Other services available

It was my turn to drive the babysitter home. It was late; the streets were empty.

Bri — Brianna — had been our only sitter since she was thirteen and our Jasper was six months. She was seventeen now, and Jasper was half angel, half weapon of mass destruction. They got along famously; sometimes I wondered if she was the third parent in his view of the world.

Bri interrupted the quiet. “I do more than just babysitting,” she said.

“I know you’ve minded our house a couple of times,” I said, otherwise puzzled. “Is that what you mean?”

“No. I’ve discovered that there are three things I really like.”

I just waited.

Bri continued, “Money of my own, and sex, and adultery.”

How I kept the car in the lane is anyone’s guess. I just started stammering some sort of response, with nothing but confusion behind it. What finally came out was, “Adultery?”

“Yes. That means my customer…” I winced at the undisguised commercial reference. “…Is healthy, and experienced, and can’t afford to gossip or brag.”

“So… so, you’re… um…”

“Selling sex. At least for the summer. I’ll reconsider in September.”

Bri’s very matter-of-fact attitude was apparent in her calm voice. No hint of embarrassment or shame.

I drove on in silence for a moment, coping with this sudden and profound change. Bri is quite a beautiful girl, and I confess that I’ve discreetly admired her body: long, perfect legs revealed by tiny cutoff shorts, breasts barely hiding beneath a tank top, lips that seemed designed for kissing. Or not exactly kissing.

I was shocked to realize that I was actually considering her… availability. Me with a beautiful young girl. I had never imagined it, but… really?

“What… I mean… uh…” I didn’t know how to say it.

Bri filled in the blanks. “Fifty bucks for my hands, a hundred for my mouth. And so on. Or just tell me what you want, and I’ll give you a quote.”

My god, I thought, how can she be so cool about it, so detached? Was it some generational shift that had escaped my notice?

I pulled up in front of Bri’s house. The porch light was on, the rest of the house in darkness. She didn’t open her door. I was frozen between morals and desires. I’ve never so much as run a stop sign…

When I broke down and told her what I wanted from her, she was unfazed. She told me the cost in dollars; figuring the cost to my self-respect and my marriage would be up to me.

I arranged to pick her up at noon. I’d take the afternoon off, while Jasper was at daycare, and we would have the house to ourselves.

When all was settled, Bri got out of the car. Before she closed the door, she stuck her head back in.

She said, “I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mrs. Westbrook.”

— Frenulum