Babysitter Diaries
Published in

Babysitter Diaries


My demanding client — Decker

Before he can be more than a client, he has to show me what he’s got.

Photo by Artem Labunsky on Unsplash

I hated this part of my job — turning down clients.

I mean, I didn’t do it often, but sometimes there was a client that got through all my filters. A man whose arrogance, alpha-assholeness had been hidden behind a charming smile, easy banter and a body created for me.

“You will be available Saturday night.” Decker commanded within seconds of me answering his call. I’d already sent three to voicemail, but he hadn’t gotten the message.

I let him hear my exaggerated sigh, “I don’t think so.”

“I’m not talking about babysitting.”

“I know, and I am busy on Saturday night.” I replied, again with a sigh. Wishing his voice didn’t do that crazy thing between my legs. I could almost hear his tongue vibrating inside me.

Before I could disconnect, Decker cut in, “We’ll see about that.”

Two hours later, I was standing in line at my favorite university coffee shop after my last class for the day. Minding my own business, a manicured hand reached in front of me with a credit card before I had a chance to order.

“The lady will have a chai latte on soy, I’ll have a short black and we’ll have a slice of the banana bread to share.”

I didn’t turn towards the voice. I didn’t have to. My body had already responded in kind the minute his other hand draped across my ass. Small caresses, hidden from view by his body, but enough for me to bite down on the expected moan.

How the hell had he found me?

Shit. Last week, I’d posted about changing coffee shops.

He’d noticed.

He’d cared.

“Take away or would you like a table?” The barista asked Decker before glancing to me.

“We’ll have it here.” Decker then asked, “Are you lactose intolerant?”


Flashing his billion watt smile to the barista, “My guest will have her banana bread toasted. Please ensure the butter is still melting when it is delivered to our table.”

Clutching my elbow, he escorted me to the furthest corner. Where lighting was dim and the café playlist ensured we wouldn’t be overheard.

“I can’t fucking wait until Saturday night.”

“Well, you can wait until hell freezes over,” I tried to snap back. He did things to me that should be illegal — and probably were in some countries. I’d gotten in too deep, willing to do whatever he demanded. I needed to back away quickly before he was all I wanted.

“Unlikely.” He dismissed my rejection.

“Or what?” I raised my voice just a little to see his reaction. Instead, he took my hands and learned across the table.

“Lana,” his voice oozed with the rich spiciness of a Black Russian — the same cocktail he’d licked off my stomach and breasts the last time we were together. “Tell me you’ve thought about someone other than me.”

“I mean,” I stuttered, wishing the waitress would save me with our order. Not my lucky day.

“Tell me.”


“Tell me.”

“I’m busy Saturday night,” I breathed hoping to hell it didn’t sound like a lie.

“You are. With me.” Decker sat back, confident and unperturbed. Giving me a chance to drown in his sapphire eyes, slicked back black hair and tailored suit that cost more than my yearly rent. The tan from golfing or tennis complemented the body I knew was honed from hours in his home gym. All the better for managing his duty as single father and corporate lawyer.

At work, his instructions were law.

At home, his children thought they were the law.

His approach to dating was methodological and logical. Hardly any women deserved to spend a night in his bed. They thought he could be led by his cock and desire. I knew better. When a date failed, he came home to me. After caring for his children, I cared for him — on my terms.

Decker had started to feel more than a babysitting client. He’d invaded my thoughts and was becoming the number one fantasy for my fingers.

I needed to cut him loose.

I hadn’t counted on him not letting me.

Our coffees arrived. After the banana bread was placed in the middle, he took the single fork and pulled the plate out of my reach. Carefully, he cut off a small bite before offering it to me. His eyes didn’t allow for hesitation or to insist I could feed myself. Obediently, I opened my mouth and tasted the warm, buttery richness of the cake.

Teasingly. I released a walnut from the cake crumbs with my tongue. Balancing it on the tip, I showed Decker how I could roll it around my lip before sucking it back and making a show of swallowing.

If he wanted to play this game, I was the mistress.

“Lana,” he warned.

“What?” I was all innocent with fluttering eyes. “I ate it like a good little girl.”

“If you were a good little girl, you would have agreed to Saturday night.”

“By I have another — ”

He cut off, “Your Saturday night is mine. I’ve already arranged another babysitter.”

“But if I’m not being paid to babysit — ”I shot back, pushing back my chair. Bastard.

“Lana.” His reflexes were quicker. I couldn’t flee without my wrist. “I know you don’t take money for non-babysitting services.” His smile warmed the juices pooling in my panties. “If you have to cancel a job to spend time with me, I can either reimburse you, or give you money towards buying something to wear.”

I’d tried to say, no. My thighs clenched together as I hoped he couldn’t smell the river gushing from my pussy.

“Yes,” I murmured, lowering my eyes.

He rewarded me with another mouthful of cake.

“I want to feed you in private. I want to suck away every stray crumb from the side of your mouth. I want to smear this icing over your pussy before licking you clean. Then I’m going to open your legs and tongue you until you swear you’ve never truly been tongued before.”

While his voice remained cool and detatched, his eyes burned and I obediently accepted another piece of cake. “Good girl. You might even swallow something else.”

“Decker, please,” I moaned.

“Good girl.”

Within minutes, we’d finished our coffees and he guided me from the café by the elbow.

“My place or yours?”

“Decker — ” I started before he pulled my hips to his, grinding me as if I was as light as a feather against his erection. Despite my better judgment and not caring if my classmates were witnesses, I gyrated against him, moaning for a release that wasn’t going to happen here. Not in public — or at least this public.

He tongue-fucked my mouth until my knees buckled. Laughing, he released me back to the pavement, nodding his approval. “That’s my girl. My car is just around the corner. I’ll give you a lift home.”

He drove one-handed — the other one between my legs.

“Get rid of them,” he said, tugging at my panties.

With as much grace as I could, I raised my hips and slid them down, handing them over at his silent request. I’d never see them again — but I knew he’d replace them with expensive lingerie.

One finger slid across my thigh, pulling my legs open before Decker added a second and started fingering me whilst manoeuvring through traffic. If I couldn’t concentrate on the road, how could he?

He pulled to a stop just as a light turned red.

“Two minutes, 30 seconds.”


“Two minutes and 30 seconds before the lights turned green.”

“Are you — ahhhh — ”

With expert deftness, he added a third finger. Spreading me wide, I almost jolted off the seat when one stroked my walls — finding the spot that rendered me brainless and speechless. When he added a thumb rub over my clit, I almost fainted.

He couldn’t —

I couldn’t —

It was impossible for me to come in under three minutes.

“Challenge accepted.” He’d read my mind.

“Oh, Decker — ” Right now, he wasn’t a client. Decker was a random hookup, finger-fucking me in the middle of afternoon Sydney traffic. Anyone could see us.

And I didn’t fucking care.

“Give me your other finger.”

I didn’t have a choice. He almost swallowed my index finger, sucking and teasing — even pretending to bite my nail. All the while, the slurps from his finger-fucking me filled the car.

“Ahhh — ” He’d hit my g-spot, again. Before caressing and teasing my walls.

I squeezed lower in the chair edging my hips towards him, opening for more access.

But, just as I felt the tremors take hold — almost carrying me over the edge — the lights turned green.

“Don’t move,” he said.


“When I say don’t move, I mean, swing around so you’re seated sideways.”

“But — ”

“Swing around, so you’re seated sideways.”

I did as he asked. My legs sprayed — one knee resting against the back of the seat and the other one on the dashboard.

“Shall we try that again?” he asked as we pulled to another stop.

Meekly, I nodded. I had no more control over my answer than I did asking the sun to stop shining.

“Oh, Lana. Lie back and take it like a good girl.”

This time, he applied the handbrake. His attention all mine. Fingers already finding their home and bringing me quickly back towards my peak.

Next to us, an old sedan with five noisy teen boys pulled alongside. Mouths open, they could easily see into the car. They had a front-row seat to Decker’s hand and my wet cunt.

I should care.

I didn’t.

It wasn’t my car and they weren’t looking at my face. I’d be the chick they’d seen getting a solid in traffic.

So close.

So very close.

My breathing hitched and I braced for the tsunami of waves crashing over my body.



Please, oh, mother, yes!

“Say yes,” Decker demanded, his fingers freezing in mid-flight.

“What?” I didn’t understand the question.

“Saturday night. Tell me, yes.”

“Oh, Decker, don’t stop. Please don’t stop — ”

“Promise me Saturday night and I’ll finish before the lights go green.”

I was so close. If he stopped now, I was going to die. Literally, I would die.

I didn’t know what it was called — could a woman get blue balls? Whatever it was, if he didn’t finish me now, I would die.


“Saturday night’s mine?”

“Yes,” I screamed.

I closed my eyes, willing to succumb to my punishment — my reward. Decker restarted the pace, his finger flickering around until he pressed the right button. My body had been edging long enough. It didn’t need more than a slight touch for me to topple over the edge.

Decker hit me with a full-body, back-arching orgasm.

I couldn’t sit on the seat any longer. I slid down, my legs trapping his hand between my thighs. Cars behind us beeped and the car of teenage boys had long gone.

As I came down from my high, Decker reclaimed his fingers. I’d expected to taste my own desire, but he sucked them clean. Unbothered by the traffic build up behind us, my alpha-asshole client smiled.

“I can’t fucking wait until Saturday night.”

What happens when Decker wants more than sex? Part 2.

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Who said babysitting had to be boring? Romancing the line between lust and love as I pay my way through college.