Angelica

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Never, ever fuck the babysitter.
5.2k words
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Ken remembered the day he met her- it had been a long, hard day, and his clients had proven particularly annoying, even more so than usual. Mrs. Clements, for instance, was something Ken liked to refer to as "first rate bitch." Her voice had a habit of piercing his skull and echoing like the aggravated caw of a crow, and she had been particularly shrill that day. Nothing would ever be enough for her- the rich cunt- no matter how generous her ex-husband might be.

Briefcase in hand, his mind on a few cold beers, Ken walked into the kitchen and saw his wife, Helen, seated at the table with a stunning blonde girl. At the time, she- the girl- was only sixteen, but even then, Ken was struck by her beauty: the sun gleaming through her golden curls; her fair, unblemished skin; her cold blue eyes.

Behind her eyes was something else that attracted him, something not easily put into words, something he mistook for intelligence and maturity.

"We have a new babysitter," Helen explained, noticing Ken in the doorway. Her smile demonstrated just how impressed Helen was by the girl. It spread from ear-to-ear. Ken knew that smile well if only for its rarity. Helen must have been very pleased with her find.

"Angelica," the girl said and held out her hand. That was her name. "Angel, for short."

Two and a half years later, it had become something of a routine for Ken to come home and fuck Angelica, Angel, for short.

Today, however, he meant to end it.

The girl had become attached. Maybe this was partially Ken's fault, but what was the girl thinking? As if this 'relationship' could go anywhere. Helen worked P.R. for the mayor. Angelica was fresh out of high school. Put two-and-two together: if he pissed Helen off, she would smear him all across town. Ken could kiss his career goodbye. He'd be known as a horny, cheating, thirty-something pedophile. The fact that Angelica was over eighteen wouldn't make a difference. She had just finished high school. That would be close enough to the line for most people in town.

Yes, but Ken had told the girl that he loved her. This was mostly just to keep a good thing going. How many men wouldn't do the same when faced with a temptation like Angelica? Maybe this made him a scumbag, but he was a lawyer. He had heard that scumbag thing before.

Ken gathered himself at the front door. The metal of the door latch in his hand felt hot. It had baked in the late spring sun all day, and Ken didn't wait long before he pulled it down and entered the cool interior of his home.

Sunlight streamed through the windows and cast square patterns of yellow onto the carpet. The overhead fan whirred and circled above him. The sun from the skylights filtered through the fan's blades, creating a flickering strobe-light effect.

Inside, Angel waited for him. She wore a short, red-and-black-checkered skirt with a matching tie over a crisp, white blouse. The blouse was unbuttoned to expose a generous portion of the girl's swelling bosom. Her long legs were tanned and muscular. She had played tennis on the high school team before graduation. Angel's rich blonde hair was pulled back into ponytails, and her pouting lips were red with lipstick.

"Welcome home, honey," she purred.

Ken felt beads of sweat peppering his forehead, and he knew it was not all due to the May heat.

Despite his best intentions to suppress it, Ken felt a swelling at his groin.

"Uh... hi," he croaked. Everything he had planned to say was suddenly lost to him.

***

She guided him upstairs, her hand on the bulge of his pants. Ken wanted to open his mouth to stop her; tell her it was all over, explain that this must not happen.

But he didn't.

Watching from a haze- dizzy and lightheaded-, Ken felt a certain sense of detachment as Angelica went to her knees before him. Spears of bright, orange light criss-crossed through the half-closed blinds, and he was struck by the blue clarity of her eyes, the perfect smoothness of her ivory skin. The cool air of the fan above rustled his hair, and heat emanated from his body, balancing each other like yin-and-yang; but the warmth was slowly and steadily winning out.

The girl unlatched his leather belt, unbuttoned the crotch of his trousers, and slid out Ken's engorged cock with expert ease. She exhibited none of Helen's hesitant inhibitions. Her slender fingers wrapped around his fleshy girth and began stroking him.

Shivers scurried up Ken's spine, and Angelica must have already known the answer when she asked with a sultry whisper, "Is this what you've wanted all day?"

Ken gave a low moan from the back of his throat.

Accepting this answer, Angelica slipped her lips over the hood of his erect cock. Her mouth was warm and wet. Ken sighed. He watched- again feeling detached, voyeuristic, as if this wasn't happening to him but to some other person, memorizing the details, half wondering if this was the very last time- as her red lips moved up and down the length of his shaft; his cock twitched as he watched her pigtails bob and her tongue lap at the swell of his balls.

Ken tired of waiting. Foreplay was not his forte. He took Angelica by the shoulders and tossed her on the bed. Her pigtails bounced. Her breasts heaved under the tight fabric of her uniform. Savagely, Ken threw up the girl's skirt, gripped her panties at the waist and ripped them off her legs.

"Yes, yes, take me," she beckoned.

Positioning himself over her, Ken guided his throbbing cock with his right hand and groped at the girl's breasts with his left. Then, gritting his teeth and uttering a barbaric grunt, he impaled her with an arcing thrust.

So much for ending it.

The world quickened on its axis. Time became fluid.

Ken became lost in the pumping and gnashing and sweating and the flexing of her abdomen and the heavy sighing of the young, perky flesh under him.

Just before he came, she pulled free of him, and he fell backwards on the flowery bed spread.

She moved on top of him, riding him slow, leaning back, his hands on her hips and his eyes greedily suckling the sight of her. The skirt of her uniform brushed against his thighs. The orbs of her breasts went up and down and up and down, her nipples: pink, protruding pleasures.

She faked her orgasm admirably. Angelica would have made a perfect porn starlet. She had just the right mixture of innocent looks and deviant sleaziness. As she pretended to cum, she nibbled her bottom lip, gyrated, and squealed. Ken assumed he'd given her another satisfactory ride.

He pushed her off and then gripped her skirt as he bent her over the bed, watching her ass ripple as he proceeded to pump and plow and spank. Her head flung back, her pigtails swaying and swinging like braided whips.

Then his cock- throbbing and jerking in electric, liquid spasms- flung jets of white, hot cum across the curve of her back, and Ken felt the world tilt, twirl, and stop.

***

Afterward, Ken felt as though he could think straight again. The girl was a drug; she made it hard to concentrate beyond the fix. Consequences were ironically of no consequence when she was alone in the room with him. You felt high when you were on her, and then you came crashing down to reality when she was done with you. While with her, nothing mattered except the feel of her, the taste of her, and the scent of her.

He looked up at the ceiling. Everything seemed hyper-real. Underneath the cool sheets, Ken felt sweat drying over his naked body. His penis felt both sticky and crusty. A hanging chain from the ceiling fan twirled slowly. Ken felt drained but aware, and now the consequences of what he had done- yet again- began stacking up on his chest like stones. It was only a matter of time before they crushed him.

"Angel," he said in a breathless voice.

She turned towards him in the bed. Light blue sheets bundled her torso. They were in the guest bedroom. Ken wasn't yet dumb enough to chance having blonde hairs or unexplainable stains found in the master bedroom by Helen. Angelica propped her head up on her hand and gave him a questioning look, her eyebrows arched. Her messy hair framed the gentle contours of her face.

"You know this can't go on, don't you?" Ken said. There. He had put it out in the open, into concrete words. Already, he felt a few of the stones lift from his chest.

Angelica's face was expressionless. She stared at him, perhaps waiting for an explanation. Ken squirmed under her gaze despite the fact that he had almost twenty years on her.

"You're.... you're a beautiful girl. But I'm married. With kids," he said. His mouth felt dry. He leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed a glass of water. The ice had melted within it, and beads of condensation gleamed. The water tasted cool, and Ken was thankful for the break.

He thumped the glass to the stand and blew a sigh. He turned back to the girl. She hadn't moved. He felt like withering under the girl's cold blue eyes.

"You have your whole life, and my life is, well, it's already here. This is it. I can't start over. I just can't. It's not fair to either of us to keep this going," he said. Mentally, Ken thought he had articulated the point quite well. He just wished he could have said all this before Angelica and he had...

"But you love me," Angelica said. Her expression didn't change. She spoke the words as cold, hard fact. Her unreadable eyes bore holes through Ken's patronizing monologue.

The chain from the ceiling fan rattled and bumped against the shade. Ken's mouth already felt dry, and when he turned to the glass, he realized that he had drained it the first time. Angelica's hand crept over his bicep, gripped, and turned him gently to face her.

"You love me," she repeated. Ken looked into her eyes, and he didn't know what was there: not intelligence, or maturity, or even menace. Faced with his own words (more importantly, his own lies), Ken felt backed into a corner. The two of them had been equals moments before in bed; now Ken drew his trump card, age and experience, and wrapped them over him like a fortified defense. He set his features into a stern expression.

"I love Helen," he said. The words hung between them like a challenge.

The baby started crying in the other room. It was the first time Ken had even thought about him since coming home. With this realization, guilt seeped in, thick and heavy.

Ken glanced at the alarm clock next to his empty glass and said, "Jenny will be home from school soon. I have to go back to the office and pick some stuff up. We'll talk about this later."

***

The sun sank, and shadows lengthened. Hours passed.

In the garage, Helen twisted the ignition off, pulled out the key, and the BMW sighed itself to sleep. She took a moment to appraise herself in the rearview mirror. Light-blue half moons draped the bottoms of her eyes. She groaned. Her job was slowly but surely taking its toll.

Helen wished she had more time at home, more time for Jenny and the baby, but she loved her job, and she would go nuts if she was cooped up in the house all day. Plus, her job more than covered daycare. Though now that Angel was out for summer, they wouldn't even have to worry about that expense. While Angel was paid handsomely, she was nowhere near as expensive as daycare.

Angel- what a godsend that girl had turned out to be.

Helen tilted her face back and forth, her eyes scanning the reflection in the mirror. She yearned for the youthfulness of years past, years in which Angelica was in the midst, not yet in her twenties. Helen felt a twinge of jealousy but held it in check. Angel was a good girl, and even she would have to eventually face the pain of growing old in a society that didn't take professional women seriously. A society that was also uninterested in females above the age of twenty-four.

At that thought, Helen felt a churning in her guts. When was the last time that Ken had looked at her with a sense of urgency, with real lust? She might write it off to the distractions of his job, but Ken was a man. Men had needs.

She wondered if there was another woman.

Her frown creased the reflection in the mirror, running uncomplimentary lines across her face. She pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time. She had enough on her plate with the mayor's fundraiser tomorrow evening. Thinking of which, she prayed to God that Angel would be available.

Helen pushed open the car door, climbed out, thrust it shut behind her, mashed the button to automatically lock the BMW, and made her way up to the side door: things she did without thinking. She did so many things without thinking. Her entire life seemed to be on automatic. Why this should suddenly strike her now, she wasn't sure. Maybe the pressures from work made her yearn for times when life had been simpler.

The side door led to the kitchen, and when Helen pushed it open, she was met with the sight of Jenny bent over a coloring book on the table. Angelica sat at her side, offering artistic input.

"Purple trees, what a lovely decision," Angelica said and patted encouragement on Jenny's head.

In agreement, Jenny replied, "I like purple."

Helen felt a regretful tug at her heart, but she knew that these were the sacrifices that she had made and made willingly.

"Purple is the color of Hank the Skunk, after all," Helen said, invoking the name of Jenny's favorite cartoon character the way a pastor might invoke the name of Jesus Christ upon his congregation. It always seemed to do the trick.

"MOMMY!" Jenny cried. She leapt from her seat and darted into her mother's arms. Crayons scattered in her wake. Angelica remained at the table, her elbows resting on the wood, her head propped up in her hands. A small, amused smile curled her lips.

No matter how great Angelica is, Helen thought, I will always be Jenny's mother.

"Hey, Jennybean, have a good day?" she said.

"Yeah!" came the enthusiastic answer. "We made rainbows!"

Jenny continued an excited and somewhat unintelligible discourse on rainbows while Helen hung up her jacket. She cast a grin towards Angelica as a means of hello since she didn't want to interrupt Jenny's happy ramblings. After being gone all day, the least she could do was listen to her daughter's stories.

"Jen," Angelica finally said, "isn't it time for Hank the Skunk to come on?"

An exaggerated look of sheer surprise flashed on Jenny's face, and without answering, she raced through the kitchen at full force and disappeared down the hall. The sounds of the television being switched on, channels flipping and then settling on the boisterous voice of a cartoon skunk came from the living room.

"She doesn't wear you out, huh?" Helen said. She grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator before plopping down into the seat next to Angelica. Helen twisted off the plastic top and took a long swig.

Angelica cocked her head before saying, "She's a great kid."

A moment of silence hung in the kitchen while Helen took another swallow of water. She liked Angelica but could never really figure out how to talk to her. Helen wrote it off to age difference. Angelica probably didn't feel comfortable talking to adults, especially her employers, but after all this time, it bothered Helen that Angelica didn't ever open up to her.

"Hey, do you think you could watch her tomorrow evening? I mean, if you don't have a date or anything. I know it's last minute, but..."

"Sure thing," Angelica said with a curt nod.

A wave of relief swept across Helen. What would she do without this girl?

"Great," Helen said. "You're a real savior, you know that?"

"I do," Angelica replied, and she uttered the strangest little giggle.

***

The moon hangs high. The night outside is quiet. In the dim candlelight of her bedroom, she writes:

Dear World,

When you have read all of this, you will understand. You know what I've been through, the things he's said to me, what he's done to me, and what I've done to him. We did things that only people in love do. Our love still fills me and thrills me and chills me, but he says it must end.

It cannot end. Love is eternal. Lies are deceitful. Lies cannot win out over love. I will not allow them. What I must do, I do for love, for truth. I am an Angel of Truth. I like that. It has a certain ring to it, doesn't it? It just seems right.

The Angel of Truth, the Angel of Love: Angelica. When girls love, they will think of me, and they will remember the things I do.

Clichés come to mind. For instance: if I can't have him, no one will. These are the things I COULD write, but you must understand, this is not my motivation. If you understand nothing else, understand that. I am not jealous. I do this with an utterly rational mind.

But perhaps, with an aching heart.

The pen hesitates: did she write enough? Too much? Then finally, it kisses the paper with a final flourish:

xoxoxo's,

~Angel

She draws a heart beside the signature. She closes the journal. The cover is pink and from it, cartoon cupids grin, frozen in time.

***

The sun rose; the sun set.

Ken dreaded the moment Angelica would walk through the door. He did not want to have to face her again, not after the way he had left her yesterday. With the words: "We'll talk about this later."

He did not want "now" to become "later." In fact, he hoped to indefinitely put off "later" forever. From his arms, Sam, the baby, cooed. Jenny played some ridiculous dancing video game in the next room. Helen was upstairs. This was his family, and things were comfortable the way they were. Ken did not want to rock the boat the way his babysitter hoped he would. Frankly, it would be too much work, and the few exchanges of bodily fluids with a hot, young girl were just not worth giving his family up.

"Hey, honey," Angelica said, as though she had risen from his thoughts.

Ken swiveled towards her, and he gnashed his teeth. She stood, leaning against the doorway, the perfect pose for a poster with the headline: "Jailbait." One hand played with the neck of her t-shirt. Ken's brow furrowed in anger. Sam squirmed in his arms as if sensing his father's emotion. Ken felt like threatening, like yelling, like putting the baby down and thrusting his fist into this high school slut's face. Instead, wary of his daughter jumping and skipping in the next room, he managed to keep his voice down.

"What if Helen came down and heard you say that?" Ken said. He wanted to sound calm, collected, and composed, but he could hear the quiver in his words. Angelica must have heard it, too, because her lips drew up in an impish smile. This, of course, only enraged Ken all the more.

"Yeah, then maybe you'd have to kiss all this goodbye," she said. She waved her arms around her, motioning around the room. Her eyes narrowed; her smile faltered.

"I would never ask you to do that," Angel said. Ken stared at her, but as always, her eyes betrayed nothing. They remained cold and blue and emotionless. Ken remembered watching her play in a tennis tournament, seemingly unfazed by everything, ice running through her veins. He had admired her then, watching from the stands, knowing that he had known parts of her than every boy in her grade (and most of their fathers) wished he could know. Now, faced with the very same indifference, Ken felt a chill touch his heart.

"I shouldn't have to," she added.

Ken opened his mouth to respond, but before he could manage, he heard the thumping of tiny feet approaching from the next room. He closed his mouth and looked down at Sam. The baby's eyes were wide, his expression confused, and he burbled nonsense.

"Angel!" Jenny said. She raced through the kitchen and wrapped her arms around the babysitter's torso. She dug her face into Angelica's side the way she used to rub her face against her beloved stuffed animal, Scrappers, and something about the two of them together made Ken feel uncomfortable. Angelica hugged his daughter and grinned down at her.

12