty-five has me pretty well set. The only bad part is saying goodbye to some of the children I’ve known for years on end. Which is what happened recently. Maddie and Max, the four-year-old twins I was nannying for, moved overseas. The Landry’s gave me the opportunity to move to England with them after Mr. Landry was given a job promotion. It was the thought of leaving my own family that had me declining the offer.
That was last month. While waiting for the next family who needs a live-in nanny, it wasn’t an ideal situation to live with my parents again after being out of the house for seven years now, but it’s helped. The one thing anyone should know about is that I’m frugal. I like seeing my money in my bank account, and if for some reason it gets below a certain amount, I’m stress-eating until it’s back to the necessary balance.
It's now or never. I press the button for the doorbell, awaiting to see what or who opens the door. The file I was presented with yesterday when I went to the agency said it was two little girls, the mother wasn’t around, no reasoning as to why, a single dad, and that’s basically it. I’m going in blind. Not the first and more than likely not the last time. It’s why we’ve been trained thoroughly to not ask questions, to read between the lines, and to listen but not give any input unless it’s asked.
“Hello, you must be Bailey.” A nice lady, probably ten or so years older than my own mother, answers the door.
“Hi, I am. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hughes.” Another tidbit from the file stated that the interview would take place with the children’s grandmother. For the first meeting, we keep it to adults only. We don’t want to bring in the children only to get their hopes up when we potentially won’t be able to follow through for one reason or another.
“Please, call me Catherine.” I reach my hand out to shake hers. Thankfully, I had the forethought to wipe my hands down my black slacks. After all this time, my nerves should be settled. They aren’t, though. I’m always like this. It doesn’t matter that I know I’m amazing at my job, that I love being around kids more than adults because hello, they’re a lot more fun than an adult snapping your head off after a bad day at work or when you do something that ticks them off. No thanks. I’ll hang out with kids all day long versus working in the corporate world.