The Billion Dollar Sitter (2 page)

"Uh huh." The thought of that money... It would take five years at least to get what I needed for college at TLC. With his money, I'd get my education, and with some wise planning, I wouldn't have to worry about money ever again.

"Good. I trust you'll read over the document carefully. I do not wish to mislead."

"Uh huh." I was freezing again.
 

"I also trust you'll get over being star struck?"

"Uh huh."

"Good."

***

He already knew where I lived. I suppose he bought all my hiring information off Wendy as well. My mother gaped in shock at me as I stepped out of a limousine and walked into the house.

Her response was typical. Shock, which turned to anger, and finally morphing into acceptance. She was terrified of what her little girl was doing, hopping in cars with a strange man and then potentially agreeing to go live with said strange man. The strange man being a billionaire helped smooth things over, and when I brought up the million dollars, it became much less of a concern.

The contract showed up swiftly, just as he promised. It was a thick one, and I was shocked how quickly it was drawn up, but I guess money is magic like that. I sat at my desk and began to look it over. Blah blah, a million dollars in compensation, one year, everything he said in the car. Free healthcare. Free twenty-four/seven access to the wait and cook staff to prepare food however I pleased. I was expected to do my best to remain healthy, common sense pretty much.

The first odd thing I ran into was a prohibition of birth control. Strange, I never pegged Tyson Knight as a religious man, but maybe he was. His house, his rules, as it goes. I wasn't on any at the moment, anyway, so it wasn't that much of an issue. I guess I'd just deal with keeping my virginity for another year if I did find a boyfriend. Would I? Nope. I wasn't to bring outside visitors in without permission. It'd be awkward asking for clearance for some guy I just met.

The contract started to get thick with legalese. My reading comprehension wasn't the best, one of the many reasons I couldn't get a good scholarship. Party A, Party B, circumstances, blah blah. You know how with terms of use on the internet, you start accepting them without reading? I started doing it with the contract. I know he told me to read it thoroughly, but there can't possibly be anything that bad in there. Sign here, sign here, whoops, I wasn't supposed to sign there.

Tossing myself onto my bed, I grinned. It was a storybook type of situation – I was being swept up into luxury, at least for a year, and all my money problems would be solved. Me and my Mom were always in such dire straits, and I often had to contribute my babysitting money to the rent fund. I wondered if I could argue for a stipend for my mother during the year?

Not to mention, the contract would put me in constant proximity to a hot guy like Tyson Knight. Even if he did reduce me to a gibbering idiot just by being near him.

No boyfriends for a year. Could there be anything between me and Tyson Knight? I mean, I was his innocent, virgin babysitter. Of course, I'd been a lot of guy's sweet innocent virgin babysitters. But they were faithful to their wives, and even if they weren't, thinking of some of them, I was kind of glad that old porno plot didn't come true.

Tyson Knight? He's single. Recently widowed, yes, but the other part of why I liked caring for kids was being able to be there for them, heal them. Maybe I wanted to be there for Tyson, help him through tough times with my support, my kind words – and my body.

My hands roaming that big strong frame, running over that coarse and brash beard, enjoying its texture as I tickled him. His heavy hands wrapping around me, squeezing me tightly, massaging my back.

I glanced over to the door, and made sure I had it closed. My lithe hands hiked up my dress, and went to my cotton panties, tracing a single finger over them.

Yeah, a sexy man like him, pressing hard into me. I could imagine shuddering from his touch. He'd caress my abdomen, enjoy my breasts, take them entirely into his hands, the warmth making my nipples perk right up. He'd lean down, lick them, suck on them, give all the pleasures he could and receive everything they could in return.

Then he'd roam up my chest, and brush that beard against my face. He'd become the first man to ever kiss me. Force that silver tongue into my mouth, the sparks flying, his heavy body against mine, his fingers pushing into my pussy. Slowly, but surely he'd make me sweat with passion, moan his name. "Tyson, oh."

He'd grin and reward me with a thicker plunge, delicately going against my hymen.

"It's yours, Tyson. My innocence is yours," I murmured lightly, so consumed in my fantasy. Those panties would slide down my legs, leaving me naked before him, and he'd drink in my body, tell me how beautiful I am. Taking off his pants, showing me his marvelous cock, matching his size, his strength, his presence, just the right size for my purity.

He'd fish a condom out of his pants – wait, no, he wouldn't. If he's against me being on the pill, he's probably against condoms, too. That naked cock would lower between my legs, his thickness running over my nub, leaving me gasping for him. He'd ask if I was ready for him, so gentle, so kind, as he petted my hair.

"More than anything, Tyson. Please, make me yours."  Slowly, he'd push in, gentle with his nubile young virgin. I wouldn't feel a thing just because he was kind, gentle, and knew how to please me. Rhythmically, he'd begin to thrust into me, again and again, slower, but gradually increasing the pace. Faster, harder.

He'd soon be pounding into me as if I wasn't a virgin, but his lover, aching for his lust, his hand over my clit, massaging me as he pounded me. Higher. Harder. My gasps, my moans roaming freely under his will.

I'd be powerless, wanting only him. "Give me everything, Tyson, everything." I'd be screaming his name, as he ended his final thrusts into me. He'd be giving me his seed, his warmth, and everything else, not caring if he got me pregnant, me not caring if I got pregnant. Orgasm would claim me, my back arching, every muscle submitting to his will.

In reality, I withdrew my two fingers, soaked with my wetness. I breathed heavily on my old ratty bed, sweat covering me entirely. It was a silly fantasy. The hardest I've ever come from touching myself, granted, but it doesn't change the fact it's a silly fantasy. He's hiring you as a babysitter, not his baby maker.

At the sound of my mother’s footsteps, I pulled my panties up and pushed my dress down, taking up the covers.

"Everything okay in here, Marci?" My mother spoke, peeking her head through the door. “I heard you crying."

I feigned exhaustion. "Oh, nothing Mom. I'm just thinking about how much I'm going to miss you."

She grinned. "Get plenty of rest. You want to make the best first impression possible. Do you want me to wash your good dress?"

Pull off this cover and show my mother my soaked panties? Yeah, I want to do that. Besides, wearing the same thing twice is a terrible first impression anyway. "No, but thanks, Mom."

"If you're sure, sweetie. Love you."

"Love you, too."

She grinned as she closed the door.

Yeah, Tyson Knight was a fantasy. A fantasy I was going to keep revisiting, never giving up hope that it might come true.

***

A foot outside the limo, my beaten and worn sneaker clashed against the beautiful brick path circling around a fountain. A statue adorned it, leading to the impressive mansion before me. The chauffeur took my suitcase and carried it ahead, allowing me to walk slowly and take in the majesty. Five stories high, nearly as wide as it was tall, it was a modern castle, complete with sculptures mounted on the corners of the roof.

I'd be living here for a year? I know a million can't buy a place like this, but if I ever become a billionaire myself, I want one of these, too. I could definitely get used to this. Up the stairs to the front doors, the chauffeur opened one of them for me, and I walked into the great hall of the mansion, eyes never once shrinking from the overwhelming wonder. Chandeliers from the ceiling, beautiful carpet everywhere, paintings that looked like they belonged in some fancy French museum, and so much more. It was culture shock, not even ten miles from where I was born and lived my entire life.

"Ah, Marci. Glad you agreed to come." Tyson Knight appeared and walked out to present his hand again. I was getting better at not being overwhelmed as I received it and even helped this time in the shaking motion. "I presume you have my contract?"

"Oh, yeah." I turned to the chauffeur guy and stole my luggage back, putting it on the ground and unzipped it, spilling out my belongings as well as the contract. "It's a bit hefty."

"Yes, my lawyers are not the best at brevity. But you seem like a smart girl. You have read it and agree to the terms within, right?"

"Oh yes, of course, Mr. Knight," I lied, grin on my face. "Although I didn't expect for you to be such an ardent man of faith."

He raised an eyebrow. "If you say I am. Please, make yourself comfortable. You are not a mere servant, Marci. You're my children's caretaker. I mean no offense to Smith here, but it is a job I value incredibly highly." Smith didn't mind being regarded as secondary to me as Tyson removed a bill from his wallet and placed it in his hand. Bribery was one of Tyson's key skills – I guess it's easy when you essentially have infinite funds.

"Okay, Mr. Knight." I stood, hands behind my back.

He looked me over and down at my luggage that spilled out. "Is this what most of your wardrobe consists of?" The disdain was strong in his voice.

"Uh, t-shirt and jeans aren't acceptable?"

"No. I have an image to uphold. My staff will bring you clothes that may fit you for a temporary fix. Smith, take her luggage up to her room. Marci, follow me."

Up the stairs, one-by-one, I followed Tyson. Through his black pants, I got a nice look at his butt, and found it strangely hypnotic as it bounced one cheek to the other. Down the hall, Smith went a little further before leaving my belongings outside one door, Tyson and I stopping in front of another.

A finger over his lips, he shushed me, pushing in the door and urging me into the dark room, the only light being a jet black, sleek baby monitor, something that Tyson obviously didn't pick up on sale at K-Mart. "Come," he spoke in a whisper. "My son is sleeping."

He urged me over, and I looked at my job for the coming year. I started to melt immediately. I couldn't help it – some girls are just so weak at the sight of a baby, and I was one of those girls. "He's so beautiful. I can see already, when he grows up he's going to look as sexy as his father."

Tyson let out a little laugh. "Why thank you, Marci."

I blushed, realizing I let out my opinion. I didn't intend to do that, no matter what I fantasized about. "You're welcome, I guess?"

Despite our attempts at quiet talking, we were ineffective as Ty Jr's eyes opened up. He started to cry.

I wasted no time reaching down and picking him up, cradling him over my shoulder, petting his back. I've been doing this for six years now. Human beings are complex, but that complexity comes later on. Babies? They want to be touched, they want to be fed, and occasionally want to be changed. My hand went past his butt, so I determined it wasn't the last one yet. And the crying silenced as I continued to stroke his back.

"A natural, I see." Tyson commented, his arms crossed. "I've chosen well."

"Maybe you've raised him to be so well behaved." I kept petting Ty, turning to face my new boss.

"Tell me, Marci. You're not even twenty years old yet, why are you so interested in children?"

"I don't know. Why are we ever interested in anything? I think when I turned thirteen and neighbors started offering me money to watch their children, I realized I liked it. Babies and kids are simpler than teenagers and adults. It's almost refreshing to deal with them for a change. Toss in some maternal instinct, and you’ve got a love of taking care of kids. What else can I say?" I shrugged, my body adapting to Tyson's son's weight.

"Looking forward to having your own in the future?" he mused, an eyebrow raised in interest.

"Very much so. I need to find the right boy, first. No high school sweetheart for me. Just jerk after jerk."

He laughed softly. "You'll find one, Marci. You'll make a man very happy some day and become the finest mother I'll ever know."

"Thank you," I replied. That was certainly a strange compliment, but I didn't want to offend him. He was giving me a million dollars to do something I enjoyed doing.

Ty Jr. fell asleep again. Young children spend most of their days sleeping, the early process of growing so exhausting. I set him back down in his bed gently, covering him with a nicer blanket than I ever had.

"I've only seen Margaret do it that fast. All the nannies I've used in the meantime had no idea what they're doing." He placed a hand on my shoulder, looking over it and admiring his son. "Go, Marci. Settle yourself into your room. This is your home now, and I expect you to take full advantage of it and enjoy yourself."