Chapter 1

"G'night, Mom. The Millers will be out pretty late so don't wait up for me? I want to sleep in tomorrow morning. Tell Dad that, ok? If you don't, he'll wake me up early for sure."

Beth Newman had a spring in her step as she headed out her back door and across the grassy strip that separated her house from her neighbor's.

Babysitting sucks, but at least I am getting out of the house for a while, Beth concluded as she made her way to the Miller's backdoor.

With the possible exception of seventh grade, the worst time in the life of anyone who has attended a university surely must be the summer after the first year. After nine months of the glorious independence of collegiate life, the freshman returns home to live ignominiously with, horror of horrors, the parents! The parents, of course, expect the child to acting like the same person who left in the previous fall. In those short nine months, however, the child instead has been transformed into someone very different, someone who has become accustomed to being surrounded by friends and excitement 24 hours a day, and someone who answers only to self.

Such was the case with Beth, lovely, fresh-faced nineteen-year-old daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Albert Newman, sister of younger sibling Al Jr., and now a person utterly bored. Since the end of the spring school term, she had been trapped at home with no dates, few friends, bad daytime television, possessive parents, and a nosey 16-year-old brother. All these things combined to cause Beth's hot summer days and nights to creep by at molasses speed.

Seizing her best emergency alternative, Beth condescended to baby-sit for the next-door neighbors, the Millers, Robert and Ann. Beth had not worked as a babysitter since about sixth grade, so, at first, the idea of offering childcare was patently offensive. After the initial experience, however, Beth warmed to the idea. Little Robbie, the Miller's only child, always went to sleep early and easily. Best of all, however, the Millers possessed the coolest and largest house in the entire neighborhood.

Bob Miller owned a very successful string of automobile dealerships that had been handed down to him by his grandfather and father, both now deceased. Bob had changed the business' name from Robert Miller Motor Company to the Miller Autoplex and had added a BMW franchise to the operation. Now he made an obscene amount of money. His trophy wife, Ann, wore her wealth well and was active in the highest levels of their small city's social structure. Heads turned toward her petite, yet voluptuous frame when she entered a room and she like that attention very much.

During her initial babysitting session, Beth discovered a new, rather secret pleasure that she called exploring, that is, snooping around the Miller house with all its nooks and finery. Mrs. Miller's closet was a treasure trove of delight. Beth particularly enjoyed surreptitiously trying on Ann Miller's fancy party dresses, ball gowns, and jewelry.

Mrs. Miller was about the same petite size as Beth, although Ann's breasts plainly were larger, as verified by the rather loose fit of the gown tops that Beth had tried on. Nonetheless, Beth loved playing dress up in front of the giant, three-sectioned mirror in Mrs. Miller's enormous walk-in closet and fantasizing about being rich and, perhaps, famous someday.

"Sweet dreams, Robbie," Beth whispered as she pulled a soft cotton blanket over the toddler's tiny body. Robbie had fallen asleep in the midst of Beth's rendition of The Cat in the Hat, his favorite book. Beth tugged her clingy tee shirt down to the top of her low-slung denim miniskirt and tiptoed out of Robbie's bedroom.

Across the hall, a door stood ajar. It opened into Mr. Miller's home office, a very masculine room paneled in dark wood. An open laptop computer sat in the middle of a heavy oak desk while a glassy-eyed elk head looked down from the far wall as if it was staring intently at the computer screen. It was the computer that caught Beth's eye.

Time to check out Mr. Miller's stuff. Perhaps he has some cool games on his laptop.

She moved behind the desk, took a seat in the large leather desk chair, and began systematically peeking into each desk drawer. In the bottom drawer, she discovered an elegantly carved cigar humidor. Largely as an afterthought, Beth lifted the lid. The pungent smell of marijuana wafted up out of the container. Beth instantly recognized the odor. She had experienced marijuana for the first time just a few months earlier at school and she determined right away that it was one of life's delightful little pleasures.

Well, I'll be damned. It's Mr. Miller's stash... and a big one at that. So the Millers toke up. Who would have thought it? The Millers seem so... normal.

A thrill of illicit excitement came over Beth. Prowling through the Miller's things was exhilarating enough, but to find something illegal in the process intensified the titillation ten-fold. Beth's fingers began to tremble slightly as new adrenaline made its way through her veins.

Beth hastily fished around among various small pipes and plastic bags of seeds and stems until she found a very large freezer bag of fresh grass in the bottom of the humidor. Stuffed in the top of the bag were several already rolled marijuana cigarettes in various sizes.

They won't miss a couple of these, reasoned Beth. She glanced furtively toward the door, then slipped two of the reefers out of the bag, and replaced everything carefully.

These will come in handy when I simply can't stand being at home any longer.

With the pot safely hidden in her pocket, Beth turned her attention to Bob Miller's computer. Skillfully, Beth "woke up" the computer and its display flashed to life. A quick scan of the hard-drive revealed that the only game present was a primitive version of solitaire that probably had come with the computer.

Bummer, thought Beth, so much for help passing the time. Mr. Miller must be an all business kind of guy... except for when he is doing a little weed, of course. He-he.

Beth took one last glance at the list of files and her eyes fell upon a folder labeled "Personal."

Hmmm.

Without hesitating, Beth clicked on the icon. Instantly, a password protection window popped up. This bit of extra security really piqued Beth's curiosity. Now she simply had to get into the file no matter what.

She thought for a moment and then typed "Robbie" in the password slot.

"Incorrect password. Access Denied" filled the screen.

Ok, what would Mr. Miller use as a password?

A light bulb seemed to come on in her head and she tried "Beamer." Immediately the file opened.

Guys are so predictable, she mused. I got you on the second try, Mr. Miller!

Inside were several folders, the first of which was labeled "photos." Beth clicked on the icon and nearly died of shock at what came into view on the screen.

A set of thumbnail photos appeared... mostly of Mrs. Miller... naked!

Holy shit! No wonder there was a password!

For the first time, Beth noted a small digital camera sitting beside the computer on Mr. Miller's desk. Her mind began to race.

How could anyone who is a regular person, a community leader, a normal neighbor-a little kid's mother, for god's sake-allow naked pictures to be taken of her? Only real sluts do that stuff, not respectable mothers.

She clicked on the first thumbnail and abruptly the entire screen filled with living color. Mrs. Miller posed provocatively on a bed. A diaphanous gown covered her hips and she held her hand delicately over one breast. Her other breast sagged a bit under its own weight and a large brown aureole graced its tip complete with a darker, very firm nipple that obviously had been used for nursing at some point. Mrs. Miller's mouth was erotically opened and the tip of her tongue lightly rubbed her upper teeth. Her lips were puffy, full, and colored bright red. Obviously, she was "into" the photo session.

Beth rubbed her eyes and looked around the room in a sort of reality check. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Jesus, Mrs. Miller, you are one naughty lady," said Beth aloud.

The size and shape of Ann Miller's ample breasts particularly struck Beth. They were almost disproportionate to her otherwise small frame. Faint tan-lines dissected each breast as well as her taut abdomen.

No wonder her dresses don't fit me, thought Beth. The woman is really built.

Beth clicked on a second photo, then another, and then another. Each featured Mrs. Miller posing with sultry facial expressions and vast expanses of exposed skin. Beth grew more amazed with each new divulgence.

Up to that moment, Beth Newman's life had been fairly conservative. She no longer was a virgin, thanks to her senior prom date, but no one would have described her as wild or promiscuous since then. Her first year of college had been relatively tame, a few big party experiences and an introduction to marijuana had been among the highlights. Since coming home for the summer, her sex life had gone from infrequent making out to nothing at all.

The Miller's pictures utterly shocked her. Moreover, she was surprised by her own reaction to viewing them. Beth had seen enough magazines, such as Playboy, to realize that normally she didn't get a thrill out of girlie photos. In fact, she always thought the naked women in those magazines, though beautiful, looked pretty goofy posing that way. Seeing someone real, a neighbor no less, posing in the nude elicited a much different response in Beth. To her surprise, she felt a small twinge of sexual energy begin to build inside her.