I was going to burst something if I didn’t cum; I was leaking on my suit, sprawled on the countertop. My body trembled, tormented by a breeze coming from somewhere just strong enough to torture my swollen penis. I nodded mutely, silently begging her to finish.
“Thank you, sweetie,” she said, leaning forward to kiss me, brushing my cock with her hip and sending new tremors through my body.
I could taste myself on her lips; my balls tightened painfully as it made me further aroused. With renewed enthusiasm she dropped back to her knees and began sloppily licking the underside of my shaft. I don’t know how long I stood there whimpering under the assault before she finally took pity on me and swallowed me deep again, forcing my cock head back into her throat. While she pumped her mouth along my cock, she massaged my balls with one hand and my ass with the other. Involuntarily, I began fucking her face, trying to drive my cock deeper, and she responded by sucking more vigorously. I was so overwhelmed by all of the sensations that I didn’t notice that her hand had moved until I felt her finger tentatively probe the rim of my asshole. I wanted to shout, to tell her to stop, but I still couldn’t muster the power of speech. Picking up the pace, she sucked me in deeply at the same moment that she worked a finger deep into my ass.
I could not have controlled the flood if I tried. Fighting the invasion, my asshole contracted around her finger, which acted like a trigger to let loose a torrent of cum. I screamed deep and long as it poured down her throat, Terri gobbling every stream greedily. My cock grew increasingly more sensitive, until it was virtually on autopilot, the slightest movement causing another spray of cum to shoot out. She let her finger slide out as I dropped to the floor, exhausted.
“So, when do you start?” I asked when I could finally speak again.
“Oh, not until we find the right nanny,” she answered cheerfully.
Unfortunately, after 6 weeks we still hadn’t found a nanny that both of us liked, but at least we had narrowed our choices down. Most nights (in between feeding, bathing and burping) were spent discussing the pros and cons of various candidates. One night, the telephone interrupted us just as we thought that we might finally be close to settling on one.
“Mr. Watson?” a lightly accented female voice asked.
“Yes, this is Michael Watson,” I replied hesitantly, afraid that I’d just been caught by a telemarketer.
“I understand that you are looking for someone to take care of your daughter. If you haven’t hired someone, I’d like to interview for the job.”
“Who are you?” I asked, uncomfortable that this call had come unsolicited.
“I apologize, that was rude of me. My name is Kathleen Sinclair.”
“Well, Ms. Sinclair, what makes you think that you can just call out of the blue and ask for an interview?”
“Because I am very good at what I do; some say I’m the best. If you’d like, I could drop off some references. I don’t live that far away.”
She seemed pretty insistent, and I figured that it was easier to let her drop them off, so I agreed. Twenty minutes later, our doorbell rang. I don’t know what I was expecting, but Kathleen definitely wasn’t it. From her accent, I suspected she was black, but I hadn’t really been prepared for her to be so dark. Her skin was a deep, burnished color, like mahogany or dark cherry wood. She was tall, at least 5’10”, and athletically slim, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Her dress was light colored, cut across her neck so as not to show cleavage, with a full, pleated bottom that reached below her knees. Although it was fairly warm out, she did not sweat; hell, she didn’t even look uncomfortable. Her face was smooth and youthful, with no makeup save a conservative lipstick, and her hair was pulled back tightly in a bun.
As if on cue, Emily started to cry, and Kathleen politely brushed past me and went into the family room, where Terri was trying to settle her down. Without asking, she scooped her up out of her carrier and began to murmur soothingly to her. Terri looked at me and I shrugged; what harm could she do? We were both there.
“That’s a little lady,” Kathleen cooed, taking Emily in her arms. Expertly, she massaged the baby, relaxing her, until Emily was a puddle of gurgling contented flesh in her arms. Emily’s eyes closed and she settled into a blissful sleep.
“She’s only going to stay asleep for 15 minutes or so; it looks like we’re pretty close to feeding time.”
Terri and I exchanged surprised looks. How did she know that?
She looked at Terri. “Are you nursing?” Terri shook her head. “Then point me toward the bottles!” she said sternly.
“In the fridge,” Terri said, gesturing toward a doorway that led into the kitchen. “But we can…”
“Pahhh.” she interrupted, waving Terri off with her free hand as she walked into the kitchen.
We heard the fridge open, aaccompanied by a series of noises that indicated that she was preparing the bottle. Throughout the entire exercise, we never heard a peep from Emily.
“A little pushy, don’t you think?” Terri whispered.
“Yeah,” I whispered back. “But she’s great with Emily.”
Once Emily was fed and settled in for a nap, we invited Kathleen into the family room. Although her manner wasn’t exactly endearing, we were both growing tired of the search. We decided there was nothing to lose by at least interviewing Kathleen, and over the course of the next ninety minutes we learned a great deal about her. Born and raised in Trinidad, she’d left five years ago to get away from a bad marriage. Employment as a live in caregiver allowed her to stay here, with an eye on eventually becoming a citizen. Surprisingly, she was in her mid forties; if we’d had to guess, we would have placed her more like two or three years older than us, around 35. She’d worked for two families since she’d moved here; her current employer, as well as the one before them, was moving out of the area, and she preferred to stay here.
“Well, thank you for coming, Ms. Sinclair,” I said, standing to indicate that the interview had concluded. “We’ll be in touch to let you know our decision.” I extended my hand to help her up.
She stood without my help. “Thank you for taking the time to see me. Your daughter is lovely,” she said, placing her references in my outstretched hand.
The other candidates clearly had much better personalities, at least when it came to interacting with us, but there really was no telling how good they were with children. Despite her arrogance, we suspected that Kathleen probably was the most qualified for the job. We decided to let her references make the determination.
Surprisingly, they all had nothing but positive things to say about her. We asked specifically about her attitude toward adults. Both couples attributed it to a combination of her being foreign, a little older, and the marriage she had left behind. They talked about how good she was with their children, and how sorry they were to lose her.
So Kathleen got the job. She was able to start at the beginning of the month, and Terri went back to work the week after. Having a live-in employee did take some getting used. Ironically, it helped that Kathleen seemed to have no interest in becoming our friend. Her detachment and polite civility made it easier to think of her as a subordinate, which suited all of us fine.