Exposing the Caregiver Ch. 03

I want to extend a HUGE thank you to my editor! I am sure this was a tall order to edit.

To the readers: I hope you enjoy the story. Please let me know what you think, feedback is really the driving force behind my writing these stories. Also, is it worth continuing?

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Day 5: Giving a Bath and Showing it all

In her usual fashion, by the time Clare arrived the next day, she had regained much of her confidence. That is not to say that she still did not have her doubts about what had transpired the day before. Flashing the guy was one thing, but going down on him? What the fuck had she been thinking? Yet, she had found some solace in the fact that nothing like that would happen again. Even if, however she tried to deny it, some crazy part of her had found it exhilarating. That was the part of her that remembered Greg's innocence, remember the pure delight radiating from him during it all. That part remembered how she had felt like a Goddess, in complete control of another's enjoyment. Clare had spent a long time looking in the mirror this morning, trying to figure out who exactly who was staring back at her.

Clare remained lost in thought as she entered the facility and headed to the locker room. She did not even register Billy's greeting. When she entered the locker room and passed the Pride Wall, two new pink slips caught her attention. She stopped to read them. The first read, "Clare is a great caregiver!" and the second, "Clare is amazing!" this one signed Greg. Clare smiled, she thought she recognized the first as Mr. Grange's handwriting, which was shocking. That Debby-downer did not give anyone good reviews. Although, he sure had perked up yesterday, something Clare had still not given much thought to.

The pride reviews surprisingly alleviated her stress. Things had definitely gotten pretty wonky recently, but the glowing reviews somehow made it seem better. She was making a difference for the first time in her life. Clare crossed the room to her locker, refreshed. As she put on her uniform, she giggled at the thought of removing her bra. While there was no way she was going down that path again today, the fact that she could joke about it was a relief. She would rein things in and bring a bit of normalcy back into her life. Clare was once again cheery when she ran into Nathan on her way to Mr. Grange's room.

"Clare, hold up a second," he called as he waddled toward her.

Clare stopped, what could he want now. The worst case scenario sprang into her head. Had Greg reported her?

As Nathan approached, she could hear him wheezing a bit. Jesus, she thought, the guy can barely walk through the halls. He would probably be a resident here before long.

"I just wanted to say great job!" Nathan beamed, catching her off guard. "Three pride reviews in a week, extraordinary."

Clare found herself responding in kind. She had never been praised by her boss before.

"Keep it up and you might make employee of the month," Nathan continued.

"Thank you," Clare responded, more than a bit flustered.

"Well, back to work. I am sure Mr. Grange is waiting."

Clare watched her boss waddle away and shook her head. What a crazy few days! Clare shook her head and continued to Mr. Grange's apartment.

The scene before her was a stark contrast to every day before. Mr. Grange was wide awake and quite animated. He almost seemed as if he had been waiting for her to arrive. Clare definitely noticed this change, but with so much on her mind, she barely gave it a second thought. In her rush to get things back to normal, Clare failed to notice how the old man's eyes immediately locked on her chest and the sigh which followed when he realized that she was wearing a bra. Clare had awoken something in him yesterday, and the twinkle in his eye suggested he was not about to let it go easily.

"Hi Mr. Grange," Clare said, smiling at the old man, "How are you today."

"I'm fine young lady, how about yourself?"

"Great," Clare responded. "I saw someone gave me a pride review," she chided, hands on her hips.

The little bit of color that rose to the old man's cheeks betrayed him. It was cute. Mr. Grange "ahem'ed" as if to clear his throat and turned away in embarrassment.

"Well, what should we do today?" Clare asked rhetorically, planning on simply following the set routine.

"Uhm, would you mind helping an old man with a bath?" Mr. Grange responded, catching Clare completely off guard.

She stood there, trying to process the request. Residents often talked back or refused to do something on their daily worksheet, but no one had ever asked her to completely deviate from the routine. Clare was not even sure if she was allowed to give a resident a bath.

"I... uh," Clare stumbled.

"Sorry to ask," Mr. Grange pressed, "But, the nurse this morning was busy and didn't get around to it."

Clare's heart quickened and she began to worry. What did she know about giving a resident a bath? Although... really, how hard could it be?

"The nurse said you could probably take care of it," Mr. Grange said, pressing even harder.

Well, if the nurse told him to ask, I guess it would be okay, Clare thought. "Sure, I guess we can take care of that," Clare finally responded, convinced that the request was not that unordinary. She did not notice the devious twinkle that appeared in the old man's eyes or the sly smirk that followed.

Clare grabbed the menu and asked, "Would you like to eat lunch first?"

"No," Mr. Grange replied abruptly, startling Clare, but his voice immediately softened, "I mean, can we do the bath first?"

"Sure, why not?" she replied, once again missing the warning signs. Clare just assumed the broad smile that spread over his face was his satisfaction at the thought of getting clean. She knew she would be happy to get a bath if she needed one.

Clare retrieved Mr. Grange's walker and proceeded to help him off the bed. She allowed him to drape his arm over her shoulder as he slid to the floor, ignoring how his hand "accidentally" brushed across her breast a few times in the process. Helping an elderly man to the bathroom was not part of her normal routine and she figured it was normal. When the old man was finally on his feet and had gained his footing, Clare was shocked at how quickly he shuffled across the room. He seemed to be in quite a hurry. Clare shrugged, the guy must really want a bath.

Clare followed him into the bathroom and stopped. What was she supposed to do now? Did he disrobe himself? Should she turn around? Clare honestly had no idea, and she was too embarrassed to ask. Sheepishly, she stood there, hoping Mr. Grange would make the first move and not notice her ignorance.

Mr. Grange was a wily, old coot and he noticed. He had been in this blasted group home for a long time and he knew the nurses gave baths, not caregivers. The fact that this little lass did not even know that bode well for him. Visions of those wonderful tits were already dancing in his head.

"A little help, please," he chided, and Clare sprang forward.

Clare exhaled with relief, she was supposed to help him. Easy-peasy. Clare guided his robe free and then untied the gown underneath. Mr. Grange shrugged the loose gown to the ground and Clare watched it fall to the floor, revealing his nudity. She could not help but stare at his nakedness—even though she felt she should look away. Mr. Grange was quite thin and wrinkles adorned nearly every part of his body. Clare's gaze was inevitably drawn to Mr. Grange's manhood, which hung limply between the sticks he called legs—a mere remnant of past glory.

"You gonna stare all day or help me into the tub?" Mr. Grange asked, breaking the awkward moment.

Clare's face went beet red and she scolded herself. Really? Staring at an old man's wiener? Get ahold of yourself! Clare took Mr. Grange's outstretched arm and gave him the support he needed to step over the tub's edge. She then carefully lowered him into a sitting position. That done, she turned the faucet on, making sure to test it for warmth. Mr. Grange just watched the whole process with a big smile. Anyone could see how nervous the lass was, she had no clue what she was supposed to be doing. Oh, and how she had stared at him when he disrobed! Mr. Grange's old mind was spinning with possibilities. He had no doubt that today's bath would be a wonderful blast from the past. It had been a long time since he had seen a naked woman, and even then, he was not sure he had ever seen one as pretty as this lass.

When Clare was satisfied with the water's temperature, she turned back to Mr. Grange. Shit, she thought, am I supposed to wash him or does he do that himself?

"The scrubber is right there," Mr. Grange said, answering her question before she could even ask it.

Clare was thankful for the guidance and picked up the soft sponge. She lathered the sponge with soap and hesitated, unsure of whether Mr. Grange had intended for her to hand him the sponge or use it herself. Clare watched to see if Mr. Grange made any effort to reach for the sponge. When he didn't, she concluded that she was supposed to use it. Clare smiled, taking a bit of pride in what she believed had been a clever way of solving that dilemma.

"Uhm, Clare?" Mr. Grange asked as Clare started to spread soap over his back.

"Yes, Mr. Grange?" she responded, worried that she made a mistake.

"Would you mind changing the faucet to the sprayer? I like the feel of the water on me?"

Clare exhaled in relief, no mistake. "Sure."

She moved back to the faucet and pulled the pin to send the water out of the shower sprayer. The sprayer head sat about a foot above the faucet and worked as a sit-down shower for the elderly. Clare understood why he would rather it be that way, she liked showers better as well. It was not until she moved back to Mr. Grange's side and retrieved the sponge that she realized her predicament.

"Uh, Mr. Grange?" she asked hesitantly, hoping she was not asking a foolish question, "I'm not sure I can wash you with the sprayer on."

Mr. Grange turned to her, "Why not?"

With the shower sprayer splashing against him and the tub, water was already hitting her. If she tried to scrub him with it on, she would get soaked.

"Well, with it spraying like that, my clothes... they will get soaked..." she responded, trailing off a bit and feeling stupid. She was sure there was probably an obvious solution that she was missing. The nurses obviously did this all the time.

"The other nurses just take off their tops when they do it," Mr. Grange replied in a voice that made it sound as if giving a sponge bath topless was the most normal thing in the world.

His reply left her stunned. Really? The nurses did this topless? She guessed it was possible. Clare had no clue what the nurses did, or what bathing an elderly man entailed. She did know that the few nurses she talked to did not really like doing it. If they had to do it topless, she could see why.

"What's the problem lass?"

"Nothing," she replied sheepishly, trying to hide what see perceived to be her own incompetence.

Clare set the sponge down and hesitantly removed the top of her uniform. She was keenly aware of the old man's eyes locked on her the entire time. I guess it is just one of the few perks to getting a sponge bath, she thought. If so, she had no clue why Mr. Grange was so grumpy all the time. He had topless nurses bathing him 2-3 times a week!

Mr. Grange knew there was no way he was hiding his enthusiasm as he watched the young lass remove her top. He just hoped it did not scare her away. She was wearing a red bra lined with a bit of lace at the top. It was the kind of thing women wore nowadays, and he liked it. The passion he felt stirring within him had been absent for so long... and when Clare reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, he felt a twitch in his groin that he had believed to be gone forever.

Clare's red bra loosened as the first clasp was undone and fell away with the second. When her supple breasts fell free, Mr. Grange inhaled. What a sight they were! It had been a bit of pink nipple he had glimpsed the day before, and now those glorious beauties were on full display. Her pert little nubs were already starting to harden, almost begging to be suckled. This bath would be one he took with him to the grave.

Clare blushed under the old man's scrutiny. For someone who must see breasts all the time, he sure seemed to be enjoying himself. Of course, her "girls" were something special. It should not be that surprising that they could get even an old man excited. The reality that she had now exposed herself to two residents in one week never truly occurred to her. If she had stopped to consider that for a moment, she probably would have been appalled at how quickly she was removing her clothes at this point.

None of that occurred to Clare. Instead, her thoughts shifted to the task at hand, cleaning Mr. Grange. She retrieved the sponge and started scrubbing his back once more, doing her best to not focus on how often her breasts bundled into him throughout the process—failing to notice how the old man kept shifting to make sure it happened. When Clare finally finished with his back, she exhaled with satisfaction. "One side done," she thought.

Clare immediately moved on to his chest and arms. By this point, her breasts had bumped into Mr. Grange so many times that she ignored it. Plus, it was not like he was complaining, not like many guys would be... Anyways, the water constantly hitting her was far more annoying. As Clare worked, she realized the real challenge was trying to hold him up while she worked. Frustrated by the lack of progress, she tried a different tactic.

"Mr. Grange, why don't you put your arm around me to support yourself," Clare suggested.

She gasped when she felt his hand slide around her back and latch onto her right breast. She had meant for him to use her shoulder, not this...

When his hand began to fondle the tit, she was caught in a moment of indecision. Should she remove his hand? She was not sure. The old guy was getting sponged down by a young, topless woman, what had she expected? She figured the nurses probably had to deal with this all the time. Even though that thought made her glad she was just a caregiver, she concluded that if the nurses could deal with this daily, she could do it once. Clare steeled her nerves and set about finishing up Mr. Grange's chest area.

For Mr. Grange, this was like being born again. The firm breast in his hand was magnificent. Not even a hint of sag. He had forgotten how magical a great set of tits could feel. And those dandy little nipples, simply amazing. With that thought, Mr. Grange took the hard nub between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a squeeze. He heard a tiny squeal escape the young lass' lips. Simply wonderful, he thought. As he continued to tweak that glorious nipple, Mr. Grange began to wonder just how far he could push this. God knew he would probably never get another opportunity.

The pinch of her nipple sent Clare into high gear. She scrubbed the remainder of Mr. Grange's chest in short order. When she finally leaned back and pried the old man's hand from her breast, she exhaled with relief. Thank goodness that is done, she thought, watching the shower spray rinse away the suds. That was the back and chest, which meant she only needed to do his legs and midsection. She doubted his legs would pose much of an issue, but how on Earth was she supposed to clean his midsection? Did the nurses wash his penis too? THAT was a question she definitely did not want to ask. Clare decided to cross that bridge when she got there.

Clare clenched her jaw, picked up the sponge, and was about to start on his legs when she noticed him sway a bit. She saw no way to support him and wash his legs, not that she was too keen on having him wrap his arm around her again anyways. She wanted to smack herself when an obvious solution occurred to her. In fact, she should have done it earlier.

"Mr. Grange, let me scoot you back a bit."

Mr. Grange readily accepted her help and shimmied on his bottom to the back of the tub. He fell against the wall with obvious relief.

"Thank you lass," he said with a smile.

"No problem," Clare replied, still kicking herself for not thinking of that earlier. "Why don't we get those legs clean?"

"Sounds good," Mr. Grange replied.

Clare went to work on his right leg, the one closest to her, and had it cleaned in short order. Easy-peasy, she thought before turning her attention to his left leg. That one would be more difficult. It only took a momentary glance at Mr. Grange to know that he was not going to be able to offer her much assistance in the matter. So Clare rose up on her knees and leaned fully over the tub, painfully aware of how her tits were now dangling right in from of the old man.

She had not even soaped up half of his left thigh when she felt a hand on her breast. His other hand quickly followed and cringed as her "girls" were tugged in all directions. Clare closed her eyes for a second, trying her best to ignore his playful hands. Just get the last leg done, she thought, once again assuming that the nurses must deal with this all the time. Clare opened her eyes and attacked the leg with renewed vigor.

Aside from the constant fondling of her tits, Clare had no problem soaping up the remainder of his left leg. She wiped the sponge over his left foot and shot upright, finally freeing herself from his hands. Whew, legs are done. By this point, she hardly cared that she was topless anymore, she was just glad to not be in range of those groping hands. Mr. Grange could stare all he wanted—which she noted he did.

The problem was that as the last of the soap rinsed away, she was stuck with the same question she had earlier. How was she supposed to wash his midsection—which really meant, how did she clean his penis.

Too abashed to look at him directly, Clare finally stated, "O—okay Mr. Grange, let's get your midsection cleaned."

Clare finally looked at him, checking for any indication on Mr. Grange's face that this was out of the ordinary. All she saw was a stupid grin. I guess the nurses do wash his penis, she thought with a shudder.

Clare took the sponge and worked it slowly over his manhood, squeezing the sponge along the way to cover his penis in soap. She thought she felt is twitch at one point, but figured the situation was leading to her imagining things. After two repetitions, Clare figured his penis had to be clean enough and set the sponge down to aim the sprayer.

"Uhm, Clare?"

Clare turned back to the old man, "Yes, Mr. Grange?"

Mr. Grange looked at her sheepishly, "The other nurses usually clean that... spot... with their hands." At first, Clare did not follow. "The sponge does not get it clean enough," he continued, helping Clare understand.

Clare's mouth dropped. Seriously? She could not believe what he was saying, but as she gave it more thought, it did make sense. While she had made sure to suds it up well, she doubted she got the underside very well. Clare stared at his penis in stunned silence for a few seconds. Might as well get it over with, she decided in the end.

She released the sprayer and shifted back down the tub to Mr. Grange's side. Clare was well aware of the lecherous grin on his face as she hesitantly took his pecker in her soapy hand. Duh, she thought, Of course, he likes this part. What guy wouldn't? Again, Clare wrote it off as a perk of getting sponge bath. The area did need to be cleaned after all.