A Tale of Two Nannies
Lubrican
A Tale of Two Nannies
by Robert Lubrican
Bookapy Edition
Copyright 2023 Robert Lubrican
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Rights to use cover art purchased at istock.com
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Foreword. It is important (to me) to put a disclaimer in here. It won't make sense until the end of the story, but it still needs to be here. I decided to put some of this story in the scene of the Navajo nation. There were lots of reasons for this, but listing them wouldn't make any difference. The issue is that I try to do thorough research, but researching Navajo names, subcultures, traditions and a lot more, turned out to be very difficult. It would take years of immersion in that culture to grasp the nuances of their ways and customs. In a way, that led to a major plot path in the story. What I feel is important to say is that I very likely got some of it wrong. I don't like doing that. I don't like using "creative license" when it isn't necessary. So please understand that the information provided about Navajo 'things' was only intended to help the story move along. I have great respect and admiration for the Dine' (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Navajo). They have suffered much at the hands of my theoretical ancestors. I apologize if I've skewed anything.
Bob
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Table of Contents
Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen
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Prologue
Hello. My name is ... well, it doesn't really matter what my name is. What matters is that I know (some of) what happened. I compiled the details of the story you have chosen to read. I talked to the people involved and they shared their secrets with me. They did much more than that, but you'll learn about that at the appropriate time. I originally did this to fulfill a requirement, but afterwards I thought it was good enough that I want to tell you the story. I hope you find it both instructive and entertaining. I'm going to break some literary rules. One of them is speaking directly to you, the reader, as I am doing now. It brings me a feeling of intimacy, though. I hope it doesn't distract you from the story. I'll try to do it only when necessary.
What I'm sharing with you is (was) originally a secret involving three people. Others eventually found out. If you could wander around at any county jail in America, without the 'benefit' of having been arrested for something, you could hear countless stories of good lives gone bad. Very few people intended for that to happen, but life rolled over them anyway, like some immense highway machine. You've seen them. Huge, heavy, seemingly slow and harmless, with some guy perched on a seat under a canopy, leaning back without a care in the world, except to steer this asphalt-crusher as it slowly flattens everything in its path. The driver always looks bored. He looks like he's thinking of something else, far, far away.
Life can be like that, as any inmate will tell you. For many, drugs led them down the path of ruin and into a life of crime, required to support their habit. For many others, though, on an otherwise normal day, something got out of control and the steam roller suddenly sped up, like a fighter jet, dropping a bomb that blew them out of their normal life and into a cell.
For Robert Chambers it wasn't anything quite that dramatic, but it changed his life forever anyway. For Robert Chambers, what led to his woes was that he was too boring for his wife, Melanie. She responded to a few of the many men who flirted with her and had several affairs. One of those developed into something more and she decided to divorce Bob and marry, ironically enough, another man named Robert. She told her husband of that decision on a Thursday, and then went on her first overt date the next night. Her total lack of concern about how he felt about things was the worst part of it. She was the steam roller, and she crushed him, seemingly without thought.
A week later she found out she was among the one or two percent of women for whom birth control pills didn't work, and that she was pregnant. She didn't know who the father was, except that it probably wasn't the Bob she was still married to. She hadn't lain with him more than twice since her last period. She didn't want to be pregnant - had never wanted children to ruin her figure - but she'd been raised Catholic, so abortion wasn't on the table.
It turned out Robert number two also didn't want children, and Melanie was suddenly without a boyfriend and future meal ticket.
Bob Chambers had meant his vows when he'd said them four years previously. In his mind, this situation fell within the borders of "sickness and health". He felt obliged to make the marriage work. So Melanie stayed married, but was no happier. She felt trapped. She bemoaned the fact that her figure was being ruined. That included swelling of her hands and face. She also experienced headaches, nausea, and other various aches and pains. It was no better for Bob, who now lived with a shrew. This shrew was no Katherine, however, such as Shakespeare had created, and Bob was no Petruchio. Both were miserable.
In the thirty-second week of her pregnancy she felt like a visit to the spa was more important than to complete another of the endless prenatal appointments with her doctor, so she canceled the doctor's appointment. She canceled the makeup appointment, too. When she finally waddled into her doctor's office, her blood pressure was 190 over 50. Four hours later it hadn't fallen.
Her doctor ordered a battery of tests and then diagnosed her with pre-eclampsia. He ordered complete bed rest and warned her that failure to observe this could have dire consequences. She was bored to death, in this case, literally. She did not stay in bed. She did not change her schedule. The first indication of trouble was that she stopped having to pee every half hour. Melanie thought of that as a relief, rather than a warning sign. She didn't think of kidney failure. When her liver failed, and she collapsed, they rushed her to the hospital.
They saved the baby.
But they couldn't save Melanie.
Bob had thought briefly about naming the baby Robert Junior, but abandoned the idea. The baby wasn't his. That was obvious, to him. So he'd picked Jeffrey - no middle name. Jeffrey was the name of a childhood friend who had red hair, like the baby.
Then the nightmare really began.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter One
Professor Robert Chambers hung the strap of his leather bag over his shoulder. Male pride made him call it his "briefcase" but it was really a man-purse. It held his books and papers, and left his hands free, which was important when he rode his bike.
Technically, he was supposed to be having office hours, even though classes hadn't officially started, but he taught four lower level English courses, and nobody ever sought his advice or counsel during office hours. The more pressing concern lay in a crib at home. Mrs. Abernathy would be very stiff and complaining if he was late. He thought of June Abernathy as the ghost of future Melanie. If she'd lived to sixty, she'd have turned into a June Abernathy.
He knew it would be a rough night. Jeffrey was the epitome of a newborn baby; helpless, demanding, always hungry or uncomfortable because his diaper was full of something or other. He needed to be held and cuddled and loved. He needed to be the center of attention, all the time. All the time was defined as 24 hours a day.
Part of Bob didn't mind. It was impossible to hold the newborn, whose blue eyes seemed to stare so meaningfully into his. He knew that was foolish, that the month-old baby could only focus on things within a foot. He knew that there were no cognizant thoughts going on in that little brain. But that stare was so clear, so trusting. In any case, Bob melted every time he held his son in his arms.
Well, most times, anyway. At eleven o'clock at night, and then two in the morning, with little Jeffrey screaming, hungry and wet at the same time, and then again at five. At those times Bob noticed things like the fact that his son had red hair, something that could not possibly have come from Bob's DNA.
Mrs. Abernathy was the wife of Dean Abernathy. She had appeared at Bob's door without having been called and said she'd tend the baby during the day until he could find a more permanent solution. She said it was her Christian duty to help him in his hour of need, but that she was not to be taken advantage of. Most of the faculty knew of his travails, including Melanie's catting around. At least three male members of the faculty knew of her bedroom activities intimately. Her death had come as a shock to everyone, Bob included. Death rarely beat upon the walls of the ivory palaces in academia. By the time Professor or Doctor this-or-that died, he or she had usually been retired for decades. June Abernathy was prickly in the extreme, but she was also a life preserver in rough seas. Still, he needed to find something better. He had enough problems without having to tiptoe around June Abernathy all the time.
To that end he had put signs on notice boards around campus, advertising for "extended babysitting services, primarily daytime, salary negotiable." Those had gone up two weeks previously, but to date, nobody had been curious enough to find out more. Classes would not actually begin for three more days, and he hoped potential babysitters had merely been too busy moving in to seek employment.
He was headed for his office door when it suddenly opened. A young woman entered and his mind instantly classified her in the Freshman or Sophomore range. He faced young women like this routinely, in his classes.
"What?" he barked. He hadn't intended to bark. It just came out that way. He chalked it up to the stress he'd been under. "I'm sorry," he said. "What can I do for you?"
"Professor Chambers?" asked a soft, timid voice.
"Yes."
She reached in her purse and pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from it. It was one of his flyers.
"This Professor Chambers?" Her voice was stronger.
"I am," he said, feeling a surge of irritation. "Did you have to tear it down? Couldn't you have simply made a note?"
The spectacles she was wearing made her eyes look over-large.
"They're everywhere," she said. "I thought taking one wouldn't make that much difference."
Everywhere? How many had he put up? He couldn't remember. Lots of things were hidden in the fog, lately.
"Is the job still open?" she asked.
His irritation vanished, to be replaced by hope. He really needed some help with the baby. He had not prepared, had left all that to Melanie. He was the breadwinner. She was the stay-at-home mom. She hated him. It was easy to hibernate in his office, preparing to teach. His pride had prevented him from asking Mrs. Abernathy questions, and the internet was filled with endless blogs that equivocated about everything. If he read "Every baby is different" one more time, he was sure he'd go insane.
"Yes!" he blurted, anxiously. It occurred to him that his verbal responses could use some moderation. "Come in, please. What would you like to know?"
She seemed uncertain. The ubiquitous back pack/book bag was hung over one shoulder. He began to take notice of her appearance. She looked young, but then they all looked young. As an adjunct professor, he was years away from tenure, and the more interesting classes and projects he might one day be able to spend his time teaching. For now, he was stuck with the lower level classes. He didn't complain, though. He worked for a major university in a full-time position, and got benefits. That was becoming more and more rare as colleges and universities moved to a contract system where you were paid a lump sum for each class taught. Some of his friends at other schools didn't even have an office. Some of them were only getting $3,000.00 per class. If you maxed out at five classes per semester, which was a killing workload, you ended up with a whopping thirty grand for the year.
"Sir?" Her voice brought him out of his woolgathering, and back to examining her. She was slim, but muscled. "Softball" popped into his mind. If she was a Freshman she was only a few months out of high school. She'd been well-fed, based on the degree to which her T shirt was pushed out, and the swell of her hips, encased in ragged and faded jeans.
"Sorry," he said. "I have a lot on my mind."
"So you need a babysitter," she said, moving things along.
"It would be a little more than just babysitting," he replied. He showed her to a chair, removing a stack of papers so she could sit, and went on. "My wife died during childbirth, and it's just the baby and me, now. My class load this semester makes it difficult to give the baby as much attention as he needs. Plus, frankly, I know almost nothing about being a parent."
Admitting that to this young woman didn't threaten his ego as much as it would have to the older and more stern Mrs. Abernathy. It was likely this girl didn't know a lot more than he did.
"I have four younger siblings," she said, her voice strengthening. "My folks farm, so I practically raised them. I'm sure I could help."
His ego tried to shrink away, but he silently told it to behave.
"I could really use the help," he sighed.
She looked at the crumpled paper in her hand.
"It says primarily daytime. What does that mean, exactly?"
"Well, I teach, of course. It won't be all day, but I'll have to be away from home for stretches in both the morning and afternoon. I'm teaching one night class, but it only meets once a week."
"I'll have classes, too," she said, sounding disappointed. "I'm only taking ten hours. That's all we could afford. I'm the first in our family to go to college, and I didn't pay attention to how important scholarships would be."
"So you're not in a dorm?" asked Bob. Ten hours was considered part-time, and part-time students lived off campus.
"I'm rooming with some other kids," she said. The way she said it sounded evasive, like she didn't really want to talk about it.
"So you have to have a job," he said.
"Yes," she admitted.
"How much is your rent?" he asked. An idea had popped into his mind.
"Why do you need to know that?" she asked. More evasion.
"We are entering the salary negotiations," he said. "If you don't have a scholarship, your parents are footing the bill. Or you're getting student loans, which your parents have to co-sign on."
"Don't you want to know anything else about me?" she asked.
"If you helped raise your brothers and sisters, I assume at least one of them was a baby," he said.
"Well, yes," she admitted.
"And they all survived?"
"Of course they did!" At last she responded with some kind of emotion.
"Then that's good enough for me, as far as your resume goes. I'm not wealthy, though, so we need to be creative about your salary, if possible think outside the box, a little."
"I don't understand," she said.
"I have a big house, with an empty bedroom. If you lived there, you could save whatever you're paying for rent."
"Oh!" she said. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Her eyes focused on him. "Wait. You mean live with you?"
"You have to live somewhere," he said.
She was thoughtful for a while. He let her think.
"Actually, that might solve a really big problem," she said.
"That was the idea," he said, smiling.
"You don't understand," she said. "The only place I could find to rent was this house with four other kids."
"Okay," said Bob.
"They're all guys," she said.
"Ahh."
"My parents would freak if they knew," she said.
"I see," he said.
"Plus some of them have already hit on me."
"Not surprising," said Bob. He meant it as generic response. Guys hit on girls. That was just the way of evolution. Something on her face, though, made him realize she thought he had meant something more personal. "I won't hit on you," he added.
"My mom already wants to come visit," she said, ignoring his comment. "I think it would be way better if she visited your house than that dump with all those horndogs."
"Then again, they might not approve of you living alone, with an older man," said Bob.
"You're not older," she said, distractedly. "You're about the same age as my uncle, probably."
"I'm thirty-two," said Bob. He wondered why he'd told her that.
"Wow," she said. "That's fourteen whole years older than me. Maybe you are a geezer." She smiled to indicate she was joking, and then went on. "You're younger than my dad."
"Maybe I jumped the gun," said Bob. "We don't even know if your schedule will work with mine."
"Well, you said to think outside the box, and after what you said, I thought of this other girl I met when I got here. She's kind of in the same situation as me, in terms of needing a job. What if you had two babysitters living with you? Between the two of us, surely we could work out a schedule, then."
"I have no objection to that," said Bob. "I already have the room, and board for two girls shouldn't break the bank. Above that I could offer a little spending money."
"And help us with tutoring if we get stuck?" suggested the girl.
"That, too," said Bob. "Depending on which subject you get stuck on. I'm not a mathematician, for example."
"I think this could really work!" said the now excited girl. "I'll talk to Ronnie."
"Speaking of names ..." prompted Bob.
"Oh! I'm Aleksa Klitzky. But most people call me Alex." The way she said it sounded odd, like there was more to the story.
"Okay, then Alex. If you're going to live with me, I think we can relax convention. at least in private. You might as well call me Bob."
"Great! I'll go find Ronnie and get back with you."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Bob might be forgiven for failing to recognize how unconventional this solution to his problem was. The thought of two freshman students - girls - moving in with a faculty member would, to most in the academic community, be laughable at best, and scandalous at worst. The state of Bob's mental health, however, wasn't up to par. Not only was he struggling with the fact that his wife had suddenly died, he felt a lot of guilt about the fact that he didn't miss her all that much. His love for her had died when he found out she'd cheated on him with three other men. He suspected it was more, but that was all she'd admitted to.
Then there were the preparations for teaching. He was expected to create courses, in addition to teaching the standard ones. While Melanie's belly had grown, he'd created a course listed in the catalog as English 134 - Trends in Modern Writing. It offered three hours of credit that could go towards satisfying the general education humanities requirement, and was a study of trending best sellers, comparing and contrasting the writing styles, language usage, and departure from or adherence to standard English in the construction of the prose. He knew it was basically a way of getting easy credit by reading books many young adults would already read anyway, but his supervising professor had liked it. It would require, however, that he read all those best sellers, too.
He was also, truth be known, lonely. He and Melanie had been estranged for her entire pregnancy. Still, once she was in the ground, the house seemed empty. Little Jeffrey didn't take up much room and, during the short stretches in which he slept, the house was too quiet. It would be good to have other humans around, even if they were busy taking care of Jeffrey and he was busy with his work.
He was not quite prepared, though, for the sudden increase in the level of noise when his two new babysitters arrived and began moving things in. They were sharing the available room, which didn't upset them in the least. Both had expected to live with someone else when they went off to college. Their excited chattering didn't bother him. When Alex had called to say Ronnie would be quite happy to be a part time babysitter, he'd told her to move in on a Saturday. That way he'd be there and Mrs. Abernathy would not. He didn't want her to know about them. The quieter this arrangement was, the better. His mind was working that well, at least. He'd discharged her the previous day and thanked her profusely for her invaluable assistance.
"He's a good baby," she'd said, thawing for the first time in his memory. "He reminded me of one of my grandsons."
Then she was gone and he'd been up all night with a fussy baby. When the girls arrived and the tall one - Ronnie, no doubt - immediately took the baby from him, he felt relief surge through him.
"I'm Ronnie," she said. "This is strange. Isn't this strange? I mean we've never even met and now I work for you and I'm holding your baby. He's so cute!" She had then commenced to speak to Jeffrey, using the nonsensical baby-language everyone thinks infants can somehow understand. She told him how handsome he was, and how strong he was. He ended up sucking the tip of her finger, which she thought was terrific.
"She's a little excited," said Alex, in an aside.
It was half an hour later before he could go through a cursory interview of the girl, but by then watching her with Jeffrey tweaked his instincts into trusting her. Likewise, Ronnie liked the feel of the house, and decided to give this new opportunity a chance.
Bob offered to help, and he began moving boxes and loose items from a beat up, ancient looking Silverado, borrowed from one of Alex's ex-roommates, into the girls' room. The girls traded off holding Jeffrey, and the new sense of relief sank in deeper. Having two of them was a great idea. Now, maybe, he could get a decent night's sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Veronica Simmons, like Alex, was eighteen, a freshman, and also from a small rural community. Her father worked in a mill in Washington state and her mother was a waitress at the local diner. Ronnie was also the first in her family to attend college. She had one brother, a year younger, but had done some babysitting around town.
Unlike Alex, Ronnie had realized how important scholarships would be, and had graduated with a 3.7 GPA. The mill her father worked at had given her some money, and she got small scholarships from the Optimists club, the local FFA chapter, and a number of other sources. Basically, her first year was covered, in terms of books and tuition. It was living expenses she and her parents had to come up with.
She was also different from Alex in her physical appearance. Alex was 5'4", muscled from having to do farm work, and wore C cup bras that were uncomfortably tight. Ronnie was 5'11" and slim to the point of looking boyish. Her father had nicknamed her "Bean Pole" and the few bras she owned had A cups. She only wore a bra when she was afraid her over-large, permanently-erect nipples would telegraph through what she wanted to wear. She was ashamed of her tiny breasts, and those irritating nipples, too. She had let her strawberry blond hair grow clear to her ass to compensate. She loved her hair. On more than one occasion she had let it fall over her front and stood naked in front of the mirror in her room, imagining she was Lady Godiva.
Though Bob did not know this when they moved in, there was another difference between the girls. Ronnie was a virgin. Alex was not. Normally, of course, this would not have mattered. But this situation wasn't normal, and some of Alex's experiences would bring things to the table that would prove to be pivotal in this new four-way relationship.
The first way this manifested itself was when Jeffrey woke up crying that night and both girls got up to tend to him. When the crying continued, Bob got up, too, blearily following his paternal habit. When he got to the open doorway of Jeffrey's nursery, though, and saw both girls with the baby, he stopped.
Ronnie was wearing a T shirt that wasn't long enough to cover the panties that were her only other covering. Alex was dressed similarly. Ronnie was trying to get Jeffrey to take a bottle, but the little boy was having none of that. He seemed to want to cry instead.
"Why won't he take the bottle?" complained Veronica.
"I have a trick," said Alex. "My aunt and uncle taught it to me when I was babysitting for them."
Without further comment, she pulled her T shirt up and over her head, exposing her braless breasts. She took Jeffrey and pushed his little face against one full mound. Bob's jaw dropped as the crying stopped.
"Ohhh man," groaned Alex. "I'd forgotten how good that feels. Give me the bottle."
Ronnie handed it over and Alex pushed the nipple of the bottle between her skin and Jeffrey's face. Bob heard the sudden gurgles and wet noises he recognized as Jeffrey's somewhat sloppy eating habits.
"They want the real thing," said Alex, letting the baby fall away from her breast. "So if you let them suck the real thing, you can fool them into starting. Then you slip them the bottle and it all works out."
"But doesn't it feel weird?" asked Ronnie.
"It feels, um, let's just say good," said Alex.
"And you said your aunt and uncle taught you this?"
"Aunt Lucy was breast feeding, and she pumped her breasts for when they wanted to go out or had to go to a meeting or whatever. Cynthia was their daughter. She hated bottles. Aunt Lucy would feed Cynthia just before they left, and Uncle Dean always watched. It was his idea to try the switch-aroo thing. I think he just wanted to see my boobs again. Aunt Lucy let him pop my cherry for me, but that was just a one-time deal."
"Your aunt let your uncle have sex with you?" gasped Ronnie.
"Just the one time. I was all worried about losing my virginity and scared and she promised he'd be gentle and all that. She was right there while he did it."
"But that's incest!" squeaked Ronnie. "Isn't it?"
"I guess so," said Alex. "I wasn't thinking about that, though. I was thinking about prom and Jerry Tidwell, my boyfriend. He got me to promise I'd let him do it with me after prom and I was scared spitless about it."
"So how'd it turn out?" asked Ronnie.
"Some guys sneaked booze into the dance. He was hammered by the time it was over. I had to drive him home."
"So you never did it with him?"
"I broke up with him the next day. I was so pissed at him."
"I've never done it," said Ronnie, softly.
"You're not missing much," said Alex. "With Uncle Dean it wasn't so bad, but it wasn't great, either. I guess what I'm saying is it didn't make me want to find somebody besides Jerry to do it with."
Alex hadn't put her shirt back on, yet. She was still holding Jeffrey, who was happily guzzling milk from the bottle. Bob stood in the shadowed doorway and stared. He felt his groin react to the scantily-clad girls and, for the first time, realized that having them there might have unintended side effects.
"I've always hated my nipples," said Ronnie, conversationally.
"Why?"
"They're huge. They tingle all the time. They poke through my clothes. I just hate them."
"Has anybody ever sucked on them?" asked Alex.
"No way!" gasped Ronnie.
"Well, Jeffrey will want to, and when he does, you're going to start loving them."
"I don't think so," said Ronnie, doubtfully.
"I know one way to find out," said Alex. "He's almost finished, but Cynthia loved using me as her pacifier. Take your shirt off."
Bob backed up a step as Veronica removed her shirt. The comparison between her mere swells and Alex's full breasts was fascinating. Melanie's breasts had been the only ones Bob had ever gotten to know well. She was a few pounds overweight, and some of that extra weight had been in her breasts. They had sagged, as a result. Bob had thought of her as Rubenesque, and it hadn't put off the other men. They'd been more than happy to climb on her marshmallow body and fuck her.
Even from that distance, some fifteen or sixteen feet, Bob could see what Ronnie had been talking about. Her nipples were amazing, fully half an inch long and twice the diameter of a pencil.
"He's going to love those," said Alex, as she handed Jeffrey over. She took the bottle from him and he immediately began to fuss.
"What do I do?" asked Ronnie, as she cradled the baby in her arms.
"Just get his mouth next to it," said Alex. "Touch his lips with the nipple."
Ronnie moved her arms and let out a little, "Eeep!"
"Oh my gosh!" she gasped.
"Didn't I tell you?" said Alex, sounding smug.
"Oh my gosh!" squealed Ronnie. She leaned forward, as if muscles in her abdomen were contracting.
"Shhhh," cautioned Alex. "We don't need Professor Chambers coming in here to find out what's wrong."
Ronnie started pacing.
"Alex! How can you take this? If he keeps doing that, I'm going to ..."
"Cum?" Alex grinned. "The first few times I let Cynthia suck I thought I was going to pee. Aunt Lucy said it's different if you have milk. It feels different. At least that's what she said. She said what I was feeling was just horniness. It didn't happen every time, but if I let her suck long enough, I could have an orgasm. Especially if I rubbed while she did it."
"But that's nasty," groaned Ronnie.
"Give me a break," said Alex. "You might be a virgin, but I bet you've rubbed plenty of times."
"Damn, this feels good," moaned Ronnie, dodging the accusation that she masturbated.
"Want me to give you some privacy?" teased Alex.
"Take him back," gasped the taller girl. She bent further and said, "Oww!" as she pulled Jeffrey's mouth from her distended nipple, now even longer than it had been.
Alex calmly took the little boy and within seconds, he was sucking happily at one of her nipples, again.
"Works every time," said Alex. "I wish I'd known about it when my brothers and sisters were little." She rocked the baby. "We need a rocking chair in here," she said. "That way you can sit and rock until he falls asleep."
"How long would that take?" asked Ronnie. She had not put her own shirt back on, yet.
"I don't know. Sometimes Cynthia was back down in minutes. Sometimes it took ten or fifteen minutes."
"How could you take that for ten minutes?" asked Ronnie. One of her hands came up and her fingers idly massaged the nipple Jeffrey had sucked.
"I love it," said Alex. "It makes me feel sexy. I always cum harder when a baby's been sucking at my boobs. I wish I could produce real milk."
"Didn't your aunt say it was different if you had milk?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't care. I can't imagine feeling closer to another human being than being able to feed him while we cuddle."
"You could be a wet nurse," said Ronnie. "Like in old timey days."
"I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes," said Alex. "I'd love to be a wet nurse."
"Maybe you could," said Ronnie. "I mean they did it back then. So it has to be possible."
"I think the way they did it back then was that the wet nurse got pregnant and had her own baby. Then when she weaned her own, she fed somebody else's baby."
"Maybe," said Ronnie. She stretched and yawned. Her body movements had no effect whatsoever on the shape of her small breasts. "I'm going back to bed, if that's okay."
"Sure," said Alex. "He'll probably go to sleep soon."
"I'll take the next diaper change and bottle," said Ronnie.
"Deal," said Alex.
Bob hurried on his tiptoes back to his room. The floor creaked and he hoped neither girl heard it. Once back in bed, he lay there. His mind was full of images of Alex, sitting in the rocking chair he hadn't yet bought, rocking and humming ... while his son sucked fruitlessly at first one nipple, and then the other.
Bob's hand slid into his boxers to find a fully erect penis there. He pushed them down and imagined he was Jeffrey as he stroked. He felt a little guilty as he spurted.
But he slept better that night than he had in months.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Bob woke feeling refreshed, for once. He looked at the clock and sat up convulsively when he saw it was almost noon. He hurried out of bed and, foregoing a shower, got dressed.
He found Ronnie in the living room, playing with Jeffrey. She was playing patty cake, except she had to help Jeffrey move his little hands, as well as her own. She looked up as his presence registered. Her smile was wide.
"Morning," she said.
"I overslept," he blurted.
"No you didn't. You needed your sleep. My dad says you can't sleep if you don't need it. My mom says he's full of it, but I believe him."
"I should help with Jeffrey," said Bob.
"You will. But you have two babysitters. So I'm babysitting. It's fine."
"Where's Alex?" he asked.
"She's out running," said Ronnie. "Is something wrong?"
"What?"
"You're staring at me."
What Bob had been staring at was the memory of Ronnie last night, clad only in panties.
Bob jerked. "It's nothing. I'm just not used to there being somebody else in the house. Do you want breakfast?"
"We ate already," said Ronnie. "Go ahead. When you're finished, you can spend some quality time with your son while I take a shower."
"Okay," said Bob. He turned toward the kitchen.
He was finishing up a bowl of shredded wheat when Alex came in through the side door to the kitchen. That door led to the driveway, and the detached single car garage of Bob's seventy-year-old house. Her face was flushed. She was wearing a sports bra and running shorts. Her muscled legs seemed longer and the white of her shoes made her tanned legs look dark.
"Hey," she said.
Bob realized he was staring at her, too, and looked away.
"Good run?" he asked, unable to think of any other conversational gambit.
"Eh," she said, sounding listless. "I'm out of shape."
"I don't think so," he said. It just came out.
"I haven't run for weeks. I could feel it within the first mile," she said.
"I'm not a runner," said Bob.
"You're a thinker," said Alex, going to the refrigerator. "Do we have any orange juice?"
"There's a list on the counter," said Bob. "Add that."
Alex went to the counter and leaned forward to pen her addition to the list Bob had already started. He stared at the tight, shiny fabric that accented her round ass, rather than concealing it.
"Damn," he said. He hadn't meant to say it out loud.
Alex turned and looked over her shoulder.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said. "I was just thinking. Sometimes I talk to myself."
Ronnie came into the room with Jeffrey cradled in her arms.
"You're back," she observed. "I have dibs on the shower first. You need to cool down anyway." She extended Jeffrey towards Bob, but Alex reached for him.
"Hi there, handsome," she cooed. His hands scrabbled at the bulging sports bra.
"Not right now, stud," she said.
"I'll take him," said Bob.
Alex turned the baby over to his father. "Okay. I'm all stinky, anyway."
Both girls left and Bob looked down into his son's eyes.
"What do you think?" he asked Jeffrey.
The baby wiggled and cooed.
"I'm with you," said Bob. "They're going to be a little hard on us, sometimes, but I'm glad they're here, too."
Chapter Two
If Bob had thought having two babysitters would give him more sleep, he hadn't counted on his suddenly re-awakened libido. If he heard Jeffrey cry in the middle of the night, he gave whoever was tending him time to change his diaper and get ready to feed him, and then he tiptoed to the nursery to engage in his new hobby - voyeurism.
The girls never closed the door, and now both of them, as often as not, responded to Jeffrey's distress dressed only in panties. They let Jeffrey suckle a 'worthless' real nipple and then stuck a fake one in his mouth. He always attacked both types of nipple with the same energetic gusto.
Bob always got erect, but lust wasn't his only response. He was quite sure Melanie would never have breast fed. He didn't know why he felt that way. He just did. And the love each girl showed was beautiful, as she sat in the rocking chair he'd gone out and bought, letting Jeffrey suck on his human pacifiers for as long as he wanted, until he eventually drifted off to sleep and the nipple reluctantly slipped out of his mouth.
He didn't think it was odd that the girls would run around practically naked during the night. He was quite sure they didn't know he peeked at them. They'd have screamed at him if they knew. And they were always bright and cheery whenever he ran into them. As school started, and both he and they attended classes, they saw less of each other. Once a week he grabbed the grocery list off the counter and went to load it all up in his car after English 101, which was his last class of the day.
In the evenings, he saw more of them. They took turns, one taking care of Jeffrey while the other did homework. Bob made sure they had the time to develop good study habits. He'd seen too many promising students fall by the wayside because they didn't have the personal discipline to study.
Neither watched much television. Alex had a set of headphones she wore while she studied. Bob didn't understand how she could do that, but it seemed to work for her. Ronnie had better study habits to start with, and she was single-minded about getting her work done.
The third Saturday after the girls began living with him, Mavis and Gene Klitzky, Alex's parents, showed up without notice. Bob got the distinct impression that it was an intentional surprise inspection. He happened to answer the door when they knocked and, having no idea who they were, simply asked if he could help them.
"Yes," said the woman, in a voice Bob recognized. She sounded exactly like her daughter. "You can invite us in so we can visit our daughter."
It was only awkward for five minutes. Alex was obviously and genuinely happy to see them. Her father didn't say much. He was a weathered man with a lined face and the dark skin of a man who spends a lot of time in the sun. Alex took them on the grand tour and they met both Ronnie, who was introduced as "My roomie", and Jeffrey, whom Ronnie was holding. Alex showed them their room, and the nursery, and kitchen, and even the grocery list. Bob expected her to open the fridge and prove there was plenty of food to eat.
"So you're a nanny," said her mother.
"I guess. I don't really know what a nanny does."
"A nanny provides childcare within the family setting," said Mavis. "She's a babysitter who lives with the baby."
"Then I guess I'm a nanny," said Alex.
"How much are you getting paid?" Mavis was blunt.
"I get room and board and spending money," said Alex. "Mom, stop worrying about me. This is working perfectly for me. And Ronnie helps, so I have plenty of time to study."
"It just seems odd, two girls being nannies," said Mavis. Bob was mildly surprised. He was standing three feet away, but Mavis didn't seem to realize that. She proved him wrong when she turned and addressed him directly. "And what about your wife? Why does she need two nannies?"
"Mother!" wailed Alex.
"She died in child birth," said Bob, calmly.
"Oh! I'm so sorry," said Mavis. Her demeanor changed instantly from protective mother hen to awkward, embarrassed farm wife.
"Let's go to dinner, now," said Gene. "Everybody's invited."
Alex continued grumping at her mother until Bob surreptitiously squeezed her elbow and gave her a minuscule shake of his head. Bob asked the Klitzkys what kind of food they wanted to eat and Mavis, subdued by what she recognized as her abrupt manner, said anything was fine. Bob, Ronnie, and Jeffrey went in his car, and Alex rode with her parents, following him to Golden Corral. He chose that restaurant because of the variety it offered.
Things normalized during the meal. Mavis talked constantly, about anything except Bob's wife. It was as if she thought if she brought up enough unrelated subjects, everyone would forget her social gaffe from earlier. Gene gave short, terse answers to questions about how the farm was doing. Bob thought it was interesting that the only parent who said, "We really miss you, Alex," was her taciturn father. Alex asked about her siblings and laughed when Mavis described how there was an ongoing contest to see who would replace Alex as top dog.
Whether it was because Mavis felt bad about grilling Bob and prying into his private life, or because Gene was being truthful when he said there was work to be done on the farm, the Klitzkys left for home after supper, instead of staying the night. Finally, Bob got to see Mavis in full-blown maternal mode as she hugged her daughter and a tear rolled down her pudgy face.
"It's so different with you gone," Bob heard her say into Alex's hair. "And I worry about you."
"I had to grow up someday, Mamma," said Alex in return. "And don't worry. He's a nice man. He's not like you said men would be."
Bob looked away when he heard that. He was puzzled, because she was obviously talking about him, but what she'd said had no context for him to evaluate it in. It seemed like a strange thing for a girl to say to her mother. Then he felt guilty about eavesdropping and moved away so he couldn't hear anything further. He joined Ronnie, who was holding Jeffrey, and took the baby in his arms.
"Parents can be so embarrassing," she commented.
"They only want the best for you," Bob replied.
"I get that," she said. "But they're still embarrassing."
"Remember that when you visit your kids at college," said Bob, smiling.
Alex left her parents to get in their car, and began walking toward the people she now lived with. Ronnie took Jeffrey again and got in the back, where the car seat was. Alex sat shotgun without comment. It was quiet in the car when they started off.
"Sorry," she finally said.
"Nothing horrible happened," said Bob.
"You want to know what's crazy?" asked Alex.
"Sure," said Bob.
"That's the woman who told me to be proud I have a clitoris."
Bob swerved, but then steadied the wheel, as Ronnie leaned forward and said, "What?"
Alex looked out her window.
"When I got into middle school, some kids started calling me Clitty." There was a short pause. "Klitzky ... Clitty. Get it?"
"Kids can be cruel," said Bob.
"I wanted to change my name. I begged them to change our name. My mother said I should be proud I had a clitoris, should rejoice that I lived in times when men knew what to do with a clitoris. She actually said that!"
"Hmmm," said Bob. He was unprepared to participate in this conversation.
"Wow," said Ronnie from the back seat.
"I was thirteen and I got a lecture on how, for hundreds of years, men paid no attention to a woman's clit, and women got little, if any pleasure from sex."
"Well," said Bob, "When you think about it, I guess that's true."
"My mother has been humiliating me since I was a little girl," she sighed.
"That's not fair," said Bob. "All she was trying to do was give you the tools you needed to survive."
Alex looked at him.
"Really? Want to hear what she told me about men?"
"I do," said Ronnie, from the back seat. "My mother never told me anything about sex, or men."
Bob felt a little light-headed. He wasn't prepared for this conversation, either.
"She said men only want one thing, and that they don't care about the woman unless she's willing to give it to them."
"Everybody knows that," said Ronnie.
"She told me a man will do anything to get sex; lie, cheat, anything."
Bob felt like he should defend the male of the species, but he also felt like this was the wrong time to do it.
"I had a guy lie to me one time," said Ronnie. "He told me he had cancer and that I should sleep with him before he died. He said it was on his bucket list of things to do before he was dead."
"Obviously you didn't do it," said Alex.
"I was too stupid, back then. I thought he was lying because I believed nobody that young could even get cancer. I told my parents about it - just the cancer part - and they got all weepy and called his parents, you know, to offer their support. He wasn't sick at all. He got in major trouble for it."
"Not all men are like that," Bob hazarded.
"I know that now," said Alex. "But for a lot of years I was scared of guys." She looked at Bob again. "I learned better. I've met a lot of good men. You're one of them."
"Thanks," said Bob, feeling guilty. Good men didn't peek at young women when they thought they were in private.
"You could have blackmailed us for sex, but you didn't," said Alex.
This time Bob had to pull over and stop, to avoid driving erratically.
"Why would you say that?" he asked, staring wild-eyed at Alex.
"You could have told my parents how kinky I am ... we are," she said. "But all you do is watch. You didn't push yourself on us, or demand anything. You've been a perfect gentleman."
Ronnie's face appeared between them.
"Alex, I thought we weren't going to tell him we knew," she said.
"Things have changed," said Alex. She looked at her friend. "Sorry. When I get mad I'm a little impulsive, sometimes."
"I don't understand," said Bob, weakly.
"We know you watch us when we feed Jeffrey," said Alex. "Try to feed him," she amended. She frowned. "We know you watch us let him suck."
"How?" choked Bob.
"I saw movement in the doorway one night," said Ronnie. "I got scared and told Alex about it."
"And then there was the fact that the very next day after I told Ronnie I wished we had a rocking chair, you bought one. So I sneaked around and caught you sneaking around," said Alex.
"Why didn't you say anything?" asked Bob.
"Well, you weren't jerking off or anything. You were just watching. Why didn't you yell at us?"
Bob thought about that.
"It was just so beautiful," he sighed.
"I'm not beautiful," said Ronnie.
"Of course you are," said Bob. "In that setting, being so tender, so caring. It's beautiful," he insisted.
"And the fact that we're almost naked has nothing to do with it?" There seemed to be a smile in Alex's voice.
Bob looked away.
"I'm not so pure and gentlemanly as you think," he said.
"You could have used it to your advantage," Alex reminded him.
"Like I said, not all men are that way," he replied.
"Which is why we decided it wasn't hurting anything to let you keep looking," said Alex.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Having permission to do something is not necessarily the same thing as feeling comfortable doing it. That both girls were so accepting of what Bob thought of as his perversion, didn't mean Bob felt any better about being perverted. Alex had mentioned masturbation. He hadn't admitted that, after watching them, he beat his meat mercilessly. He'd spurted more in the three weeks they'd lived with him than he had in the last three years he'd lived with Melanie.
And, of course, it's not private peeking if the person(s) being observed know you're there.
So Bob didn't go peek for the next couple of nights.
It was Alex, of course, who confronted him about it. She did so after a run, as he was getting ready to leave for class.
"We need to talk about this," she said, walking in little circles in the kitchen, still panting.
"What?" he asked.
"We need to talk about why you've stopped invading our privacy."
"I was invading your privacy," he stated.
"Well, we need to talk about it."
"I can't right now. I have to go."
"Then tonight."
There wasn't much he could say, so he merely nodded and left.
He was distracted during the two classes he taught that day.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
What Ronnie called "the family conference" took place at eight in the evening. When Bob got home he was notified to be ready to talk at that time. He didn't ask questions. He had papers to grade, so he distracted himself by doing that. He was so distracted, in fact, that Alex had to come get him.
The girls were dressed alike, in sweat pants and over-large T shirts. Even as saggy as it was, the T shirt Ronnie was wearing telegraphed the fact that she was braless. Jeffrey was in the playpen they left in the living room, currently sleeping.
The girls also sat side-by-side on the couch, and had pulled Bob's recliner out of its usual position, facing them.
"This is beginning to look like an inquisition," he commented.
"We're just talking," said Alex.
"Okay."
Nobody talked. That was fine with Bob.
"You're not a girl," said Alex, into the silence.
"Agreed," he replied.
"So maybe you won't understand this. But first we have to ask some questions."
"Okay."
"Do you think we're pretty?" Alex's use of the word "pretty" seemed off, somehow. "Both of us, I mean. And you have to tell the truth."
From Bob's perspective, the question seemed to come from a typical teenage point of view. He sensed an undercurrent of self-doubt. Melanie had asked him often if this or that outfit made her look fat. He'd learned that she wasn't interested in the truth. Were these girls? Alex had demanded he be truthful. He felt the gulf in their chronological ages.
"Have you seen the movie, A Few Good Men?" he asked.
"What?" Alex looked confused.
"It starred Jack Nicholson, and he had a line that became iconic. It was: 'You can't handle the truth!'"
"I don't want to talk about movies," said Alex. "I want to talk about us."
"If I'm completely truthful, you may not like it," he warned.
"I've been called ugly before," she sneered. "With a nickname like Clitty, boys can be pretty cruel."
"I didn't say you were ugly at all," he said.
"Then are we pretty?"
"Look," he sighed. "What you really want me to do here is stroke your egos. You want me to say you're pretty, or hot, or whatever. But it goes way beyond that. It's not that simple."
"I don't understand," said Alex.
"You said you decided to let me keep peeking at you," said Bob. "Why? Why would two young women allow an older man to ogle them like that?"
"You weren't ogling," said Alex.
Bob looked at Ronnie, who had, thus far, said nothing.
"How did you feel when you found out I was spying on you?"
"It freaked me out," she admitted.
"And yet, you let Alex talk you into letting me get away with it?"
Alex started to speak, but Bob held up his hand to stop her. He looked at Ronnie.
"It wasn't like that," she finally said.
"Then what was it like?" Bob frowned. "I'm really trying to understand, here."
"That's what we're trying to do," Alex blurted.
"What was it like, Ronnie?" he asked, ignoring Alex.
"It's complicated," she said.
"Just tell me how you felt," he said.
"Well, at first, it was kind of creepy," she said. "Except guys have never been interested in me before. It was the first time a guy had wanted to spy on me."
"I doubt that seriously," said Bob. "But go on."
"Well, what we were doing was kind of kinky, too, you know? I mean I never thought I'd let a baby do that. Not somebody else's baby, anyway. So the whole situation was just strange and bizarre."
"Why did you decide to do ... that?" asked Bob.
'We're supposed to be talking about you being pervy, not us," complained Alex.
"We'll get to that," said Bob. "Just be patient."
She sat there.
"Why?" he repeated, looking at Ronnie.
"Well, the first time it was just because Alex made me." She frowned and, sensing Alex was going to object, raised her own hand to silence her friend. "She didn't make me. I guess you'd call it peer pressure. I couldn't believe I was doing it." She looked down. Bob could see her face suffuse with a pink tint. "But it felt good." She looked up and Bob could tell it was a major effort on her part to hold eye contact with him. "It felt really good. I liked it." She glanced at Alex. "And it was so cool to be that intimate with Jeffrey. I've never felt that close to anybody before. He's so helpless, and so trusting. Sometimes I wish I was his mother."
"Me, too," said Alex.
Bob looked at her. "Okay, you're obviously not going to be patient. Go ahead."
"Why did you stop watching us?" she asked, instantly.
"I felt guilty," he said.
"Why? We told you we didn't mind."
"Remember you said one reason you didn't mind was because I wasn't jerking off? I think that's how you put it."
"Yes," she said.
"Well I didn't jerk off while I watched you," he said.
"That's what we just said," groaned Alex.
It was Ronnie who got it first. Her eyes widened.
"I think he means he didn't jerk off then," she said.
"What is wrong with you people?" shouted Alex. Jeffrey's whole body jerked and he started crying. Both girls jumped up off the couch. Alex got to him first and apologized to him in baby talk as she picked him up.
Eventually the girls returned to the couch, this time with Jeffrey. His little hands scrabbled at Alex's breasts, and Ronnie took him.
"I think he means he jerked off later," she said, looking at Alex.
Now it was Alex's eyes that went wide as she finally comprehended.
"Really? Did you?" she asked, looking at Bob.
"Many times," sighed Bob. They'd asked for the truth - no, demanded it - and now he hoped it wouldn't destroy anything.
"So you do think we're pretty," she said.
"I think you already know that neither of you is a hag," he said. "Why is it so important that I think you're pretty?"
"You're the first man who ever saw me like that," she said.
"What about Uncle Brad?" he asked.
"It's Uncle Dean, and he doesn't count," she said.
"I believe you said he took your virginity. Why on Earth wouldn't that count?" asked Bob.
"Because he only did it to make Aunt Lucy happy," she said.
"Why do you believe that?" asked Bob.
"Aunt Lucy kept going on and on about how terrible her first time had been, and how no girl should have to suffer that way, and he told her to shut up and that he'd do it."
"Let me ask you this," said Bob. "When he took off his clothes, was he already erect?"
"Of course," said Alex. Bob was slightly amazed that she was willing to discuss this so calmly.
"And let me guess," he said. "When you went out with your boyfriend, he got erect, too."
"He was always stiff," she said. For the first time she showed signs of discomfort.
"Men aren't always stiff," said Bob. "They only get that way when they're turned on."
"Okay."
"So your uncle was turned on, or he wouldn't have had an erection."
"Oh," said Alex. She frowned. "I should have thought of that. It was all kind of tumultuous, at the time."
"It doesn't matter," said Bob. "To answer your question, I think both of you are hot as blazes. Is that clear enough?"
"Even me?" asked Ronnie, her voice squeaky.
"I'm jealous of Jeffrey on a constant basis," said Bob.
"No kidding?" Ronnie couldn't seem to wrap her mind around it. "But my boobs are so tiny!"
"Size has nothing to do with it," said Bob. "I like you, and when you like a woman, it's easy to find something sexy about her. At least that's how it is for me."
"You think I'm sexy?" gasped Ronnie, clearly having difficulty processing that.
"I didn't jerk off only after spying on Alex," he said.
Alex waved her hand in front of her face, fanning it gently.
"Wow," she said.
"You told me to tell the truth," Bob reminded her.
Alex blinked.
"So, when you said you felt guilty, was that because you were spying, or because you were thinking about us while you beat off?"
"Both, I suppose," said Bob. "Though the latter seems the more egregious of the two."
"It isn't egregious unless we say it's egregious," said Alex.
"Which brings me to my question," said Bob. "Why would two seemingly normal girls even want a pervert to spy on them?"
"We don't think of you as a pervert," said Alex. "At least I don't." She looked at Ronnie, who nodded, and said, "Me neither. I did at first, but not now."
"Why?" asked Bob.
"You're Jeffrey's daddy," said Alex, shrugging. "Of course you want to know what's going on while we take care of him."
"That doesn't give me the right to ogle you and ... the other."
"See? That's what I mean. The fact that you feel that way is why we don't mind," said Alex. "You didn't try to use it against us. You didn't try to jump our bones."
"But what if I want to," he groaned. He blinked. That hadn't come out quite like it had looked in his mind.
"According to my mother, all men want to," said Alex.
"All I know is I never thought I'd ever get to talk about any of this stuff," said Ronnie. "I never thought a man would think I was sexy. I never thought a little baby could make me feel so good. I just love all this, and I don't want it to stop."
It was suddenly silent again. It stayed that way until Ronnie looked down to see Jeffrey trying to suck at a bump on her T shirt.
"He's hungry," she said. "He's trying to suck."
"You can keep watching," said Alex. She looked at Ronnie. "Right?"
"Yes," said Ronnie, without pause.
"And you don't have to hide in the shadows. You can come in and sit down and watch," said Alex.
"There's only one chair," said Bob, whose mind was so rattled by her proclamation that it reverted to the mundane.
"Then bring another one in there," said Alex, sounding exasperated. "We like it, Bob!"
"What about ...?" He didn't finish.
"What about what?"
"I'll ... um ... respond," he caged.
"You mean you'll get a boner?"
"Yes," he sighed.
"That might be interesting," said Alex. "I've only seen one, and I didn't get much of a chance to examine it."
"You're joking," gasped Bob.
"You want to see a real, live boner?" Alex asked Ronnie.
"Maybe," said Ronnie, looking unsure.
"Want to see one now?" asked Alex.
"What?"
"Didn't you say he was hungry? Go get a bottle."
With that, Alex pulled her T shirt up and off her head. Then she reached for Jeffrey and let him latch onto one of her stiff nipples.
As he sucked, her head went back to rest on the couch.
"Man that feels good," she sighed.
Chapter Three
Bob's world had turned upside down when a sad-looking doctor informed him that his wife had expired, in spite of everything the medical establishment did to avoid that. On top of that sudden shock, he was now responsible (alone) for an infant. Meanwhile, his professional life had to go on. His world still hadn't "normalized" by the time he hired Alex and Ronnie to be his babysitters - defacto nannies, actually. Their seemingly casual acceptance of him as an admiring man continued to tumble his brain. Had he been able to stop everything and just rest and think, he might have made different decisions than he did. Reference was made to jail inmates at the beginning of this story, and their tales of woe as life "happened" to them in ways they hadn't intended. That analogy is still relevant to what transpired with Bob.
What that entailed was that he sat there and watched Alex let Jeffrey suck at her nipples. She exhibited no evidence of discomfort or embarrassment about it, other than the fact that her face got a little pinker than usual, and her breathing rate increased. Of course that could have resulted from the fact that her nipples were being sucked.
Bob's discomfort was because, within seconds, he had a full-blown erection in his pants. What he perceived as the girls' teasing, when there was talk of seeing his erection, didn't make him feel any better. He was a staid man, a settled man, a man whose life circulated around things academic. From his perspective, eighteen-year-old girls didn't just become enamored with him and start feeling casual about nudity in his presence.
Bob could have benefited from the results of a poll of young college women. He might have found out that, compared to rash, impulsive, unstable college boys, who quite likely knew very little about pleasing a young woman, a lot of those young women looked with favor on the faculty men they interacted with. Most didn't do anything about that but they found such men attractive. And the men, of course, didn't do anything about it, either. There was too much to lose if a scandal developed.
It's not fair to accuse the girls, in this case, of trying to cause a scandal. That wasn't their aim at all. In truth, all they were doing was exploring their sexuality under what they would have called "controlled conditions." Ronnie, especially, had no intent to become romantically involved with Bob. Alex's thoughts were less structured. In many ways she was a typical college co-ed, enjoying a freedom she had never known before this. Ronnie, to be honest, was succumbing to Alex's peer pressure, as she had responded to peer pressure before she came to college.
At the same time, this was like an avalanche of sorts. There were constantly moving parts, and the landscape was continually changing. Things would look very different tomorrow than they did today. And this would be true for all of the people who surrounded little Jeffrey.
It was a very slow-moving avalanche, though. Ronnie returned with a bottle, and Alex rather expertly got the nipple on the bottle into Jeffrey's mouth. He stopped fussing and happily sucked down warm formula.
"I really wish I could give him real milk," sighed Alex as she cradled the baby against her naked upper torso.
"This feels weird," said Ronnie. "Does this feel weird?"
"Only if we let it be weird," said Alex.
Ronnie looked at Bob.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I have no idea," said Bob.
"Is this weird for you?"
"I think that would be a reasonable supposition," he croaked.
"It is a little weird," said Alex, suddenly. "But not for the reasons I would have thought."
"What do you mean?" asked Ronnie.
"I like it," said Alex. "I mean it feels good. Naughty-good."
"Naughty-good?" Ronnie was just standing there.
"I'm sitting here with a man staring at my boobs. If you would have told me being naked in front of a man would feel good, I'd have said you were high. But it does! I mean it's Bob, so that matters, but still. I actually like being like this and seeing his eyes. It's naughty, but it's making me want to ..."
"To what?"
"You know."
"No, I don't, Alex," moaned Ronnie. "I don't know anything! This has never happened to me before!"
"It makes me want to rub!" blurted Alex. "We talked about this before!"
Ronnie's eyes widened and darted to look at Bob. His mouth was open and his eyes were blinking, but he didn't seem to respond to what Alex had just said.
"You should try it," said Alex. "Take off your shirt."
"What? No way, Alex! This is different."
"Oh come on. He's seen you before. It will feel delicious. I promise."
"This is different," insisted Ronnie.
"Why? Because you can see him, too? He's not going to be naked."
"You're not naked," said Ronnie. "You still have sweats on."
"If you take your shirt off, I'll take my sweats off," offered Alex. "I'm not wearing panties under them."
"This is crazy!" moaned Ronnie.
"Crazy fun," countered Alex.
"I have to go!" gasped Bob. He stood, and swayed as orthostatic hypotension caused his brain to be starved of oxygen for a few seconds. The front of his pants poked out obscenely, and both girls were presented with incontrovertible evidence of his arousal. He staggered, and then, as his blood pressure normalized, almost ran towards his bedroom. Once there, he stood, frozen, as his brain replayed recent events. His hands acted by habit as they undid his clothing. Habit wasn't up to either folding that clothing, or putting it in the hamper. He stood, naked, his mind still overloaded, until another impulse caused his hand to grip his rigid penis.
He didn't actually intend to jerk off to completion, while just standing in the middle of his bedroom, but that's what happened.
And he didn't know that this time it was he who had a secret audience.
Both girls, concerned by his staggering, had followed him to make sure he was okay.
This time it was they who stood in the darkened hallway and peeked.
Only Ronnie reacted verbally as his semen shot out in a long arc. She gasped.
But she covered her mouth as it happened, so Bob didn't know he'd been observed.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Bob slept all the way through that night. The noises Jeffrey made during the night didn't wake him. It was the first full night of sleep he'd gotten since Jeffrey was born.
He hadn't set his alarm before falling into bed, still naked, with his penis still oozing semen. The house was warm enough that he hadn't bothered with his covers, either. Alex was up early, as usual, and noticed the fact that he wasn't in the kitchen. When she investigated, she found him sprawled, naked, on his bed. He was obviously sleeping, but had another erection. He was lying on his back, one arm at his side, and the other thrown wide. His boner leaned drunkenly at a compound angle, partly toward his head, and partly to the left.
She stood, staring at his penis for maybe fifteen or twenty seconds, her eyes taking in details she'd never had time to notice before. Of particular interest was the blunted head, with the thick collar of skin covering all but a small circle of the tip. Uncle Dean had been circumcised, something she'd learned about after it was used on her to "make her life better," according to Aunt Lucy. Actually, it had made her life better, as far as Alex was concerned. Her cherry was gone. It had been fun, if a bit scary. It occurred to her that seeing this one wasn't scary at all. Her brain made quick connections and she rationalized that was thanks to Aunt Lucy's unconventional approach to things, too.
Instinctively she knew Bob would be embarrassed if he woke up naked, with her standing over him. She reached for the sheet, which had been pulled aside, and covered Bob's lower torso with it. Then she shook him by the shoulder. His eyes jerked open and he half sat up.
"What?" he gasped.
"I think you overslept," said Alex. "You're usually up by now."
He blinked, looked at the clock on the nightstand, and fell back on the pillow. His hands found his naked chest and he half sat up again, looking at his legs. He collapsed again when he saw they were covered.
"Thanks," he said, only semi-awake.
"Sure," she said. "I'm going for my run."
She left and Bob took stock. That he was naked was no surprise. He slept that way. Or had, until he'd started his nocturnal voyeurism activities. Memories of the previous evening flooded into his mind and he sat up again. Alex's behavior, when she woke him, seemed normal, except he didn't really have a yardstick to compare that to. She'd never been in his bedroom before. He noticed his rigid penis, then, and wondered if it had been prominent when she was there. He didn't think so. She would have said something. Wouldn't she? Again, he had no experience to draw on to decide whether her behavior was normal or not.
He got up and took two steps toward the shower before his foot landed on something wet and slippery. He looked down at the polished hardwood floor, and more memories rushed into his mind. He'd just stepped in his own cum. He saw a faint, whitish line that was partly dried and partly still wet. Had Alex seen that?
"Fuck," he said, softly. He was surprised at his own choice of language. He didn't normally use curse words.
He went the rest of the way to his bathroom walking on one side of the foot he'd stepped in his spooge with, got a washcloth, cleaned that foot, and then returned to wipe up the rest. Then he took a shower and got dressed.
There was nobody in the kitchen when he got there, but he was late, so he eschewed breakfast and hurried to work.
When he got home that afternoon, Ronnie was standing in the kitchen, topless, nursing Jeffrey as she waited for his bottle to come out of the microwave.
"Hey," she said, entirely unembarrassed.
"Hey," he replied, on autopilot.
"How was your day?"
On one level, things were mundane. On another, they were anything but. The disconnect in Bob's brain required that he respond, and usually a human would have responded in either one way or the other. Bob's brain led to a response that was a fusion, of sorts.
"Better, now," he said.
Even Ronnie, as inexperienced as she was, recognized the innuendo, and she blushed.
"Thanks," she said.
"Did you see The Lord of the Rings?" asked Bob.
The microwave beeped. "Yeah," said Ronnie, as she extracted the bottle. "We went to Franklin to see it. We had a movie theater in our town but it only showed old movies." She handed the bottle to Bob. "Can you test this?"
He shook a few drops onto his wrist and set it on the counter.
"A little hot," he said. "You remind me of Arwen."
Ronnie blinked. "No way."
"Way," he said. "You're tall, and slim. You look Elven to me." He smiled. "Except for the ears, of course."
"You mean my boobs," said Ronnie.
"They're beautiful, Ronnie," he said. "You're beautiful."
"I'm not used to hearing things like that," she said.
"You'll get used to it," he said. "I won't be the last man to notice."
"Alex is right," said Ronnie. "This does feel naughty-good." She cocked her head. "Does it feel naughty-good to you, too?"
"I don't think I'm supposed to feel the way I do about all this," he sighed. "It's not exactly ethical. If anybody saw us standing here like this, I'd get fired."
She picked up the bottle and shook some drops on the back of the wrist holding Jeffrey to her breast. She insinuated it between her and the baby and got him drinking. Then she looked at Bob.
"I guess we need to make sure nobody ever sees it, then."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Bob wasn't aware of it, but Ronnie repeated the conversation to her new best friend when Alex got home. What they'd seen, the night before, was just one more part of the slow avalanche that was changing the face of the world as they knew it. They didn't feel inclined to resist where Nature seemed to be carrying them. If anything, they were eager to learn more, experience more, explore more.
For Alex, when Uncle Dean had divested her of her virginity, things had happened so quickly and so tumultuously, that it was difficult for her to remember the details. What stood out in her mind was the pressure inside her vagina, his weight on top of her, a feeling of panic as she realized she couldn't move, and his grunts. Aunt Lucy had intended for her to have an orgasm, but that hadn't happened. Uncle Dean had been too excited to last long enough for a virgin to come to grips with it all, and then learn how to enjoy it. Alex wasn't upset about any of this. But she knew there was more. She'd never met another male she felt eager about finding that "more" with. To be honest, she didn't view Bob as the romantic part of "more" but he'd already expanded her sexuality and it had been ... naughty-good.
For Ronnie, Bob was the first man to notice her as a woman treat her like a woman. No girl can make it through adolescence without seeing how boys or men look at girls and women. For Ronnie, though, she'd never felt that a man actually thought she was attractive. Bob's off-hand comment about her reminding him of Arwen - Liv Tyler! - had sunk into her bones in a way that made her feel warm and happy. Ronnie had never thought much about if and when a man might interact with her on a sexual basis. The idea that something might happen with Bob was misty, unclear, but also non-threatening.
That evening, when it was time for Jeffrey to eat, Alex said, "My turn," and simply took off her shirt. Bob had just finished his home-work and stood, for the first time comfortably, as her ogled her.
"You know, I never intended for anything like this to happen when I hired you," he said.
"I know," she said.
"I'm glad it did, though," he said, tentatively.
"Me too. How would you feel if I tried to induce lactation so I could actually feed him with real milk?"
"That blows my mind," said Bob. "I can't believe you'd want to do that. Can you do that?"
"We've been reading up on it online," said Alex. "There's a medical condition called Galacta-something-"
"Galactorrhea!" came Ronnie's voice from the kitchen. She was getting Jeffrey's bottle ready.
"What she said," said Alex. "It's when there's spontaneous lactation, but it's caused by hormone levels being messed up."
Ronnie appeared in the doorway, holding Jeffrey's bottle. She delivered it and watched as Alex substituted it for her nipple. Once he was drinking, Alex went on.
"Right after birth, some hormones in the mother dip, and the level of prolactin increases. That prompts the brain to release oxytocin, which is the key hormone for the breasts to begin making milk."
"You didn't give birth," Bob pointed out.
"Yes, but according to what we read, even if a woman hasn't been pregnant, if you stimulate her nipples over a period of time, it will induce the body to make prolactin and the brain to produce oxytocin."
Bob thought back to his relationship with Melanie. He had loved sucking on her nipples. He was a self-confessed tit man. She'd never lactated, though.
"How much stimulation?" he asked, without thinking.
"That's what we don't know," said Alex. "It always says it's different for each woman."
"What kind of stimulation?" He couldn't resist asking.
"All kinds. Squeezing the nipples, rolling them. Sucking them. All kinds of things are listed. One place even suggested using a breast pump."
"Oh," said Bob. "And you really want to try that?"
"Part of me does," said Alex. "I mean I know it's silly, but I really wish when Jeffrey sucked on me, he got real milk."
"It's your maternal instinct," suggested Bob.
"Whatever. But if I tried would that be okay with you?"
"Wow," said Bob. "It seems so foreign, but at the same time, so natural."
"I want to try, too," said Ronnie. "But not for the same reasons Alex does. I've always hated my boobs. If I could feed Jeffrey with them, though, I think that would change that."
"Your breasts are fine," said Bob.
"I know," said Ronnie. "At least since I met you, I know. But it's hard to change how I think about them."
Bob felt like a door opened his mind, allowing him to step from one dimension into another. It was eerie, because it felt so plausible. Somehow he knew that, if he did step into that other dimension, his life would change forever. He wasn't that kind of person. He didn't take risks. He didn't just step into the unknown. But something tugged at him. He closed his eyes and, in his imagination, stepped forward.
"Take off your shirt, Ronnie," he said, softly. "I want to see both of you."
"What?" Alex's voice sounded very alert.
"I'm just being honest," he said. "I admit it. I like looking at the two of you. I want to see you."
Both girls stared at him for most of a minute. Then Alex spoke again.
"We saw you the other night. After you ran away. We were worried about you so we followed you. We saw what you did in the bedroom."
In this new dimension, the fact that the girls had seen what he did didn't matter. He felt both free and emboldened.
"I didn't run away. I just needed to be alone."
"To do that," said Alex.
"It seemed unlikely you'd have appreciated it if I'd have done it right here," said Bob.
"And it was because of us?"
He smiled at her somewhat obvious attempt to fish for a compliment.
"You get me going. I think that's been established."
"If we got naked together would you do it in front of us?" asked Alex.
Ronnie gasped, but didn't object. Still, Bob's radar flipped on.
"How would that make you feel, Ronnie?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"Naughty-good is okay with me," he said. "But I don't want to surpass your comfort level."
"What about you getting in trouble?" asked Ronnie.
He was surprised that she'd think about that when he clearly hadn't. He did so now.
"This would be a good example of a man throwing caution to the winds, because his libido demands it," said Bob.
"I've never met anybody who talks like you," said Ronnie. "I've never met anybody like you at all."
"The circumstances have created a situation that's unique," said Bob. He looked at Alex, who was still holding Jeffrey. He'd abandoned his bottle, but was happily just enjoying being cuddled. His hand played with her exposed breast, but he didn't try to suck. She looked back at him seemingly content to let whatever happen that was going to happen. "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't expose myself to two college freshmen. But under normal circumstances, they wouldn't expose themselves to me, either."
"This doesn't feel abnormal," said Alex. Her voice was slightly husky.
"Which is, perhaps, why I feel like I might be able to uh ... perform for you," he said.
Alex blinked. Then she sniffed. "Well, it will have to wait a bit. Jeffrey just filled his diaper."
"Well that doesn't enhance the mood," said Bob, grinning.
"You change him while we go get ready," said Alex.
Bob wondered what 'preparation' was needed. His request was simply for them to take their clothes off.
"Talk it over," said Bob. "I don't want either of you to do this if you have doubts, or it's scary."
Bob took the baby and Alex stood up. She was now only a foot away from him, topless, but she didn't flinch or cover her breasts. Her lips looked more full than Bob remembered them and his mind took him back to an article he'd read somewhere that said lips sometimes mimicked the parts of the body having erectile tissue, which responded when a person was aroused. It was, the article said, why kissing was such an important part of sex.
"We will," she said.
"Don't steamroll her," he admonished. "Let her make up her own mind."
"I will," she said. "He'll be ready for bed after you change him."
Bob carried him to the nursery and laid him down. Jeffrey's legs and arms waved like he was a castaway on a desert island and there was a helicopter flying over. Or like he was trying to warn someone of something. Now that Bob was out of sight of the two sirens, he thought hard. This was insane. Nobody in his right mind would start down this path and risk everything. And for what? The path likely led nowhere. It wasn't likely that, if he did this, it would improve anybody's life. There was zero chance of any serious relationship developing. They were teenagers. He wasn't quite old enough to be their father, but there was a significant age gap between them. They were just having fun. But if he did this … what was he doing?
He bent over and deposited Jeffrey in his crib. He covered him with a light blanket and Jeffrey frowned. He was already capable of recognizing situations in which he was going to be left alone, and he didn't like being left alone. The girls spoiled him.
Bob sang a soft nonsense lullaby that he made up on the spot, just making noise. That seemed to placate the baby, who eventually closed his eyes.
Bob turned to leave, and was confronted with two completely naked college freshman girls.
* * * * * * * * * * * *