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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Babysitting the Baumgartners © 2008 Selena Kitt

  Cover Photo Credit: Jess Cruz

  Used under a Creative Commons license.

  Cover Design: Selena Kitt

  eXcessica publishing

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  Babysitting the Baumgartners

  By Selena Kitt

  Prologue

  I was fifteen when I started babysitting for the Baumgartners. They had two kids. Henry and Janie were four and five the first time I sat in their living room eating pizza and watching “Lilo and Stitch” with them. I still remember them that way, both conked out on the floor, their greasy faces smearing their mom’s white carpet.

  I loved babysitting for them. Mr. Baumgartner—”Call me Doc, everybody does”—usually came home drunk enough to pay me way too much for the night. Mrs. Baumgartner—she never said to call her anything but Mrs. Baumgartner, although I did shorten it to “Mrs. B” over the years—was very pretty and very nice and kept really good ice cream (Häagen-Dazs) in the freezer. They had a huge TV, an enormous house, and I became their regular babysitter every Friday night, sometimes Saturdays, too, all through high school.

  My parents complained they never saw me on weekends, and would ask “Where are you going now?” as I headed out the door, calling back, “I’m babysitting the Baumgartners!”

  “Again?”

  Mr. and Mrs. B liked to go out. And I liked the magazines and clothes I could buy with all my extra babysitting money. I never had to flip burgers like my sister, Amy. The Baumgartners even sold me my first car, a 2001 Saturn, at a price far less than I would have been given anywhere else—Mrs. B said Doc was just tired of picking me up and driving me home.

  I used to have my little sister, Amy, go babysit whenever I had a conflict. That usually meant I had a date—and the Baumgartners hated it when I started dating. Really, it was a hardship for me, too. Tough call—a date with Toby Lumetto, or babysitting the Baumgartners? Amy complained the kids never behaved for her, but they always did for me. They were great kids.

  I loved the Baumgartners and they loved me.

  The winter of the year I graduated high school, the Baumgartners went to Key West. When they came back, Mrs. Baumgartner swore she’d never do it again without help. Henry was seven and Janie was eight, and they were “too much of a handful,” she said. Just kids, I thought, but I wasn’t their parent—I was pretty much their playmate—so what did I know?

  The next winter, Mrs. Baumgartner called and asked if I wanted to come with them—all expenses paid, over the Christmas holiday—a free trip to Key West! It took me about five seconds to say “Yes!” to that proposition. My parents hemmed and hawed about it, but I was over eighteen by then, and I could pretty much do what I wanted...technically. I finally got their blessing, packed my bags, and we were off to the land of sunshine and bikinis!

  Up until then, I’d sort of thought of the Baumgartners as surrogate parents, but it was during the trip to Key West when things changed. The Baumgartners became more to me—much more—and that wasn’t all that changed. Everything changed that summer.

  If I’d known… I don’t know. But I had no idea at the time how transformative the trip would be, then and even later in my life.

  Chapter One

  December in the Midwest wasn’t exactly tanning weather, and I wanted to come back and show off, sleek and brown as a seal. I had a bathing suit, of course, yellow and white, fairly respectable, since I was going to be taking the kids to the beach. It did have a bikini top but boy-shorts bottoms. I left the micro-suit at home. I figured Mrs. Baumgartner wouldn’t approve.

  Shows you what I knew.

  The morning after we arrived, Mrs. Baumgartner came out and joined me on the beach. I was supervising the kids, who were busy making some sort of sand castle—really, it was more of a sand village, as it already spanned half the beach! What I was really doing was trying to read a Nora Roberts novel while simultaneously working on my nonexistent tan, but I was bored.

  That ended the minute Mrs. Baumgartner walked out of the house. I glanced up as she slid the doorwall closed behind her, and I was glad she paused to look at her reflection in the glass, working to pull her long blonde hair up into a ponytail, because my jaw practically hit the sand. I didn’t know what she would have said about me wearing the little white micro-bikini I’d left in my drawer at home, but for a moment, I simply couldn’t hide my shock when Mrs. Baumgartner stepped out of the house wearing her own black micro-suit!

  No one out here to see here – why not? I rationalized it as I watched her adjust the bikini strings. The house was right on the ocean and we had a private beach. Mr. Baumgartner said it was a timeshare. Henry and Janie had wanted to swim immediately and, it felt like, all the time, so I’d already spent tons of hours trying to soak up some sun. My skin was pale next to Mrs. Baumgartner’s though, and for the life of me, I couldn’t see a tan line on her body. Of course, her backside was completely exposed in her suit, and the front covered…very little.

  I averted my eyes as she laid out a large blanket on the white sand next to my towel. “How are you feeling, Veronica?” She was the only one who ever called me by my full name. Everyone else called me “Ronnie.”

  “Better.” I put my book down and turned over onto my back. We’d ordered pizza the night before, after we’d unpacked, and something on it hadn’t agreed with me. I shaded my eyes and looked over at the kids. They were now having a sand fight, screeching and throwing shovels of the white stuff at each other. I sighed. I knew someone was gonna start screaming any minute about sand in their eyes or their suit, and then I’d have to go to work.

  “Henry and Janie, you need to go in the house!” Mrs. Baumgartner called, stretching out on her stomach on the blanket.

  “I can take care of them, Mrs. B.” Her bikini thong left her bronzed, rounded bottom completely exposed. I blinked fast and looked away. “That’s what I’m here for, right?”

  The kids stopped at their mother’s warning and treaded through the sand toward us. They really were great kids. I wished sometimes my sisters and I got along as well as they did.

  “Why don’t you two go inside?” Mrs. Baumgartner said as they approached. “There’s lunch on the counter, and Daddy hooked up the X-Box.”

  “Woot!” Henry whooped, kicking up sand as he headed for the doorwall. Janie didn’t look as thrilled, but the promise of lunch was enough to lure her into the house.

  “You know, watching the kids isn’t all you’re here for, Veronica.” Mrs. Baumgartner turned her face to me after they went in, resting her cheek on her folded arms. “Doc and I were just talking last night about how much you’ve done for us over the years. The kids adore you. You’re like part of the family.”

  I flushed. “Thanks.”

  “You deserve a good vacation.” She smiled, he
r eyes creasing at the corners. I wondered how old she was. It was hard for me to judge how old people were—to me, they just seemed either old or young. Mrs. B wasn’t really either. “It’s the least we can do.”

  “If I can get a tan, that will be reward enough.” I grabbed the oil next to my towel and poured some into my hands. I worked more of it into my thighs and over my smooth, flat belly. I noticed her watching me. “Do you want some?”

  “Sure.” She took the bottle and sat up to squeeze a pool of glistening liquid into her palm, rubbing it over her shoulders and arms. I slipped my boy short bottoms aside, checking for a tan line. I actually had one, which was thrilling, although it wasn’t as dark as I wanted it to be.

  “You can take it off.” Mrs. Baumgartner untied her black bikini top around the neck and I stared as she started to spread oil over her full, naked breasts.

  I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. Her skin was smooth and tawny—even there. Her nipples were brown, vastly different from my light pink ones.

  “Wh—what?” I stammered. I was still staring. She smoothed oil over her belly, which was softer and a little more rounded than mine, working it under the strings of her bikini and down into the grooves of her thighs.

  “Your top.” She massaged oil into her thighs and calves. “You can take it off—so you won’t have any tan lines.”

  She lay on her back on the blanket, glancing over at me. I must have looked shocked. “No one can see, Veronica. It’s a private beach—just us.”

  “What about the kids?” I looked over my shoulder at the house.

  “One word: X-Box.” She adjusted herself, opening her thighs a little. I couldn’t see a hint of hair under the triangle of cloth between her legs and wondered at it. Her body was fuller than mine, more rounded and soft. “I won’t look. Don’t be shy.”

  Her eyes stayed closed and I hesitated, looking up and down the beach. Then I pulled my top aside and checked my tan line—I was definitely getting one! Mrs. B’s breasts were so large that they kind of sloped off to the side when she leaned back. I was a little intimidated—mine were nowhere near as big—but it was the smooth, almost bronze color of her flesh that really convinced me. I wanted a tan without lines, too!

  I untied my top and slipped it off, reaching for the oil. Squeezing some into my hands, I leaned back and rubbed it into the swell of my breasts. It felt strange to be outside half-naked in full daylight—I hadn’t gone topless on a beach since I was Janie’s age. My nipples were small, pale pink pebbles on a puffy, rounded areola, and with the stimulation from my hands rubbing the oil on and the gentle breeze blowing in from the ocean, they were quite hard.

  Mrs. B hummed something to herself, but I didn’t know the tune. The rhythmic sound of the waves against the shore had me drifting in and out. Far away, I heard a dog bark.

  The heat of the sun made me sweat, and I felt it mixing with the oil and trickling down my sides. It beaded between my breasts. When I snuck a look over at Mrs. B, I noticed the same thing, only it was more pronounced on her already tanned skin. I adjusted myself on the towel, straightening out the edges where they had blown up at the corners.

  Mrs. B shaded her eyes and peered at me with a smile. “Why don’t you come over here? There’s plenty of room on the blanket and a lot less sand.” I considered it for a moment and then stood, hopping from my little towel over to the larger blanket so as not to get too much sand on my feet. Settling down beside her on my back, I felt the heat from her skin, but we weren’t touching.

  “You have lovely breasts,” she murmured, and I felt her shoulder pressing against mine where it hadn’t been a moment ago.

  “Th—thanks.” I was glad it was so warm to hide my flush. What did you say to someone who said that? “You do, too.”

  “I wish I still had the body of a nineteen-year-old.” She gave a sad little laugh. “So firm and tight. There’s not a crease or a wrinkle on you, is there?”

  Now I was really flushing. “I think you have a beautiful body. When I have two kids, I hope I can still wear a bikini out on the beach. And a micro one, at that!”

  She turned her face to mine, smiling at me. “Well, thank you for the compliment.” I saw her eyes move down over my breasts, and I was aware of how hard my nipples were.

  The conversation was making me feel dizzy and very warm. Maybe it was the heat—but I was pretty sure it was the conversation—that, and the fact I was lying half-naked next to Mrs. Baumgartner, her thigh now pressing against mine. She’d always been friendly and flirty with me—she was that way with everyone. But this was different. Very different. Our flesh was slick and oily together when she shifted, and it sent a gentle pulse beating between my legs, keeping a fast time against the sound of the waves on the shoreline.

  “Do you have a micro-bikini?” Mrs. B’s eyes were closed again. I stared at her body, the generous swell of her copper-colored flesh, her big, dark nipples. Hers were hard, too.

  “Yeah,” I said. “But I left it at home. I didn’t think it would be... appropriate.”

  “You can borrow one of mine.” Her thigh slid along mine as she adjusted on the blanket. “If you want less of a tan line. I brought several.”

  “Thanks.” I watched her breasts rising and falling, glistening in the sun. Her belly was beaded with sweat and oil.

  “Do you shave?”

  “Wh—what?”

  “Do you shave?” she repeated, opening one eye to look at me. “I wax, myself. It’s much easier and takes care of things for a lot longer down there, if you know what I mean.”

  “No.” I snapped my eyes closed.

  “Oh, to wear a micro, you just have to.” She half-sat and touched my thigh, pulling my bathing suit bottoms aside a little to reveal the line of dark pubic hair. “Yep, you’d definitely need to shave. Or I brought some wax. You could wax it all. I do.”

  Shocked, I stared at her. I didn’t know what I was more surprised by, her revelation or the fact she’d just nonchalantly pulled my bikini aside!

  “It’s actually fun.” She winked. “Not the waxing part—but having a shaved pussy.”

  I stared right up at the sun, blinking a few times so it made bright spots in the dark when I closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe Mrs. Baumgartner had just said the word “pussy” in front of me!

  “Doc loves it.” I felt her hand against my hip, just resting there. “And it’s so incredible to walk around that way. You feel so exposed. It’s a constant turn-on.”

  “Mrs. B...” I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to say.

  “I’d be happy to help you.” Her fingers moved over the elastic tops of my bikini bottoms. “It’s hard to do a bikini wax on yourself.”

  I put my arms up over my head, tilting my head back and looking around as if someone might be there to overhear this crazy conversation—someone I might share my astonishment with.

  “You think about it.” Her hand lightly stroked my side. I felt that gentle throbbing between my thighs, more insistent now.

  “Okay,” was all I could say.

  There was someone on the balcony, high above us. It was Mr. Baumgartner—Doc—sitting outside on one of the white deck chairs. He was completely naked. When I got over that shock, I noticed his hand moving up and down between his legs—very fast.

  Was he? Is he?

  Mr. B’s hand was warm against my side, just resting there. It made my breasts tingle, and I flushed when I realized I wanted her to touch them—to touch me. I wanted to close my eyes and my mind against the thought, but the blur of motion above drew my attention again. I knew I shouldn’t be watching, but I couldn’t help it.

  Could he see us? I wondered. Was he up there, touching himself, looking down at his wife and the babysitting, lying topless on the beach together? That’s when he stood. I nearly gasped out loud as I watched thick, white streams of fluid erupt from the tip of his engorged cock and splash down onto the balcony and the railing.

  His eyes never left mine.
br />   “Mrs. B.” My voice trembled as I sat up. “I’m gonna go cool off. I’ll be right back.”

  I stood, not sure I could stand, but I did, forgetting I was topless. I walked, a little unsteady, toward the water and waded out into the cool waves, up to my neck. When I looked back, Mr. Baumgartner was gone, but Mrs. B was still watching me, shading her eyes from the sun.

  When she waved, I waved back, feeling that steady, rhythmic pulse between my thighs. The coolness of the water only served to make the heat between my legs more pronounced. I floated on my back, watching the clouds drift, letting the waves rock me and once in a while overtake me. When I finally had the courage to get out, Mrs. B had gone into the house, and the beach was empty again.

  Chapter Two

  When I came back in the house, Henry and Janie were fighting over the X-Box controller, remains of lunch—peanut butter and jelly—still smeared on their faces. The air conditioning was on, and it was very cool compared to outside. I actually got goosebumps within minutes of walking in the door.

  “Where’s your mom and dad?”

  Janie looked up at me, and Henry took the opportunity to yank the controller from her. “Hey!” she protested. “They’re upstairs taking a nap. They told us to stay here until you got back in the house.”

  Henry started the game, and while Janie was pouting, she was also relenting, getting involved in whatever was happening on the screen.

  “Well, what do you guys want to do?” No answer—just blank stares at the television. “Looks like X-Box wins. I’m going to go take a shower, okay?”

  They both nodded, their mouths partly open as they stared at the screen. Little video game zombies. At eight and nine, they were pretty self-sufficient. I didn’t understand why Mrs. Baumgartner had such a hard time with them, really. To me, they seemed like easy kids.

  I climbed the stairs and went down the hall toward the bathroom. They had a large Jacuzzi tub—which I was dying to soak in one night—and a separate shower. I turned on the water, adjusting the temperature, and peeled off my suit, tossing it into the sink. It felt good to soap up and wash the oil and salt water off my body.