Babysitting... And Sitting and More Ch. 03

Patrick let out a chuckle and inched closer to me. I had to flex my muscles to keep from recoiling. "Well, maybe you need a more mature man instead of a boy." He tried to make his voice sound deeper, but it made him sound like a kid trying to imitate his father's voice on the phone. Still, I was amused at his boldness.

"I admit that I like the touch of a grown man," I said as I leaned against him. I ran a fingernail along his chin and lowered my voice to a whisper. "Older guys always seem to know their way around a woman's body. They know just what a woman wants. What she needs." Patrick's eyebrows went up and a large lump formed in his throat as he swallowed hard.

"So, are you up for it?" a voice said from next to us. It took me a second to register that it was Mrs. Jennings' voice.

"I'm sorry?" I said in utter confusion.

"I said one of the clients wants to go do karaoke and I was wondering if you two were interested."

I wasn't, but Patrick spoke up without hesitation. "Oh, that sounds awesome! Let's do it."

"Uhh...I don't know..." I wasn't thrilled with the idea of extending this evening.

Mr. Jennings' head poked out from behind his wife. "Come on, it'll be fun."

I glared at him, still stewing over his behavior, but there was no way I could say no to that smile. Besides, I couldn't imagine the evening getting any worse.

The karaoke bar wasn't far from the restaurant. Based on the décor, it looked like it was competing with itself over what decade it was. Harsh pink, green, and blue neon lighting was absorbed by the abundance of faux leather on the walls and furniture. A few people swayed on the checkered dance floor in front of the stage while a muscular, tattooed guy in his 40s screamed the lyrics to some heavy rock song I'd never heard before.

The Jennings' grabbed a table along with the client and a much younger woman. I couldn't help notice that the client, a 30-something year old man with glasses and a large pornstar mustache, had a wedding band.

The moment we sat down, the client ordered a round of drinks. The server brought six shots of an amber-colored liquid. My alcohol education was limited, but it looked and smelled like rum.

Mr. Jennings piped up when I reached for my glass. "Ashley, letting Jasmine have champagne is one thing, but this is a little..."

I felt my body temperature rising again. I'm not grown up enough to have a little drink, but I'm grown up enough for him to treat me like his sex doll?

Fortunately, Mrs. Jennings came to my aid again. "It's just one shot. Relax. It's not like she's doing keg stands at a frat party."

I smiled at Mrs. Jennings for her support. As I turned my eyes back to the drink, part of me wished she hadn't. I'd sampled rum before at a sleepover and it almost made me throw up. I reached forward and lifted the glass to my face. The strong odor of alcohol wafted up to my nose, putting knots into my stomach.

"Let's go! Get it up there," the client shouted from down the table. "No sipping."

I brought the glass up to my lips and tried to prepare myself. As I opened my mouth and let the liquid slide past my lips, I resisted the feelings of nausea that wracked my body. I did my best to keep the glass tilted upright as I swallowed the burning drink. After what felt like an eternity, I drained the glass. It nearly tumbled from my hand as I sat it back on the table.

"Wooo!" shouted the client. "That's what I'm talking about! Now, let's get this party started. Who's going up there?"

Patrick jumped to his feet without hesitation. "I got this." I watched with curiosity as Patrick made his way up to the empty stage. He picked a song and then stood with the microphone in hand, staring down at his feet waiting for the music to start. I recognized the song almost from the start when I heard the drumroll and guitar riff: Two Princes by Spin Doctors. My eyes widened in shock as he recited the lyrics. It was almost as if he was actually singing the song at me. I considered that maybe it was all in my head until he sang, "Marry him or marry me, I'm the one that loves you baby can't you see," while pointing at Mr. Jennings and himself. My body scrunched up in the seat and I started slumping down, desperately wanting to disappear beneath the table. Had it always been that obvious? Dear God. If Patrick could see it, Mrs. Jennings knew.

I cast my eyes to the side and gave her a glance. She was on her feet clapping and swaying to the music. Mr. Jennings sat next to her tapping his hand on the table to the beat while taking another shot. Neither of them appeared to be the least bit fazed by the song.

When the song ended, I wanted to run to the stage and strangle Patrick. "What the hell was that?" I hissed in his hear when he got back to the table.

"What?" he said, looking genuinely puzzled and reaching for a drink. I started to slap it out of his hand but thought better of it.

"That song. Why were you singing that song?"

"I love that song. I love all their music."

I glanced back over my shoulder. Mr. Jennings was on his feet and moving toward the stage. Mrs. Jennings took a sip of her drink. "Bravo Patrick," she said when she saw me looking her way. There didn't seem to be a hint of anger on her face. As best as I could tell, I was the only one upset by the song. Maybe my guilty conscience was finally starting to get the best of me.

"Everybody get up! Everybody get up!" Mr. Jennings belted into the microphone as the music started.

"Wooo!" Mrs. Jennings shouted and took another shot before leaping to her feet. Mr. Jennings began to strut across the stage, swiveling his hips as he croaked out the lyrics to "Blurred Lines." It was clear from the start that he was singing to her. I folded my arms and looked on as Mr. Jennings made an ass of himself. He was clearly no Robin Thicke.

Patrick scooted closer to me and put his arm around my shoulder. I wasn't in the mood for him, but I was irritated enough with Mr. Jennings' on-stage spectacle not to move his arm. Patrick rocked his body in the seat next to me throughout the song.

It felt like my heart and the rest of my insides had been hollowed out of my body as I watched Mr. Jennings stumble off the stage and swagger back to his waiting wife. She locked him in a long kiss that made me physically ill. Mr. Jennings sat down and pulled her onto his lap, drawing laughter and cheers from the client and his date.

"Ok, who's up next?" Mrs. Jennings said, grinding on her husband's lap. I glanced down and watched as his hands slid around her hips.

"How about it, Jasmine?" Patrick said.

"No, I don't think so." I was beyond ready to go. This evening had been an utter waste of time that had gone from bad to worse. The next time the Jennings' needed a babysitter for their baby or for the grownup next to me, they damn well had better call someone else.

"Oh, come on Jasmine," Mrs. Jennings said. "Everyone has to get up there. Those are the rules." She let out a shriek as Mr. Jennings bit her on the earlobe.

"I'm not a singer," I almost spat while trying to keep my face even.

"Neither am I, love," the client offered from the far end of the table. "But if you go up, I'll go up after you."

"Ok, come on, Patrick. We'll take her turn for her," Mr. Jennings said, shifting Mrs. Jennings to the side.

I folded my arms and stared a hole through the table in front of me. I'm sure I looked like a pouting child, but if a child is what Mr. Jennings thought of me, then a child is what I'd be. No more blowjobs. No more sex. I didn't need this shit anymore. At least my boyfriend treated me as an equal. I had been such a cold-hearted bitch for cheating on him with this asshole. But I'd set things right.

My angry daydream was broken as Mr. Jennings and Patrick launched into what sounded like the back and forth opening dialogue for Shaggy's "It Wasn't Me." I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. My ears were definitely deceiving me. This could not be happening.

"But she caught me on the counter," Mr. Jennings crooned.

Patrick sang the response. "It wasn't me."

"Saw me bangin' on the sofa."

"It wasn't me."

My boiling blood went ice cold.

"Heard the screams get louder," Mr. Jennings sang.

"It wasn't me."

"She stayed until it was over."

Mr. Jennings had lost his fucking mind! I didn't know if he was having a sudden crisis of conscience or what. Whatever it was, I didn't want to have anything to do with it.

I pushed back from the table and sprang to my feet. I didn't know where I was headed, but anywhere was better. As I stepped back from the table and prepared to make a dash for the exit, I felt a hand on my arm. It slid down to my wrist, pulling me backwards and off balance as I let out a yelp. I spun around and came face to face with Mrs. Jennings. She stepped out from her chair and around the side of the table, never letting me go. She tugged me violently toward the stage. It felt like I was being marched to the guillotine. I tried to dig in my heels, but my legs were growing weaker by the second.

It was a little unfair for her to drag me into this. If she wanted to confront Mr. Jennings, that was her business. This was her marriage, not mine. And in all fairness, this was her husband's fault. If he couldn't handle the guilt of an affair, he never should've slept with me.

As we reached the dance floor, Mrs. Jennings turned to face me. I cringed back and brought up my hands, ready to fend off a blow. Instead, she began swaying her hips to the music in front of me, her face opened in a wide grin. Behind her, Mr. Jennings and Patrick continued their performance, barely noticing us.

Mrs. Jennings grabbed my hips and pulled me closer. "Come on, girl, shake that fine ass." The smell of alcohol was pouring off of her. Apparently, much to my relief, I wasn't standing at ground zero for the end of their marriage. I allowed myself to rigidly move my feet back and forth to the music.

Around us, a few other people had gathered. Mostly men. Seemingly wanting to put on a show, Mrs. Jennings stepped around behind me and pulled me against her body. My heart fluttered when I felt her breath on my neck for the second time that evening. Her hands glided along my hips and up my torso. I could've sworn I felt a slight squeeze as she passed my breasts and continued up to my neck. Her fingertips found "my spot," just below my earlobes, and dug in, making my body suddenly feel like putty. I leaned back against her for support, which brought her cheek alongside mine.

I had experimented with other girls before but nothing serious. I'd made out with girls, had my breasts groped, and even let one lick my nipples at a party. But it had all been in fun. Now, as I stood with Mrs. Jennings' arms wrapped around my body, it was different. My body was a furnace. I was intoxicated with the scent of her. I wanted nothing more than to feel her lips against mine.

I reached back and put my hand on the back of her beautiful blonde hair. Gently tugging, I guided her face toward mine. When her lips slid along my cheek, my legs buckled. Leaning back into her, I turned my head, ready to kiss her full on the mouth.

A cheer erupted in the bar and shook me out of the fantasy. At first, I thought they were cheering for us but then I saw Mr. Jennings and Patrick on the stage taking a bow. Mrs. Jennings released me and joined the chorus of applause. My arms flailed out wildly searching for something to hold onto.

"Woah, woah. Are you ok?" a man's voice said as I felt strong arms catch me under my arms just as the floor was rushing up to meet me.

"Umm...yeah...I just...," I was having trouble breathing and my skin was on fire.

"Oh no! Jasmine, are you ok?" Mrs. Jennings said, apparently noticing my predicament for the first time.

"I think she just needs to sit down," the man said. I half walked and staggered with his help back to our table and immediately chugged down a glass of water. When it was gone, I reached for another next to me and briefly considered pouring it over my head.

"Hey, is she ok? What happened?" Patrick said as he and Mr. Jennings returned to the table.

"I'm fine, I just needed a break," I said. With my free hand I began fanning myself.

"We should probably go," Mrs. Jennings said. She put her hand along my forehead. The feel of her skin set my heart to racing again.

"No, just give me a few minutes."

"She's right," Patrick said. "You don't look so good.

"Really, I'm fine, just—"

Mrs. Jennings put a finger across my lips, shutting me up. I had half a mind to wrap my lips around it.

I finally gave in and agreed to leave. When our Lyft showed up, Patrick helped me to my feet. I was feeling better but allowed him to support me. The fresh air outside rejuvenated me and cleared my head. What had happened just minutes before seemed like a lifetime ago.

The client and his date bid us farewell and disappeared into the parking lot. Mrs. Jennings called "shotgun" and raced around to the front passenger seat of the black SUV that was waiting for us.

"I'll see you Monday, Patrick," Mr. Jennings said with slurred speech. He staggered to the rear driver side door. After several attempts, he managed to get it open.

"So..." Patrick said, taking a step back from me but still holding one of my hands.

"I had a great evening," I said. Even though I was lying, I had to admit that spending the evening with him wasn't as awful as I'd expected. In fact, he had actually turned out to be the brightest spot of the evening.

"Could I...umm...maybe sometime...uhh..." Patrick was staring at the sidewalk. I knew exactly where he was going.

"You're really nice, but I have a boyfriend." The words appeared to physically pain him, which made my own heart ache for him.

"Yeah, I know...I just...I really loved spending time with you, Jasmine."

I felt so bad for him. And I hadn't exactly stuck to Mrs. Jennings' advice about not leading him on. "Well, maybe we could go out sometime. I mean, just as friends, you know?" I regretted the words even as they'd been forming in my brain, but my mouth was powerless to keep them from coming out.

Patrick's face lit up brighter than the sun. "That'd be great! I'd love to." He rotated his hand and proceeded to try to give me an awkward handshake while grinning like a madman.

"What the hell are you doing, Jasmine?" I said to myself as I felt my body leaning over our clasped hands. Before I could stop myself, I gave him a light peck on the cheek. Patrick's face looked like a kid opening presents on Christmas.

Before I could do anything else dumb, I yanked my hand free and walked to our waiting ride. I gave Patrick a wave as I climbed into the backseat behind Mrs. Jennings.

"Some night, huh?" Mr. Jennings said as we pulled off.

"I'll say. We need to get you up on stage more often," Mrs. Jennings said. "And thank you so much for being such a good sport tonight, Jasmine."

"It was no problem at all. I'm glad I could—aiyeeee!"

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Jennings said, turning in her seat to look back at me. Thankfully, the back seat was too dark for her to see her husband's hand on my thigh.

"I'm ok. I just thought I saw a deer."

"I didn't see anything," our driver said.

Mrs. Jennings turned back and scanned the road in front of us through the windshield. I flashed my fiery gaze at Mr. Jennings. Even in the darkness, I was close enough to see him smirking back at me. His fingertips prodded my thigh tentatively. I was beyond not in the mood and lifted his hand off and moved it away.

"Jasmine, listen, I—" he whispered.

I turned sideways in the backseat, facing out the window. There was a gentle poke in my torso that I swatted away like I was waving off a buzzing mosquito.

"Hey, how about a little music?" Mr. Jennings said more loudly toward the front seat. Some kind of electric/techno beat bounced out of the speakers. "Oh yeah! Turn that up," Mr. Jennings said. I felt him inch closer to me on the seat and I pressed my body against the door in response. He moved closer until his chest was against my back. He reeked of alcohol. "Jasmine, I'm sorry," he whispered into my ear. "I didn't mean to cause any problems tonight. Patrick and I...it seemed like it would be a funny song to sing. We thought everyone would enjoy it."

What an idiot. Yes, I thought his song and dance routine was an incredibly stupid one to perform in front of his wife given our hidden affair. But it was him treating me like a child that had boiled my blood all evening.

I sat in silence, staring out the window, waiting for him to acknowledge his behavior. When it became clear he wasn't, I unloaded on him.

"Where the fuck do you get off treating me like I'm 10 years old?" I said much louder than I should've, but in that moment, I didn't give a shit.

Mr. Jennings' head whipped toward the front of the car, waiting to see if anyone had heard. When no one said anything, he put a finger to his lips, trying to quiet me.

"Don't shush me." I was unhinged. "You were out of line."

"Is everything ok back there," Mrs. Jennings said without turning to look back. She sounded groggy.

"Yeah, we're fine," Mr. Jennings said before turning back to me. "Please, Jasmine" he gestured with his hands to try to get me to lower my voice, but I wasn't having it.

"You know, it's amazing to me how whenever we're around other people, you always—"

Mr. Jennings fully laid his body against me and pressed his lips to mine, cutting me off mid-sentence. My first instinct was to scratch him across the side of his face. But as I brought my hand up to his cheek, I felt my body giving in to him.

"No! The hell with this guy!" I mentally shouted to myself, but it was no use. I was melting beneath him like ice cream on a summer day. My hand pressed against his cheek and ran across his face to the back of my head. Before I knew it, I was pulling him tighter into the kiss. In that moment, I hated myself more than I had in my entire life.

Mr. Jennings broke the kiss, leaving me gasping for air. I didn't remember closing my eyes, but when I opened them, I saw his sexy, steely gaze fixed on me. It was the same gaze that had made me feel like a woman that first night we'd made love on his couch. He ignited things within me that no boy had done before. That no boy ever could.

I turned and slumped down on the seat, letting Mr. Jennings roll on top of me. If the interior lights came on, there'd be no explanation for our position. Mr. Jennings leaned down and buried his face in my neck, drawing laughter that I tried to mask. His tongue snaked out and ran along my neck beneath my ear. I hoped my deep sighs were masked by the music.

My body was on fire. The seat felt sticky against my skin. I wanted him. I needed him. As he continued to nibble at my neck, I wedged my hands beneath him, searching until I felt his hard, throbbing cock in the front of his pants. Mr. Jennings gasped into my ear. The material of his pants was thin enough for me to stroke him. He was so hard he felt like he'd been chiseled out of stone.

Mr. Jennings sat up slightly. I was puzzled until his hands came down onto the front of my dress, squeezing my tits. He quickly found my nipples and tweaked them, drawing a low scream that apparently went unnoticed by the people in the front seats. I continued to stroke Mr. Jennings as his hands worked their way to the top of my dress. With some difficulty, he managed to pull my dress down enough to lift my heaving breasts out of my bra and over the edge of my dress. He immediately fell on them, inhaling my left nipple. My mouth fell open in a silent scream as his tongue traced an agonizingly slow circle around the hard nub.

With trembling fingers, I unzipped Mr. Jennings' pants and reached in. His cock felt like a steel rod that had been dipped in lava. I could hear and feel him moaning into my cleavage as I stroked his bare shaft. He sat forward and brought his lips to mine again. This positioned his cock just above my thong-covered pussy. With my free hand, I pulled it aside.