“Bye, guys, and have a lovely evening. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Max is in bed by eight.”

Holly watched Mr and Mrs Carter walk down the driveway to their car. Well, to be honest, she watched Mr. Carter. Her teenage imagination took over and she wished she was the one getting into the car with him. She didn’t know much about cars, but it looked expensive. She imagined sitting in the soft leather of the passenger seat, letting her dress rise up, showing the lace stocking top as his strong fingers gripped her thigh.

“Holly, come on,” Max’s voice bellowed from the playroom. “It’s starting.”

She sighed, shaking illicit thoughts of Mr Carter from her mind as she went into the playroom to sit and watch yet another episode of Max’s favourite cartoon show.

The next couple of hours were hectic with TV shows, dinner, ice cream, teeth brushing and finally, a bedtime story. It was only as she wandered through the now quiet house that her thoughts returned to Mr Carter, to Jack.

She remembered the first time she’d met him. Mrs Carter was explaining Max’s routine to her when he walked in and kissed his wife while his hand dropped to stroke her ass. He hadn’t even looked embarrassed when Mrs Carter pointed out that Holly was in the room. He just turned, smiled, and said, “Hi, I’m Jack.” His eyes twinkled. He picked up one of the Rice Krispie buns that Max and Mrs Carter had been making and wandered off in search of Max.

Holly had blushed and squeezed her thighs together. He was hot. She tried to refocus on what Mrs Carter was telling her. She wanted them to like her. She needed this job. She was going to university next year and she wanted to have plenty of cash saved up by then.

In the ensuing few months, she’d barely spoken more than a few words to him. Every time they met, she felt awkward and tongue-tied. He’d just smile and carry on, no wonder thinking what was his wife doing hiring the seventeen-year-old village idiot to mind their son.

She closed the door on a very sleepy Max, whispering one final “night night” as she left his room. She had the evening to herself now. Mrs Carter had said they wouldn’t be home til midnight so she had almost four hours to kill.

She walked along the landing, being careful not to step on the squeaky floorboard. She paused at the top of the stairs. She could see a light had been left on in one of the rooms. She peeked in. It was the main bedroom and the light came from the en-suite bathroom. She’d never been in their bedroom before. She usually stayed downstairs apart when putting Max to bed.

She entered slowly. She sat on the edge of the bed. She could smell her perfume and his cologne. She imagined him getting ready, pulling on a fresh shirt and buttoning the cuffs. She lay back on the bed. She could see him leaning over her, a wild, animalistic look in his eyes as he began to ravish her.

She rolled onto her side, inhaling the smells impregnated into the duvet. Then she saw his shirt. It was lying on the floor beside the laundry basket as if it was flung there in a rush to get changed.

She slid off the bed and down onto her knees. Kneeling on the plush carpet, she reached out and picked it up. She brought it to her nose. She could smell him, his scent. She inhaled deeply and felt light-headed. Almost without thinking, she pulled it on over her tee-shirt. She stood and admired herself in the full-length mirror. The shirt was far too big for her and hung about her slender frame, hiding her shorts and looking more like a dress than a shirt.

She thought of walking into the kitchen the morning after a night with him, wearing just his shirt as he made her a cup of coffee. She’d let him take her over the breakfast table. She bit her lip as her fingers teased at her nipple through the layers of clothing. She’d let him take her anywhere, she decided.

She stood in their bathroom, looking at the demarcation line between his stuff and hers. She picked up the dark blue, almost black square bottle. She turned it around in her hand. Bleu de Chanel. She uncorked it and whimpered as she smelt the hints of amber, cedar, and citrus. She dabbed the tiniest amount behind each ear before carefully recorking it and leaving the room.

Once downstairs, she walked from room to room, admiring the photos of Jack. He looked so happy in their wedding photo. She did as well, Holly admitted though she hadn’t aged as well as Jack. She hadn’t lost the baby weight and looked like she was punching above her weight, Holly thought cattily.

She slumped on the sofa but couldn’t settle. She flicked through the almost endless stream of TV channels but she couldn't find anything worth watching. The feed on her phone seemed full of pointless and immature posts. She flung her phone down in frustration and leaned back.

She closed her eyes. She could smell him. She ran her fingers over his shirt. She could feel him. Her fingers slid down her front over his shirt and brushed the naked flesh of her inner thigh. She squirmed. She could see him leaning in, kissing her as his hand crept higher. She felt him slide his hand under the shirt and pop the button, fastening her shorts closed. She pressed her hips forward, making it easier for him to tug the zipper down. She could feel the damp patch in her panties when she slid her hand inside.

“You’re soaked already,” he would whisper.

Her only response would be to kiss him harder, more passionately. Her fingers circled her clit through the damp fabric as she imagined him unbuttoning the shirt. His fingers would trace the outline of her areola, each dimple sending a pulse to her core as his finger brushed over them. Her pale pink nipples would swell, achingly hard, and pointed for him. He’d bring his mouth down and suckle them as her fingers slid inside her panties.

She lay on the sofa, her hand inside her shorts, lost in her fantasy. “Oh Jack, fuck me,” she begged. “Take me.”

She never heard the front door open.

“I’ll nip upstairs and check Max is asleep. You see if Holly is ok.”

Mrs Carter kicked off her heels and crept up the stairs, not wanting to wake Max but unable to settle until she knew he was ok.

Jack headed to the lounge, pausing at the door as he listened.

“Oh, Jack. Fuck. That’s it. Harder.”

He pushed the door open wider and turned on the main light.

Holly’s eyes flew open. She saw Jack standing and watching her.

“Nice shirt.”

Holly quickly pulled her hand out of her shorts.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry. It’s not what it looks like.”

Jack laughed.

“It’s ok. Just calm down. But maybe lose the shirt before Karen comes down.”

Holly’s mind whirled. Karen? Oh fuck, yeah, Mrs Carter. She quickly unbuttoned the shirt while simultaneously trying to zip up her shorts and apologise profusely to Jack. Her mind whirled. Fuck, how much had he heard?

“I am so, so sorry.”

Jack held up his hands.

“OK! I get it. You’re sorry. Now stop talking and make sure you look presentable before Karen comes down.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Holly berated herself. How could she have been so stupid?

“Right, Holly. Was everything ok?”

Holly glanced up to see a beaming Mrs Carter standing in the doorway beside her husband.

“Um, yeah. Everything was fine.” Holly ran her fingers through her hair, trying to compose herself. “ We watched The Amazing Power Dragons again and he ate all his dinner and brushed his teeth. Bed on time and everything.”

Mrs Carter opened her purse and handed her some notes.

“Thank you so much. Jack will give you a life home, won’t you, Jack?”

“Oh no, Mrs Carter, honestly. I’m fine. It’s a nice night and I could do with a walk.”

“Nonsense, don’t be silly. It’s perfectly fine. Jack was driving tonight so hasn’t been drinking. He’ll get you home safe. Won’t you, dear.”

“Of course, darling.”

Jack smiled and looked at Holly.

“Are you ready?”

Holly couldn’t believe what was happening. How was she supposed to get in his car after what he’d just seen? And how was he taking it all so calmly? Holly just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Instead, she found herself sliding into the passenger seat of Jack’s car.

The leather seats were so soft and felt so luxurious against her bare legs.

“Put your seat belt on.”

Jack didn’t look at her as he carefully reversed out of the drive. It was only once they were driving along the deserted streets that he turned to look at her.

“So... what was all that about when I came in?”

Holly blushed all over again.

“I… I.. I guess I just got a bit carried away.” She looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry about the shirt.”

“That’s ok. It was going in the wash anyway.”

“I didn’t mean for you to overhear me.” The words came out in a rush, as if Holly hoped that the faster she said them, the quicker this humiliation would be over.

Jack pulled into a layby just beside the entrance to the park. He undid his seatbelt and turned to her.

“And why was that?”

His eyes twinkled and he had that trademark grin on his face.

Holly felt the blush rising once again.

“Was it because you didn’t want me to know you were thinking of me fucking you?” he continued.

Holly whimpered.

His fingers brushed her thigh.

“Show me what you were doing.”

“What? Here?”

He nodded. “There’s no one around.”

His fingers slid teasingly up her thigh towards the bottoms of her shorts.

“Go on." Then his tone changed. “Show me.”

Holly gazed into his eyes. Fuck, she thought. I could drown in them. His eyes were a piercing, icy blue.

Her fingers scrabbled, tugged and finally opened her shorts. She lifted her ass off the seat and pushed them down over her hips. Her panties were grey cotton with teal circles on them. She knew, even without looking that a darker patch was visible.

She watched him lower his gaze to her crotch.

Her finger traced the outline of the damp patch. “I was doing this,” she whispered.

He watched as she ran her finger up and down her slit, tracing her folds through the damp cotton.

“And when you begged me to fuck you, what was I doing to you?”

Holly bit her lip. This would be the last time she ever saw Jack. There was no way they’d want her back again so, throwing caution to the wind, she took his hand and placed it on her pussy.

“You were using your fingers on me.”

She gripped his hand and guided the fingers up and down, pressing them against her aching pussy. She felt him take control, moving his fingers the way he wanted. She released his hand and lifting her ass slightly again, unpeeled her sodden panties and slid them down her thighs.

She sank back into the soft leather seat and opened her legs. Her dark curls were matted and stuck to her mound. Jack slowly ran his fingertips up and down labia already slick with juices. He opened her like he was unpeeling a fruit. His middle finger dragged through her folds, scooping up nectar as it traversed her aching, needy pussy.

“Fuck me,” she begged. She squirmed on the seat. Fingers pressed and prodded, smearing juices over her clit, stroking her perineum and momentarily pressing inside her before retreating again.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered.

“Yessss,” she groaned. “God, yes… FUCKKK!”

The expletive accompanied Jack sliding his middle finger inside her. He could feel her wet velvet walls gripping his knuckle as he slowly moved it in and out.

He watched her roll her head to one side, pressing her fist against her mouth as if to stifle something.

He curled his finger, beckoning her. His fingertip struck that spot inside her again and again. Her whimpered moans got louder. Her hips were lifting off the leather with every stroke and caress of her deliciously tight teenage pussy.

Holly’s breathing was ragged now. She whimpered and pleaded and begged as Jack added a second finger. Her insides stretched as his fingers filled her. He moved them inside her, scissoring, tap tap tap on her spot as rotated his wrist and strummed and brushed her clit with his thumb.

Holly’s fingers gripped the edges of the car seat. She was going to cum. She threw her head back and cried out as the orgasm overtook her.

She bucked and writhed on the seat, impaled on his hand. Finally, her body relaxed enough for her to lie back. Her mind was a fog. She rolled her head to look at Jack who sat there, licking his fingers clean like he was eating an ice cream.

“Right, we’d better get you home then, young lady.”

Holly just sat there, staring through the windscreen as Jack drove the remaining couple of miles to her house. He pulled up and as she got out, he leaned over.

“Same time next week, Holly. See you then.”

Holly stood, open-mouthed, as Jack drove off but the ache between her legs told her she was looking forward to it already