Chapter 2

Technically, Nanny was just supposed to care for the children. That's what they had told the agency.

But Paula reasoned it wasn't breaking any rules to have her clean up a bit. After all, the children deserved a clean house. And of course they had to have clean clothes. As long as she was running the washer, did it hurt anyone to have her throw in a few loads of Paula's and Steve's clothes too?

The garden? Well, that was something Nanny could use to teach the children about nature. Shopping was an excellent opportunity for arithmetic lessons.

And there could be no question that Nanny would cook. They couldn't let the darlings starve, could they?

The previous nanny had been from England, poor dear, and therefore no use at all in the kitchen. Indeed, after a month or two she'd proved to be little use at all -- she bleached Paula's best clothes and insisted that was how they did things in the U.K.; she mistakenly weeded $2,000 worth of lilies ("Cor, mum, I thought sure them scrawny things should go."); she tipped the bag boy an extraordinary amount because American money confused her.

After Paula complained, Steve had no choice but to pay off the rest of her contract and bring in a substitute.

Nanny Mark II was a great improvement. "In my country, we are always working hardly," the 19-year-old said in her fetching accent. "Is no problem to do these little chores, Mrs. Steve."

Then her smoky eyes would gleam and she'd sweep her jet-black hair into a bun and glide off to vacuum the family room or rinse out Paula's hose. Nanny was such a help, Paula even made an effort to learn her name, but there were just too many consonants.

So, when Paula walked into the kitchen and saw her vibrator humming away in a mixing bowl full of batter, what she shrieked was "Nanny! What the hell are you doing with my dildo?"

"Dildo?" Nanny looked up. "Is called dildo? I make pancakes for babies, be back with Mr. Steve in hour. No -- uh, how you say, whisk? -- so I find this. She was not work, so I put in batteries."

"What? From where?"

"From pantry, where you keep. Is OK?"

Paula was confused: They had a pantry? But before she could respond, Nanny went on.

"Works good now, see?" She lifted the vibrator from the bowl. Blobs of batter flew off, speckling her face and Paula's. "Oops," she said.

Paula took it from her and clicked the switch to "Off."

"This isn't for stirring... Mmm," she said, as her tongue touched a glob of batter. "What did you put in this?"

Nanny smiled broadly. "You like, Mrs. Steve? Is mother's recipe. Cinnamon, nutmeg, honey, vanilla. Only you no have vanilla. I find little bottles by other sink. Use bourbon. Is good?"

In reply, Paula stretched out her tongue and licked the dildo. The sweet batter had built-in warmth. Much better tasting than anything else she'd ever licked off a rod.

Nanny giggled. Paula handed her the vibrator. The younger woman shyly flicked her tongue at it, then grinned. "Better than Mama's," she said. She took another lick and handed it back.

Paula started her tongue at the base and slid it all the way to the top, where she closed her lips around the very tip and sucked it dry.

Nanny's eyes were wide. She took the rod back, opened her mouth wide and placed it deep inside, holding onto the bottom with just her fingertips. She pulled it out slowly, through pursed lips.

Paula was impressed, and hot. When Nanny had pulled the dildo all the way out, Paula took it and dipped it back in the bowl. It came out covered in gooey sweetness.

That one she deep-throated, letting the brandy batter ooze down her throat.

They worked their way through the entire bowl. When they got near the bottom, they shared them, licking from either side at once, giggling as their lips brushed together.

Greedy fingers swept the final bits from the bowl. Nanny got the very last and put her finger to her lips. Paula pulled it away and into her own mouth, licking it clean.

They stood inches apart, panting, staring into each other's eyes.

Paula put on a frown. "No more?"

Nanny's eyes danced. "I see more!"

"Where?"

"There!" The younger woman leaned forward. Her tongue shot out and captured a fleck of batter from Paula's cheek.

Paula dimpled, took Nanny's head in her hands and applied her tongue to the other's nose.

Nanny turned her head sideways and kissed Paula's neck, sucking off the sweet drops.

Paula sighed as soft lips caressed her. Lapping at the batter along the young flesh, she brought their mouths together. Their arms wrapped around each other and their bodies pressed close as their tongues made contact.

As slowly as honey drips, they removed each other's clothes. Paula was proud of her own body, still in excellent shape from daily exercise. Nanny's body surprised her. The woman always wore such shapeless, baggy clothes, Paula had presumed she was hiding something. A bit of flab around the waist? A flat chest?

Quite the opposite. If Paula ever got jealous, Nanny's body might have done it. It was a touch stocky, but certainly not fat. The skin was pale but oh, so smooth and unblemished. Most of all, there were no problem areas -- no knobby knees, no cottage cheese thighs.

There was plenty of time to notice all that as they explored each other with tongue and touch. Finally, Paula needed more, and she guided Nanny to the floor. The tiles were cool and hard, but she was impatient.

Nanny squealed, though. She had landed on the vibrator. She pulled it out from under her and held it in front of her face as she turned it on. As it buzzed, Nanny watched it speculatively. "What you say this does?"

Paula smiled as she took Nanny's hands in hers and drew the humming dildo to her body. She closed her eyes as it touched her breast. When it reached her nipple her hands fell back, but there was no need to lead Nanny further, anyway.

Paula let the other woman do all the work. The vibrator came down her stomach and skated along her inner thighs. Paula spread her legs and it pressed closer to her slit, closer and closer.

At last it entered. Paula tensed, drawing up her knees, as it slid deep within her. It was so much better than when she did it herself. With Nanny in control, she could surrender to the sensations.

And they were sensations worth surrendering to, liquid waves of happy warmth that rolled through her entire body as Nanny drove the vibrator in and out, occasionally bringing it all the way out and directly stimulating her clit.

Somewhere along the line Nanny had worked herself on top of Paula, who used her fingers and tongue to give back a little of what she was getting.

But that didn't last more than a few minutes, for the first in a series of orgasms hit with an intensity that almost had Paula hitting her head on the tiles. She counted three distinct surges before everything blended into one overwhelming tidal wave of ecstasy.

When she came to her senses, Nanny was sitting with her back to the dishwasher, frantically frigging herself with the vibrator. Paula didn't wait around for the finish. She had to shower before Steve got back.

As she left, she saw the mess of dried batter and smeared secretions they'd left on the floor. That was all right, she thought. Nanny could clean it up.

Steve got the final $200 from the cash machine and met "Lola" at a McDonald's to retrieve his Rolex. He forced himself to look calm. If she knew how upset he really was, she'd probably soak him even more.

And he couldn't afford that. He'd been on a tightrope for three weeks. Paula watched their bank balance so carefully that she'd know in a second if he took out a wad of cash, so he had to restrict himself to his normal transactions. That meant squeezing out a few bucks to save the rest.

At the same time, his wife was asking questions about his missing watch. He had to make up a story about needing repairs -- warranty repairs, he'd quickly added, lest he have to come up with a fake credit card receipt from the jeweler's. He felt like a criminal sweating out a police investigation.

And it was all Pete's fault. The jerk had called him right after the hooker left. At least his friend -- ex-friend, Steve reminded himself -- seemed to swallow the story about the con falling apart before anything happened. Pete was such a gossip, the story would be all over town if he'd succumbed.

Which, of course, he had, Steve thought. He even shivered a little as he remembered the woman's lips on his cock. If Paula ever knew! What a hypocrite, he told himself, preaching fidelity and then letting some stranger give him a blowjob. Cheating on Paula with their anniversary just around the corner. If he had a hairshirt, he'd have worn it every second.

Instead of a hairshirt, he had Kurt. His boss had been riding him even more than usual, it seemed. Crappy assignments, late hours, niggling complaints. Steve swallowed it all as punishment, but that didn't stop him from indulging in occasional fantasies of bossicide.

Julie, the woman down the hall, she was in the daydreams too. Five years younger than Steve, almost no experience and a degree in massotherapy from a school one step above Hamburger U, but she was technically his equal. Only technically. Julie always got the good assignments. Julie got the out-of-town trips. Julie got to fill in for Kurt during vacations. It just wasn't fair.

Steve got back to the office five minutes late. His secretary's eyes narrowed as she saw him. He suspected her of keeping a secret diary of his comings and goings. Maybe she was a spy for Kurt. Or even for Julie.

He closed the door behind him and sagged against it. God, he was getting paranoid. Just the thought of Julie and Agnes teaming up was ridiculous, like Mutt and Jeff.

Agnes was definitely the mutt. Julie wasn't even the same species. Six feet tall, most of it legs, with short black hair that emphasized her long, alabaster neck and aristocratic cheekbones.

Not bad, if you went for that sort of thing. Or any sort, he was quick to remind himself, any sort at all except his own beloved, the mother of his children.

The door suddenly bumped open with a force that almost propelled him across the room. He came to a stumbling stop inches from his desk and turned around. Of course, he thought. Miss Derwent was in the doorway.

"Ms. Rivington to see you, sir." She paused. "Is there something wrong?"

He was breathing hard, he'd almost driven his knees into the desk, Agnes had barged in without knocking and Ms. Rivington -- Ms. Julie Rivington, that was -- was there to torment him.

"Nothing wrong," he said through clenched teeth.

Julie strode in almost immediately, long legs flashing through the deep slit of her gray skirt. She was all in gray except for a pink scarf tied loosely around her neck.

Pete, who'd dated her briefly after meeting when he visited Steve for lunch one day, said the monochromatic outfits were camouflage, meant to draw the eye to what was above and below instead of noticing the rather unremarkable body in between.

Being reminded of Pete made him wince. The day was just one joy after another, he thought.

Julie Rivington's visit was not improving his mood, either. She was nattering on about some nitpicky changes to nonessential documents pertaining to a trivial matter. He wanted to tell her to piss off, but there was a strong chance she'd be his boss some day, if Kurt didn't find an excuse to fire him first. So he sat and listened and murmured agreement while picturing her roasting in hell.

The fantasy was going along nicely when Julie stopped in mid-sentence, flapped her hand in front of her face and complained that it was getting a bit hot.

Steve blinked, trying to decide if she'd really said that or his daydream had jumped the tracks.

Apparently it was in reality. Julie tugged her scarf's knot apart and even undid a few buttons of her blouse.

It didn't seem all that warm to Steve. He wondered if his fantasies had taken on powers like a voodoo doll. If that was the case, he'd stay up nights thinking of bullets smashing Kurt's chest. The thought made him smile.

Julie broke into his reverie. "You like the view?"

Steve took a few seconds to realize she had evidently taken his smile as a response to what, he almost blurted out, was not a very impressive cleavage barely visible through the V of her opened blouse. In fact, had she opened it even more?

He forced out a denial. All he needed was Julie thinking he was hitting on him. "No, no," he said. "I was just... thinking of something else."

"Are you sure?" She ran a silver fingernail down the middle of her chest.

His brow furrowed. That wasn't like Julie. "Yes," he said, "I'm -- uh, I don't think --"

She had lifted one of her impossibly long legs and planted a gray suede pump on the edge of his desk, giving him a clear view all the way to her gray silk panties.

"Julie -- Ms. Rivington. I don't think that is appropriate. I --"

She opened more buttons on her blouse. He could see she wasn't wearing a bra.

The penny dropped.

"Pete put you up to this, didn't he?"

Julie did what he considered a brilliant acting job, managing to look utterly confused for a few seconds. Then she stroked a hand up her leg. "I don't know what you're talking about, Stevie. I'm just feeling... hot."

He shook his head in disgust. "Will that asshole never quit? What does he think I'm going to do?"

Steve leaped from his chair and came around the desk. "Is this what he thinks?"

He ripped Julie's blouse off her shoulders, exposing her breasts completely.

"And you!" Steve flipped up her skirt and tugged her panties down, popping her garters from her stockings. "What kind of woman would go along with his sick jokes? You're a slut, you should look like one!"

He had just grabbed her by the arm, ready to throw her out into the hall and let the whole office see her for what she was, when a blinding flash went off in his eyes.