After the Benadryl incident, Pam swore that she was done. Taking advantage of a knocked-out ten year old boy? Pam couldn’t believe herself. The best solution, she decided, was to tell the Praters that she couldn’t babysit anymore. Perhaps she could tell them that her job as insurance agent was demanding more travel. Or maybe she was getting more hours for her part-time job as yoga instructor.

Whatever the case, she was done. Pam repeated this to herself throughout the following week. It became her mantra the minute she woke up. She would repeat it to herself when stuck in traffic or waiting in a checkout lane. Her phone might ring and her first thought would be “I’m done babysitting.”

She was just finishing up a grueling 90 minute session at the gym when her cell phone rang. It was William’s phone number. Jeremy’s dad was calling her. “You’re done,” Pam reminded herself just before answering.

“Hi William.”

“Hi Pam!” he greeted her. “How are you?”

“Not bad,” she responded. “Just working out at the gym.”

“Listen Pam, I know this is really short notice but do you think you could babysit Jeremy tonight?”

“Gosh, William,” Pam began. “I don’t know if I can tonight… I haven’t had dinner yet tonight and I still need to shower too.”

“I understand,” William told her. “Do you think you could stop by for just an hour later tonight? I apologize, but the hospital called to ask Kate to come in at the last minute. I thought I would be able to get home in time but I’m wrapping up a new contract at the office.”

“I see,” Pam said, wondering how to politely say no.

“Kate was due for a night off,” William continued, “But I guess one of her patients just went into labor twenty minutes ago and the nurses are expecting this one to be tricky.”

“Well…” Pam hesitated. She suddenly remembered the old saying about there being a special place in hell for women who didn’t help other women. “Well, all right,” she agreed reluctantly. “I suppose it would be best for me to get there sooner? Rather than later?”

“Thank you so much, Pam,” William said gratefully. “Yes, sooner would be better.”

“I could probably be there in twenty minutes if I don’t shower,” Pam calculated.

“You’re more than welcome to shower here, of course,” William told her. “And as soon as I hang up, I’m going to order a pizza to be delivered. What would you like on it?”

“Oh, whatever is fine,” Pam responded vaguely. “Has Jeremy eaten yet? He can choose.”

“I’ll ask him,” William promised. “Kate will be waiting once you get there. Thanks again, Pam.” He hung up. She headed for the locker room to retrieve her belongings.

“I’ll just get there and take a quick shower,” Pam told herself. “I’ll have some pizza. I’ll just read the newspaper in the kitchen or something. It shouldn’t take too long for William to get home.” Despite her pep talk, Pam felt an icy pit forming in her nervous stomach as she rang the doorbell. When Kate answered the door, Pam was surprised to see her dressed up in a fancy jacket, black skirt and heels.

“Hi there!” she greeted her. She let Pam in but didn’t close the door. “Pizza and salad are waiting in the kitchen. Jeremy is in his room, I think. Thanks again for doing this on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem,” Pam nodded. “How come you’re all dressed up?”

“Dressed up?” Kate said, puzzled.

“When I spoke with William he said you were headed for the hospital for an emergency.”

A strange look crossed Kate’s face. “Oh, is that what he told you?” she asked. Pam couldn’t quite read the expression on Kate’s face. It was annoyed but somehow pleased at the same time. “Never mind,” she told Pam. “I’m actually not going in to work tonight. But we did need a babysitter. Thanks for coming over.”

“Sure,” Pam said. She wondered what was going on.

“Jeremy?” Kate called. “I’m heading out for a bit. Your dad will be home in a few hours. Be good for Pam, all right?”

“Okay,” Jeremy’s disembodied voice called back from nowhere. Kate smiled at Pam again and left, shutting the door behind her. Pam set her duffel bag down. She had a glass of water in the kitchen before heading out in search of Jeremy. She found him in his room drawing in a notebook. He was sprawled in the recliner, much like the other night when she had given him the wrong kind of Benadryl.

“Hey,” Pam said. The memory of him, hair tousled and asleep in the recliner, filled her mind. She banished the thought.

“Hey,” he answered, not taking his eyes off his drawing.

“Did you eat already?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“There’s pizza.”

“I know.” Jeremy finally looked at her, but only briefly. An awkward silence ensued.

“Are your allergies better?” she asked him. “You were out cold the last time I saw you.”

“They’re okay,” Jeremy told her.

Pam could tell he was out of sorts. But she couldn’t tell if it was because he was weirded out over what happened in the Fosters’ hot tub or if it was something else. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked. “You seem… I don’t know. You seem bummed out.”

“It’s nothing,” Jeremy said, doodling on his paper. After a long pause, he finally said, “They had a big fight tonight.”

It took her a moment to understand what "they" meant. “A fight?” she repeated. “You mean your parents?” He nodded, a frown forming on his face. “What were they fighting about?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said, still not looking at her. “I could hear my mom arguing on the phone though.”

“Well…” Pam wasn't sure what to say. “I’m sure it wasn’t any big deal. Sometimes people have arguments and get into fights that seem silly later.” Jeremy nodded thoughtfully at this. “I remember my parents having some crazy arguments when I was growing up.”

“Are they still together?” Jeremy asked. “I mean, did they get divorced?”

“No, they’re still together all right,” she reassured him. “Getting close to fifty years now. Although they did split up for a while.”

"Oh." His finger picked at the eraser on his pencil. "Sometimes I get worried about my parents. Because they fight so much."

She saw his lower lip tremble a little. Pam was a little surprised. She had never imagined Jeremy worrying about such things. He had never confided in her like this before. "I used to think the same thing," she told him. "I used to lie awake at night and think about it."

"Me too," Jeremy nodded.

"But honestly Jeremy? I don't think there's much you can do about it. That's what I realized when I was older. They would have been fighting either way. There wasn't anything I, or anyone, could have done to change their minds." Jeremy nodded again. He still looked a little sad, but Pam was glad to see he wasn't blinking back tears anymore.

“Are you going to take a shower?” he asked, noticing her workout outfit. “My mom made me get the guest bathroom ready for you. There’s a towel and stuff in there.”

“Thank you,” Pam told him. “You’re just going to draw all night tonight?”

"No. Want to play Call of Duty with me later?"

"Absolutely," Pam lied, not wanting to hurt his feelings. She had encountered him in gloomy moods before. His parents’ argument clearly had some effect on him, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was also bothered by other things. Had she pushed things too far in the hot tub? She was about to head for the shower when her stomach growled loudly. “Jeremy?” she called. “I’m going to have a quick slice of pizza before my shower. You sure you don’t want one too?”

“No, thanks,” he called back.

Pam shrugged. She helped herself to a slice of pepperoni and green olives. Once finished, she got her toiletry bag and headed for the guest bathroom. She wasn’t sure why the Praters referred to it as the guest bathroom since Jeremy often used it himself. A fresh towel was indeed waiting for her, thanks to Jeremy. Shutting the door, she was surprised to find a clean terrycloth robe waiting on a hanger. Pam gratefully peeled off her gym clothes and hopped in the shower.

It was a very old bathroom with peeling wallpaper and aging tiles, but the Praters did remodel it to include a modern shower stall with clear glass door and a rainforest-style attachment. The hot water felt wonderful on her sore muscles, but Pam couldn’t shake a funny feeling as she showered. Her instincts were telling her something, but Pam couldn’t place it. It was an odd feeling of… a presence. Like she was being watched.

Which was ridiculous of course. Through the clear shower door, Pam could see the room was empty. There was a toilet. A sink. A wicker laundry hamper. Her bag of toiletries. Her discarded clothing hanging on a hook.

But still… Pam stared through the shower door for a moment. Had something just moved? Or was it her imagination? She studied the wicker laundry hamper for a moment. It was then that she noticed a small black tube sticking out of it. It didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary. Just a narrow tube with a circular opening where a glint of something was shimmering at her. If anything it looked like…

Jeremy’s periscope. The same one he used while hiding in the bushes outside the house. The same one he tried to use in the Fosters’ hot tub. Could she be certain though? Pam turned her back to the shower door for a moment. When she looked at the laundry hamper again, the difference was unmistakable. The black tube was sticking higher up now by several inches.

Pam turned her back to the transparent shower door again, stifling an embarrassed smile. The wicker hamper was definitely large enough to hide a ten year old boy. Jeremy must have snuck into the guest bathroom while she was eating pizza, concealed himself in the hamper, and then waited for her to shower. All in the name of getting a sneak peek.

The thought of him watching her didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. Pam had spent the week building up her inhibitions but they were now melting away. The mantra of “I’m done babysitting” was replaced by the realization “Jeremy is spying on me.” She wondered if he was enjoying himself in the hamper. Was he getting an erection? Touching himself, perhaps? The same way he did when looking at the Victoria’s Secret under his pillow?

Knowing she had an audience, Pam turned to face the shower door as she took great care in soaping up her breasts. She made sure to stretch several times, raising her arms high and turning to let him see her profile. Each time she saw the black tube sticking out of the hamper, Pam felt a blossom of sexual desire between her legs.

When she was finished showering, Pam made a big show of stepping out of the stall to towel off, making sure to face the hamper as she did so. Feeling wicked, she turned away from the hamper and bent over low to examine her toenails. If he wanted a peek, she might as well give him an eyeful, she thought. Besides, what she was doing wasn’t necessarily bad. What if she hadn’t realized Jeremy was hiding in the hamper? He would have seen her naked either way.

Pam dressed slowly, partly to continue the show and partly to consider what to do next. She took great care in slipping her panties on. Next came her bra. Pam took some time to fiddle with it: slipping it on and fussily arranging herself in the cups before taking it off and redoing the whole process.

When she was finally done putting on her underwear, she decided to tease him a little. Pulling on the terrycloth robe, she opened the bathroom door. “Hey Jeremy,” she called in the direction of his room. “I’m almost done. I’m going to have another quick slice of pizza, okay?”

There was no response from his room, of course. Pam giggled silently. She had wondered if he would be foolish enough to try to answer her from the hamper. Like a ventriloquist. In the kitchen, she thoughtfully devoured another slice of pizza. Boys were incorrigible.

Still chewing, Pam returned to the bathroom to retrieve her toiletry bag. Glancing at the wicker hamper, she wasn’t surprised to see the black tube no longer sticking out of it. She peeked inside. Empty. “Even I could have fit in there,” Pam thought to herself.

She returned to her room to get dressed. But when she pulled out some neatly folded jeans and a shirt from her duffel bag, Pam realized she didn’t want to get dressed. So instead she slipped on just her panties and the terrycloth robe. Tying the robe around her waist, she went to Jeremy's room where she found him still in the recliner, still nonchalantly sketching in his notebook. Whiskers lay purring on his lap. “Hey,” she said, leaning against the door and eating her pizza.

“Hey,” he responded.

“Whatcha been doing?” she inquired.

“Oh, just reading,” Jeremy answered. He avoided her gaze, choosing instead to concentrate on his drawing. So that's the face he makes when he lying, she thought to herself. Then she noticed a familiar object on his desk. Stuffing the rest of the pizza in her mouth, she picked up the periscope.

“Hey, I forgot you have this,” she said, looking through it. “Do you still play with it? I never see you using it anymore.”

“Um, not really,” Jeremy answered. Pam was amused to see his ears getting red.

“I bet you could use it to spy on people,” Pam told him, putting the periscope back where she found it.

“Yeah… haha,” Jeremy said mirthlessly. The cat on his lap yawned and arched her back.

“Aww, Whiskers is so cute,” Pam said, coming over to pet her. The cat purred appreciatively in response. “I remember when you were just a little kitty…” The cat’s plush fur felt like velvet beneath her fingers. “Has she still been waking you up in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah. Sometimes.” He was acting somewhat peculiar, she realized. The young boy was looking at her, but not at her face. Pam realized that her robe was open just enough for him to see quite a bit of cleavage. Particularly since she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Pam felt the rush of an insatiable thirst. Jeremy apparently couldn’t get enough of her tonight. Enjoying the attention, Pam continued petting Whiskers to give him a good, long look. Each time she looked at him, it was clear he was mesmerized by the curves peeking from under her robe. A devious thought sprung in her mind.

“Want to come sit with me on the floor, Whiskers?” she asked, picking the cat off his lap. Pam sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and settling Whiskers into her lap. Another quick glance confirmed her suspicions. The cat had been resting comfortably on Jeremy’s lap, hiding his crotch. But now she could see a very obvious bulge straining his shorts.

An older, more sophisticated male would have realized right away what was happening. But Jeremy was apparently too young to recognize the faux pas. Pam cleared her throat. She and Jeremy locked gazes for a moment before Pam let her eyes flicker briefly between his legs. He got the hint. Pam tried not to smile as she saw Jeremy’s ears turn red. Fumbling with his notebook, the ten year old boy self-consciously arranged it on his lap to hide his burgeoning erection.

“It’s nothing to be shy about you know,” Pam told him softly. He knitted his fingers together and stared at them. “I don't get embarrassed when you’re looking at me.”

Jeremy blushed some more. “No, I wasn’t…” he stammered, a nervous grin breaking out on his face.

“Boys and girls look at each other all the time, don’t they?” Pam asked.

“I guess so,” Jeremy said. He tried to change the subject. “Ashton told me his older brother got in trouble for playing strip poker with some girls once.”

“Did he?” said Pam. She continued petting Whiskers but her attention occasionally strayed to the notebook on Jeremy’s lap, thinking about what was hiding underneath it.

“Yup,” Jeremy said, relieved to have something else to talk about. “His parents got really mad and grounded him for a whole month.”

“What exactly was Ashton’s brother doing?” Pam asked innocently.

“I guess it’s just like regular poker, except you have to take your clothes off.”

“I bet you'd like to play it,” she teased.

“No!” he exclaimed. “I wouldn’t want to take my clothes off in front of a girl.”

“Well, what about…” Pam wondered how wise it was to bring it up. “What about that one time we played Truth or Dare? In the jacuzzi?”

Jeremy seemed uncomfortable again. “That was different,” he muttered.

“But…” Pam was suddenly nervous too. “But didn’t you like it? When I took off my top?”

Jeremy fiddled with the eraser on his pencil, letting his silence answer her question.

Forging ahead, Pam told him, “Strip Poker might be embarrassing for you because you have to take off your clothes. But on the other hand… you get to see a girl taking off her clothes too.”

She could see the wheels in his head turning. “I guess so… Well, I’ve never played strip poker anyway,” Jeremy admitted.

“Would you like to?” Pam asked craftily.

“You mean with you?” clarified Jeremy.

“Yes.”

“Okay… But I don’t really know how to play poker.”

“Me neither. We could play Go Fish instead.”

“Strip Go Fish?”

“Sure. Find a deck of cards.”

From the way he scrambled out of the recliner, Pam could tell that Jeremy was quite intrigued by the idea, despite his initial reluctance. He returned carrying a deck of cards, which he handed to her before sitting down on the carpet across from where she sat. Pam began shuffling. The look of nervous anticipation on Jeremy’s face told her all she needed to know.

“So, um, how does this work, anyway?” Jeremy asked.

“I think when you play strip poker, you bet articles of clothing instead of money,” said as she dealt the cards. “But since we’re playing Go Fish instead, I think the rule should be you have to take something off whenever the other person completes a book. Sound fair?”

Jeremy nodded and picked up his cards. “Should I go first?”

“Sure.”

“Um… do you have any queens?”

“Go fish,” she told him. It occurred to Pam that she really was only wearing the robe and her panties, a definite handicap since Jeremy was dressed in a t-shirt, shorts, and socks. But then she remembered that strategy games, even those as rudimentary as Go Fish, were not Jeremy’s strongest suit. Especially if the game involved memory since his attention span was like a sieve.

“Any sevens?” she inquired. Making a face, he handed her a card. Within a few turns, Pam was able to complete a book of threes. Her hand trembling a bit, she laid down the cards for Jeremy to see.

His face had a pinched expression. “So I have to take something off?” he asked.

“Them's the rules,” Pam smiled brightly, trying to ease not only his nerves but her own as well.

He took a sock off. “Does that count?”

“I suppose so. It’s an article of clothing after all.”

“What should I do with it?”

“Put it over there,” Pam pointed. “And we’ll make a clothes pile. So… any twos?”

“Go Fish!” Jeremy said smugly. “Do you have any sixes?” He crowed when he handed her two cards. “I have a complete set! You have to take something off!” He laid out his sixes on the carpet.

“No problem,” Pam said, remembering something. She took off her earrings and put them next to Jeremy’s sock.

He glared at her. “Hey, that's not fair!”

“Why not? I was wearing them, wasn’t I?” He pouted for a moment before the game continued. On her next turn, Pam completed a set of tens. Jeremy took off his other sock. Then when it was her turn to Go Fish, she got lucky and drew an eight to complete another set, forcing Jeremy to take off his shirt.

As they played, she studied him out of the corner of her eye. His frame, albeit scrawny, was somehow endearing. She had never noticed before how delicately defined his collarbone was. His chest had a lean yet well-built look. It was somewhere between skinny and muscular, but definitely leaning toward skinny. Pam was so distracted that she didn’t even notice that she held a completed book in her hands.

“Oh,” she said, plucking the cards out. “I have a set of fives.” She set them down.

“Aw geez!” Jeremy groaned. He threw himself back until he was lying on the carpet, stamping his legs in frustration. Pam didn’t mind the minor tantrum because it gave her an excellent view of his flat stomach.

“You still have to take something off,” Pam reminded him, rearranging her cards. Standing up, Jeremy reluctantly took off his shorts. She tried not to stare but in her peripheral vision she could see his familiar white Fruit of the Loom underwear. It was the same kind he was wearing the night of the Benadryl incident.

She could tell Jeremy’s frustration was threatening to derail the game so she did her best to let him catch up. But Pam was astounded by how poor Jeremy’s memory was. He continually asked for cards that he already requested. It took several turns until he finally completed a set of twos.

“Yes!” he exulted, waving the cards in her face. “Now it’s your turn to take something off!” He stood up to do a joyful dance. As before, Pam didn’t mind the gloating since it meant he was prancing in front of her wearing nothing but his underwear.

She waited until he finally sat down again. “Are you done?” she asked, pretending to be annoyed. He nodded. Pam began untying the cinch that held her robe shut. She could tell all his attention was focused on her. Slipping the robe from her shoulders, Pam added it to the clothes pile before picking up her cards. Her nipples perked up, either from the cool air or from the excitement of being ogled. Jeremy’s eyes were firmly glued on her chest.

“You know it’s not polite to stare, Jeremy,” she chided. She used one arm to shield both her breasts from his view. He looked at her bashfully and returned his attention to his cards. Each time Pam had to take away her arm to draw a card, Jeremy’s eyes instantly zeroed in on her breasts. After a few rounds of this, she spotted a familiar bulge jutting from his white underwear.

Jeremy cleared his throat nervously. “Um, I have a completed book,’ he said, setting down four kings. There was no celebrating this time. Instead, he just watched as Pam stood up and wiggled out of her panties. She silently deposited them on the clothing pile, hoping Jeremy wouldn’t notice the wet spot that had formed in the crotch of the panties.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing?” Pam commented, sitting down again. Wanting to be coy, she kept her knees folded and sat with her legs primly closed, even though what she really wanted was to be spread eagle for the ten year old boy. The periscope incident was nice, but it was adding a whole new dimension to see Jeremy’s facial reaction to her naked body. His eyebrows rose just a bit higher whenever he looked at her, plus she detected the merest hint of a discomposed quaver whenever he spoke.

Pam began arranging the cards she held, a task that required both hands. Each time she flicked her eyes from her cards to his face, she found him unabashedly staring at her naked body. She shielded her breasts with one arm and cleared her throat. He looked at her, startled, a dopey grin on his face. “Your turn,” she reminded him.

“Um, do you have any queens?” he asked.

Pam made a face and handed him three queens. “Well, I don’t have any clothes left to take off,” she pointed out.

“I know,” said Jeremy. “Since you don't have any clothes, why don't you go get me a glass of water?”

“What?”

“That'll be the new rule. If a person doesn't have any clothes left, then they have to do whatever the other person asks.”

Pam made a face, pretending to be annoyed. “Fine,” she sighed. “Little brat.” She slowly got to her feet and sauntered out of the room. She could practically feel his eyes drilling a hole into her. When she returned, Jeremy pretended to examine the copious dirt under his fingernails.

“Thanks,” he said, when she handed him his glass of water. He was looking directly between her legs when he said it. Unlike most women she encountered in the gym locker room, Pam kept a modestly trimmed amount of hair down there. She had spent most of her early twenties in a clean-shaven state, but later decided that pubic hair lent a woman a sense of gravitas. She wondered if Jeremy liked it. Judging from the the tent poking out of his shorts, the answer was yes. Pam sat back down, this time not bothering to cover her breasts as she held her cards. “Shall we continue?” she inquired. “Your turn.” Sitting up straight with her shoulders back, she pushed her breasts forward until they were like a shelf.

“Oh yeah,” Jeremy said, fumbling through his cards. “Do you have any queens?” he asked, forgetting that he just asked her for those.

The poor boy was obviously too distracted to play Go Fish. “Let's see, my turn,” Pam said, lazily scratching her neck. It was exciting to receive such attention from a ten year old. Unable to resist, she briefly rubbed her nipple for a moment, trying to disguise it as an absent-minded scratching. A tingle of pleasure was her reward. Jeremy was so transfixed by the sight of her touching herself that he didn't even hear her speak.

“Huh?” he asked.

“I said, do you have any aces?”

He handed her the cards. Not saying a word, Pam laid the four aces on the carpet and looked at Jeremy. Hesitating just a little bit, the young boy stood up and pulled off his underwear. He tossed them onto the clothing pile where they landed right on top of her panties, something that did not escape Pam’s notice. She had just enough time for a quick peek before he sat down again and cupped a hand to his privates.

“Well, let’s see,” she mused. “How about jacks? Do you have any jacks?” Jeremy reluctantly took his cupped hand away from his crotch to hand her the cards. His penis was erect, pointing straight up even though he was sitting cross-legged. A small smile formed on her lips as Pam took the cards from his outstretched hands. Upon handing her the cards, however, his hand immediately went back to hiding his private parts.

“Oh Jeremy, you're so bashful,” teased Pam, as she rifled through her cards. “You don't see me being shy, do you?”

“I'm not being shy,” he insisted. “I just have my hand here because it's... you know. It's, um, cold.”

“This, coming from the boy who wears shorts and t-shirts in January,” Pam scoffed. “From the boy who practically throws a tantrum when his mom tells him to put on a sweater.”

“I'm not shy!” Jeremy argued. “See, look.” So saying, he took his hand away. He casually tried to hold his cards but now his knees were pulled up to his chest, his crossed ankles obstructing her view.

“You're still trying to hide,” Pam pointed out. With great effort, Jeremy resumed his previous cross-legged position. His penis, though small, was undeniably erect, pointing straight up at his chin. Pam welcomed the sight of it like an old friend. Someday, she thought, he would grow up. And it would too. That was an exciting thought, but for now Pam decided she liked Jeremy just the way he was.

“See? I can do it.”

“Do you remember when you were six? It was a battle every day for your mom to get you dressed.”

“You mean I would only wear underwear?”

“If we were lucky. I babysat you once and, the minute your parents left the house, you stripped down to your underwear.”

“I don't remember that,” Jeremy said, blushing.

“It wasn't too bad,” Pam said. “Although it wasn't as funny as that time you were naked the whole time I babysat you.”

“That's didn't happen! You're making stuff up to tease me now.”

“No, really,” Pam told him. “You got out of your bath and informed me that your mom didn't have any clean clothes for you. Your ran around naked that entire night. We had hot dogs for dinner and you weren't wearing a thing while you ate it.” For once, Jeremy was at a loss for words. A scowl formed on his face as his brow knitted in anger. Pam patted his bare knee. “Don't worry, it was cute. I get it. You got older and you gained a sense of modesty.”

“So, are we going to keep playing or what?” he asked. “We both already lost our clothes.”

“Well, hold on, here,” Pam said. “How about sevens?”

Making a sour face, he handed her his cards. “Oh great,” he muttered. “I bet you're going to make me get you a glass of water now.”

“Oh, I have something better than that,” Pam said. She leaned forward in anticipation. “I want you to do twenty jumping jacks for me.”

Jeremy groaned. “Do I have to?”

“It's the rules that you made up. You have to do whatever I ask.”

He reluctantly got to his feet, blushing beet red even though he hadn't started yet. His eyes avoiding hers, Jeremy began doing his jumping jacks.

“One, two, three, four...” Pam counted aloud to keep track for him. With each repetition, his erection was flopping up and down in the most satisfying way. It would lightly slap against his lower tummy before bowing down low against his pristine and hairless scrotum. Then it would snap back up like a rubber band.

But it was over much too soon. “Eighteen... nineteen... twenty!” Pam said, disappointed. She should have told him to do forty.

Jeremy sat back down. “I'm going to get you for this,” he informed her. “Hurry up and do your next turn.”

“Um, kings?' Pam said. Now it was her turn to be distracted. Too late, she realized they had already played kings.

“Go fish,” Jeremy told her. She took the last card in the pile. Jeremy studied his hand.

“Give me your fours.” She handed them over.

“Your turn!” Jeremy said. “I want you to do twenty jumping jacks.”

“I can't,” Pam told him. “My back has still been bothering me so I can't jump around.”

“You're just making excuses!”

“Really, Jeremy,” she said earnestly. “I would do naked jumping jacks for you if I could. Just think of something else to ask me.” Once again, Jeremy's eyes zeroed in on her bare breasts. Anything, Pam thought, anything at all. She felt herself getting wet from imagining what he would ask.

“Forget it,” Jeremy said, pouting. “I wanted to see jumping jacks.”

“I'll do a dance for you instead,” Pam offered. “How about that?”

“What kind of dance?”

“I don't know. I guess it won't be a funny one. Should I just do it for you?” Without waiting for an answer, Pam got to her feet. She wanted to give him something to really ogle. Something to blow his mind. He had already gotten to see her shower. How could she take it to the next level?

Pam began bobbing her head to an imaginary beat. Closing her eyes, she pictured herself on a dance floor. The rest of her body slowly joined in as Pam rhythmically swayed her hips and arms. She turned, pushing out her ass from side to side to match the silent song in her mind. Her arms were now raised above her head, her fingers touching and her head leaned back slightly, letting her long hair brush against her back. It felt as if she really was on the dance floor now. Pam moved her shoulders in sharp strokes and was rewarded by the feel of her breasts gently jiggling against her body.

She lost track of time, but when she opened her eyes again, she was certain that at least a few minutes had passed. Pam had lost herself so well in the dancing that it was jarring to find herself back in Jeremy's bedroom. The thick shag carpeting tickled her bare feet. His untidy drawers with clothes spilling out. And Jeremy was gazing at her with a look of almost religious awe.

“Was that okay?” Pam asked, her hands were still raised in a half circle atop her head.

“Um, yeah,” he said. “It was... cool.” His eyes moved from her toes to her head, then back again Pam returned the favor by admiring his delicate collarbone and gawky arms, not to mention his erection which she swore she could see throbbing in time with his pulse.

“I guess we're out of cards,” Jeremy said. “Now what?” She realized he was once again looking to her for direction. Pam glanced at the clock on his wall. It was half an hour before his mom said she would come home.

“We better get dressed,” Pam said reluctantly. Jeremy's face fell. It clearly wasn't what he wanted to hear, a realization that made her blush. What if? What if they had more time? The possibilities were endless. Masking her disappointment, Pam changed the subject. “Have you even eaten anything for dinner yet? I had a slice, but I'm still starving.”

She knelt at the pile of clothes and began sorting them, handing him his clothes as she found them. As he pulled on his shorts and shirt, Jeremy paid special attention as she got dressed, particularly when she put on her bra. “Of course he's curious,” Pam thought to herself. “He's never seen a girl get into her underwear before.

She dressed slowly to let him see the mechanics of it. Pam remembered the first few times she had to put on a bra as a young girl. It really was an intricate dance of arms going here and straps going there. I'm teaching him about the female body, she thought to herself.

“Jeremy,” she asked, turning around. “Do you think you could clasp my bra for me?”

“Huh? Oh sure.” She gathered up her hair, exposing her back to him. Pam couldn't explain why, but this felt every bit as erotic as the day she let him touch her breasts in the hot tub. Maybe even more. Her bra straps had been hanging loose at her back, but she felt them tighten as Jeremy tugged them together. His movement made the bra cup close against her body, gently lifting up her breasts. The incidental contact of his fingers against her back made Pam shiver. It took a moment of fumbling before he was able to successfully work the clasp.

“Thanks,” she told him. Pam was glad she wasn't facing him. She felt certain her warm face was awash in sensual pleasure.

“You're welcome.” He paused. “Um, hey. Would… Are we going to get in trouble if my parents find out about us playing Go Fish and, um… stuff?”

“Well, yes,” Pam said. It was the truth after all. “But I’m not going to tell them. Or anybody.”

“I won’t either,” Jeremy promised.

Pam felt an unexpected twinge of guilt. Not only had she taken advantage of him, but now she was telling him to keep secrets from his parents. “Do you wish we hadn’t done this?” she asked him. Why did it always happen this way? Why were the moments of high-flying arousal always followed by soul-crushing guilt? “I… Are you mad at me? I’m sorry.”

He was startled by her apology. “I’m not mad!” he said, shaking his head. To her surprise, Jeremy gave her a quick hug. Astonished, Pam hugged him back, but not before a split-second moment of hesitation, partially because his forehead was grazing her breasts. “I’m hungry though. There’s still pizza left, isn’t there?”

“Go ahead,” Pam told him. “I’m going to finish getting dressed.” He left the room.

“Why the guilt?” Pam mused. Wasn’t it Jeremy who spied on her in the shower? It was his own curiosity at work. Perhaps she was feeding his fixation, but it wasn’t as if she were actively preying on him. Pam sighed. He was a boy, she was a woman, and fifteen years separated them. That should have been simple enough, but the situation had somehow gained a great deal of complexity beyond that.

Pam turned off the light in the guest bedroom and headed for the kitchen where Jeremy was perched on a stool next to the kitchen counter. He had a slice of pizza in one hand and a pencil in the other. “Did you want some pizza?” he offered, looking up from his drawing. “I got you a plate.” He pointed at the stool next to his where a plate and napkin waited.

“Thanks, Jeremy,” Pam said, sliding onto the seat. She helped herself to some pizza. Jeremy was engrossed in his sketchbook, so there wasn’t much in the way of conversation. Peeking at the page, she saw an excellent rendition of some tulips in a vase.

“Oh, I get it,” Pam said. “You’re drawing this vase of tulips on the kitchen counter. That looks pretty good.”

“Thanks,” he answered absent-mindedly. He reached across the countertop to adjust a budding pink tulip that was drooping ever so slightly. The movement made his knee brush hers. But when he settled back in his seat, Jeremy didn’t move, instead letting his knee touch hers as they sat next to each other in the otherwise empty house.