The Baby sitter came too. Chapter four.

Chapter 4



“How do I look?” Jean had tried on most of her wardrobe, discarding dress after dress and looking critically in the mirror at her reflection, only to dump each ensemble in an untidy and ever growing pile of clothing on the bed. The dress she had settled on was a low cut, figure hugging, black velvet evening dress with a low-neck line and a slit to mid thigh. It was slimming, not that Jean needed it, and very flattering to her shape.

“You know, I think that’s it. You look fabulous Mum; it just needs some pearls or something.” Abby was also going through the same pile of clothes, but found them just a little too big for her. She had grown to the same height as her mother, but had yet to flare out into full womanhood. Her hips were too thin and her boobs, now in a training bra, still had a way to go. “I want to get my ears pierced. If we’re sharing a man, then we should share jewellery” Her mischievous grin split her face and caused Jean to laugh.

Even though she had laughed at Abby’s jest, Jean was not happy that she had been manoeuvred into acceptance of her daughter’s proposal. On one hand, Abby was way too young, in her opinion, to engage in sexual relations, but on a rather more fundamental level, she wanted Robert all to herself. She wasn’t happy that Abby had taken herself to the Doctor without telling her. She was furious that he had prescribed Abby birth control pills without letting her know. It might be a stupid law in this crazy politically correct world, that the patient’s rights are paramount and that, confidentiality prevented him from saying anything, but she had hoped that her relationship with the Doctor was sufficiently good enough that he might have let her know somehow. The realisation that he would have needed to examine Abby internally, without her permission or presence, appalled her, but that is English law and as a parent, you are dammed if you do and dammed if you don’t.

Abby was just peeling off a shimmering silver metalic party frock Jean had bought years ago to attend some function or another with her ex-husband. She looked at her developing daughter, feeling a pang as her slender body was revealed, noticing the first fluffs of hair under her arms and her budding breasts, nestling in the training bra they had bought a few weeks ago in Marks and Spencer’s.

“Abby…” Jean sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the dress to hit the pile of clothing, waited for Abby’s attention. “You know, I am not entirely comfortable with our agreement and think I have told you why. You are so young and should be enjoying your childhood…”

“I am not a child Mum. I’m not like Suzy or Claire, who are still silly and stuff.” There was a warning note in her voice that brooked no nonsense. Her two best friends were juvenile in comparison, that was true, in all things, but that was how Jean thought Abby should be and indeed, would have preferred her to be like.

“I know you’re not a child darling, but even so…” She shrugged, allowing her body language to complete the sentence.

“Look and this is how it is going to be, I don’t intend to jump into bed with Robert every chance I get. In fact, I don’t have any plans at all in the direction, but, what I am trying to agree with you is the fact that I might want to and that you agree; okay?” Abby’s own body language was letting Jean know that she meant business and there was no argument good enough to change her mind. “Now, are we going to get dressed here or what?”

There had been a subtle shift of power between Mother and Daughter since Jean’s vulnerability and her new condition had become apparent. The essential things were still with Jean of course, but Abby was no longer the little girl, the child of the family. Suddenly, she had adopted an equal footing in the house, a sharing of decision making and become more of a friend or co-conspirator with her mother. It meant that, providing her demands were not outlandish, her will held sway or at least, was seriously considered. She had, overnight, developed a maturity, which amazed her even.

Robert was expected at around seven o’clock. They had conspired to feed him with something lavish, then, let him have the news. Giggling conspirators that they were, a meal had been planned, candles and wine organised, and even a centrepiece of silk flowers had been brought down from the loft and dusted off; a memento of Jean’s wedding feast, from so long and another life ago. With everything ready, the two made final touches to their appearance and waited excitedly, for him to arrive.

Robert was late, as usual. Only ten minutes, but they had been a very long ten minutes to endure. Finding them both dressed as if for a funeral or something and then the laid out table waiting for him to take his place, aroused his suspicions that something was in the wind.

“Well you two look lovely, almost as good as the table.” He received a playful clout on his upper arm from Abby. “Is there an occasion?” He wracked his brain to see if he had forgotten a birthday or anniversary or something. Jean left Abby to see to Robert while she went to the kitchen to bring dinner in.

“Can’t we give our man a treat once in a while?” Abby grasped his arm in her own and led him to the head chair of the table. “Mum will be bringing the food through in a moment, so, sit and relax.” He felt a vague unease, wondering what this was really about, knowing that something was afoot, but clueless about what it could be.

Eventually, Jean brought steaming plates of food to the table, heated dinner plates and a chilled bottle of Chablis. The meal was portioned to plates and they chatted about inconsequential things, over the food.

Robert felt a bit like a rabbit trapped in the headlamps of an onrushing car, feeling the air of excitement and expectancy between them, but joined in the chitchat, offering his own opinions when they were asked for. He noticed for the first time, just how much Abby was a carbon copy of her mother, albeit a younger version and somewhat underdeveloped in comparison. They shared the same hair colouring, a kind of rich brown with auburn accents, both cut to the shoulder and laying in perfectly straight lines as if freshly combed. Hazel eyes framed by long dark lashes that didn’t need the aid of cosmetics to enhance them, clear unadorned skin and long necks. Abby was the same height now, and he noticed, had started to fill out a little more than when they had lain together seven months or so ago. He blushed at the memory and, for an uncountable time, put the memory back in the compartmentalised space in his mind called ‘not to be opened’.

Once the plates had been cleared away to the dishwasher, Abby and Jean came back to the table where they had insisted Robert stay; they sat, facing him like judges at the bench. He felt a thrill of trepidation, knowing that he was about to learn what this evening had been about.

It was Abby who opened the rather more serious conversation than the idle chat over the meal.

“Robert…” She squared her shoulders towards him, trapping his eyes as she did so. “We have something to tell you haven’t we Mum?” Jean nodded as Robert’s eyes escaped Abby’s for a moment.

“Okay…” He drew the word out and waited, thinking, this is how Damocles must have felt. His heart rate quickened; a mixture of fear, dread and anticipation all commingling at the same time. Unable to stand the suspense any longer he said, “Well?”

Jean looked up from her lap, found his eyes and let him have it straight off.

“You are going to be a father, I’m pregnant.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but this was several light years away from anything he had imagined. Typically of a man, knocked off his equilibrium, he reserved any emotion until he knew how she felt about the news.

“Oh… I err… um… how?”

“How do you think dummy?” Abby chimed in.

“No, I meant, how do you feel about it?” But neither of them was going to let him off the hook, keeping stern, emotionless faces, both directed straight at him.

“How do you feel about it Robert?” Asked Abby; taking the lead in the unequal conversation. “What are you going to do about it?”

He ignored the first question, feeling that to be too dangerous to answer right now.

“Do? I don’t know; it’s all a bit of a shock really.” He was floundering and becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to offer an opinion on something so momentous without establishing first, how the woman felt; it is a pre-programmed response pattern in men, designed to make sure he didn’t say the wrong thing and be diametrically opposed to her feelings.

A glance between the two signalled a swathe of laughter and smiles. Relieved, Robert was able to let out a whoosh of air and laugh with them. He was delighted really; him a father, with the woman he loved so much; how perfect would that be? Practicalities of what this would all mean to them would come later; this moment was for celebrations. Had he thought about it, he would have realised that the two were stringing him along; all the preparations did kind of give it away.

They hugged, a three way group, sharing in the joy of the news.

“When did you find out?” Robert asked Jean.

“It was Abby who told me. Gawd knows how she knew, but she was right, the tester said so and my Doctor has confirmed that I am about nine weeks along.” She kissed his cheek and squeezed his shoulder delightedly.

“It was easy really, we cycle together and when you didn’t, well it didn’t take Einstein to work it out.”

They talked for some time after, getting used to the idea, but then the inevitable question came. It was Jean who asked it.

“What are we going to do about the future Robert? You are still at college and have to finish that, but I am the only bread winner here” Then the germ of an idea lodged. “I suppose we could sell this place and find something smaller. The money would see us through for a while. I will get maternity leave with pay, so that would be okay.”

“Wouldn’t your husband want half the proceeds?”

“Screw him.” Jean spat with something approaching vehemence. “He has done fuck all for me or Abby since he took up with his bimbo, one visit and a check for a couple of hundred quid hardly gives him any claims. Screw him. Beside, my dad gave this house to me, so he has no claim on it.”

“What I really meant was what are you going to do Robert? You are going to have to tell your parents some time soon. I doubt they will be too happy about it. And then, what do you want to do?”

“Move in with you.” Robert’s simple statement sounded, to him at least, an ideal solution. Move in with Jean and Abbey and live happily ever after. It had all the hallmarks of a perfect future. The consequences of moving in or telling his parents hadn’t figured in his thinking.

Jean went silent for a while, staring off into space while she collected her thoughts. Robert and Abby looked on without speaking, waiting for her to come to a conclusion. But, when she did at last speak, it was only with another question.

“Robert, I’m not so sure that that is such a good idea. Do you know what you would be taking on? I think you need to think about moving in. It would mean leaving the security of your home, probably leaving behind a lot of hurt and confusion. I’ve known your mother for many years and I know she will not understand, much less give her blessing. As for your father, I don’t know him so well, but I can guess he will not be happy about it at all. Then there are the neighbours. You might not care what they say, but neighbours can make life very difficult if they think they have a chance to. But, more than anything, you are young, very young, with a whole life in front of you and a lot of growing up to do. Who is to say that sometime in the future, you get bored or find someone your own age? You see, it isn’t so straight forward.” She would have carried on, trotting out reasons why he shouldn’t move in, exercising her doubts and justifying her doubts, talking herself out of the idea, but Robert held his hands up, palm out to halt her.

“I’ll deal with my parents, that’s my problem and I will try to get them to understand. As for neighbours, screw them, besides, who will know if we move? I can’t say what will happen in the future, no one can, but I love you now. I love Abby and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Besides, it might be you, you might meet someone and fall in love with them; how could I compete with an older, more experienced man?”

The arguments flowed back and forth, neither making it easy for the other where doubts and uncertainties clashed, neither with a strong enough argument to sway the others thinking. It was Abby who finally chipped in as mediator instead of the spectator she had been.

“Listen to you two… you sound like a bleeding married couple already. Why don’t you think about working out how it can be done instead of why it can’t?” She was of course, absolutely right; the innocence of her years cutting through the dressing of social acceptability, to get right to the heart of the problem. “Why not try it, find out,  work out the problems as they come up.”

Like a punch drunk fighter, Jean retired to the kitchen to make some coffee, gain some space and think in peace, leaving Abby and Robert to the spoils of a minor victory. Could it work between them? Exactly how did she feel about Robert? What would the future hold? Could she rely on him? So many questions buzzing around in her mind; the sanctuary of making coffee would give her a chance to mull over all of her doubts.

“That isn’t the only news we had for you Robert.” Abby took advantage of the lull in the ebb and flow of argument and decided that, if it might tip the balance, her own news might do the trick. “Mum and I have talked and agreed that you and I could… well, if you and I… um… you can have me too; we could share you.

Robert was too stunned to say anything. His already burgeoned mind just couldn’t take this last revelation in and process it.

“I thought that, well that you and I could, once in a while, do what we did last year. I really want to do that again, but there’s no hurry.”

“Abby, I don’t know what to say. I need to think.” It might have been taken as a rejection, but then, he gave her a cuddle as he rose to follow Jean into the kitchen; his own mind roiling in a confusion of thoughts and solutions, but not actually settling one thing or, anything concrete.

“Jean.” He quietly said as he approached her back. “I’m going to go home and tell my parents the news.”

“Okay.” Her jangled emotions rationalised that he was running away, just as she expected him to do. That thought brought a sudden sob and then the opening of flood gates as the emotion overwhelmed her and spilled over. Her shoulders shook as sobs wracked her slim frame.

Robert grasped her, spinning her around to face him, then smothered her in the embrace of his arms while she let out all of the confusion and trepidation in a tide of tears. He allowed her to let it out, just holding her, saying nothing until her sobs abated.

“Jean, I love you.” A simple statement and meant with all his heart and one to make her howl in anguish, expecting a ‘but’ to follow, her vision of the future a mess of jumbled thoughts. “I love you and can’t wait for us to be together.”

She eventually calmed, bolstered by his words and a glimmer of hope and accepted that he did need to go home and sort things out with his parents. He left her with a lingering kiss and a longing look as the door closed.

Jean and Abby talked for a little while longer until the emotions of the evening took there toll on Jean. She took a Nytol and went to bed.

A distraught Robert softly knocked on the front window a couple of hours later. His parents hadn’t taken the news of their impending grandparenthood well at all. Calling Jean names that he had to defend until he slammed the door of the front room to reach the sanctuary of his room and shut out the diatribe he was hearing, but that sanctuary was denied him when his father, in a blind rage, kicked the door in to continue the row. For the first time in his life, his father hit Robert, a full punch that split his eyebrow. In a final family act; Robert struck back, returning the punch and opening a divide that could not be bridged again between them.

Abby let him in and fussed over the wound, bathing it with an antiseptic that made him wince, his head in her lap. Then, when she had tended to the wound, she kissed him full on the lips. Wordlessly, she got up from the settee, took his hand and led him up the stairs to her bedroom.

She had filled out a little in the seven months or so since they had last been together. Her hips, though still narrow, were taking on the form of a woman. Her pubic hair had darkened and coarsened now from the down that had been there before, but was still only a patch. Her breasts formed small bumps, but rather much more pronounced now with darker aureoles surrounding her little nipples, hinting that she would develop a fine pair in the not too far distant future.

Neither of them spoke as she undressed him while he stood immobile at the foot of her bed. Her small hand grasped his flaccid cock, stirring life into it. She knelt and suckled on him, bringing forth a gasp as her hot mouth enveloped him.

As if coming to his senses, Robert began to ask about Jean, but was silenced with a finger against his lips as she stood and then, when they had lain on top of the bed, covered his mouth with her cunt, kneeling over his head and rubbing her clit against his nose while he lapped at her labia.

His climax fast approaching some time later, Robert was about to pull out of her, not wanting two pregnancies, but Abby had other ideas and let him know that she was protected. Her reward was a his seed, planted deep into her, spurt after hot spurt, until he collapsed, exhausted as much from the effort of coming as the emotional rollercoaster he had been on over the last few hours.

He rolled off of her and was asleep with in seconds. Abby’s fingers found her leaking snatch, rubbing his come over her budding clit and fucking her fingers into her until his spend was all gone. Then she slept as well, her back coiled into him in sated sleep.

Epilogue.

Jake was born seven months later, a healthy son to them and so welcomed and loved.

Jean had sold the house, getting rather more than she had expected. It raised just over three hundred and sixty thousand pounds. They could afford to buy a smaller three bedroom maisonette, nearer to town and still have just less than two hundred left after taxes and stamp duty.

Robert’s mother allowed him to return to collect his belongings and tried to mediate, but the rift between him and his father was too wide to be repaired. Secretly, she was delighted to have a grandson and visited on odd occasions, bringing gifts and some money she had saved in a secret account her mother had advised her to do, just in case.

Robert completed college, eventually starting his own business that, although not flourishing in its return, was good enough to keep them afloat.

Abby grew into a beautiful young woman, venturing on holiday to Spain with her friends when they reached eighteen. Got through college with a degree and started working as a personal assistant. She went through several disastrous love affairs, always returning to the family home when hurt; always seeking the comfort of Robert’s love and sex when the world conspired against her and the solace of her family.

Jake grew into a well balanced young man, making his way through university, but always maintaining a self assurance and independence that excluded everyone including his family. He loved them, but in his own way.

Jean and Robert lived, very much in love until; she was killed in a road traffic accident. Neither Robert nor Abby ever quite got over the shock, or quite filled the void left by her, but, as if waiting for the moment, Abby filled Jean’s shoes almost immediately. They lived together, in memory of Jean and a beginning that started so long ago.

Author’s note:

I am still of the opinion that child sex is totally wrong, but agree with one reader that, although not socially acceptable in these days of elongated teaching and adolescence, was perfectly acceptable, even as recently as the early nineteen hundreds in the UK and is still acceptable in some parts of Africa to this day. I also agree with his comment that we have not changed in our physical being; it is only the psychology of modern times that has altered.

I could have put a lot more sex into this story, made it more of a stroke event, but that might have detracted from the storyline. Given my own reserve, it would have spoiled what has been an enjoyable episode for me, writing in a genre that is somewhat foreign. It could have been drawn out rather more, but again, I had reached a natural conclusion and had nothing more to say in the lives of these people who had found that most rare of commodities; love.

I sincerely hope that you, the reader, enjoy this story and forgive me the typos, spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. I promise that I have read it through, more than once, so most of them have been taken out, but no one is perfect.

Thank you for reading this.