Date: Sun, 4 Jan 2009 06:30:47 -0800 (PST) From: Matt Surname Subject: Sheila the Babysitter 02 All the standard warnings, disclaimers and copyright information detailed in the first chapter still apply. Copyright 2009 Dark Horse. All rights reserved. Story Codes: Gg, bG, GF, bi, ped, exhib, mast, con Sheila the Babysitter 02 by Dark Horse While eating our cheeseburgers and fries at the mansion's kitchen table, eight-year-old Billy Langdon kept sneaking little glances at me. Even though I'd flashed my tits at him earlier, no doubt he was still trying to figure out why my chest looked weird. After all, my braless, red midriff tank top not only bumped with my petite, sixteen-year-old boobs, but also had two thickish, cone-like bulges where the nipples should've been. Naturally, very few boys knew about aberrantly-developed nipples and areolae, commonly known as puffy nipples. Mine often seem almost like miniature tits poking from my shallow boobs, and can be an odd sight at times. Especially when they're noticeably aroused as they are at the moment. Seeing Billy's cute, hairless three inch boner a short while ago, had only fueled my already overactive sex drive. At least my pussy, shaved smooth with a little trimmed triangle of blonde pubes above it, hadn't soaking the crotch of my cut-off denim shorts. Granted, it was only because I was trying to distract my libido by thinking of my various turn-offs. Things like my sensitive nipples being grabbed too hard, or arrogant males, or some of the girls who also live at the orphanage. Suddenly, out of the blue, Billy erupted with an unintentionally-loud belch. At least he had the courtesy to blush and mumble an apology. So I replied with a long, room-echoing belch of my own. Boys can be so cute when they stare gawking, as if I'd pulled a white rabbit out of my butt. He couldn't know babysitting's second rule of survival; fight fire with fire. Translation: learn how to out-child the child. Besides, belching's fun. Proud silver finisher in the Cafeteria Burp-Off Finals, and next year I'm sure to cinch the title. Washing the pots and pans afterwards, by Billy's fidgeting it was clear he wanted to ask me something, but couldn't bring himself to. As a babysitter of four years now, I've found intuition is just as vital as knowledge and experience, learning early on to trust any of the trio's sometimes subtle messages. "Another rule with girls, Billy," I explained, scrubbing a frying pan, "is that communication is very important. A very big part of any relationship is being able to talk and share with each other. Without it, any relationship is doomed to fail. At times it'll mean risking having to ask, or answer, something uncomfortable. Just remember while many questions or answers can easily offend, if they're phrased respectfully, most times they won't." He nodded in understanding, and I could almost hear the little gears in his mind working away. Being as sharp as he was smart, Billy was definitely the offspring of a lawyer. That was the reason behind babysitting's first, and most crucial, rule of survival; never, ever, underestimate a child, no matter how young or immature-acting they might be. "Sheila?" he asked hesitantly. "How will, um, I be able to get another girlfriend, if every girl at my school already know about . . . the thing?" Oh, this is just too perfect! No, wait, I've got remember Dad's advice that summer at camp. When you feel a fish nibbling at the bait, don't jerk the line trying to hook him, or you'll likely end up scaring him away. If you have a little patience, and the right bait, most often the fish will hook themselves. "I guess," I replied off-handedly, "the only girls around are at your school?" "Of course not." He blinked. "Oh." "You're not the first to forget that," I smiled gently. "In fact, my eight-year-old best friend and roommate Melody, wants a boyfriend. She also only thought the boys in our school were available. Of course, as you're both eight years old, it's not easy trying to meet others outside of school. After all, most people can't walk up to a stranger, and say hi, would you like to go out with me?" "That be freaky," Billy chuckled, drying a pan. "So . . . your friend Melody is looking for a boyfriend? Has she, um, found one yet?" "Not yet, but only because she's a little nervous about actually asking a boy out. You see, her only boyfriend had called her something very spiteful, and it hurt her deeply. You can understand how she's afraid of getting hurt again." "Yeah," the boy's green eyes darkened with his scowl. "I hope that boy gets run over by a car." Finished washing, I grabbed another dishtowel to help dry. "I wouldn't wish death on anyone, but don't worry. I doubt the boy will ever call another girl cruel names again." "How come?" "Oh, several older boys at school heard what he did to Melody, and decided to have a little chat with him. After school. I'd say between getting beaten up by four boys, his head dunked in a piss-filled toilet bowl, and having his balls kicked so hard that he'll be lucky ever getting a boner again, he got their point. He's very respectful of girls now." "Serves him right! I'd never call a girl a bad thing. It's wrong." Then Billy paused, before asking, "Is Melody---" He'd caught himself, the clever boy. "I mean, she must be really smart to, um, be able to get over being hurt that bad, right?" "And you're curious if she's pretty, too?" He blushed. "So, did you want to know if she's smart, or if she's pretty?" "Both maybe, please?" "Well, she's smart to say the least. Melody has the highest grades in her class, like your mom says you do. At least until you started letting your grades slide lately. "As for if she's pretty," I removed a thin wallet from my cut-off denim's back pocket, "you'll have to judge that." I handed the wallet to him, opened to a recent photo I took of Melody. It was at the public rec center's indoor pool we go to every other Saturday afternoon, taken before we'd gone in the water. My adorable best friend, with her auburn pageboy and skimpy green bikini, was posed like a swimsuit model. The photo not only showed off her petite, flat-chested figure, but also highlighted the lovable eight-year-old's occasional bouts of spunkiness. Billy's choked gasp and wide eyes I thought were an appropriate response. The front of his track pants rising into a tiny tent added a nice exclamation point. Not that I blame him, as a glance at the photo sent a spike of heat through my loins. While he kept staring at the photo, I recalled that day at the rec center. Being the last ones in the pool, Melody and I almost had the locker room to ourselves. Thank god for that, as while playing around in the pool, we'd been secretly copping feels of each other's tits, ass and pussy underwater. Melody's need for sex isn't as desperate as mine is, but at times it comes a pretty close second. That afternoon I'd gotten so worked up and horny, there had been no way I could have held out till we'd gotten back to the orphanage. As she knew me so well, my best friend hadn't let me suffer. Lingering in the showers, the moment we heard the last woman leave, Melody had pressed my back to the tiled wall, then dropped to her knees in front of me. Whipping down my skimpy red string bikini bottoms in one smooth motion, the eight-year-old had buried her pretty face between my thighs. Her talented tongue had frenziedly lapped my shaved cunt lips, as well as flicked inside my pussy, slurping the river of juices flowing from it. Meanwhile, one of her small hands had lovingly kneaded and caressed my taut, shapely ass cheeks, as the other aided her whirling tongue by fingering my sodden depths. Only her kneeling face nuzzled up firmly into my cunt, had kept my trembling bare legs from collapsing fully in my state of rapture. After my first climax, I wanted to tell Melody the one would do me enough for now. However, if I had stopped biting my finger, my whimpering cries would've echoed clear through the locker room. Working her magic on me, she'd brought me two more spasming climaxes standing there, before someone had suddenly called out into the locker room, seeing if any tardy souls remained. Melody's face, drenched in my juices, had lifted from between my thighs. Still fingering my scorching hole, she had calmly replied we were just finishing up. No sooner had we heard the door click close again, than her hot tongue dove back in my pussy, joining four of her sawing fingers. I had to jam the edge of my hand in my mouth, lest the entire rec center heard my fourth climax shaking me like a sapling in a storm. Finally sliding down the tiles to slump on the floor, Melody had crawled to hug and kiss me fiercely, my girl-cum coating her tongue and lips. Only because of her, was I able to make it home. Back in our shared bedroom, I had ripped off her clothes. While eating out her prepubescent pussy like a starving dog, I had furiously worked myself with a vibrator. We'd later switched to sixty-nine, then humped and ground our soaked cunts together. Our steady flood of juices had soaked my bedsheets. If I hadn't had a babysitting job later that evening, we'd have spent the whole night fucking, until surely passing out from sheer exhaustion. Coming back from the memory, my pussy was throbbing, but it hadn't drenched my shorts. Yet. Seeing Billy was still staring at Melody's photo, near the point of actually drooling, it was hard suppressing a grin. He was hooked. Now I just had to reel him in, but that also required patience. It wouldn't do to have him break free now. "So," I asked casually, "do you think she's pretty?" Finally lifting his dazed eyes from the wallet, it took him several tries to find his voice. "S-she's . . . beautiful!" "I think so, too. As do most of the boys at school." "If, um, you don't think it's too personal . . . why doesn't Melody pick another of those boys? Anyone would be stupid not to go out with her." "Ah, you're learning already. You took a risk asking, and did it respectfully. To answer why she doesn't just pick another, is that she wants a boyfriend who, I guess to put it best, understands her needs." Puzzled, but hope still shining in his eyes, he asked, "What do you mean?" "Normally I wouldn't say, but I can trust you, can't I?" Billy's spine straightened as he put a hand over his heart. "I swear on my heart, the most gruesome death I could die, that I'll never tell another's secrets, nor will I lie." That was a new version of the traditional crossing the heart for me. Maybe the private school he attends makes up their own sayings. What counted was that he was genuinely sincere. "I trust you." And truthfully I did. "How about we go to the living room's pit to talk about it. It's a little more comfortable than standing in the kitchen." As we left the kitchen, I noted on my watch that it was already eight o'clock. He had another hour, hour and a half tops, till bedtime. I think it should be enough time. Reaching the mansion's living room, I was more impressed by the sunken pit, set halfway between the huge flatscreen television and couches, than from my earlier look. Lined with large silk pillows that complemented the soft carpeting beneath our bare feet, the oval pit was deep and wide enough to accommodate at least six people comfortably. I sank down to sit against one of the heavenly-soft, yet still firm pillows, and gestured for Billy to sit next to me. When I eventually buy a house, I am so getting one of these pits. Sitting there next to each other, it was hard keeping a rein on my already excited hormones. He was definitely cute with his neat raven hair and green eyes, and his lean build was apparent despite the blue t-shirt and dark track pants. The cut-off denim shorts showed off my long, curled up bare legs, and the red midriff tank top accented a narrow waist and shallow breasts, with their noticeably thick puffy nipples. Running a hand through my long blonde hair, I could see the earnestness in the eight-year-old's face as I collected my thoughts. "Unlike most girls at eight," I began, "Melody is already sexually active. Don't confuse that with being a slut. What I mean is that she wants sex, but with someone special. Understand? Good. Now, she's been with a boy, but not all the way. I'm telling you this because as much as she wants a boyfriend, she doesn't want to be hurt again. Part of that it is not only respecting how far she's willing to go, but also understanding that in sex, a girl has her own special needs. Are you following me so far?" "I think so. Only Melody decides if she wants to have sex, and how far it goes, right? I'd totally respect that. A boyfriend should never . . . um, how do you say it?" "Make a girl feel pressured to do something, that she isn't comfortable with?" "Yeah, exactly! Thanks. So, if she wants sex, then a boy has to make sure she's satisfied, and not just himself, right?" "Excellent. I'm surprised you'd know that already." He blushed. "I kind of read that in Dad's sex guide book, even though I didn't get a lot of the bigger words in it. I thought it would help with my ex-girlfriend, but . . . ." I rubbed his thigh soothingly, asking gently, "Do you want to talk about it?" He nodded. "Debbie, she's my ex-girlfriend, and me were making out one night at her house. We did that a lot, but only in our clothes. Then she said she wanted to get naked and, you know, fool around. Maybe if I hadn't been so nervous . . . ." "It's okay. Go on." "I guess being nervous, when I took off my pants, my dick was soft. It was very hard all the way before that. She laughed not only 'cause of that, but because . . . ." "Because your penis has foreskin?" "How'd you--- Oh, right. I forgot about that. That was the other reason she laughed. She said it looked weird, but wanted to still fool around. I should've known by then how cruel she was, but I guess I was too horny, you know?" "I do all too well," I reassured him. "Well, she played with it, and it got hard again. Debbie said it was smaller than she was use to, but it would do. I should've been offended, but her fingers felt so good stroking my boner. She was only doing it for maybe thirty seconds, and then I," he swallowed hard past a lump in his throat, "then I felt this way-super awesomeness shoot through my boner. It's like when I jerk off in bed, but a million times better! But right after it happened, my dick got soft, and . . . ." Yeah, I was dead certain what happened next, but wanted Billy to explain. It's part of dealing with the pain. "She laughed, saying I was totally useless if I cummed from a few seconds' handjob. Then she told me get out, and that she wouldn't be caught dead with a baby for a boyfriend. Even worse though," he took a shuddering breath. "She spread it around school, about me having a wrinkly little wee-wee, and I should get a sex-change, 'cause I'm useless as a boy." Ouch. Next to this Debbie bitch, some of the girls in the orphanage almost seem human. Almost. Billy was staring morosely at nothing, surely reliving that terrible night. An eight-year-old deals with life more emotionally than intellectually, even ones like Billy and Melody. By the time the teen years come, most have enough experience to better cope with emotions. Being sixteen myself, I'm still learning, though helping work through other's issues has helped me. Until a child finds his or her way of dealing with things, things tend to hit them full force, and too often there's no way else but to respond with other emotions. Perhaps it's why I try so hard to understand how kid's emotions cause them to act out, and discover the underlying root of their problems, which occasionally are things most adults would deem trivial to them. Quite often their troubles, in some form or fashion, relate to sex. It's quite surprising, considering many of those children are still years away from puberty. "None of that was your fault," I soothingly rubbed his shirted chest. "First of all, all boys are born with foreskin. It's as natural as . . . well, for example, have you seen a vagina up close? What about a drawing of one? Okay, so remember the hood that protects the clitoris?" Seeing his confusion, I decided a risk was in order. I'm far from a stranger doing what I was about to, but usually when it happens it comes later, and rarely on the first night of babysitting. Then again, his progress so far has been quite remarkable. "I trust you, Billy," I reached down and started undoing my denim cut-offs. "I'm going to let you study my vagina, so I can make my point. Be warned, though, it's going to be red and swollen, and very wet. Don't think something's wrong with it. It's how a pussy looks when it's very aroused. Understand?" He nodded dumbly as I laid back more, and skinned out of my shorts and leopard-spotted thong, placing them on the pit's rim. Spreading my legs and encouraging him to kneel between them, I smothered a smile. If teenage males could have the same awestruck wonder of a pussy as boys do, then I might consider fucking one. Their loss are the boys' gain. On all fours, with his face close enough that I could feel his excited exhales on my shaved lips, the preteen stared like it was the eight wonder of the world. In some ways I guess it was. Letting him gawk for a minute more, I got his attention. "Alright, Billy, I want you to very gently spread apart the top of the vulva, which are the puffy outer lips." "Y-you mean . . . I can touch it?" "Yes, but gently. It's very sensitive when I'm horny, so don't be alarmed if I make strange sounds when you do, okay?" Nodding, he knelt closer and reached out with two tentative fingers. The moment he touched the wet lips, a jolt shot through me, causing me to gasp in bliss. Predictably he recoiled, his apologies stumbling over one another coming so fast. "You didn't hurt me," I panted. "I'm just very aroused at the moment. Damn. I can't be objective, till I take some of the edge off my horniness. But maybe we can use it to our advantage. Have you ever eaten out a girl before?" Just when I thought his eyes couldn't get any wider, they did. "Okay, stupid question. Look, Melody wouldn't mind a boyfriend who already knows the basic idea of foreplay, especially going down on her. I know this, because she and I have talked about it many times. So, would you want to learn the basics of foreplay with me firsthand?" The poor kid looked ready to have a heart attack, but still nodded vigorously. Eager students are the best students. "The first thing I need," I instructed, "is for you to strip out of your shirt and track pants. Leave your underwear on for now, as that'll come later. I need your clothes to put under my pussy, as it gets wetter than Niagara Falls, and I don't want to soak your mother's silk pillows." Not only did he strip to his Spiderman undies in record time, he carefully placed the soft garments beneath me as I raised my ass. Once settled again, I urged him closer between my legs. "As much as I'd love getting right down to the lesson on eating out," I explained reluctantly, "it's best if you're familiar with a vagina's workings first. Before that though, I need a quick cum to think straight. Watch what I do, but keep you face back from my thighs, if you don't want your head squished when I cum." Easing a hand down over the small triangle of blonde pubes, I inhaled sharply as my slender finger began caressing my slit. I would've taken my time to instruct him, but I was already on the cusp of a powerful climax, which I desperately needed to release in the worse way. Slipping a finger inside my hole, I couldn't keep from starting to frig with abandon. Moments later, a second finger joined it, then a third. Rocking and moaning as I finger-fucked myself, my other hand came down to furiously rub the engorged clit peeking from between the vulva. "Fuck yes," I gasped, thrashing my head back and forth. "Watch me, Billy! Watch me fuck myself!" He did watch, probably half-scared by the sex-fiend suddenly appearing before him. Just the awareness of him staring in such awe, had me writhing in near-insanity. Every spasm stoked the inferno raging in my pussy more, making me snarl like a desperate she-wolf in heat. Suddenly I removed my hands from my cunt and grabbed Billy, yanking the squeaking boy down on top of me. As his face fell against my tits beneath the tank top, I gripped his little ass with both hands, pulling his underwear-clad boner hard against my begging hole. "Hump me," I commanded. "Dry-fuck my pussy! That's it! Fuck me, Billy! Screw my brains out!" God, the kid was a natural. He humped and ground his cotton-sheathed little prick against my cunt with such enthusiasm, I swore it felt almost as good as Melody's naked cunt doing it! "I'm going to cum, Billy! Fuck me, you machine! Make me cum like a woman!" The prepubescent boy cried out climaxing, his hard crotch pounding in a burst of orgasm-fueled frenzy. It was like having a blunt-tipped jackhammer against my cunt. My cries joined his as I clutched him desperately, my own climax exploding through my pussy, drenching his Spiderman undies in a gush of girl-cum. Writhing together in ecstasy for several more seconds, then as if a switch was thrown, we sagged limp as raggedy-ann dolls panting on the silk pillows. Laying there, Billy draped atop me with his face resting on my small heaving tits, I smiled blissfully. As much as I think my near-nymphomania is a curse, it's times like this that I'm grateful for it. Though this climax alone wouldn't satisfy me, at least now my libido's neediness has abated enough to focus again. "Oh god," I breathed. "I so needed that." "Sheila?" Billy asked, his voice muffled slightly by my tank top. "Yes?" "Is sex that awesome?" Laughing softly, I affectionately ruffled his neat dark hair. "As awesome as that was, sex is much, much more intense. Lets put it this way. If this was a bowl of ice cream, then sex is a banana split with a cherry on top." "Wow." After recovering for a bit longer, I started eight-year-old Billy's practical sex education. At the same time, I worked to reverse the damage Debbie had done. Being able to sometimes help as well as teach prepubescent and adolescent kids in such matters, I personally think it is one of the most special, albeit least known, abilities of a babysitter. Basically I taught him the ins and outs of the vagina, pun intended, and the subtle science of foreplay. Naturally he was a little disappointed at first I wouldn't be giving him a blowjob, but when I explained that letting a girlfriend give him his first one would be so much sweeter, he recovered quick enough. Of course while I think it's true, I also wasn't going to tell him that if I did it, with my own experience and love of cocksucking, it would greatly diminish Melody's first attempt at a blowjob. As fast a study as Billy was, two factors weren't as quickly remedied. The first was repairing both the psychological and emotional damage that slut-bitch Debbie did to him. Having more than a little practice at such stuff, I began reinforcing his self-esteem and confidence, as well as assuring him everyone's uniqueness was a strength, not a weakness. It wasn't going to be an overnight fix, but Billy getting with Melody, and with her own help, I was certain he'd recover soon enough. That left his hair-trigger problem. It's kind of funny thinking of a preteen, who can't technically ejaculate yet, having premature ejaculation troubles. As it was part of my self-expanded sexual education studies, I knew there were various methods to treat it. My choice was a common and simple one; practicing self-control. When he felt the urge to cum, he was to mentally try holding it at bay. Rather than thinking of turn-offs, I told him to focus on succeeding for Melody's behalf. At bedtime I sat on the edge of the bed, after lowering his pajamas bottoms down to his knees, and stroked his straining three inch boner. I love watching boys squirm and pant as I tug their little cocks for them, but tonight I was also watching my watch. I couldn't have been more proud as he just managed to break three minutes, before his boyhood jerked and throbbed dryly in my fingers. It was great for the first real try, considering his thirty second mark with Debbie. One benefit of childhood was that in spite of his premature cumming, with the tiniest amount of attention, his petite pecker rose again from "little death" quicker than George Romero's zombies. I told Billy to practice trying to slow his quick draw whenever he grabbed his pistol, then tucked him in and kissed him goodnight. After getting dressing again and retiring to the living room, normally I would've started on homework, my behaviour sciences correspondence class lessons, or simply masturbated. Instead, I worked on something more important. The promise I had made to him. While I couldn't guarantee Melody would go out with him, knowing my best friend as I do, secretly it was already a given. He was nearly everything she desired, just as from what I've told him about her, she was nearly everything he desired. Before the sun had set, I had him pose in a pair of speedos in front of the mansion's pool, to take several shots with my cell phone camera. Also armed with the answers to questions Melody would've surely asked, I'd made him a promise to try to introduce each other tomorrow night here at the mansion. It was the best time as I was booked to babysit him Saturday night anyways, and he was usually only here every other weekend as part of the custody agreement. If Melody wanted to go out with him, she'd come with me to help tutor him. And maybe help him get his school grades back up from their recent lagging, too. Despite being nine-thirty, I knew Melody would still be awake. It was uncommon she could fall asleep without me in our shared bedroom, or cuddling me like a larger version of her teddy bear. Calling her, I gave the brief rundown on Billy and my opinion of him as a boyfriend. When I sent the photos to her cell phone, her girlishly-ecstatic scream would've woken half the orphanage. Then again, being in downtown Toronto, we're use to sleeping through car alarms, shouted arguments on the street outside, and the odd gunshot now and then. Finally calming her down, I asked if she wanted to "tutor" him tomorrow night. After calming her down again, wondering how my Bluetooth headset's speaker could withstand the decibels, I explained it would be conditional upon Mrs. Langdon's approval. Silently my intuition said that wasn't going to be a problem, but it's been off on an occasion or two before. Finally telling the near-hyperventilating little girl I'd see her soon, I ended the call rubbing my hands together with an almost maniacal grin. If nothing else came of this, at least I've found Melody a cute boyfriend. When Carol Langdon arrived back from the law firm's formal gala, a little tipsy from all the champagne, I was glad to see she'd taken a taxi. I'd lost my parents to a drunk driver, so it was understandable my vehemence of drunk driving. Helping Carol to the mansion's master suite, I told her how good Billy had been, which surprised but pleased her. Being quite unsteady on her feet, at her request I assisted removing her little black dress. By that I mean, I had to strip the gorgeous, raven-haired woman by myself, including the tiny black thong off her hairless tight pussy and long toned legs. Oh woe, such can be the hardships of a babysitter at times. As I laid her back in the four-poster canopy bed to tuck her in, I asked if I could bring my eight-year-old best friend with me the following night, to tutor Billy. Again I produce my wallet, showing her the photo of a bikini-clad Melody. Carol's reaction was all I could have wish for, and more. Her green eyes shone with a light I've seen the likes of a few times before. In the eyes of parents who I know love young children sexually. Added with the rising flush of her skin, and the growing scent of arousal, not to mention my earlier intuition of her interest in me, there was no doubt. Carol was a closet pedophile. "She's so adorable," Carol cooed, the nipples of her full tits hardening as she stared at the photo. "Melody's also my roommate at the orphanage," I told her, sitting on the bed edge next to her. "Her mother raised her alone, until cancer took her when she was just five. She doesn't have any other immediate family willing to take her, and as a result the two of us have become more like sisters than just best friends. Unfortunately, Melody's never really gotten over her mother's death, and most nights when she sleeps with me, I've also become in a way a bit of a mother-figure for her. I'm starting to worry if she isn't taken in by a caring woman, in a few years she might be irreversibly troubled." "That's terrible! Such a beautiful little girl." She hiccuped. "Why hasn't someone adopted her already?" "It's the technical legalities messing it up," I explained. "There's a cousin, once removed I think, who keeps contesting her getting adopted. Although he can't actually adopt her himself, because I hear he's got a sex conviction that would never allow it, he can still hold up any adoption attempt for years I'm told. Another option is guardianship, which her cousin couldn't fight, but so far no one has chosen to pick that route. Adopters officially want a daughter, not a legal ward. It sucks big time, but that's the way it is." "I guess so," she murmured absently, her gaze turned inward in thought. "Well, I hate to, but I better get going. Melody has a very hard time getting to sleep without someone, and it's nearly eleven now. I'll make sure to lock up and set the alarm. So, any problem if I bring Melody with me tomorrow?" "Huh? Oh, yes, please bring the little darling. I'd love to meet her." She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "Thank you so much for looking after Billy." Suddenly she raised her naked body to kiss me on the lips again, this time with ill-concealed passion. After several lingering seconds, I helped her recline back onto the bed, her hand "accidentally" brushing across my throbbing puffy nipple. "Oh my," Carol said with a bit of a goofy grin. "I didn't realize champagne could tire me out so much." She yawned hugely. "Goodnight, Sheila, sweetie. Sweet dreams." "You too," I tucked the comforter up around her, and couldn't resist giving her a kiss on the forehead, making her smile dreamily. "Goodnight, Carol." I wasn't halfway to the bedroom door, when Carol's breathing slowed as she slipped into sleep. Gathering my things, I locked up the mansion and hit the streets on my Barbie-pink, shark-mouthed scooter. While mindful of the somewhat light traffic, I was radiating with hope to the point of almost giddiness. So far my master plan, which had only come to me not hours earlier, was on it's way to fruition. Sometimes I wonder if I'd been a mad scientist in a past life. Though tomorrow held the hope of becoming monumental for Melody, strangely I had a sense so too would it be for me as well, but in another way. How and why I had that feeling I didn't know, and it remained stubbornly elusive to try deciphering. Deciding to simply trust in my intuition as usual, I continued on my way home. To a little girl no doubt still jumping up and down on her bed in glee.