“Bye, guys, and have a lovely evening. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Max is in bed by eight.”
Holly watched Mr and Mrs Carter walk down the driveway to their car. Well, to be honest, she watched Mr. Carter. Her teenage imagination took over and she wished she was the one getting into the car with him. She didn’t know much about cars, but it looked expensive. She imagined sitting in the soft leather of the passenger seat, letting her dress rise up, showing the lace stocking top as his strong fingers gripped her thigh.
“Holly, come on,” Max’s voice bellowed from the playroom. “It’s starting.”
She sighed, shaking illicit thoughts of Mr Carter from her mind as she went into the playroom to sit and watch yet another episode of Max’s favourite cartoon show.
The next couple of hours were hectic with TV shows, dinner, ice cream, teeth brushing and finally, a bedtime story. It was only as she wandered through the now quiet house that her thoughts returned to Mr Carter, to Jack.
She remembered the first time she’d met him. Mrs Carter was explaining Max’s routine to her when he walked in and kissed his wife while his hand dropped to stroke her ass. He hadn’t even looked embarrassed when Mrs Carter pointed out that Holly was in the room. He just turned, smiled, and said, “Hi, I’m Jack.” His eyes twinkled. He picked up one of the Rice Krispie buns that Max and Mrs Carter had been making and wandered off in search of Max.
Holly had blushed and squeezed her thighs together. He was hot. She tried to refocus on what Mrs Carter was telling her. She wanted them to like her. She needed this job. She was going to university next year and she wanted to have plenty of cash saved up by then.
In the ensuing few months, she’d barely spoken more than a few words to him. Every time they met, she felt awkward and tongue-tied. He’d just smile and carry on, no wonder thinking what was his wife doing hiring the seventeen-year-old village idiot to mind their son.
She closed the door on a very sleepy Max, whispering one final “night night” as she left his room. She had the evening to herself now. Mrs Carter had said they wouldn’t be home til midnight so she had almost four hours to kill.
She walked along the landing, being careful not to step on the squeaky floorboard. She paused at the top of the stairs. She could see a light had been left on in one of the rooms. She peeked in. It was the main bedroom and the light came from the en-suite bathroom. She’d never been in their bedroom before. She usually stayed downstairs apart when putting Max to bed.
She entered slowly. She sat on the edge of the bed. She could smell her perfume and his cologne. She imagined him getting ready, pulling on a fresh shirt and buttoning the cuffs. She lay back on the bed. She could see him leaning over her, a wild, animalistic look in his eyes as he began to ravish her.
She rolled onto her side, inhaling the smells impregnated into the duvet. Then she saw his shirt. It was lying on the floor beside the laundry basket as if it was flung there in a rush to get changed.
She slid off the bed and down onto her knees. Kneeling on the plush carpet, she reached out and picked it up. She brought it to her nose. She could smell him, his scent. She inhaled deeply and felt light-headed. Almost without thinking, she pulled it on over her tee-shirt. She stood and admired herself in the full-length mirror. The shirt was far too big for her and hung about her slender frame, hiding her shorts and looking more like a dress than a shirt.
She thought of walking into the kitchen the morning after a night with him, wearing just his shirt as he made her a cup of coffee. She’d let him take her over the breakfast table. She bit her lip as her fingers teased at her nipple through the layers of clothing. She’d let him take her anywhere, she decided.
She stood in their bathroom, looking at the demarcation line between his stuff and hers. She picked up the dark blue, almost black square bottle. She turned it around in her hand. Bleu de Chanel. She uncorked it and whimpered as she smelt the hints of amber, cedar, and citrus. She dabbed the tiniest amount behind each ear before carefully recorking it and leaving the room.
Once downstairs, she walked from room to room, admiring the photos of Jack. He looked so happy in their wedding photo. She did as well, Holly admitted though she hadn’t aged as well as Jack. She hadn’t lost the baby weight and looked like she was punching above her weight, Holly thought cattily.
She slumped on the sofa but couldn’t settle. She flicked through the almost endless stream of TV channels but she couldn't find anything worth watching. The feed on her phone seemed full of pointless and immature posts. She flung her phone down in frustration and leaned back.
She closed her eyes. She could smell him. She ran her fingers over his shirt. She could feel him. Her fingers slid down her front over his shirt and brushed the naked flesh of her inner thigh. She squirmed. She could see him leaning in, kissing her as his hand crept higher. She felt him slide his hand under the shirt and pop the button, fastening her shorts closed. She pressed her hips forward, making it easier for him to tug the zipper down. She could feel the damp patch in her panties when she slid her hand inside.
“You’re soaked already,” he would whisper.
Her only response would be to kiss him harder, more passionately. Her fingers circled her clit through the damp fabric as she imagined him unbuttoning the shirt. His fingers would trace the outline of her areola, each dimple sending a pulse to her core as his finger brushed over them. Her pale pink nipples would swell, achingly hard, and pointed for him. He’d bring his mouth down and suckle them as her fingers slid inside her panties.
She lay on the sofa, her hand inside her shorts, lost in her fantasy. “Oh Jack, fuck me,” she begged. “Take me.”
She never heard the front door open.
“I’ll nip upstairs and check Max is asleep. You see if Holly is ok.”
Mrs Carter kicked off her heels and crept up the stairs, not wanting to wake Max but unable to settle until she knew he was ok.
Jack headed to the lounge, pausing at the door as he listened.
“Oh, Jack. Fuck. That’s it. Harder.”
He pushed the door open wider and turned on the main light.
Holly’s eyes flew open. She saw Jack standing and watching her.