Babysitter Auditions Pt. 03: Autumn

I woke up the next morning thinking about Carolina. She had said she'd been fired from a babysitting job, and I definitely wanted to know about that. I only had the preliminary information on her, so the firm I was using to check out my applicants was still at work. I texted the friend who owned and ran the firm to see what he knew. He told me he didn't know the story, but he'd dig deeper.

Carolina was a total fucking firecracker, there was no question about that. The question I needed to settle in my mind was, could I trust her? I felt conflicted. On the one hand, I could hardly judge her for planning to do what I was inviting her to do; and she'd been honest about it, and about her aggressiveness, which had to speak in her favor. On the other hand, I wanted someone who would be a stable employee and resident of my home, and I wondered if she was the sort to crave risk. I didn't want to hire someone who would get restless and go looking for trouble. I didn't know if Carolina would, but I wasn't sure. Perhaps what I needed to know was whether, if she got one daddy for herself, she could settle down and be content.

*****

My third interview was with another 19-year-old, a darker-skinned Latina freshman named Autumn Quinteros who looked almost as busty as Kylie. When I answered the door, her face lit up. "Oh, I recognize you!" she exclaimed with delight. "My roommate has all your books—I've seen your picture. She's been telling me all year I need to read them. I've been telling her that whenever I actually have time to read for pleasure again, they'll be at the top of my list, but it's probably not happening until I can put on my sling bikini and go lie out by the pool. Oh, man, she's gonna flip!"

I jerked myself away from the entrancing image of Autumn's big tits in a sling bikini and swallowed hard. "So, you're going into engineering?" I asked. She nodded happily. We talked about that long enough that we ended up sitting on a couch in the living room rather than the bench in the front hall. I gave her the same introduction I'd given Carolina and was pleased to see that she was also receptive. At least, she seemed to be considering the idea I'd tried to suggest, and she looked like she was getting horny. I could see her mind working as I stood up to take her around the house.

*****

Autumn enjoyed the tour, and I enjoyed getting to know her a little. She was an intelligent, focused young woman with an appealingly wry sense of humor. She kept brushing up against me as we walked around, her hips and ass touching my hips and her breasts just touching my arms, and she went a little further in the master bath. I had decided after Carolina to include the master suite in the tour—after all, if we ran out of Band-Aids or other first-aid supplies in the bathroom the girls used, the live-in might need to find them in ours; and besides, I had already told Kylie she would be welcome to use the hot tub in the master bath if she got the job, so I should probably make the same commitment to the other applicants.

I wasn't surprised to find Autumn as interested in the shower as Kylie and Carolina—but since she was in a different place emotionally when she saw it, her reaction was different. "Did you design that?" she asked.

I sat down on the edge of the hot tub and said, "Not exactly. I was inspired by a picture I saw somewhere on the Internet. That shower had the two rain heads in the ceiling and the two handhelds mounted below them, and it had the glass outer wall. Most importantly, that's where I got the drain setup."

Autumn had sat down next to me; now she leaned forward to focus on the shower floor. She looked for a moment, then grinned. "I see," she said. "The drain is the very bottom edge of the long wall opposite the door. The floor slopes slightly, I presume?"

"Got it in one," I said with a grin of my own. Autumn giggled, then sat back up and leaned against me. Without thinking, I put my arm around her, and she snuggled in. "The walls were custom-made. I wanted to have niches for holding bottles with front edges shaped as handholds and strong enough to serve the purpose."

"Handholds," Autumn purred. "You like standing doggy in the shower, Mr. Andrews?" Her voice was teasing, but the lust in it was real.

"Ummmm . . ." I said, taken aback for a moment. "Well, who doesn't?"

"Fair enough," she agreed.

"Similarly, I wanted the seats at the ends to be strong enough to support the weight of two people, but also to have space under the seat," I continued. "So, yeah, it's non-standard, and it wasn't cheap to put in. I've never regretted it, though."

"I'm sure you haven't," Autumn replied softly, shifting a little.

We sat like that for a few moments longer, then I said (a trifle reluctantly), "We should keep moving, not sit here and fall asleep." She agreed, and we stood and moved on.

*****

That was the most physical contact we had during the interview. I didn't push. Autumn had already mentioned she was dating someone, though she didn't sound all that happy with him. We spent a while talking about him and about their relationship; she asked my opinion on a few things, and I gave it, cautiously. It was in my interest for her to decide to break it off with him, after all. If meeting me spurred her to do that when she would have anyway before too long, I wouldn't have a problem with that, but I didn't want to manipulate her into doing something she wouldn't have done on her own—especially since there was no guarantee she would get the job.

By the time we sat down at the table to go over the practical details, I was sure nothing was going to happen with Autumn that day, and I was right. She asked good questions about the information I gave her, but when I asked her if she had any questions for me about anything else, she sighed and said, "No, I have to go meet my boyfriend." I gave her my card and told her to give me a call if she thought of any later on. She promised she would, and then went on her way. Well, that's probably that, I thought to myself. Still, while Kylie and Carolina were eager to fuck, I can't expect that to be typical even if applicants are open to the idea.

*****

The next two applicants proved not to be open to the idea. One didn't even seem to catch the hint, while the other clearly saw the opportunity and just as clearly wasn't particularly interested. To her credit, she didn't assume the worst of me, and we had a good conversation as I showed her around the house. She mentioned a serious boyfriend when the subject quite naturally came up, and seemed quite happy with him.

I woke Saturday morning to an e-mail from the applicant scheduled for that day canceling her interview because she had taken a different job. I thanked her for letting me know. I didn't tell her, but I figured it was probably a good thing; Lori had come home the night before in an unfamiliar mood, warmer to me than she had been in a year and more, and I didn't want to disturb it. There wasn't much left of me that held out any hope that our relationship would ever again be what it had been, but her change in demeanor was still pleasant, and I didn't figure it would survive any reminder that I had refused to bow to her wishes.

As it turned out, I was right. My wife answered the door early that afternoon, and by the time I saw her she was in a cold fury. Behind her, looking upset, was Autumn. Fortunately, she was dressed quite conservatively, or I can't think how much worse Lori's reaction would have been. As it was, she said nothing at all, turned on her heel, and left—first the room, then the house. I waved Autumn to a seat on the couch, then went to find my daughters.

The girls were playing happily in Hope's room. I told them their mother had had to go out and would be back in a little bit; they nodded. I had them bring their toys down to the living room—well, I helped them carry their toys—so I could keep a better eye on them. I told them Autumn was a friend of mine who had come over for a few minutes. My daughters have gotten used to me having friends around, most of whom have adored them, so they took it in stride. They climbed into her lap for hugs, then wanted to show her their toys. She played with them for several minutes; I sat peacefully and enjoyed watching them. Eventually, she told them she needed to talk to me, and they let her go. When she came back to the couch, she looked much calmer and happier.

"Did I do something wrong earlier?" Autumn asked. "Your wife looked at me like I'd barbecued her pet rabbit."

Well, that's an oddly specific simile, I thought. "Do you—ahh—speak from experience on that?" I asked carefully.

Autumn giggled. "No," she said, "I just—well—never mind."

I sighed. "You need to understand, Autumn, that this isn't about you. She's not mad at you. She doesn't even know you. I presume you told her I interviewed you to live in?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"I thought so," I said. I sighed again. "She's not angry at you, she's angry at me for defying her, and you reminded her of that."

"Defying her?" Autumn asked uncertainly. "You mean, like . . . she's supposed to give the orders and you're supposed to do what you're told?"

I started to deny it, then shut my mouth with a snap. I took a moment to think, then said reluctantly, "That's not what I thought I meant, but . . . well, maybe, at least."

"Ouch," Autumn replied. She snuggled into me and laid her head on my shoulder. Hope happened to look up and see us; she smiled beatifically at me and went back to her play. I put an arm around Autumn and we sat like that for several minutes before I realized I should probably move things in a different direction.

"So, Autumn, what brought you by?" I murmured into the top of her head. "I don't imagine you just came by to sit with me, as much as I'm enjoying it."

She sat up, startled. "Oh—no, I didn't—I'd sort of forgotten," she murmured back in confusion. She stood up and got the canvas grocery bag she'd set on the floor. She pulled out a stack of books and handed them to me. "My roommate was hoping you'd sign these for her," Autumn admitted sheepishly.

I burst out laughing. After a moment, when it had sunk in for her that I wasn't unhappy, Autnoumn joined in. "And are there any I can make out to you?" I asked, grinning.

She ducked her head and handed me a hardback copy of my newest novel, one of my mysteries. "This one," she muttered.

"Are you a fan of mysteries?" I asked.

Autumn looked up, her face alight again. "I am," she said. "I had a great-uncle I absolutely adored, my grandma's favorite brother, and his bookshelves were full of mystery and true-crime books. His favorites were Erle Stanley Gardner and Rex Stout—"

"Perry Mason and Nero Wolfe," I interjected.

Autumn nodded respectfully. "You know your authors," she said. "Uncle Keith got me into mystery writers—those were his favorites, but that's where I first read Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie . . . so many . . ."

"If you like Christie, you should like this," I told her. "My inspiration is more a mix of G. K. Chesterton and Margery Allingham—"

"Uncle Keith had Father Brown," Autumn interrupted, "and some of the Campion mysteries as well; but isn't that kind of an odd combination?"

I grinned. "I've had a reviewer or two argue that," I admitted. "What can I say? I like it . . . but my point is, I write mysteries more in that sort of style than police procedurals. I like police procedurals, I've just never had any success trying to write one."

At that point I decided I'd better stop talking and sign the books. When I had finished, Autumn asked, "Mr. Andrews, would it—umm—would it be all right if I asked you a personal question?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "You're welcome to ask, certainly," I said. "If it's too personal, I won't answer."

"Fair enough," Autumn conceded. "Well, this might seem kind of strange, but—well, I don't know any other men I could really ask, and—do you like eating pussy?"

My jaw dropped a little and I sat there blinking at her for several moments. Whatever I'd been expecting, it hadn't been that. "What . . . prompts . . . the question?" I finally asked.

"My boyfriend won't," she informed me. "He expects me to go down on him, but he says doing that for me is gross and no real man would. My friends' boyfriends are like that, too. But I see it in porn and I read about it and so I was wondering . . ."

I sat silent a moment, then sighed. "Yes, I do, very much," I told her, "and I think any guy who won't is an idiot. In general, I think any guy who isn't as much about his woman's pleasure as his own is an idiot. That's not only because it's part of caring for someone, but even selfishly . . . sex just gets better and better the more turned on your partner is. A lot of guys have to grow up a fair bit before they figure that out, though."

"Do you think that's worth leaving him over?"Autumn asked.

"Autumn, I can't answer that for you," I said. Especially since I just might have a bit of an ulterior motive for saying "Yes" . . . "I don't know enough about your relationship. If it's part of a pattern, though—if he consistently puts himself and his own wants ahead of you and yours—then that would certainly justify breaking it off with him. Maybe you should give him an ultimatum: tell him eat your pussy or else, whatever 'or else' seems appropriate to you."

"Maybe . . ." Autumn responded thoughtfully. After several moments, she looked up at me and asked hesitantly, "Mr. Andrews? Can I ask you one more personal question?"

"Why not?" I responded, throwing up my hands with a laugh. "How much more personal can it get?"

"What do you like about eating pussy?" she asked timidly.

I suppose I should have seen that one coming, I thought ruefully. After several moments of reflection, I gave a mental shrug. "As long as it's clean and well-groomed, everything. Every pussy is different—shapes, colors, sizes—and each one is beautiful in its own way. I like exploring. Every woman's juices are different, and so every pussy has a different scent and taste, but—again, as long as it's clean—I love smelling and tasting her excitement. I love feeling her body react under my mouth and fingers. I especially love getting to know her clit, because they can be wildly different. It's all wonderful and deeply satisfying."

By the time I finished, Autumn's cheeks were flushed, her mouth was hanging open, and her breathing was heavy and a little ragged. She collected herself, then blushed furiously and looked down. I reached out with two fingers, lifted her chin, looked into her eyes, and said, "Autumn, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Thank you," she murmured. "I need to be going." She gathered up the books and made her way out of the house. I watched her go, wondering if she would be back—and if so, how soon.

*****

In the event, it was the next day. My interview that day had gone well, as the applicant was bright and funny and clearly comfortable with her own competence. I didn't think she quite measured up to Kylie even without the . . . additional considerations, but she might have been a safer bet than Carolina. Leaving aside the other questions, Carolina's personal experience would certainly give her an affinity for Hope and Joy's situation, but I'd learned in my own life how hard it could be to keep my own baggage out of the way when trying to relate to other people, and I wasn't sure how much of a problem that might be for her. That will be a question for a callback, if there is one, I decided.

Lori was in a better mood again; she took off with the kids after breakfast for a girls' day out at the zoo, so she wasn't around when the applicant was here. They came back mid-afternoon; as usual, Hope had kept them as long as possible in the aquarium, because she adored watching all the brilliantly-colored fish. I cooked dinner, and then my wife left for the airport. These days, when she got home she would unpack all the dirty clothes into the laundry and promptly repack her luggage with clean things, so she could go at a moment's notice. When she told me she had to leave, I was surprised, but I'd learned not to argue. She smiled and said, "I need to catch the redeye—I have an early meeting in Boston. Let me go hug and kiss the girls goodbye, and then I'll be on my way."

Hope and Joy had learned to be troopers and take their mother's departures calmly, so it wasn't long before Lori was out the door. She didn't offer me a goodbye kiss on her way out the door, and I didn't press her. I just turned away with a sigh and went to put the girls through their bedtime routine.

I had just gotten them tucked in and come back downstairs when the doorbell rang. It was Autumn; I welcomed her in and invited her to join me at the dining-room table. "What's up?" I asked.

"Mr. Andrews, you asked me at my interview what sets me apart from other candidates," Autumn said. I nodded. "I talked about my experience in child care and the skills I've developed, and especially about Allie." I nodded again; Allie was a girl with whom she had spent significant time who had several significant challenges. "My references will tell you how good I am with kids and how much I love doing it."

Autumn paused; I waited. I could see her gathering herself. "I broke up with my boyfriend this afternoon . . ." I blinked, startled. I wasn't all that surprised she had done it, and I could guess where she was going, but it was still a hard right turn from the sentence before. "I wasn't really content with him," she continued. "He didn't satisfy me; he didn't really try; and he wasn't supportive of what I want to do with my life. You made me see I can do better."

"Thank you, Autumn," I said, feeling pleased.

Autumn took a deep breath and continued, "But that means I can give you a better answer than I did the other day." She got up, came over to me, and knelt down between my legs. "Mr. Andrews, as good as I am as a babysitter, I'm even more skilled and enthusiastic as a cocksucker." She bent her head and caressed my knob all over with her lips, teasing it and tracing it with the tip of her tongue.

Stifling a groan, I said, "But I'm not hiring a cocksucker."

From the expression on her face, it was clear Autumn could see the effect she was having on me; she was gaining confidence and certainty by the moment. "Yes, you are," she purred around my cockhead. She started unbuttoning her top and locked eyes with me. She stuck her tongue out . . . and out . . . and out . . . I'd wondered about the length of Kylie's tongue, but Autumn's was easily the longest tongue I'd ever seen, either in person or on screen. From the way she spiraled it around my prick, it was also the most flexible. As she undid the last button and shrugged the fabric off her shoulders (leaving a bra which was clearly more about engineering than eroticism), she started bobbing her head up and down. She was fucking me with just her tongue. I didn't know how she could do that, and I didn't care, either.

"Isn't that what you want, Mr. Andrews?" Autumn purred. "To get your daughters off to school and daycare and have your babysitter down on her knees worshiping your big man-muscle like she can't get enough?" She kissed her way from the tip of my cock to the base, then back up again while her hands were busy undoing her bra. It slid down her arms and fell to the ground, leaving a flawless pair of huge tits swinging gently. She wrapped one hand around my shaft and began wanking it with a corkscrew motion as she enclosed my knob in the warm, wet cavern of her mouth and gently sucked on it. Her other hand fondled my balls.

"Aren't you looking for a girl who'll get off on doing this to your big, thick cock?" Autumn asked seductively, then drove her head down on my pole. Without breaking eye contact, she kept taking me until her nose was resting in my pubic hair. She squeezed my balls gently and slipped her other hand between her legs. She swallowed several times, rippling her throat around my prick, then bobbed her head up and down, throatfucking me.