A long and hard morning

One of the immutable laws of parenting is that, no matter how late you get to bed, your children will always be up early. I had to shake myself awake and pad downstairs in my bathrobe to make breakfast for the kids, though naturally I was preoccupied by last night's excursions. I fought the temptation to walk into the basement to see Charissa, though I became more and more curious about her as the morning dragged on.

There was no sign of her perky smile, no tease of her morning shower, no suggestion we should go to church. I assumed she was sleeping off her inebriation and wouldn't be around much today. I played a game with the kids, who then begged me to set up playdates for them. They have some good friends in the neighborhood, and before long, they were happily housed nearby, and I was back in my eerily quiet house.

After my (late!) shower, I finally heard movement downstairs. I hastily threw on jeans and a t-shirt and tiptoed down to the kitchen. I heard the shower going and was astonished to see the bathroom door slightly ajar. As quietly as I could, I sneaked to the hallway and listened at the open door. The shower was running, and I could hear Charissa washing herself. An instant hard-on prompted me to tap the door ever-so-slightly, and it opened another inch. Breathlessly, I peeked inside, seeing the silhouette of my babysitter's naked body behind the clear but opaque shower curtain. I could make out the outline of her gorgeous breasts, though honestly I couldn't see anything else. Still, this was a thrilling sight, and I stayed as long as I dared.

Managing to maintain some composure, I withdrew while the water was still running and went back up to my room to listen. The shower turned off, and I heard Charissa head to the basement. I'd learned the value of patience, and so I sat at the top of the stairs that connect my bedroom with the kitchen and waited.

Since the house was so unnaturally quiet, I was able to hear, all the way from the basement, the sound of the dryer starting. Shit! I berated myself. I forgot to finish the laundry. Charissa obviously had discovered that her dirty clothes, along with her pajamas, t-shirts, and yoga pants, were all in the washing machine. She had plenty of other clothes she could wear, of course, but if she just wanted to lounge around in something comfortable, her options were pretty limited.

A few minutes after the dryer started, I heard Charissa in the kitchen. I listened as she made herself coffee, and she started rummaging around to cook something for breakfast. Her phone was playing Coldplay, and I figured I didn't have to hide anymore.

I started down the stairs and had the presence of mind to take a look into the kitchen before barging in. My jaw almost hit the floor. Charissa was getting ready for breakfast in nothing but her underwear!

I watched for a minute as she prepared to make some oatmeal on the stove, but then her eyes drifted to the stairwell, and she saw me. She literally screamed and dropped the pot she was holding on the floor. I opened my mouth to speak and stepped into the kitchen, but she turned (showing me a great view of her panty-clad ass) and literally ran away.