Chapter 1

19... 20. She let out a small groan as she eased down the weights and finished her hour-long daily workout. Despite it being summer and on break from college, back at her parents’ house, she still wanted to maintain her fitness for field trials before the end of fall. Taking a drink, she stood up and stretched languidly in the home gym. Catching sight of herself in the full-length wall mirror, she paused at the apex of the stretch and let her eyes caress her displayed body.

“Damn, Gem,” she thought, “Mighty fine, mighty fine.” She admired her young, 21-year-old, toned body. Her tight halter top and skimpy gym shorts showcased expanses of toned, smooth, light chocolate skin. Long, lean muscular legs that seemed to go on forever complemented her tall 5’11” frame. Topping her legs, well-displayed by the small, tight gym shorts, her eyes were drawn to her ass. Prominent, muscular buns without an ounce of fat. A deep cleft, partially obscured by the tightness of the shorts, perfectly divided the toned cheeks, which, while steel hard in her current stretch, still managed to exhibit a bit of bounce and jiggle when fully relaxed. It had long been her best feature; even in high school, she always had an ass to die for. Yet in the last year, it had become even more pronounced on her slender, toned frame, thanks to the extra weights she’d been incorporating to improve her sprint speed.

After pausing and turning slightly to regard her bum, her eyes continued up over her washboard flat stomach. The abs showed in the lights, glistening off the sheen of sweat from the workout. As she turned to face the mirror full-on again, her eyes reached her breasts, and what breasts they were. She’d been a slow developer in that regard. Always athletic at school, the most athletic of the cheer squad before she quit to focus on her field athletics, she’d been less well-endowed than many of her fellow cheerleaders. Her fantastically endowed Mother had assured her that this would not last, as she told a disbelieving Gemma that she herself had been slow to develop. She’d been right. Suddenly over the last two years, her bosom had started increasing, and increasing, and by the tightness of her gym top, it had clearly increased again since mid-term. Now a prominent 34DD, which complemented her height well but looked out of place on a slim athletic physique. So much so some of her old school friends had thought she’d had them enhanced! Lowering her hands from the stretch, she gave them a squeeze, pushing her cleavage together almost obscenely in the too-small top. With a fake pout and a quick bounce of her breasts, she laughed: nope, fully prime cups, 100% natural. She could see why her friends thought so though: there was no sag in them at all, and they sat high and prominent. “Yes, Gem, mighty fine indeed,” she thought.

Her eyes jumped from her hands caressing her reflected breasts to her own eyes, and she found herself flushing with mild embarrassment, her chocolate skin tone just light enough to show off the pinkness of the blush. Her friends had always said she resembled Halle Berry with her high cheekbones and light hazel eyes. Beautiful, she’d been told, but like her late-developing breasts, she’d never considered herself vain, or even particularly sexy. That had changed in the last year. With whatever hormonal surge had enhanced her bosom, she’d suddenly started noticing the eyes of men on her. She’d always attracted gazes, but with her focus on her athletics and law education, she’d had no time for the frivolities of romantic entanglements. She knew they’d called her a prude, “The Ebony Ice Queen,” she’d heard on more than one occasion, said loudly enough, she was sure, for her to overhear. Not that she’d cared; she had her life plan, following her judge father into a career in law, and indulging her passion for running and field athletics. However, as she felt the flush, she acknowledged that she’d never have gazed so proudly at her body even a year ago. Now she reveled in the sheer sexiness and power of her frame, a power that never strayed into masculinity. If anything, it displayed a feline strength, a smooth tautness, that enhanced rather than detracted from her feminine glory. She flashed a brilliant white smile at herself as she tore her eyes from the mirror, acknowledging that the flush had spread from her face to her upper chest. It was joined by a now all too frequent jolt of warmth in her groin, something she, in her disciplined way, had been ignoring. But since the start of the summer, it had been becoming a much more frequent and intense feeling, peaking in depth after working out or having a shower afterwards. Speaking of a shower, it was time for one.

As she left the well-appointed home gym and walked through the living space, sipping her water and heading for the downstairs bathroom, the house phone rang, startling her.

With her parents away on a two-month-long trip around Europe, she wasn’t expecting any calls. She herself hadn’t made many friends, a part of her focused attitude, and anyone who would call would have used her cell phone, not the house phone.

Picking it up, she answered, “Hello, Gemma here.”

A female voice she instantly recognized as her neighbor, Miss Williams — an attractive blonde woman in her mid-40s—responded, “Hi there, Gemma. I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Is now a good time to talk?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Gemma replied. “I’ve just finished my morning workout. What’s up?”

“Well,” began Marge Williams, “your mother told me you’d be home alone for the next few months and said it would be good for you to get out of the house, so she offered your babysitting services. With John,” her husband, “away for the month working on the final plans for his new construction contract, and with me needing to chair the charity meetings every afternoon, I was wondering if I could impose on you to look after Kyle and his two friends?”

Gemma was surprised by the request but ruefully thought this was typical of her mother, always trying to get her to mix, mingle, and socialize. “Uh...”

Marge quickly picked up on the uncertainty. “Don’t worry if you’re not able to. I really don’t want to impose. They are all 14 now and can look after themselves. As I’m out from noon to 6 pm, I was just hoping you could maybe call down for a couple of hours and make sure they aren’t doing any damage to the place—or themselves. For all their academic smarts, they aren’t the most streetwise of kids.”

Gemma had babysat for Marge plenty of times, but not in the last four years. She’d hardly seen Kyle in that time, absorbed as she was with exams, going to college, and her athletic pursuits. However, she well remembered his nerdy qualities—quite endearing, especially since she was used to dealing with the alpha crowd.

She made a snap decision. “Sorry, it was just unexpected, that’s all. I’d be delighted to help out.” It would do her good to get out of the house. Her mother was right, as usual, she thought. Looking over at a picture on the wall, she saw an attractive and noticeably well-endowed woman with a perfect ebony complexion looking back at her, arm in arm with a tall, imposing black man—her mother and father.

“Thank you so much, Gemma. I really appreciate this. If you want to call down today just before noon, I’ll introduce you. But there’s no need to come early after today, just whenever suits you.”

Marge then asked her about college, and they spent the next ten minutes talking about her law ambitions, how she was adjusting to being away from home, and when her next trials were for her field events. Marge was always an attentive listener, and Gemma found it an enjoyable conversation. Marge and her mom were almost the only people with whom she ever just “had a chat” to pass the time, rather than for any particular reason.

So it was that 30 minutes later, she found herself walking down the road from her house to her neighbors’. It was a lovely day, with the wind lightly caressing the summer leaves in the tree-lined road. Her spacious house at the top of the lane led down to the Williams’ in the middle, and then old man Parkins at the entranceway to the main road. An exclusive area for the well-to-do, she’d always been grateful for her lot in life: the only daughter of a well-off family, and a fabulous house well separated from any neighbors. With only three properties on this side of the road, and nothing opposite but trees, it was one of the more exclusive areas of town. Tall trees redolent with leaves in the summer, grass green with automatic sprinklers, and landscaping that only money can produce. With the gentle twitter of birds in the background and the very distant noise of vehicles, Gemma found herself contemplating what she was getting into. Her shower had gotten her worked up again, and the near-constant level of horniness she’d been experiencing lately had peaked. As usual, she’d denied herself any release - theoretically she knew that masturbation would lower the angst, but she’d never felt the need until this last year, and her self-discipline had naturally resisted giving in to temptation; today had perhaps been the closest call yet. This being the first time she’d left the house in two weeks, she’d dressed up slightly more than was necessary for the task: a casual blouse that, with two buttons undone, showed off a hint more of newly endowed décolletage than was proper for babysitting, unless one were seducing the husband. Gemma smirked at the very thought; hunky but coarse John. She’d never noticed his rough attractiveness before, but with a wife like Marge, it now seemed obvious. Tight jeans that showcased her toned, long legs. The jeans, a bit tighter than she recalled with her more muscular physique, hugged her like a second skin. She’d felt a thrill when looking at herself in the mirror, but now felt a moment of doubt as to whether her outfit was entirely appropriate. “Fuck it,” she thought, a girl deserves to dress up on a whim, and I’m doing them a favor!

As she walked up the long driveway, regretting not having brought shades to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare, Gemma approached the well-appointed house, fronted by an immaculate garden. Only Marge’s sleek BMW SUV was parked in front. Reaching the door, Gemma caught her reflection in the window pane. “Sexy as hell,” she thought, hoping her sneakers made her look casual enough. Since her hormonal surge, she’d started noticing her image more, her eyes lingering on her bosom, and felt the urge to turn sideways to check out her bum — when the door suddenly opened.

Half-turned, she spun back and blushed as Marge opened the door and stepped out, giving her a quick hug.

“Gemma, thank you so much!” Marge exclaimed, holding her at arm’s length before stepping back to give her a slow once-over from top to bottom and back. “My, my, my, Gemma, I have to say, college must really be suiting you! When did you get all those curves?”

“Uh ... well ... I...” Gemma felt totally flustered. One moment she was about to gaze at those curves herself, as had often been the case recently, and now confronted with inquiry, an unaccustomed shyness set in. She wasn’t yet comfortable with her new body or sexy feelings, and so even to Marge, she was too embarrassed to just pass off the compliment. Yet she couldn’t deny the jolt of electricity that seemed to spark from Marge’s hands straight to her groin. “Sort yourself out, girl, you’re making a fool of yourself” she internally admonished.

Before she could answer properly, Marge laughed at her predicament with a husky laugh, redolent with undertones Gemma didn’t yet know how to recognize. “I’m second-guessing asking you to babysit: these kids won’t know where to look. I fear you’ll have to deal with dropped jaws and drooling mouths!” Still chuckling and with a sparkle in her eye, she finished, “But that will do them good to realize that there are girls in the world that aren’t elves with +1 swords in D&D.”

Walking backward into the spacious entrance hall, column-lined and holding up the balcony, Marge beckoned her in. “Come on, Gemma, it’s been years since Kyle has seen you. I’m going to love his reaction.”

“Marge, you’re embarrassing me! I ... this ... well ... uh,” Gemma trailed off, not knowing how to respond as she walked into the house after her.

“Sorry, Gem, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Your mother had shared ... well, let’s say your late development,” and she briefly cupped her rather developed breasts herself, a blonde-headed, blue-eyed representation of the perfect MILF, “and said she knew you’d always catch up with her. I’ve never had anything to complain about myself, but I admit a slight friendly jealousy of your mother, Jane’s magnificent set. John can barely take his eyes off them, and he’s normally the perfect gentleman.”

As Gemma’s blush deepened, Marge laughed and released her breasts, allowing them to bounce slightly before settling. “But to hear it and to see it are two different things. No doubt you’re having to beat men off with a stick now, as if you hadn’t before!”

“Marge, you know I don’t have time for that sort of thing, what with college and field trials ... and.”

“I’m just teasing you, Gem, I always love to see you blush!” Her perfect white teeth flashed a naughty smile in her well-tanned face. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to your charges. Rather than fending them off with a stick, I fear you’ll have to resort to magical quarterstaves and spell scrolls.”

Beyond the entrance hallway with its grand staircases embracing each wall up to the setback balcony, Gemma followed Marge into the open-plan lounge area. A wide-open space similar to her own house, with a well-appointed kitchen leading to a large U-shaped sofa area facing a 77” TV. The far end of the lounge, glass-fronted, faced onto a patio and large pool, from whence loud, boyish-pitched voices could be heard, engaged in some sort of animated discussion.

Gemma was familiar with the house, of course, but as they walked through, an open book, cover up, on the coffee table caught her eye. Marge, walking ahead but slightly facing backward to Gemma, noticed her gaze. She slowed down slightly and said, “Ah yes, Kyle. As you know, he’s always been painfully shy except with his two friends who are over here this week. Lovely boys but definitely in the classic nerd zone. Well, his teacher, Miss Collette, suggested he try to build his self-confidence over the summer, so she recommended that book.”

As Marge paused, she lifted the book up for Gemma’s curious eyes. “Fake it till you make it!” proclaimed the bold letters on the front. “Kyle’s quite taken with this,” Marge said, “but in his usual academic fashion. He’s taking it way too literally, trying to give orders to everyone, but unable to pull it off as anything other than an act.” She sighed with exasperation. “To think he’s the only son of John and I; I don’t think we could have been further from him in personality, even as kids.”

She then looked at Gemma with a certain pleading in her expression. “I don’t suppose you could, perhaps, pretend that it’s working?” Seeing Gemma’s hesitation, she quickly followed with, “Obviously, you are in charge, and what you say goes, but, well ... you know how Kyle is. I worry about his lack of self-confidence.”

As they started walking toward the voices outside, Marge looked back at Gemma with clear concern on her face. “His grades are off the chart, but, well, he isn’t great with people. You remember that, of course, but in the last few years, he’s just had these two friends and nothing else. When he’s with them, well, he’s great, but when we go somewhere with him, he just seems to retreat into himself.”

Gemma had always known Kyle was shy and had enjoyed bringing him out of his shell while babysitting in the past. It was an alien concept to her in a way. She had always been deeply confident in herself, knowing what she wanted and disregarding popularity or other trivial matters. She remembered the cheer squad, all wrapped up in their social concerns: who was seeing this boy or that. She had never involved herself in that; her athleticism had taken her to the top, despite the resentment of the in-crowd like Julie “the prom queen” and her followers. Now, with her recent bodily changes and raging hormones, it was the first time Gemma had ever felt uncomfortable with herself but at the same time deeply curious about the effect of her body on others. She had noticed herself watching in the mirror a lot more, appreciating her looks in a sexual way, and then Marge’s reaction just now, while embarrassing, was also pleasing and powerful in a way she was unused to. She had known she was physically powerful for a long time, a broad-shouldered, tall, and fit ebony Amazon. But this sexual feeling of power was a new thing - or at least new for Gemma, as she’d never paid attention to others’ reactions to her looks before.

Gemma was jolted out of her introspection as they exited the main house onto the back patio.

“Boys,” Marge said, eliciting no reaction. Three young teenagers were engrossed in conversation on the seats and table to the right of the pool, deeply absorbed in a tablet. “What spells can you take at level 6? Yeah, go on, level up and see,” one of them could be overheard saying.

“BOYS!” Marge shouted, then glanced over her shoulder at Gemma with an apologetic look. “This is Gem, or Gemma, she’s going to be checking in on you lot over the next week and making sure you behave yourselves.”

“But Mum, we don’t need babysitting anymore; we are 14, you know, and...” began the young boy nearest at the table. Blonde and blue-eyed like his mum, but short for his age and slightly chubby as he hadn’t hit his growth yet, Gemma recognized him as Kyle. He’d changed little in the last few years — less muscle tone, slightly taller, but very much the kid she remembered from babysitting.

Average in his looks but with a fetching smile. The two boys close to him were of similar small height, “the runts,” Gemma instantly dubbed them. The one to the left was of Asian descent with thick glasses and dark hair. He peered at Gemma myopically and then his jaw seemed to drop. Kyle trailed off mid-sentence as he turned to look at Gemma. The third boy was a Latino kid, average-looking like the rest but with a surprisingly large girth for one so young. The “fat kid” of the group, Gemma supposed, not that any of them were physical specimens of any note other than to note their lack of exercise or indeed lack of spending time outdoors as all of them were an unhealthy shade of pale. Wearing T-shirts and long colorful shorts, they all looked out of their element, sitting beside a pool when they should have been lounging.

“ ... and ... ah,” Kyle continued, his voice trailing off as he looked at Gemma.

“Pick up those jaws, boys,” Marge said with a chuckle, “you’re making fools of yourselves. Attractive ladies like Gem here are used to gentlemen, not you ruffians!” She ruffled Kyle’s hair affectionately as she spoke.

“Right, I’m off to the charity meeting. Behave yourselves and remember, what Gem says goes! Bye!” Marge waved to Gemma and left.

Gemma stood with her hands on her hips, feeling an odd surge of frisson — a mix of power and a hint of naughtiness. “Hello boys! I don’t think I’ve met everyone here. I’m Gemma, but you can call me Gem for short.” She walked forward and shook hands with the two boys she didn’t know. The skinny Asian boy with thick glasses introduced himself as Tianyu, but added, “Everyone calls me Tian,” and the heavier Latino boy as “Carlos ... everyone calls me Carlos.” Tian added with a laugh, “or dickhead.”

“Now, Tian,” Gemma said with a mock frown, “I clearly heard Mrs. Williams ask you to be gentlemen.”

“Sorry, Gem,” Tian replied, clapping Carlos on the shoulder. “You know I was only kidding.”

As the boys’ attention shifted back to their game, Gemma felt a sudden void where their focus had been. She couldn’t help but want to recapture their attention. The initial awe in their eyes had given her a rush of empowerment. She was aware of being an ebony Amazon, so out of their league as to be ridiculous, and yet the teenage boys couldn’t help but steal glances at her, driven by their raging hormones. This attention, and the power it entailed, was a new and intriguing experience for Gemma.

Gemma looked down and noticed an expensive camera, discarded on a beanbag beside the pool. It was clearly not cheap, equipped with a long lens and looking quite professional. “Who owns the camera?” she asked.

The boys stopped their discussion, and Kyle answered, “I do. It’s for my photography class, but I missed the last month of school sick and have probably failed it now.”

“Really? That seems a bit harsh. Surely they make allowances for that?” Gemma inquired.

“Well, maybe, but I wasn’t able to finish the portfolio or do the life classes, so Mum says I’ve probably failed despite having some of the best landscapes in the group from before.” Kyle’s tone indicated that photography was more than just a class for him.

While they were clearly engaged in their game, it was obvious to Gemma the added interest and passion Kyle showed as he talked about photography. She found this extra engagement captivating and wanted to keep their attention on her, not the game. She longed to feel again the power of the first introduction when they had all been entranced by her appearance.

“Is there no way to make up for it during the summer break?” she asked.

“No, it was life studies, taking pictures of people and learning how to do lighting on faces and direct poses. They had professional models in and everything. I just have this bunch here during the summer - and much as I love you guys, you’re not the most photogenic,” Kyle said, eliciting laughter and nods from the others.

Gemma, feeling a surge of naughtiness and the urge to explore this new side of herself since agreeing to help Marge, blurted out before fully thinking, “Well, you could photograph me. I’m not a model or anything, but I think I’d enjoy pretending, and I’ve learned quite a few poses from back in my cheerleading days.”

Once again, their jaws dropped, and Gemma felt a jolt of warmth in reaction, her heart rate increasing. Yet, Kyle didn’t look as convinced and didn’t share the look of disbelief in their luck like the other two. “Well, you’re not a professional model. I’m not sure it would work. And you’d have to try on different outfits, and I don’t think any of my mum’s would fit you; you’re a lot taller,” he said.

Something about the way the other two boys looked at Gemma made her feel powerful. This was her body they were admiring, and for the first time, she felt a need to explore the more sexual side of her physique, rather than just its utility in sports. She wasn’t accustomed to this, but the feelings she’d been experiencing recently, coupled with her denial of any gratification, made her feel both powerful and eager to push boundaries. It was a chance to take a risk, to see where this could go, while remaining completely in control. After all, she thought, she could break any of these runts in half with her little finger; it couldn’t be a safer environment to experiment with these new urges to show off her body.

“We could go up to my house and try on some of the clothes I have,” Gemma suggested. Kyle’s dismissal of her as not being a model had triggered her competitiveness — a trait that defined her in many ways, from her need to excel in school to her drive to win in sports. When her breasts had started growing significantly two years ago, her main concern had been whether they would cause discomfort during races. Over the last year, they had grown to a size that required substantial support in a sports top, but this development had been balanced by her increased muscle mass. She had transformed from a tall, athletic, but skinny girl to a lean, toned Amazon. It was a feeling she wanted to explore further, an almost irresistible urge. How far could she push it here, showing herself off even if it was just to a group of shorter, nerdy boys? That fact even seemed to heighten her desires. The fact that she was in complete control of the situation, physically capable of dominating them in any way, gave her the strange desire to play this out and see where it would lead. Perhaps for the first time in her life, she was contemplating relinquishing control for a bit, handing it over to these runts to see what would happen, safe in the knowledge that she could rein it back in whenever she wanted to.

“So you’ll let us pick what you should wear, and you’d pose for us as I direct”, asked Kyle, still with a look of reluctance on his face.

Determined to overcome Kyle’s doubt in her abilities, Gemma looked him in the eye and said confidently, “Yes. I don’t have a huge selection of clothes, and their not model material or anything, but I’ll wear what you want for the next hour or so, and we can see if you can make good pictures out of it.” For the first time, she imagined herself as a model, something she had previously regarded as trivial. Recently, she had been viewing her body in a new light, and now she wanted to experience its sheer sexuality reflected in others’ eyes, even if it was just these boys. They were safe, would no doubt feel privileged, and she felt a desire to tease them. This was all new to Gemma, but the feelings were overwhelming, and she wasn’t really paying too much attention to what she said.

Kyle stared at her, trying to muster confidence, while his friends gaped on in amazement at their luck. “You promise?” Kyle asked. Fake it to you make it, ran through Gemma’s mind as she looked back at him and said “Yes”.

“OK”, Kyle said picking up his camera. “But what about checking out level six”, asked Tian. “Ow”, he yelped as Carlos nudged him and attempted to mutter “Shut up you fool”, under his breath.

“OK, follow me then, boys!” Gemma declared, leading them out to the front of the house and up the road to her place. As they trailed behind, she heard them speaking quietly and urgently among themselves, clearly out of their depth but eager not to ruin this outrageous opportunity to ogle their new babysitter. Knowing their eyes were on her, Gemma put an extra swing into her step. Though unpracticed, there was no doubt about the effect her swaying, taut ass, atop her long legs had on them as she added a bit of a model strut to her stride. They fell silent; their breathing deepened. Gemma was so caught up in their attention that she nearly tripped over a stone. Nervous laughter erupted from everyone, as if we all realised it had broken a moment.

“Well, here we are. Let’s go up to my room, and you can pick out some outfits,” Gemma declared with what she hoped was a certain nonchalance. The pretense was that this was normal and not a big deal. In reality, her heart rate was going at a level that would have been impressive at the height of a race.

As Gemma led them upstairs to her bedroom, again trying to emphasize the swing of her hips, excitedly aware of where their gaze must be aiming, she suddenly realized that this would be the first time a male had been in her room other than her dad. So focused had she been on her athletics and education, she hadn’t had time for boyfriends, nor even felt the urge. It seemed she’d needed the kick of her hormones over the last year to suddenly realize what she’d disregarded before: the urge to be looked at, and particularly the urge to be looked at by a man.

Or at least a male, she thought, looking back over her shoulder at the short boys following. Smiling as she saw the runts focused on her ass, she realized this was a sense of power in her body she’d never realized, let alone explored. While she felt nervous for sure, it was a delicious nervousness. The fact that she was so far out of their league if she was trying to attract men, also added to the situation. She found herself wondering what others would think if they saw the incongruous situation of a gorgeous, athletic, and tall woman with ebony skin, leading a trail of short, less than average looking boys with unhealthy pale complexions to her boudoir. If anything, that element of taboo heightened her excitement.

As they entered the bedroom, Gemma could clearly see the indecision in their faces. They knew something was happening to them that they could never have hoped for but at the same time didn’t know how to deal with. She put her hands on her hips and cocked them jauntily at them in what she hoped was a mature look. “Well, boys?” she said as she gestured to her closed walk-in wardrobe, “Take your pick!”

Nervously, they approached the wardrobe, their faces bearing an almost frightened look as if this might all turn out to be a joke at their expense. Kyle gave Gemma a glance before opening the wardrobe, the uncertainty in his eyes evident despite his attempt to project some false confidence. “OK, remember your promise,” he stated.

“Of course,” Gemma pouted, maintaining her pose with a hand on her hip. There was nothing particularly racy in the wardrobe, so she felt pretty safe. She didn’t date, and her exercise clothes were kept outside the gym, so there wasn’t much in her wardrobe that would really show off her body. She planned to put on what they wanted, strike a few sexy poses, perhaps ‘accidentally’ brush up against them, and generally tease them while enjoying herself. She felt warmth in her body, clearly turned on by the situation. Gemma was eager to see how far she could push it, to feel the new power her body gave her over men, or in this case, boys. Boys in their teenage development ... it was almost cruel, and she had to struggle not to laugh at the situation.