The Babysitter Does BDSM

Part One

Steam was still rolling off of the picture perfect banana nut muffins that had just come out of the oven as Siena Corning pushed through the gate that connected her parents' lawn to her neighbors' large, manicured lawn. She had done this, minus the muffins, more times than she could count in the ten years that she had lived in this house. Three years ago, when she'd been fourteen, she'd started a babysitting business, almost more to have something to do and to help the families at her church who needed help with trustworthy childcare than to earn money.

Her neighbors to the back had been her first clients for their three year old twin daughters. The girls were six now and Siena still watched them at least twice a week when the Drs. Luftkin had evening or weekend obligations. She'd even gone on vacation with them last summer to Greece, where Paul Luftkin had been next to her almost constantly as she had watched the girls. At sixteen, Siena had been far too young to watch the children by herself in a foreign land, so Paul had rarely left her side, even within the walls of their resort.

And so, she'd left the Mediterranean with a huge crush on him and a dangerously intimate understanding of the couple's relationship. Because she had spent a lot of time on the beach with Paul and the girls while Sheila Lufkin had been shopping or on wine tours or at museums--by herself. She definitely didn't fault the older woman for pursuing her own interests, but there hadn't been any balance, not even for dinner. One server had even assumed that Siena was Paul's wife.

That had turned her on so much that she'd gone to the bathroom to pleasure herself as soon as they'd returned to the hotel. And she'd felt wildly guilty about it.

Masturbation and coveting another woman's husband were certainly on the list of things that had made her feel wildly guilty last week. Last week she'd still felt guilty about the few times she'd had sex with her ex-boyfriend last year, not to mention the year's worth of blow jobs she'd given him. But that was last week.

But at the end of last week she'd walked up to the door of her father's office at the church where he was a pastor only to see her father plowing his friend Andres in the ass. Not only was he being unfaithful to her mother, but he was doing so with a man! Her father, the one who ranted about homosexuality and adultery from the pulpit, but he was doing both in one go!

So this week, Siena decided she was no longer going to feel guilty about anything her father had made her feel guilty about. Not about masturbating, not about being wickedly attracted to people in their 30's and 40's, not about having sex with her ex-boyfriend or secret ex-girlfriend... and not about the fact that she was walking over to her married neighbor with his favorite muffins and every intention of trying to seduce him.

Because when that waiter in Greece had mistaken her for his wife, continuously, Dr. Paul Luftkin hadn't attempted to correct him. That had turned her on more than anything else.

The older man watched her with a wide, perfect smile as he waved at her before she was within speaking distance. His brown hair was wet and combed back from his face in an almost side part. He'd probably just gotten out of the shower recently. His green eyes were twinkling with delight above his straight nose and surprisingly full lips. She knew he was nearly forty, but he looked far younger with his slender, muscular body.

"I was just thinking about you and here you are," he said as a greeting as she approached the teak table. "And with muffins!"

She hoped that it wasn't obvious that she was pushing her perky d-cup breasts together just a little bit over the plate as she presented them. "I know that banana nut is your favorite, so I thought I would share."

Discretion was clearly not a priority for him as he grinned at her cleavage. Perhaps he thought that she wouldn't notice the difference between the plate and her tits, but she did. "They are my favorite, that's very thoughtful of you. Join me. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, please," she said sweetly, sitting the plate on the table and following him inside the house, into the kitchen. The house was larger than her parents' house, not that it was anything to scoff at, but the Luftkin's house was something else entirely. The kitchen had a country chic theme with white tile countertops and slightly weathered looking but very high quality... everything else.

Paul retrieved a large mug from the carousel and poured her a large cup. "Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please, two spoons of sugar and enough cream to make it the color of your skin," she said, slowly running her finger up his lightly-haired forearm.

The instant fire in his green eyes as he looked down at her confirmed her suspicion and her wish that he desired her too. Not that she had doubted it, not with the way he acted around her when they were alone or with the girls compared to how he acted with her when his wife or anyone else was around. And it had only intensified the closer she got to twenty... and she was only a couple months away now.

"That's a convenient measurement," he said softly, his eyes trailing over her exposed skin.

Tension grew with the silence, she could feel it stronger and even more alluring than it had been even a minute before. She watched his muscles move under his tanned skin as he prepared her coffee and her fingers itched to touch him again. "I hope I get to meet a man like you someday."

His hand stopped midway between them as he held out the full mug to her. "That's very flattering," he said, but his voice was serious and dark. "Although, for your sake, I hope you don't."

Her face fell. She hadn't expected him to say that. "Why not?" She laughed, taking the coffee from him. "You're intelligent, successful, handsome. And you're a wonderful father and husband."

The heat from his eyes practically manifested on her skin as they roamed over her face. But he still didn't smile when he said, "I'm glad you see me that way. Muffins?"

"You don't see yourself that way?" She persisted as they settled into the cushioned outdoor chairs around the matching table. She sat at his left hand, on the corner so their knees brushed under the table. This had been his primary tell in Greece, after all. It was an accident on her part the first time, but he'd blushed and looked at her with a distinct twinkle in his green eyes. Her entire pelvic floor had pulsed stronger than she'd ever felt it before.

"No," he answered simply, reaching for a muffin and ostensibly ignoring her leg. "And I think it's safe to say that you don't know me as well as I do."

Nerves blossomed in her gut as she moved her leg, essentially caressing his leg with hers under the table. "You're still all of those things though."

The dark, sensual intensity in his eyes multiplied as he studied her, slowly pulling off a bite of the muffin and lifting it to his lips. "That's debatable."

She didn't want to agree, but even this--allowing her to move her leg over his--would disqualify him from being a good husband. "Why were you thinking about me?"

His eyes widened, just slightly, with her question and it made her wonder what he was thinking about her at that moment.

"When I walked up," she clarified. "You said you were just thinking about me."

"Yes!" He said, much more brightly and casually moved his leg away from hers. "I'm going to start booking our vacation, are you able to come with us this year? Having you there last year was invaluable."

She knew he meant to watch the girls, but her heart wanted to believe that it was more than that. "Absolutely! Just let me know the dates as soon as you can so I can let my other families know so they can plan. Where are we going?"

"Paris," he said. It was so matter of fact that Siena got the impression that he wasn't necessarily looking forward to it.

But when he looked up and saw the shining, hopeful smile on her face, his face began to match hers. "I take it that sounds appealing. Have you ever been there?"

She laughed once with heavy sarcasm, but she was smiling sweetly as she did so. She wanted to be as appealing to him as possible. "You know I've been to one other country and you took me there. But I've always wanted to go to France. I know you've been there, is it as romantic as they say?"

"I've always been there for work," he said, taking a sip of his coffee and gazing at her over his mug. "I guess we'll have to find out."

Her heart jumped and her pussy pulsed at the searing, distinctly sexual heat in his eyes. She could feel the energy rolling off of him as his gaze moved over her face and chest. "Could we go to the Louvre?" She asked, hope and enthusiasm brightening her slightly bold voice. "I realize I'll be working, but--"

"But you will absolutely be able to see whatever you'd like to see," he said, sounding firm but jovial, as though it were ridiculous for her to think otherwise. "I'm certain Sheila will want to take the girls shopping, but I doubt it will be very often, so we should have plenty of time to see whatever we'd like."

Siena would make the same guess, if their experience in Greece was any indication. She'd taken the girls, under the care of Siena, shopping for half of one day and that had been the only time she'd spent with the girls. "Would you take the girls to a ballet?" They were in ballet class, after all. That was why he was alone.

"I will have to ask them. Would you like to see a ballet?"

Siena pulled her lips between her teeth coyly, to hide just how wide her smile was at his question. "Yes."

"Well then, as I said, I will be certain that happens."

She really hoped he meant that they would go together. "When are you thinking of going?"

"Ideally the end of August through mid-September, around there."

"Oh, so we'll probably be there for my birthday," she observed.

"That's right, September eighth, yes? Would you mind spending it with us?" He asked, sounding a little nervous over her answer.

"I wouldn't mind turning twenty in Paris... with you." She knew how it sounded and, even though it was completely intentional, she decided to add. "And the girls bring so much joy to every occasion!"

His face took on a much more endearing expression at this. "They really do adore you."

"See? I'd love to share my birthday with you."

"Speaking of the girls adoring you, you're still available tonight, yes?"

"Of course! Five o'clock?" She confirmed and he nodded. "Back by eight-thirty?"

"As always," he sighed.

*

At eight-thirty on the dot, as promised, the Drs. Luftkin walked through their garage door, just as Siena was getting the girls up to bed in their adorable, matching pajamas. The chestnut headed six-year-olds had been bathed and teeth brushed before eight, as Sheila requested, but they were usually in the process of getting into bed when their parents came home at precisely the same time from every event, with very few exceptions over the years.

Siena had only dabbled in psychology, but it was fairly obvious to her that Dr. Sheila Luftkin lived in a tight box of mental health issues. Even on vacation, the older woman had been back to the room at the same time every night to take her sleeping pill and get to sleep at the same time. The effectiveness of the drug was dependent upon consistency, she would say whenever Paul pressed her to deviate even a little. It was the refusal to deviate even a little that made Siena believe there was more to it than just routine.

The moment Paul came into view, the sleepy twins found another pocket full of energy and ran to their father, squealing happily. Paul immediately got to his knees and pulled one daughter into each arm and kissed their cheeks in rapid succession, growling playfully and calling himself the kiss monster. Sheila watched him from a few feet away, smiling at the scene for a few seconds before she turned her rather intense gaze to Siena. Sheila was small and pale with shoulder length black hair and black eyes from her Korean mother and she was beautiful in her way, just... very up tight.

"How were they tonight?" she asked, in a low voice, as though she didn't want the girls to hear her question, even though she asked it every time.

"Angels as usual," Siena told her with a genuine smile at the small humans. "Bundles of energy but they listened to me and they cleaned up our games when I asked them the first time. They were wonderful."

"Excellent, thank you. Paul will pay you for the evening once the girls are in bed," Sheila said and went upstairs with quick, heavy steps. She wasn't a heavy woman, she was actually more petite than Siena, but her footfalls were always heavy and loud, no matter what shoes she was wearing.

Despite her new changes in her beliefs about life, she still agreed that judgment was wrong... but it was still confusing to her how a woman could be so cold toward the people she claimed to love. Sheila wasn't a bad person, and Seina had no intention of stealing her husband or wrecking her marriage, but it was far too obvious to Siena that the other half of the Drs. Luftkin was... missing something.

Although his joy in this moment was very real as he scooped both girls up, one in each arm, and roared like a dragon to their giggly delight. This was the main reason that she didn't want her actions to ruin his marriage, however inadequate it appeared to her; she didn't want the twins to go without their loving father.

Siena followed the group upstairs, but her services were completely unnecessary as Paul tucked both girls into bed, kissing their foreheads and telling each of them that he loved them unconditionally. The first time Siena had witnessed him doing that, her heart had pinched with envy; no one in her family had said that to her as a child.

Sheila brushed behind her babysitter as she slipped into the room to also kiss her daughters' foreheads and say a short, routine prayer over them. She was out of the room, heading back to her own, just as quickly as she had appeared.

"I'll walk you out," Paul said softly, putting his hand lightly on her back to direct her toward the stairs. "One hundred for the evening, yes?"

"Yes," she confirmed, loving the lingering sensation of his hand on her sensitive back.

As they walked out of the kitchen into the warm night air, he reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out several twenties and held them out to her. But when she took them, he didn't let go. "Sheila will be asleep by nine-thirty," he told her in a voice barely above a whisper.

"But you'll still be awake?" she asked just as quietly, but with obvious interest.

He nodded, but he did elaborate.

"May I... come back?" she asked nervously. She hoped she knew why he was telling her this, but she couldn't know for certain.

He nodded again. "If you do, just remember, you don't know me as well as you think you do."

"But I want to."

He let go of the bills. "You might feel differently when you find out what I want from you."

She wanted to disagree, but seeing as she didn't know what he was implying, it felt like a silly idea. "I guess we'll have to find out."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a slight grin at her words. "Good night, Siena."

He disappeared back inside the house before she turned to walk across the dimly lit yard to her gate. As she walked into her house, she could hear her mom watching TV in the living room and the classical worship music from her father's office. A typical night in the Corning household. It hadn't really bothered her that they spent so much time apart until she'd discovered her father's infidelity. Not that any amount of time spent would change her father's apparent attraction to men. She supposed that he could be bi-sexual, but being a witness to her parent's marriage her entire life, she was fairly confident that he wasn't.

But at the moment, she was much more concerned about her own foray into adultery. There was still a loud, firm voice in her mind telling her that what she was about to do was wrong. No matter her intentions, going over to Paul tonight could end very badly and much more so for him and his family than for her.

It wasn't stopping her from taking the risk, now that she knew that he was interested in more than flirtation, because she wanted to know him and touch him so badly it hurt. Perhaps it was her own way of justifying her actions, but she did believe that a man who was satisfied in his relationship wouldn't be looking for something else. And Paul obviously was; he'd taken her over-the-top flirtation for exactly what it was... an invitation.

So she changed into her cutest under garments and brushed her teeth and spent the rest of her time trying to decide on the best outfit to wear from her distinctly conservative wardrobe. On the other hand, it was probably better if her intentions weren't obvious, just in case she ran into one of her parents on her way out of the house. But she wasn't necessarily worried about that.

After her nannying business had picked up last summer, her parents had agreed to let her finish high school--a year early--with a very flexible online school. Since she had graduated, to little fanfare, in May, her parents had been surprisingly uninvolved in her life. She was also grateful that they weren't pressuring her to move out or pay rent or something, like she'd heard other people her age talk about at church.

Not to mention, their new hands-off approach was going to be very advantageous as she pursued the lifestyle she desperately wanted to have. She'd never felt inclined toward monogamy, something else that she'd felt guilty about for a long time. She'd dated her ex-boyfriend for over a year, but she'd cheated on him with a girl and had crushes on several other people, not to mention so many of the older men at church. They were her real temptation.

She was dressed in her v-necked tank top from this morning and her shortest black shorts when she pushed through the gate for the third time in 24 hours. This time, she closed it silently behind her, not wanting her parents to hear and wonder why she was going back over.

The waxing moon lit the manicured lawn enough for her to walk barefoot over the ground with confidence. After a couple steps, a lighter ignited and she saw Paul's face illuminated as he sat at the head of the table on the patio, as he usually did. She had witnessed his secret cigarettes on so many occasions and she'd fantasized about doing exactly what she was doing at that moment.

Just as she had this morning, she sat in the chair to his left, but she didn't say anything. He took several, slow puffs of his cigar, as she realized that was what it was, as he studied her in the semidarkness. "Tell me why you baked me muffins this morning."

"Because I wanted to have an excuse to come see you while Sheila was gone," she said with complete honesty. It felt like the best course of action with him. "So I baked your favorite muffins."

Absurdly, his face contorted and he laughed in the most teenage boy way that she'd ever heard. "For the record, those aren't my favorite. That's an inside joke between Brad and I, from high school. It was our stupid code for sex. As in, our banana had nutted in a muffin."

Her eyes widened as she watched him continue to genuinely chuckle at his and his best friend's inside joke. "Wow, at the end of the day, you're all just Peter Pan. It doesn't matter how old you are, you'll never grow up."

"Not with my best friend. I refuse."

Her heart squeezed at the ornery twinkle in his eyes and the crooked grin on his lips as he swore to not grow up with his best friend. She loved that about him. "So then what is your favorite kind of muffin?"

"Blueberry, or any berry really."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with promise, rubbing her knee along his thigh.

His face relaxed into seriousness and she could feel the energy shift between them away from fun to tense, but in the best way. "Why did you want to be alone with me?"

"It isn't obvious?" she said coyly, running the top of her barefoot up his calf.

But his serious demeanor didn't change. "In situations like these, assuming is dangerous. Why?"

"Because I want you," she said plainly, no matter how nervous she was to do so.

"Be more specific," he said firmly.

"Sexually."

He took a long draw on his cigar as his eyes moved over her face. "Let me be abundantly clear," he said carefully. "I will not leave my wife for you."

"I don't want you to," she said calmly. "And I would never ask you to. I--I don't want to be monogamous."

His eyebrows raised in surprise at this revelation. "Interesting. Are you seeing anyone else now?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not yet, no."

"Are you a virgin?"

"No."

"Excellent. But you should understand that I'm only interested in something very specific and if you're not interested in that then I'm not interested in this." His tone was confident and commanding, a tone she didn't hear from him very often but she found ridiculously arousing. "But do not pretend to enjoy something you do not in order to make this happen. I'm trusting you to be honest."

"What are you interested in?" Her heart was racing at the unexpected turn this seemed to be taking.

"Dominance," he said simply.

"Me dominate you or you dominate me?" She was much more confident that she wanted one of those things, but she definitely didn't want the other.

His chuckle was warm and cozy, like wine going down her throat. "Me dominate you."

Thank God. "So you like BDSM?"

"Yes, although my version is admittedly tame, but it's what I enjoy more than anything, sexually."

Tame sounded like a nice place to start, or so she hoped. But of the few things that she knew about BDSM, pre-negotiations were one. "Be specific about what you're interested in, please."

Another long drag on the cigar lit the cherry for several seconds before Paul finally answered. "When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it, no matter what that order is. I won't be gentle with you. If you fail to follow my orders, I will punish you."

"How will you punish me?"

"Any way you will allow me, but I only want you to allow what you genuinely enjoy. I like slapping--in the face, spanking, hair pulling, bondage--wrists and ankles and usually with overstimulation, and hard, fast fucking."

As his list grew longer, her pussy grew wetter and wetter. But she needed to clarify a few things first. "Will I have a safe word?"

"If you say stop, I will stop. I don't enjoy non-consent play. As I said, what I like is quite tame. I'd prefer to speak plainly with slow down and stop."

"Okay. What is overstimulation?"

His grin returned for just a moment as he said. "Making you orgasm over and over until I decide you're done."

She returned his grin. "That doesn't sound like a punishment."

"Trust me," he said, the smolder taking over the grin on his face. "After a while, you'll understand why it's a punishment. But please understand, I do want you to enjoy them. And my expectation as we begin is for you to be very honest about what you like and dislike. I do not wish to actually harm you, only to introduce a different kind of sensuality to you."

"I want to try all of that," she told him confidently, and it was the complete truth. Not in a pretend way, so he would like her, as she used to act with her ex-boyfriend, but in a real, deeply honest way. She wanted him and she wanted what he wanted. "I'm guessing your wife doesn't enjoy this?"

He shook his head slowly as he exhaled, looking like a dragon as he did. "She does not."

"Have you done this before?" she asked, knowing that it was a sensitive question, but she wanted to know if she was one in a long line or if this was more meaningful to him than that. It wouldn't change her mind, but it might make her guard her heart a little closer if this was just a habit for him.

"Dominance or adultery?" he asked, lowering his voice even further.

"Both."

"I have. Once. With another PhD candidate in my department. We had this kind of relationship exclusively."

So she wasn't just one in a line of many. She had to admit, she liked that a lot more. "Thank you for telling me."

"Communication and honesty are crucial, to ensure that we both enjoy ourselves and that we aren't found out."

"I agree."

Another long drag on the cigar as he studied her and then he asked; "Do you want this?"

"Yes," she breathed immediately. She wanted this so badly.

"In that case, when you answer me, say yes, sir."

"Yes, sir," she obeyed immediately and her clit pulsed with anticipation as she did.

"Good girl. Go down stairs. Stand facing the couch, about six feet away from it. Do not move until I give you further instructions. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go."

Siena stood up from the table gracefully, despite the shakiness in her hands, and walked over to the sliding, glass door. The house was dark and cool, almost tomb-like, as she walked barefoot through the kitchen and down the carpeted stairs to the finished basement. The carpet was lush under her feet as she walked toward the large, plush L-shaped sofa. Only then did she realize that his directions had been slightly vague; which seat should she face?

In the several minutes that she waited for him, she changed her position at least fifteen times. But when she heard the basement door shut softly, she stayed with her choice of the middle of the long section and stood as still as possible, staring at the couch, as his footfalls grew closer.

In her periphery, she watched him walk over to the guest bedroom and go inside, but he didn't close the door and she could hear the sounds of him emptying his bladder and running the water in the sink of the bathroom. Then she heard the distinct sound of gargling and she guessed that he was using mouthwash after his cigar.

When he sauntered out of the guest room and over to the couch, the minty scent wafted over to her in confirmation and she appreciated the gesture. He sat down on the couch in the same manner in which he did everything else, with thoughtful control. His gray, button up shirt was open at the top and his sleeves had been unbuttoned and rolled twice up his muscular forearms. Could he get any hotter?

"Tonight I want to see how well you follow orders and I expect you to be honest when I ask for your feedback. Be honest with yourself about how you feel about this."

"Yes, sir," she agreed when his silence grew.

"Don't speak unless I ask you a question," he said in a dark, firm tone that would have cut her to the quick if he'd spoken to her like that in a normal context. Then he slowly stood up from the couch, covering the distance between them in three, casual steps, and he came to stand directly in front of her. He was moving differently, she noticed; he was loose and unhurried, with his shoulders relaxed and an oddly light-hearted look dancing in his green eyes. It was sexy as hell.

Her reflex was to apologize, but that would also be speaking without being told to. So she remained silent as he approached her like a tiger approaching his prey. Fuck, she'd never been so aroused and he hadn't even touched her yet. With her paltry sexual experience, she knew that this man was going to blow her mind tonight and she was so incredibly ready for it to be completely obliterated.

He looked at her with affected disappointment as raised his hand to her cheek and caressed it with a feather light touch before he reared back two inches and slapped her cheek softly. "How is that?"

The instantaneous switch in his tone, from disappointment to caring curiosity, was giving her a little bit of whiplash, even more so than the slap on the cheek. She'd never been smacked in the face before, but it had been soft enough that there had been very little sensation on her skin. "Try it harder."

He did and this time she felt a sting as his hand connected with her cheek and he immediately caressed the skin after. "Better?"

It was better. Why was that... better? This had all been theoretical outside, but her body was reacting the same way to the reality as it had to the theory; it turned her on more than anything else she had experienced so far. "It is better, but could you go a little harder?"

His eyes widened in tandem with his lips curving into a small, sexy grin. And he reared back and slapped her hard enough to make her face turn involuntarily. "Better?"

She could still feel it lingering on her skin and her pussy pulsed from the sensation. Much better. "Yes. Why?"

To her surprise, he replied to her rhetorical question; "Because pain, like everything else in this world, has a light and a shadow. We tend to focus on the shadow of pain... but this is the light. Do you like this?"

She nodded slowly, looking at him with wide, dreamy eyes. "A lot more than I thought I would. Of course you would start with the thing that made me the most nervous."

"I didn't know it was," he chuckled warmly as he continued to caress her reddened cheek.

Oh no, she thought as her heart squeezed with deep and growing affection, she was going to fall in love with this man. In the context of her life, she didn't feel like she had the space to truly be herself with most of the people she was around. But they were creating a secret together, intentionally, and in an odd way, the necessity of deception for everyone else created a situation of necessary honesty between them.

"It was, but I really like it."

"Good," he said darkly and took a step back from her. "Take your clothes off."

She could tell by his tone that the question and answer portion was over and they were back to following orders. God, she loved it. She loved the way his eyes roamed over her body as she slowly removed her clothes. The air in the basement felt cool against her breasts as they tumbled out of her bra and she reached for the final piece of clothing.

He didn't say a word as he watched her, but his eyes drank in every inch of skin she exposed to him and the twitch in his dark pants told her that he was enjoying himself. Her heart raced as she pushed her panties to the floor and stood in front of him in nothing but her skin and hair.

Without a word, he reached around her head with both hands and began to gather her hair together, as though he were about to put it into a ponytail, and then he held it, firmly, in one hand. "Take my clothes off."

He didn't let go of her hair as she took a step closer to him and reached for the buckle of his belt. She was delighted to see the patterned boxer-briefs under his conservative dress pants as she let them fall to the floor. And--fuck--she could write poetry about his hairy, muscular thighs, even if she could only glance down at them as he was holding her head in place with her hair.

His dark gray shirt came off as quickly as she could make her fingers move to unbutton it and she was surprised that it revealed the tanned, lightly haired expanse of his well-muscled chest instead of an under shirt. She let her fingers linger over his skin as she pushed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. His skin was so warm and his hair was so soft that her fingers itched to touch him again the instant they lost contact with him.

Even though he hadn't told her to do so, she would risk the punishment to touch him how she wanted to. She flattened her hand and slid it over the twitching snake in his boxers and he groaned as she caressed him from tip to taint. But he didn't punish her.

Not until she stopped. As soon as her hand left his still-covered dick, he slapped her with her requested force. "I don't give the same order twice."

She poked her thumbs under his boxer-briefs and she pushed them down his strong, sexy legs. His dick was exactly what she hoped it would be, an attractive seven-inch mushroom with just the right amount of veins. He really didn't fit her picture of what a man his age would look like naked. His skin was tight and smooth over his slim, muscular body and even his small, tight nipples were perfect somehow.

After he stepped out of his clothes, he took a moment to debate what he wanted to do with her first and she was surprised when he leaned in and kissed her. It was so incongruous to everything else, that it felt just as shocking as the slap in the face had. He took his time, though, and the kiss grew in intensity with his tongue coaxing her lips open and tangling with hers.

As with everything else so far, he ended the kiss abruptly, pulling her head back by her hair as he stood up straight. "On your knees," he instructed darkly and pulled down on her hair until she was on her knees in front of him. "Hold your hands behind your back." She complied immediately. "Pleasure me."

Using her tongue to direct it, she pulled the pink tip of his dick between her lips. She enjoyed the feel of his soft, but hard flesh sliding over her tongue, but she didn't have time to revel in it. With his tight grip on her hair, Paul began to control the movements of her head as she sucked him, his dick shiney with her spit as it moved in and out. Even with his slow rhythm, each stroke hit the back of her throat, choking her to the point that her body convulsed.

But why did she like this too? Every gag made her clit pulse with pleasure and she almost reached around to massage it before she remembered that she had orders to keep her hands behind her back. That was more difficult than she'd anticipated. Not even because she wanted to touch herself--she wanted to touch him.

After one especially deep thrust into her throat, he pulled her off of him abruptly. "Stand up." She complied, not that she had much of a choice with his iron grip on her hair. When she stood facing him again, with spit dripping from her chin down onto her breasts from the face-fucking she'd just received, he finally release her hair. "Turn around."

Expecting a swat on the ass for something she didn't know she'd done, she was surprised when he simply began to play with her hair. It took her another second to realize that he was braiding the long, brown tresses into one, long braid down her back. When he was finished, she felt him tug slightly on the end of the braid. "Walk to the bedroom."

He held the end of her hair like a leash as they walked to the guest room together. The tension on her scalp sent tingles of pleasure over her skin as they walked; another sensation she hadn't expected to enjoy. She'd wanted everything he'd listed, but fantasy and reality rarely had a lot in common. She was overjoyed that this time, they seemed to be the same. She genuinely liked this.

"Get on your knees on the edge of the bed," he instructed firmly and he assisted her in achieving his desired position. Still holding her long hair, he took a second to look over the beautifully erotic picture she made with her ass and pussy spread wide open and glistening with arousal. Then he plunged his naked cock into her in a quick thrust.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she cried out involuntarily. It felt good, it had just been unexpected. Actually, as he began to pound her, it felt really, really good.

"Stop," she said firmly and he pulled out and let go of her hair simultaneously.

She stood up on her knees and turned around to look back at him. As she suspected, he was inside of her without a condom. "Paul! Are you trying to get me pregnant?"

"I'll pull out," he assured her confidently.

"And what if you don't?" she pressed, anxiously.

"I will give you the money to go buy a morning after pill tomorrow," he said calmly. "But I don't use condoms with my wife, so having them around would be suspicious."

"Then I will buy them and bring them. This makes me too nervous. I don't want to have children, period, let alone as a teenager." She had known that for a long time. She hadn't let her ex-boyfriend near her without a condom and she hadn't dreamed that a man with so much to lose like Paul would be so careless.

"Do that next time," he said, just as calmly as he had before. "What would you like to do now?"

Her eyes trailed down to his prominent, pulsing erection, now shiney with her arousal and God she wanted him to keep fucking her like that. Where was she in her cycle? The fact that she was horny out of her mind reminded her that her period was only days away from starting. "Well, my period is due in about two days."

"So you aren't fertile," he said confidently.

She nodded, still staring at his penis and ignoring the growing grin on his face. "I'm not. But still pull out, and please don't put it off."

Taking her chin gently between his thumb and crooked finger, he kissed her lips with an unexpected tenderness. "I apologize, we should have discussed this before we began. But understand that I do not want to get you pregnant anymore than you want me to. I will pull out. Please trust me, I've done this a lot."

She took a deep breath. This was a good time to see if he would be true to his word on this because she wasn't fertile and the risk was admittedly low. But there was still risk in it, but then, there was risk in all of this. "I do trust you."

"Shall we resume?" he asked, the grin still lingering on his lips as he began to wrap her braid around his hand slowly.

"Yes, sir," she breathed.

One arm immediately wrapped around her stomach, pulling her back against his chest, as the other turned her face toward his. The direction of his gaze was clearly her lips and, as he plunged into her again, he claimed her mouth roughly. There was no trace of his previous tenderness in these kisses, there was only unbridled passion.

Then he stopped abruptly, releasing her lips and moving his large hands to her ribs with his fingers digging into her breasts and bones. His cock fit into her so nicely, she thought as he used his grip on her body to move her up and down his shaft. He picked up his pace, his hips audibly slapping against the flesh of her ass as he did so.

It wasn't long before she felt the tightening begin deep in her pelvis and she knew she was only seconds from falling over the edge of her orgasm. "I'm gonna come," she breathed.

But her warning was rewarded with a swift, crisp slap to her ass. "I don't give a fuck."

That was enough to push her into orgasmic ecstasy as her body contracted with deep pleasure. It felt so good it made her toes curl and her mouth open in a soundless scream as it continued to rip through her body. And Paul didn't relent a pound of force as he held her sides and thrust into her unabatedly.

When his pace became almost ridiculous, and she was only a thrust or two away from coming a second time, he rapidly pulled out. He pushed her upper half down into the mattress again before he covered his hand in her natural lube and finished himself off onto her supple ass cheek.

Needing to orgasm again so badly it hurt, Siena reached under her body and began to circle her clit quickly.

"Did I tell you that you could do that?" he asked darkly a second after she started.

"No, sir," she replied breathlessly, rubbing the bundle of nerves just a little faster.

His hand made contact with her ass cheek, the one not covered in his semen, with a loud thwack that sent pleasure straight to her pussy, getting her to the point of teetering. Another smack and the sweet, sweet tension began to break and by the time he spanked her a third time, she was already coming.

Once she removed her hand from her pussy, Paul sat next to her on the edge of the bed as she caught her breath.

"So what do you think?" he asked, sounding equally breathless as his hair covered chest moved up and down.

"I think I need a shower," she murmured with a satisfied smile on her reddened lips. "But I really liked this. All of it. Although I'm still bringing a condom next time."

"Yes, please do that. I'm sorry we didn't talk about that. Mea culpa."

Siena carefully lowered her feet to the floor, feeling the now cold semen begin to drip down her thigh as she did. He really was ridiculously handsome, she thought as her gaze danced over his exposed body; she was incredibly happy that she was getting to see and experience all of it so intimately.

"Shower?" he asked, holding out his hand to her.

*

Paul Luftkin felt an unusual tingle of foolishness as he sipped his handmade latte on the terrace of his, in his opinion, borderline ridiculous home. Anything worth doing was worth doing well, he thought, quoting his fearsome grandmother in his mind, including his coffee on Saturday mornings. But his mug was nearly empty and his interest in yesterday's newspaper had waned and he was still sitting quietly by himself.

Last weekend Siena had pushed through the gate almost as soon as he had sat down and his routine laden brain had chosen to believe that she would do the same this week. He hated feeling like a middle schooler again; disappointed, rejected and silly.

But with one drink left in his mug, his patience was rewarded as the gate swung open and Siena's lithe but curvy figure swept through the fence. Again, she had a plunging neckline and plate of muffins tucked under her tits as she smiled at him over the distance. She was a fresh breeze in his stagnant life and he felt it waft over his soul as she grew nearer to him.

He desperately desired his wife and he always had, but their sex life had taken a significant left turn after they had unsuccessfully tried to have children for two years. Then everything became clinical and scientific and then sex hadn't even been necessary for them to conceive. Their sex life never recovered in the eight years since.

But he did love her; Sheila was brilliant and innovative and competent and she always had his and the girls best interest in mind, even if she didn't always seem to act in ways that made sense to him. He had no intention of leaving her, as he had explained to Siena, but he was finding it difficult to identify that much guilt over his actions with this soft, young, openly sexual woman.

If Sheila hadn't allowed them to go full years without having sex--of any kind, then perhaps he would. But it had been the case with his first submissive, Jill, and it was the case now; he actually couldn't remember the last time at this point. Before they'd gone to Greece last year, he knew that much.

"Good Morning," Siena said softly as she sat next to him primly. "I baked your actual favorite this morning."

The fluffy muffins looked as though they were ripped straight from the pages of a baking magazine and onto the plate. She was such an enigma to him, despite her youth; What, for example, had caused her to come onto him so obviously all of a sudden? And how did she manage to portray herself so convincingly as a traditional wife in the making when she was really polyamorous and open to kink? It was beguiling.

"Would you like some coffee?" Paul asked casually, standing as he did so. He wanted to get her inside as quickly as possible; they didn't have a lot of time.

"Yes, please," she agreed knowingly and she picked up the plate of muffins without being told. She knew from the way that he was staring at her lips that he wanted privacy.

But to her surprise, he actually walked over to the fancy espresso machine that Sheila had gotten him for Christmas a couple years ago and began to make her a beverage. "If you're going to come over on Saturdays, be here at 9:15."

Oh, she'd messed up already? "Yes, sir," she said softly, looking down at the floor. It felt like the most submissive thing to do in that moment.

His immediate warm chuckle made her look back up in the next second. His easy, gregarious smile bent his lips as his eyes roamed over her figure. "You don't have to do that right now, we're not... playing, we're coordinating."

"Oh," she said, feeling a little sheepish. She still wasn't clear on what the rules were with him; after last time, he'd quickly and quietly rinsed her off in the shower and kissed her good night before sending her home. "Would another day be better?"

"Saturdays are the only time we'll have the house to ourselves," he explained before the sound of milk steaming filled the air. "But you are welcome to come over at 9:30 any evening. Saturdays come with a time limit, evenings do not."

Of course they couldn't have both, but Sheila's use of sleeping pills did make the lack of complete privacy far less risky. And this was a well built house; she doubted anything that happened in the basement could be heard on the second floor. "How will I let you know I'm here? In the evenings?"

"If I'm not already outside," he said, pouring milk into the espresso in her mug. "Tap lightly on the door. Do not text me or call me."

"Of course," she agreed.

Paul gave her the steaming beverage and immediately caressed her cheek. "We don't have time this morning."

"I was getting that," she said as her eyes fluttered shut at the contact. She was almost disappointed that he wasn't slapping her for being late, but she did love how his big, masculine hand felt on her cheek. "I'll be on time next week."

"Good girl," he said with a growing grin as he closed the distance between them and kissed her tenderly. Although he had been serious when he'd told Siena that he wasn't interested in a relationship with her unless she enjoyed what he enjoyed, he already knew that she would be so much more to him than just a submissive. He needed tenderness and intimacy just as much, even if he rarely vocalized it.

He didn't linger at her lips, knowing he was only teasing himself if he did; they really didn't have time. "But I would like a muffin."

"I thought you said we didn't have time," she teased and she was rewarded with a wink and a quick kiss that made her weak in the knees. He was already so good looking in her eyes and adorable, sweet gestures like that made him even more alluring.

"How have you been this week?" he asked conversationally as he peeled the wrapper from a cooled blueberry muffin. "I did expect to see you again sooner."

"I was on my period, remember?"

"Oh, you did mention that." He'd completely forgotten. Now he felt silly for thinking otherwise. "Although, I don't mind, to be clear. You do have other... orifices," he said wryly. "Have you had anal sex?"

Her nose immediately scrunched up at the question. "I have, but it hurt really badly."

"With your ex-boyfriend?"

She nodded.

"Did you stretch your anus first or just go for it?" he asked.

Stretch it? She didn't even know what that meant. "We just went for it."

"Yeah, that would hurt," Paul mused. He'd done the same thing to himself with a rather robust prostate massager. "But if you take the time to stretch it properly, it can be very pleasurable. A few of my girlfriends in high school genuinely preferred it over vaginal sex."

This sounded very much like he was going to convince her to try it his way. "And you like it?"

He shrugged. "I do. It's very dominating, there's no risk of accidental pregnancy, and it's a nice alternative when you're bleeding."

He was absolutely trying to convince her, but he did objectively make a good point. She wouldn't have to worry about condoms every time and she wouldn't have to avoid him during her period.

"Although, to be perfectly honest, I will still fuck you when you're bleeding."

She didn't know why the statement turned her on the way it did, but it did. Not to mention the lusty, yet somehow tender way he'd said it; how did this man drive her crazy so effortlessly? But one thing was clear, she didn't need to avoid him during her period. "I'll keep that in mind next month. I've never done that before, but I'm open to it if it doesn't bother you."

He shook his head, explaining; "I like kink, as tame as it may be."

And she wanted to learn about and explore as many of them as he was willing to share with her. "That's so sexy."

"Yeah?" he asked with an uncommon blush. It had been a long time since a woman told him he was sexy. Stodgy and persnickety or just... quiet were the usual adjectives he heard others assign to him; quiet when they knew he could hear them... stodgy when they thought he couldn't. But it was the mask he chose to have as a young professor of political science at a conservative university and it seemed to have served him well with the people who made decisions. "You think so?"

Setting her barely touched coffee on the counter, Siena sidled up to him, pushing her arms around his waist and turning her face up to his. She didn't care that it couldn't lead anywhere this morning, and really, she was oddly content with having just a few stolen moments with him like this. It was what she had wanted with him, after all, before he had presented his kinky side to her. It was sexy, but she wanted more than just that, more than just sex with him.

Something deep and cold in Paul's chest began to melt and shift as his arms surrounded her and he claimed her lips in a languid and sensual kiss. It was almost difficult for him to believe that they had only been together once, with the way he already felt about her and the way waves of warm, revitalizing peace and pleasure washed over him.

Of course, as much as he wouldn't admit it outloud, his feelings for her were nothing new, he mused as he felt her hands slide up his back and dig into his skin. He held her cheek in his hand and feasted on her soft, skilled lips as though he had all of the time in the world, even if that were the furthest thing from the truth. He wanted nothing more than to pull her downstairs and make love with her slowly, in a completely different way than their first union.

Because the truth was that he'd fallen for her in Greece, when she had been his constant companion instead of his wife. He was ashamed of himself for it, even now, even with her securely in his arms and his mouth devouring hers. But the way that she had handled herself on that trip, especially how she had taken care of the girls when Sheila had consumed too much ouzo and picked a fight with him, had shown her poise and maturity beyond a doubt. He hadn't been entirely sober himself when that had happened and he had escalated his wife without considering the consequences.

It occurred to him that Siena had learned a lot about the true state of his marriage on that trip. If she hadn't known already.

The loud, mechanical sound of the garage door opening cut through the silent house like a jackhammer and the couple instantly jumped apart. Without a word, Siena turned for the door, but Paul caught her hand. "Don't leave," he whispered. "You just came over to share muffins."

Her deep blue eyes were sacred and shifty as she nodded. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she realized that this was going to be her first time interacting with Sheila since... sleeping with her husband.

"Take a deep breath," he coached her calmly, seeing the fear in her eyes. "And remember that you are always welcome in this house."

She did as he suggested and picked her mug up from the counter, leaning against it casually. Or, she hoped she looked casual; she felt like she had a scarlet letter carved into her chest.

Oh, she thought as she took a shaky sip of her latte, she didn't like this feeling.

Apparently overjoyed at her unexpected presence, the twin girls screeched in unison as they ran over to hug her and tell her about how a boy had joined their ballet class this week. "A boy!" Siena exclaimed as she watched Paul greet Sheila with a kiss in her peripheral vision. "Is he nice?"

Violet, who had a small scar on her cheek as her only deviating identifier from her identical twin sister Vivian, shrugged her little shoulders. "He was quiet. Mom says he's probably shy."

"Well, an entire room of girls can be scary for men of all ages," Siena quipped, even though she could tell that it went completely over the six-year-old's head as she bounded away to hug her father.

But when Siena stood up from her crouched position--she always liked to get on the same level with the children who were speaking to her--Sheila was obviously amused by her observation.

"The poor thing," she said in her precise way of speaking. "He looked entirely overwhelmed. Thank you for the muffins, Siena. They are scrumptious, as always."

Siena pushed a smile onto her face and she hoped that it didn't look as fragile as it felt on lips. "You're welcome! My parents don't enjoy baked goods that often, so I'm happy to share."

Why did Sheila have to be in such a good mood this morning? Siena thought as she watched the older woman take another muffin from the plate. Not that Sheila was usually in a foul mood, just tense. Very tense. Today however, she seemed oddly at ease with herself.

"Would like a latte, my darling?" Paul asked after being released from his daughters' aggressive hugs.

"Yes, thank you" she responded. "What are you up to today, Siena?"

Siena shrugged, wishing that her heart would stop beating against her ribs with such ferocity. "Nothing really, although I do have a book from the library I need to finish."

"That actually reminds me," Paul cut in as he prepared another small pitcher of steamed milk. "Are you free tomorrow evening, Siena?"

"What's tomorrow evening?" Sheila asked, tilting her head as she posed the question. Paul had always found the gesture immensely endearing.

"I thought we could try the new restaurant that just opened up near the campus," Paul explained, having just come up with the idea. It had been a long time since they'd gone out on a date, after all. "What do you think?"

Sheila's rosebud mouth twitched into a half smile, another gesture Paul loved. "That sounds lovely. Are you available, Siena?"

Siena nodded on autopilot; She'd never wanted to leave that house so badly. "I am. What time would you like me to come over?"

"Let's say five?" Paul asked, directing the question to his wife and she agreed.

"I'll be here tomorrow at five then," Siena confirmed and took a long gulp from her mug. She wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but she also didn't want it to seem like she was running away now that Sheila was there.

"What are you reading?" Sheila asked Siena conversationally.

"A romance novel," Siena admitted sheepishly. It was one of the smuttiest books she'd ever read too, although that wasn't saying much given her conservative literary history. It was about a woman torn between a man and a woman and Siena still didn't know which one the main character would choose.

Sheila's sweet, light laughter filled the space at Siena's blushing revelation. "That does seem rather unlike you."

Siena shrugged as she took another, long drink of her coffee. "I finished reading the essays of Alexander Hamilton and my brain needed a break from dense, nonfiction for a little bit."

"I understand that. After my Ph. D. I struggle to read for pleasure to this day, although I do find myself missing it from time to time," Sheila replied.

Paul handed his wife a steaming mug and asked Siena what she thought of the essays from early America and, although Siena discussed her impressions with the older couple with visible ease, her skin felt like it was on fire--and not in a good way. Every idea about releasing her guilt over her relationship with Paul was burning away, to be replaced with a millstone of regret.

How could she do this to a woman who trusted her so much that her unexpected presence on a Saturday morning didn't cause any kind of alarm?

As soon as there was a lull in the conversation, Siena excused herself from their presence, promising to see them at church the following morning.

Walking across the lawn at a purposefully slow, unhurried pace, she was at least grateful that her back was to the house and so, if they happened to look, no one could assess the tight, overwhelmed expression that sat on her face. She could feel the burning sensation of tears prickling at the backs of her eyes as she finally pushed through the gate and into the safety of her own backyard.

Then the floodgate opened. She was grateful that her parents had already left for the day and she could have her emotional breakdown in private, without questions. God, what was she doing? She asked herself, wrapping her arms around her middle as she ran into her house and up the stairs to her room.

Burying her face in her pillow, Siena let her tears flow as her heart echoed the thought she desperately wished she could ignore, but she knew it was the truth; she couldn't keep seeing Paul. It didn't matter what she knew about the state of his marriage, Sheila trusted her and she had broken that trust in the worst way possible. She was just a cliche now; the babysitter who fucked the father.

What had she been thinking? She could barely remember.

Well, she could remember. She'd had hormonal blinders on and all she'd been able to process was that she was angry at her father and she wanted Paul. Somehow the two had conflated and her anger at her father had justified her ruining another marriage.

Her tears renewed their torrential flow as the reality of what she had done sank in. She had allowed herself to taste what Paul desired and what being with him would be like and she knew she would intensely feel its absence in her life, even after just two occasions.

She doubted that he would keep hiring her to babysit and she would have to say goodbye to Paris, she was certain. But those things were a drop in the bucket compared to simply not being around him anymore. She liked everything about him, from his intelligence and the sound of his voice to his unexpected moments of levity and irreverence.

But she deserved every tear, every crack in her breaking heart. Sheila had been nothing but kind to her; the worst thing she could say about the woman was that she was uptight. It didn't matter that she knew that the sex life between the couple was troubled... it didn't give her the right to fill herself into the spaces where Sheila didn't go.

She had to tell him. Tonight. If she waited any longer than she would run the risk of changing her mind.

*

At nine-thirty on the dot, Siena watched from her window as Paul walked out onto his terrace and sat on an overstuffed, outdoor chair. She watched him move, already feeling so bereft of his touch that it hurt, before she closed the blinds and headed for the stairs. She had to do this now.

Her hands shook as she opened the gate and commenced her walk across the imposing lawn. She didn't want to do this, but she had to.

Illuminated by the porch light, Siena could see the lazy, half smile on his face as she walked up and it almost made her question what she was about to do, but she had to. The expression on her own face must have been telling because as she neared him, the smile fell.

"I don't know how to say this--" she started, but her throat was tight and her tongue felt thick in her mouth. "I don't think--I mean to say--I--"

Paul's heart prickled with the realization of what was happening, as ice crystals began to reform in the spaces where this girl had melted them. She didn't have to struggle with this, he could step in and say he understood; it was a lot to ask of someone, especially someone so young. He could, but he wouldn't.

Because he'd walked out onto this terrace with the hope that she would be there to continue what they had started this morning and now he was being met with an unexpected and embarrassing end. He should have known better, his mind looped; he should have known better than to think that he could have her and keep her. What an old fool he was.

And he hated feeling foolish, and so he let her struggle.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, after a deep, shaky breath. "But I can't do this to Sheila."

Oh, she couldn't do this to Sheila, but she could rip his heart out and stomp on it with wanton abandon? It didn't matter to him that there were tears streaming down her beautiful face or that she was clearly shaking and upset. It didn't matter and now it wouldn't again.

"So don't," Paul said simply, got up from his chair, and went back into his house.

Siena stood rooted to the spot for a full minute, staring at the door. That was it? Well, she'd done what she'd set out to do and she couldn't care about how he reacted to it. Even if the next-to-nothing reaction had broken her heart even further.

*

As Siena stood inside the door of the Church nursery, her heart skipped a beat when Paul poked his head through the door.

"Hi," she said awkwardly, but with a hope in her voice that she wished she couldn't hear.

"Would it be possible to watch the girls at your house tonight?" he asked matter of factly. "I'd like some privacy with my wife."

Siena nodded slowly, knowing she looked like a scared rabbit. "That shouldn't be an issue, my parents will be here for an event anyway."

"Excellent. I'll bring them over at five." And then he was gone just as quickly as he had appeared.

She put her hand over her heart as she tried to catch her breath and ensure that her heart was, indeed, still beating. It was. Barely.

*

To stop herself from pacing and picking at herself from the anxiety, Siena decided she would set up a tactile craft to do with the twins; homemade playdough. Violet and Vivian were too unpredictable for messy slime.

Of course, it occurred to her that this would probably be the last time that she would get to watch the adorable, identical twins; she doubted that Paul would continue to hire her after this. Tears formed and fell in the same moment as she braced herself on the counter. Was she really so bereft of foresight that she would do this to herself? She loved those girls.

Despite her attempts to distract herself, when Paul knocked on the back door, Siena had to wipe at her wet cheeks before she could show her face. It had to be incredibly obvious that she'd been crying, but she managed to plaster a brittle smile onto her face.

Paul's face was an emotionless mask as she slid the glass door open and the energetic twins bounded inside. They squealed with delight as they observed her set up and correctly guessed that they were doing a fun project of some kind.

"Siena," Paul said quietly, but with a distinct edge to his usually warm voice. He didn't continue until she looked at him. "You need to fabricate an excuse to not go to Paris."

Even though she'd guessed this was coming, it was still like salt in her wound. A wound she was completely responsible for. "I will."

"The next time Sheila asks you to babysit, you're going to be busy," he continued, quiet enough so his children wouldn't hear. "And we will find a new sitter."

"Couldn't I watch them over here?" she countered, almost desperately. She'd been watching the girls since they were three. She loved them. "You wouldn't have to see me."

"Were my instructions unclear?" he asked, so coldly that it almost made Siena shiver.

"No," she whispered. "But I really want to--"

"Do you think," he interrupted, the cold tone turning even more careless and cruel. It was all bravado, but she wouldn't know that. He hoped. But his heart was broken and he was embarrassed that someone half his age had lifted him so high and dropped him to the unyielding ground so quickly. How had he let himself get caught up in her? "For one second that I give a fuck about what you want?"

The fact that she could ruin his life in an instant was barely on the periphery of his thoughts; his broken heart was too loud.

More tears slid down her reddened cheeks, but he couldn't bring himself to care. She'd started this. She'd invited him into her space and then expelled him just as suddenly and quickly. She brought this on herself.

"No," she whispered again. "I really am sorry--"

"Do you suppose that helps?" he asked acidly.

"No."

"Does it assuage your guilt over your cruelty?" he asked, but this time his facade cracked with his voice and his eyes reddened with tears.

"No," she said, so softly that he barely heard her. "It doesn't."

"So stop saying it," he ordered through his teeth. Then he took a deep breath, pulled at his cheeks and let his face settle into his usual controlled, unreadable expression. "Sheila will retrieve them before eight-thirty," he added and then he turned and walked back toward his house.

"Si-si, what's wrong?" Vivian, the more sensitive of the sisters, asked the moment Siena turned around with tears on her cheeks. The little girl immediately threw her arms around Siena's waist.

How was she going to get through the next few hours? "My friend and I are fighting and I don't think we're going to be friends anymore," she explained the best way she could. "Thank you for the hug, this really helps."

Not wanting to be left out, Violet ran over and joined her sister in comforting efforts. God, she was going to miss these kind, sweet, happy creatures.

"Okay!" Siena said with forced brightness after a minute. "Would you two like to make playdough with me?"

"Yeah!" they squealed in unison and ran to the natural wood dining room table where Siena had arranged all of the tools and ingredients they would need.

The time seemed to slip away at an unfair pace as Siena took in their contagious laughter and tried not to think about this being the last time she would spend time with them like this. She really tried not to think about how much she deserved this.

A few minutes after eight, a light tap sounded at the door before Sheila let herself in. "Gather your things, girls," she instructed her daughters after they greeted her with hugs.

There was a pleasant smile on the older woman's china-doll face as she turned to Siena, but it quickly fell. "Are you alright?" she asked with concern. "You look as though you've been crying."

And then she was crying again. The next moment, Sheila closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around the younger woman. Siena wished that the floor would just open and swallow her whole, sending her directly to hell where she belonged. Being comforted by the woman she had wronged so deeply was a new level of torment in her life.

"What happened?" Sheila asked as she slowly rubbed Siena's back.

Siena bit her lip to focus herself as she gave the other woman the same answer she'd given the children; "I'm in the middle of a serious fight with an old friend and... I don't think we're going to get through it."

To make it ten times worse, as Sheila released her, the other woman unexpectedly wiped at Siena's wet cheeks and she said; "That's never fun, but it is very common at your age. And once you begin college, you'll meet all sorts of new people."

Siena tried to smile, but she knew it was a paltry effort. "I'm sure you're right."