It was babysitting night. At twenty-five years of age, Pam felt a little old to be a babysitter. But then again, Jeremy, the boy she was baby-sitting, was ten years old and he himself was getting too old to need a babysitter. But Pam didn’t really mind. It was nice to have a little extra money in her pocket. Plus, she was recently single, having broken up with a boyfriend of two years, and found it best to stay occupied. There was only so much socializing with girlfriends she could handle, so babysitting Jeremy once a week was a welcome departure.

The Prater family was easy to get along with, which definitely helped. Pam had been babysitting for them since Jeremy was six and they had grown to know each other well. She had assumed that Jeremy would one day grow out of needing a babysitter but his parents evidently did not think that day had yet arrived. Until then, Pam was happy to oblige since their house was only a short ten minute drive from her apartment.

Pam carefully parked her car in the driveway to the Praters’ house. They lived in a moderately affluent neighborhood set in a quiet wooded area. Kate, Jeremy’s mom, was an obstetrician at a nearby hospital. Her husband William managed a successful home-remodeling construction company. Despite their high-paying professions, their house was a relatively modest two story home that contrasted sharply with the enormous mansions of their neighbors.

The moment she pulled the parking brake, however, Pam’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Jeremy that just said, “Hi!” Playing along, she texted a hello back to him. Unbuckling her seat belt, she slowly got out of the car. She had done something funny to her back during today’s yoga session. Even sitting still for the short car ride had caused it to tighten up. Her phone buzzed again.

“bet you can’t guess where I am”

“in the house?”

“nope”

Pam wondered what kind of game Jeremy was playing. Her phone buzzed again when she approached the front door.

“don’t ring the doorbell”

“why not?”

“just wait. i can see you”

Pam looked around. She was getting annoyed. The front porch on which she stood had no windows to the interior and the door was solid wood. The rules of the game slowly dawned on her. She texted him back, asking, “how many fingers am i holding up?” She held up three fingers.

The reply was immediate. “3”

There was no obvious hiding place that she could see. The front yard was empty and it was the only place anyone could see the porch. She got another text.

“yr shoe is untied”

He was right. Pam sighed and knelt down to tie it. “All right, Jeremy,” she muttered, running out of patience. “I’m going to ring the doorbell now.” To her surprise, her phone buzzed again.

“no!”

“I see,” Pam said aloud. “So not only can you see me, but you can hear me too?” She looked at her phone to wait for the reply.

“yes”

“I give up, Jeremy,” she said. “Where are you?”

“Surprise!” he yelled, leaping out of a dense, pine shrub next to the porch. He brushed his floppy, rust-colored hair out of his eyes. With little regard for the poor shrub, he extricated his skinny limbs from the evergreen. Several branches snapped, sounding like firecrackers. “Haha! Pretty neat, huh? I bet that was the last place you would have looked.”

“Yes,” Pam said with complete sincerity. She swept some pine needles from his shoulders. “I never would have thought you would cram yourself into your mom’s shrubbery.”

“Want to see how I did it?” Jeremy said. He showed her a Z-shaped black tube about eighteen inches long. “It’s a periscope! I just got it yesterday. Want to try it?” He handed it to her.

Pam looked through one end. The image was remarkably clear and made her feel as if she had grown taller. “Pretty cool,” she said, handing the periscope back to Jeremy.

“I can use it to look around corners too,” he told her, opening the front door. “No one even knows you’re there. Oh hey, I got the new Call of Duty game too! Want to see?” Without waiting for an answer, the boy grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.

Pam hardly had time to kick her shoes off. She spotted two familiar figures in the kitchen. “Hi William, hi Kate,” Pam waved as Jeremy dragged her along the hallway.

“Hi Pam,” they both replied in unison. Kate was still putting in earrings and William was hunched over a newspaper on the kitchen counter.

“This new game is so great,” Jeremy told her enthusiastically as he led her into the living room. “You’re in the desert with an AK-16 and a bunch of grenades strapped around your chest. You have to find the terrorists and kill them.” He handed Pam the instruction manual.

Pam sat down in a comfortable armchair. “Hey,” she sniffed the air. “Does something smell like Coppertone in here?”

“Oh, um, that’s me,” Jeremy said.

“Why do you have Coppertone on? It’s only April and you’re not outside.”

“It helps my allergies,” he shrugged.

Pam raised a questioning eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Jeremy, after all, was a boy whose idea of a great meal was toast and horseradish sauce. She studied the game case. “Wait, what’s this game rated anyway?”

“Uh, it has an M rating,” Jeremy answered, not taking his eyes from the screen. “Don’t tell my parents, okay?”

Pam rolled her eyes. “My lips are sealed. How did you get your hands on this?”

“I’m borrowing it from Ashton. His older brother bought it for him.”

Checking to make sure his parents were still occupied in the kitchen, Jeremy turned the volume low and started the game. Pam found it hard to follow the action but she pretended to be interested as Jeremy’s character stalked from compound to compound. Ignoring the beanbag at his feet, Jeremy preferred to stand while playing the game, his jittery feet mirroring the action on the TV.

“Yes! Did you see that? I got the bonus rocket launcher pack,” Jeremy told her. “This is gonna be so cool. Just wait until you see what I can do… watch this.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. “I think that’s your dad,” Pam warned.

“What?” Jeremy said, concentrating on his game.

“Your dad is coming,” Pam repeated, raising her voice to be heard. She wondered how long Jeremy had this game in his possession so far. Not long, probably, or else it would have been confiscated by now. Jeremy was generally more reckless than thoughtful.

“What? Oh shit!” Jeremy quickly paused the game and returned to the generic Playstation startup menu just in time.

“All right you two,” William said. “We’re about ready to leave. No, Pam, you don’t have to get up. Are you all right?” He frowned.

Pam slowly rose to her feet, holding her back. “No, it’s nothing,” she assured him. “I just came from my yoga class. Today’s session was a bit more intense than I was used to.”

“I bet you were doing downward dog,” Jeremy said. “Did you hurt yourself doing downward dog? I can do downward dog.”

“No, Jeremy, it wasn’t that,” Pam smiled wryly. “There’s more to yoga than downward dog, you know.” But the ten year old boy wasn’t listening. While she spoke, he had rearranged his slender frame onto the carpet and assumed the classic yoga position.

“Ta-dah!” he said triumphantly.

His mom entered the living room at that exact moment. “Are you doing downward dog, Jeremy?” Kate asked. “Good job!” He collapsed into a pile on the floor and grinned impishly. Pam tried not to laugh. She usually found Jeremy’s mischievous boldness to be irresistible.

“Actually,” William began, “Pam was just saying she hurt her back in yoga today.”

“Oh no, it’s really not that bad,” she reassured them. “I think I just tweaked a muscle or something. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Kate nodded. “In any case, you know where we keep the Advil if you need it. Jeremy?” She turned her attention to her son who was still lying on the floor. “Pam isn't feeling well so I want you to be extra good tonight. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” Jeremy answered. He was wiggling on the floor as if he were doing the worm.

Kate paused to sniff the air. “Is that Coppertone? Jeremy, are your allergies bothering you again, honey?”

“Yup,” Jeremy said.

“I still don’t see how Coppertone helps,” his mom said, shaking her head. “If they get bad, you can always take some Benadryl before bed. Just ask Pam to get it for you. I don’t want you to stay up late, either.”

“We mean it,” William told him. “You can play video games for another half hour but then it’s time for homework.”

“I don’t have any,” said Jeremy. “I finished it before dinner since Pam was coming over.”

“All right, maybe another hour of video games,” conceded his dad. “But then it’s bath time after that and then bedtime.”

“Sure,” Jeremy said again. He lay on his stomach and reached back to grasp his ankles. “How about this Pam? Is this a yoga pose?”

“Have a good time at the play,” Pam told his parents, ignoring him.

“Thank you, Pam,” Kate said. She knelt to give Jeremy a hug but he was still in his yoga position. She patted his head instead.

William shook his head and sighed. “We should be home by 11:30 at the latest,” he told Pam. “Call us if something comes up.”

“I will,” she promised. Jeremy waited until they were out of sight before grabbing the controller to resume his game. Pam heard the front door open, then close, followed by the creak and groan of the garage door. Relaxed now, Jeremy flopped onto the beanbag and began playing.

“So are you playing video games all night?” Pam yawned. She wondered if she should have brought a book.

“You can have a turn,” offered Jeremy. He leaned back in the beanbag until his head was touching the ground. “You’re upside down, by the way.”

Pam began leafing through a magazine. “No thanks, I don’t need a turn,” she replied. “Maybe we can watch a movie later.”

It was obvious that Jeremy was deeply engrossed in his game based upon the delay of his responses. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “Maybe a movie.” She could already see his eyes starting to glaze over. At this rate, it would be a quiet evening indeed.

A silence settled over the room as Pam read her magazine and Jeremy played Call of Duty. She was in the middle of a fascinating article about lucid dreaming when Pam noticed Jeremy reaching to scratch his crotch as he waited for the game to load a new scene. After a moment, it became apparent that he wasn’t exactly scratching, but earnestly rubbing. Pam suppressed a smile and returned to her magazine. When she glanced again, Jeremy had stopped the touching, but she could now see a distinct protrusion in his shorts. The beanbag had caused them to ride up so much that the fabric was stretched tight between his legs, leaving little to the imagination.

“Guess someone is growing up,” Pam thought to herself. She felt a little embarrassed because she had known him since he was six. As fas as she knew, he was still at the age where he thought girls were gross. It made Pam uncomfortable to think of him as anything other than a little boy whose primary interests were video games and soccer. It wouldn’t be too much longer before he would be a sullen teenager, she supposed.

“Do you want to go swimming?” he asked, interrupting her train of thought. “The Fosters are out of town for the whole month. They gave my parents a set of keys and told us we could use their pool whenever we want.”

The Fosters lived next door. Their house was a towering structure of glass and marble that was every bit expensive on the inside as the outside. Not only did they have an indoor pool, but they also had a small home theater with stadium seating. There was a stark difference between the Praters’ modest home and the Fosters’ stately mansion.

“My back, remember?” she reminded him. “Sorry, Jeremy, but I don’t think I’m going to be much fun tonight.”

“Want me to walk on your back?” he asked.

“You would do that?” Pam raised an eyebrow. He had done it all the time when he was younger. And lighter. She wondered how much he weighed these days. Probably not much, judging from his gangly limbs and compact frame.

“Sure,” he said agreeably.

Pam slowly rose from her armchair. Grabbing a pillow, she lay face down on the carpet. “But I want you to stop your game,” she told him. “If you’re too distracted, you’ll probably fall and smash your head against the coffee table.”

“I can be careful,” Jeremy insisted.

“I mean it,” Pam said. “Can we have a night where we don't need the first-aid kit? You have to pause your game first.”

“All right,” he sighed, setting down his controller. “Are you ready?”

“Are your feet clean?” Pam scrutinized his toes for a moment. Like any other ten year old boy, cleanliness was not Jeremy’s strongest suit. But before she could take a close look, he stepped onto her back. “Whoa! Gently!” she reprimanded him.

“I am being gentle,” Jeremy contradicted. He held his arms out to maintain his balance as he began taking baby steps on her back. “Is this okay?”

Pam winced. Was she in pain because her back was hurt worse than she thought? Or was it because Jeremy wasn’t as light as he used to be? “Maybe avoid my lower back,” she suggested. “Oh. Mmm, that helps.”

She briefly closed her eyes. There was a pleasant interlude as Jeremy’s feet pressed against the knotted muscles in her back. She almost wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep. Out of the corner of her eye, however, something caught Pam’s attention. She could clearly see Jeremy’s reflection in the window and he appeared to be balancing something on his head.

“Jeremy, what are you doing?” she asked sharply.

“I’m just trying to maintain my balance,” he told her. Whenever he spoke to her in that nonchalant tone, she knew something was up.

“What’s that on your head though?”

“It’s a glass of water,” he answered.

“Water?” Pam said, alarmed. “Take it off before you drop it!”

“I’m not going to drop it,” Jeremy tried to reassure her. “Besides, it’s a plastic cup so it’s not going to break or anything.”

“I don’t care!” Pam said with exasperation. She wanted to sit up but she knew she couldn’t disturb Jeremy lest he lose his balance. “Take the glass of water off your head and get off of me, please.”

“Just a minute…”

“Now, Jeremy.”

“All right, all right. I’m getting down.”

“No, take the glass of water off your head first, then get…” Pam began saying. But it was already too late. She heard a quiet curse from Jeremy, followed by his feet stumbling across her back. The plastic cup landed squarely on the small of her back, followed by a large splash of water and bouncing ice cubes.

“Eeek!” Pam squealed, rolling over. But it was too late. The entire back of her t-shirt was soaked, the wet cotton clinging to her cold skin. She sat up and glared at Jeremy. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

“Sorry,” Jeremy mumbled.

“What were you thinking? Balancing a glass of water on your head?”

He helplessly looked at the floor. “It was helping me stand up straight,” he said. Still not looking at her, he knelt to retrieve the ice cubes before they melted.

As he worked, she noticed how he kept glancing at her. She realized the bottom of her shirt had ridden upward, exposing her midsection, which was the exact area to which his eyes kept gravitating. Pam was taken aback. Was Jeremy checking her out?

Suddenly confused, she quickly rose to her feet and headed to the bathroom. Her puzzlement was replaced by annoyance as she surveyed her wet shirt in the mirror. “At least it was just water,” she told herself. “And he didn’t get my hair wet either…” Pam took off her shirt and wrung it out as best she could. Even then it was still unpleasantly wet. Hanging it to dry on the shower rod, Pam wrapped a large towel around her chest.

She returned to the living room where Jeremy sat on the couch, subdued. “Hey, did you take a shower or something?” he joked, gesturing to the towel. Instead of answering, Pam sat down in an armchair and opened another magazine.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Want to play Super Mario? You can be Mario.”

“No, thank you.”

He fidgeted on the couch for several minutes. “Oh,” he said, remembering. “Want to play with Whiskers? I’ve been trying to teach her how to attack her stuffed mouse.” Whiskers was his cat.

“No, thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Pam turned the page of her magazine. Jeremy leaned in close to peer at the page she was reading, so close that his head blocked her view. Exasperated, Pam waited for him to finish looking at whatever had captured his attention. But instead of moving out of the way, Jeremy wiggled his way into the armchair, cramming himself into the tiny space between Pam and the armrest.

“What are you doing?” Pam inquired.

“I want to read too,” he told her. He held the left side of the magazine while she held the right.

“This armchair isn’t really made for two people,” Pam pointed out. Jeremy snuggled close to her though and rested his cheek against her bare arm. She was still annoyed about the spilled water, but it was difficult to be made when Jeremy was nestled against her like this. He was a cuddler.

The right thing to do, she supposed, would have been to act stern and make him apologize. Pam decided to let it go this time. It was just water, after all. She returned to reading the magazine.

Jeremy protested when she tried to turn the page. “Hey, wait, slow down. I’m not done reading this page yet.”

Pam sighed. After thirty seconds, Jeremy reached out to turn the page himself. “You know, Jeremy,” Pam began, “if you want to get your own book, or maybe go back to your game…” But instead of taking the hint, Jeremy took her closest arm and draped it around his shoulder, snuggling closer against her. Pam shivered. It was chilly being shirtless and bare-shouldered, but Jeremy felt quite warm against her side.

“Remember that one time we were reading like this,” Jeremy said, “and you looked over and I was asleep?”

She smiled at the memory. He knew exactly the fastest way to return to her good graces. “Yes, I remember that day,” Pam said.

“I think you were rubbing my back too,” Jeremy reminded her.

“Oh, no way, buster,” Pam laughed. “If anything, you're the one that should be rubbing my back. You spilled ice water all over me, remember?”

“Okay, I can rub you back,” he agreed.

Pam blinked, not expecting him to agree. “Sure,” she said cautiously. They moved to the couch where Pam laid down. Jeremy sat with his legs off the couch's edge and began softly stroking her bare shoulders. It felt nice.

His hands moved a little lower, massaging her through the towel. This was nice too. Pam sighed again. “Is this okay?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Jeremy.” She let him massage her for several minutes. She could still see his reflection in the window and Jeremy was boredly staring off into space. “But so what?” she thought to herself. “I deserve this.” Pam wondered when he would stop being so childish. Calculating dates in her head, Pam realized that the young boy was merely two months shy of his eleventh birthday.

He shifted on the couch, interrupting her thoughts. Pam thought he wanted to stop, but Jeremy only repositioned himself so that he was now kneeling on the couch, straddling her legs. “Is it okay if I go like this?” he asked.

“Of course.” She could feel his knuckles pressing against her sore back through the towel. It would feel much nicer if he could access her bare back. Pam considered it a moment. “Why not?” she thought to herself.

“Hang on a sec,” she told Jeremy. Lifting herself up the couch slightly, she undid the towel so that her back was bare. There wasn’t any harm here, she decided, since she was still wearing her bra. Jeremy had seen her in a swimsuit before and surely this was no different.

He resumed his half-rub / half-massage of her back. This time though, she could feel his fingers against her own skin. “Mmm, that’s nice,” she murmured. Pam felt very relaxed now. The stress of the day was melting away. She had even forgotten how annoyed she was with Jeremy.

After ten minutes, Pam felt positively narcoleptic. Her lids felt heavy enough to fall past a short nap into a deep sleep. “Thanks Jeremy,” she said drowsily. “You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

“Well, okay,” Jeremy said after a slight pause. “I actually don’t mind it up here.” He bounced up and down a bit.

Pam realized he was using her backside as a pillow. “Is it comfortable?” she asked. “

“It really is super comfortable,” Jeremy affirmed. “It's nice and padded.” Pam laughed. He wasn't quite old enough to realize you don’t tell a girl her cushy ass makes for a comfy seat. “Can I sit here and play Call of Duty?” he asked.

“Uh, sure.”

He leaned over her to reach for the game controller which rested on the end table. “Mmm, you feel warm,” Pam said without thinking. The feel of his body against her back felt like a nice blanket.

“I bet I could play like this,” Jeremy declared, settling onto her form on the couch. Pam had been lying face down on the couch, but now Jeremy was lying face down on top of her. She could hear the sound of buttons being pressed. “Is this okay?

“Sure,” Pam agreed. The light click-clack of the controller buttons was annoying, but the warmth of Jeremy’s body against hers felt awfully nice. She was resting her eyes again, but now something poked against her lower back. “Jeremy,” she began, “do you have something in your…”

Pam’s eyes snapped open.

“What?” Jeremy asked, distracted again.

“Um, nothing,” Pam answered. She glanced at the window again where she could still clearly see their reflection in the dark glass. A rising flush of embarrassment warmed her face as Pam’s eyes confirmed what was happening. There was something pressing against her bum. Jeremy’s midsection was directly aligned with her bum.

Jeremy had an erection and it was pressing against her bum.

Pam instantly felt a wave of impropriety. It was the same embarrassment she felt before when she saw him absent-mindedly touching his crotch while sitting in the beanbag. Or when he had checked out her bare torso. This was a young boy. She taught him to swim. She helped him with his homework. And here he was now grinding against her body.

She wondered what to do. Get up? Yell at him to stop? But surely Jeremy had no idea of what he was doing. She could see his expression of concentration in the window as he played his game. He had no clue. As usual, he couldn’t sit still while playing a video game, so each time he dodged an enemy bullet or lobbed a grenade, his entire body squirmed and shimmied against hers. And each time she felt something hard digging into her.

Pam lay still for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do. Jeremy was not only completely engrossed in the game now, but he must have also reached a more difficult level as well because his movements were becoming more spastic. “Is he…” Pam wondered. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Pam thought she could feel him moving his hips as well. Like he was… humping her.

She studied Jeremy’s reflection in the mirror again. “Is it even possible?” Pam thought to herself. “Is he doing this because it feels… good?” The mere thought made her blush. “This is Jeremy!” she told herself. “He’s ten years old! He thinks music from the 90s is classic rock!” But despite these thoughts ringing in her head, Pam felt frozen. Part of her knew she should sit up and put an end to this. But a small part of her felt…

“Um, Jeremy, I think I have to… go to the bathroom,” Pam muttered, moving into a sitting position. He slid off her and onto the couch, not moving his eyes from the TV. “I… I’ll be right back. Okay?” Pam stood up.

Only now did he notice her. “Okay,” he agreed, glancing at her. Pam realized with a start that when he spoke, he glanced at her chest, not her face. She quickly raised the forgotten towel to her chest, covering her bra. Pam was blushing deep red now and she hoped Jeremy didn’t notice. She rapidly exited the room.

Once safely locked in the bathroom, Pam took several deep breaths. “What just happened?” she wondered. Feeling the need to pee, she pulled down her jeans. Pam stopped short when she noticed a darkened patch, no larger than a dime, in her panties.

Pam covered her face as she blushed furiously.What in the world was going on? She certainly hadn't felt aroused while Jeremy inadvertently poked her with his erection. Not the least bit. Surely there was some other explanation for this damp spot.

Since breaking up with her boyfriend, she had stopped taking birth control pills. Perhaps it was messing with her hormones. Didn't her doctor warn her about that possibility? It was the only logical explanation.

Pam quickly pulled up her jeans, not even daring to look at the wet spot in her underwear. Then she hung up the towel and retrieved her t-shirt. It was still wet. Opening the cabinet, she rummaged through the toiletries until she located a hair dryer. She plugged it in.

The roar of the hair dryer was comforting somehow, a reassuring white noise to the jumble of noise in her head. As she dried her t-shirt, Pam rationalized what happened as best she could. Although he was still very much a ten year old, emotionally speaking, Jeremy was inevitably growing up in a physical sense. It was merely a physiological reaction, she told herself. Completely natural.

Letting him grind against her though… That wasn’t natural. But if she had made a big deal out of it, Jeremy probably would have freaked out. “He started it himself,” Pam reasoned. “He probably didn’t even realize what he was doing.” If it happened again, Pam decided, she would stop him right away. But this incident was an aberration, she told herself. It was unlikely to happen again.