Date: Sun, 4 Jan 2009 06:30:47 -0800 (PST)
From: Matt Surname <darkhorsestalking@yahoo.ca>
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.