It was a Friday night and I was already exhausted before we even left the house. That is the reality of being a forty-three-year-old mother of two teenagers. The mental load never stops. I had spent the last hour trying to make myself look presentable for a date night I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go on.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom. I did the turn, checking myself from every angle. My brown hair flowed over my shoulders in ringlets. At 5’6” and 142 pounds, I wasn’t in bad shape. I went to yoga. I watched what I ate. But gravity is a bitch that eventually comes for us all. My ass was still there, but it wasn’t the high, tight bubble it had been in my twenties. It was softer now. My breasts, currently hoisted up by an expensive underwire push-up bra, looked good in my black wrap dress, but I knew the truth. Without the bra, they had that inevitable slope.

I smoothed my hands over my hips. Under the dress, I wasn’t wearing anything special. Just a pair of beige, high-cut cotton panties. Functional. Breathable. Boring. The kind of underwear you buy in a three-pack because you have a busy day and don’t want to think about anything riding up. I looked fine. I looked like a Mom.

“Diane? You ready?” Mark yelled from downstairs.

“Coming,” I shouted back.

I took one last look. I looked respectable. Safe.

When I got downstairs, the atmosphere in the living room shifted. My husband Mark was standing there, looking decent in a polo and jeans, but his eyes weren’t on me. They were glued to the entryway where our new babysitter, Kailey, was taking off her shoes.

We had hired Kailey based on a glowing recommendation from the Millers. She was a Dean’s List student, twenty-one years old, CPR certified, the whole package.

She was also absolutely stunning.

She stood up and smiled at us. She was dressed like a carefree, perfect young woman, which somehow made it worse. She had on a pair of high-waisted denim shorts, the kind that are popular now, distressed and just short enough to show off the miles of smooth, tanned legs she had. Her top was a simple white cropped tank top that stopped right at her ribs, showing a sliver of taut, flat stomach.

“Hi Mrs. Howell,” she beamed. Her face was heart-shaped, framed by dirty blonde hair that looked effortlessly messy in a way I could never replicate. She had big blue eyes and a mouth that naturally rested in a pout. She wore zero makeup, yet her skin glowed.

“Hi Kailey,” I said, forcing a smile. “Thanks for coming on short notice.”

I looked at Mark. His jaw was slightly slack. He caught me looking and quickly snapped his attention back to his keys, a little too loud with the jingling.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

Then my kids came in. Jake, my fourteen-year-old baby boy, and his slightly older sister Maddy. She was 15, almost 16. We didn’t plan to have them back to back. That was just the way things worked out. They were on the cusp of being too old for a sitter, but I just wasn’t ready to have them unsupervised yet. In my eyes, they were still so young and innocent.

“Hey Kailey!” Jake said. His voice cracked. He was awkward, lanky, and completely hopeless around girls. He stared at Kailey like she was a celebrity on the red carpet. He also couldn’t take his eyes off her midriff.

“Hey Jake,” Kailey said. She flashed him a smile that seemed way too bright.

Maddy came up and hugged her. “Oh my god, Kailey, your hair looks so good. How do you get that wave?”

They were giggling within seconds. Both kids looked at her with total awe. To them, she wasn’t an authority figure; she was this mythical, cool older sister figure who was everything they wanted to be or be with. I felt a pang of jealousy hit my stomach. Not just because Mark was ogling her, but because my kids looked at her with a brightness they hadn’t shown me in years. I was the nag, the rule-maker, the wallet. Kailey was the shiny new object.

“Pizza money is on the counter,” I said, trying to regain some authority. “No screens after midnight. We’ll be back around one.”

“Don’t worry Mrs. Howell,” Kailey said, giving me a salute. “We’re just going to watch movies. It’ll be totally boring.”

Mark practically tripped over the rug trying to open the door for us. As we walked to the car, I glanced back. Kailey was bending over to pick up her bag. The denim shorts rode up. I saw the smooth curve of her ass cheek. I saw Jake staring at it so hard I thought his eyes would pop out.

Date night was exactly what I expected. Dinner at the Italian place we always go to. Mark talked about work. I talked about the house repairs. We drank a bottle of wine. It was pleasant. It was stable. It was utterly devoid of spark. I found my mind drifting back to the house. I wondered what they were doing.

We got home a little after one. The house was dark. Kailey was sitting on the couch, fully dressed, reading a textbook on her iPad.

“They were angels,” she whispered. “Out like lights.”

She looked so innocent. So diligent. I felt bad for my earlier jealousy. We paid her, she drove off in her little Honda, and Mark headed straight for the stairs.

“I’m beat,” he said, loosening his belt. “You coming?”

“I’m going to have a glass of water and wind down,” I lied.

I waited until I heard the heavy thud of his footsteps stop upstairs. I walked into the living room and sat on the couch. It was still warm. I could smell her perfume. It was something sweet, vanilla and jasmine. It smelled like youth.

I pulled out my iPad. I told myself I just wanted to check that Jake hadn’t stayed up too late playing video games. I opened the Nanny Cam app. We had a camera in the living room, mostly to keep an eye on the dog when we were away, but it gave a perfect wide-angle view of the couch.

I scrolled back to 9:00 PM.

The footage was grainy and green-tinted from the night vision, but the picture was clear. The three of them were piled on the couch. It was adorable, really. A cuddle puddle. Kailey was in the middle of the large sectional. Maddy was curled up on her left, head on Kailey’s shoulder, legs thrown over Kailey’s lap. Jake was on her right, pressed right up against her side, his head resting back against the cushions.

They had a large fleece blanket pulled up over them, covering them from the chest down.

I watched. It was just a movie night. But there was something about the intimacy that made me pause. Kailey had her arms on both of them under the blanket. I couldn’t see her hands.

I leaned in closer to my screen.

The blanked moved. It was subtle. Just a ripple in the fabric.

Kailey’s shoulders shifted. A rhythmic, subtle motion.

I looked at Maddy. My daughter looked drugged with comfort. Her eyes were closed, a small smile on her face. Kailey was whispering something to her, her arm moving under the blanket near Maddy’s waist. Was she just rubbing her leg? Tickling her side?

Then I looked at Jake. He was staring at the ceiling. His face was flushed, even in the green-tinted footage. He looked ... blissed out. Kailey’s other arm was deep under the blanket on his side. I thought I saw the fabric tent up near his lap.

Stop it, I told myself. She’s scratching her leg. She’s just affectionate. She’s a cuddler.

But the rhythm. It was hypnotic. Maddy nuzzled deeper into Kailey’s neck. Jake let out a long breath, his head lolling to the side toward Kailey. It looked like they were being pleasured. But I couldn’t see anything. It was maddening. Just a blanket and three teenagers looking far too comfortable with each other.

“You are a pervert, Diane,” I whispered to myself. “Kids in this generation are more tactile.”

I watched until the movie ended. Kailey gently untangled herself. There was no awkwardness. Just sleepy smiles. She sent them to bed. It was wholesome. Innocent.

I felt guilty for my suspicions. I needed to see more, just to prove to myself that I was being crazy.

I scrolled forward to 11:30 PM. The kids had gone to bed.

The living room was empty on the screen, save for Kailey. She was lying on the couch. The same couch I was sitting on right now.

She put her book down. She looked around the room, checking the stairs. Then she stood up.

In the grainy darkness, she reached down and unbuttoned those denim shorts. She shimmied them down her legs, stepping out of them with a dancer’s grace.

My mouth went dry.

Underneath the shorts, she was wearing a tiny pair of sheer, lacy panties. They were high cut, showing off her hips. They were flimsy, scandalous things—nothing like the beige cotton I was currently wearing.

She peeled off her crop top and then her simple lace bra. Her breasts tumbled free. They were perfect. High, firm, and teardrop-shaped with nipples that looked hard in the cool air. I subconsciously touched my own stomach, feeling the soft roll of skin. She didn’t have that. Her stomach was flat, toned, the skin taut over her hipbones.

She didn’t just throw her clothes on the floor. That was the strange part. She took her crop top and bra and folded them perfectly. She smoothed the denim shorts and folded them. She placed them in a neat pile on the coffee table.

Then, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of those little lacy panties and slid them down. She stepped out of them, picked them up, and folded them into a tiny square, placing them on top of the stack.

She was completely naked in my living room.

She sat back down on the couch. She spread her legs wide.

I watched, mesmerized. She licked her fingers, wetting them. Then she slid her hand down between her legs.

“Oh my god,” I hissed.

She started to rub herself. I looked at her face on the screen. She wasn’t rushing. She was enjoying it. She looked like a goddess of fertility lounging on my beige sectional. Her hand moved in slow, deliberate circles over her clit.

I felt a dampness in my sensible underwear. Watching her, right where I sat, touching herself where my family sat ... it was violating. But it was so hot.

I couldn’t help it. I hitched up my dress and shimmied my hand between my thighs. I pushed past the boring cotton elastic of my panties and found my clit. It was hard, aching.

I mirrored her movements on the screen. She rubbed, I rubbed. I imagined her young fingers were my fingers. I imagined having that body. That freedom. I closed my eyes for a second, picturing her perfect tits, her smooth, shaved pussy. Mine was always neatly trimmed but never bare. I wondered what hers felt like.

On the screen, Kailey’s head rolled back. She was getting into it.

Then, movement in the corner of the frame.

I froze. My hand stopped on my clit. I held my breath.

Jake walked into the frame.

He was wearing his flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He was rubbing his eyes, hair messy. He was obviously coming down for a glass of water, zombie-walking to the kitchen.

He walked past the couch before he realized she was there.

He stopped dead.

I pulled my hand out of my pants, terrified. Scream, I thought. Run away, Jake. Cover your eyes.

Jake didn’t scream. He stood there, frozen, staring down at her.

Kailey didn’t jump. She didn’t scramble for the blanket. She didn’t reach for the neat pile of clothes on the table.

She stopped moving her hand, but she didn’t move it away from her crotch. She just rested her hand on her thigh, inches from her pussy.

She looked up at him. She smiled. A calm, welcoming smile.

Jake made a noise. I couldn’t hear it, but I saw his chest heave. He tried to look away, turning his head toward the kitchen, but his eyes dragged back to her naked body. He was fourteen. He had probably only seen naked women on a screen or in magazines. Now one was sprawled on his mother’s couch, totally nude.

“Hey buddy,” I heard her say. I could read the casualness in her posture. “Thirsty?”

Jake nodded dumbly. He couldn’t speak. He was staring at her tits.

“Come on. I’ll get it,” she said.

She stood up.

My god. She stood up, fully naked, in front of my son. She walked right past him to the kitchen. She let him look. She wanted him to look. I saw Jake’s eyes trace the line of her spine down to her ass. I saw the front of his pajama pants tenting out.

I should have been horrified. That was my innocent boy. She was corrupting him. She was normalizing this.

But I wasn’t horrified. I was mesmerized.

She came back into the frame a moment later, handing Jake the water. His hand was shaking so bad he was spilling a little. Kailey walked him to the stairs.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She leaned in close to him. She whispered something that made him turn beet red. Then, she reached out and patted him on the ass. A firm, playful smack.

“Let’s get you back to bed, buddy,” she said.

He stumbled up the stairs, looking back twice.

Kailey watched him go. She waited until he was gone.

She didn’t get dressed. She walked back to the couch and sat down. She checked her phone for a second, bored.

Then she spread her legs again.

She didn’t hesitate this time. She put two fingers in her mouth, wetting them thoroughly, and went straight to her clit. She started rubbing fast. She wasn’t ashamed. She didn’t care that he had just seen her. In fact, she looked more excited now.

I watched, mouth open. She pumped her fingers against her clit, her hips bucking off the couch cushions.

I couldn’t help myself. I needed to finish too.

“Yes,” she mouthed. “Fuck.”

I nodded as if she were talking to me. “Do it. Cum you little slut.” I never talked like that. But something about watching this girl masturbate triggered something dark inside me.

Her body shuddered. Her thighs clamped together and she arched her back, letting out a silent cry to the empty room.

I groaned and finished with her. “Oh fuck yesssss.” I hissed as my pussy clenched down, letting the orgasms ripple through me.

She slumped back, panting.

Then, she reached down. She wiped her fingers across her pussy, gathering the wetness there. She brought her hand to her face. She smelled her own juices.

Then she put her fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean.

The video ended.

I sat there in the dark. The iPad screen went black, reflecting my own flushed face back at me.

My hand sat uselessly in my lap, covered in my own fluids. My boring cotton panties were soaked.

I looked at the empty stairs where my son had gone up just an hour ago. I looked at the couch cushion where Kailey had just cum.