The sitter

"What the fuck!" Was the first thing Patrick said, or yelled really. Probably because there were two guys sitting on his couch, watching the bulls game.

"You were supposed to be here like an hour ago! The game already started!" One guy yelled back. I recognized his voice as Shawzie.

"Yeah. I had to go to your neighbor's place for a spare key, because you weren't here. And who the fuck is that?" The second guy asked, pointing at me.

Although I was shocked and slightly disappointed that we weren't going to have sex, I was also sort of happy. I decided to go along with my original plan of not hooking up.

"This is, uh, Mel." Patrick introduced me awkwardly.

"No way." Shawzie said, his jaw dropping. "No fuckin' way, Kaner."

"I should go." I said, turning to Patrick. No way was I interrupting boys night.

"No. Stay. I'm Andrew, and this is Brandon."

As much as I wanted to stay, I was wearing a dress, and they were going to watch a basketball game on a guy's night. So, I came up with the excuse of having to go to work early and left. As I was walking out the door, I saw Patrick mouth the words, "text me."

I had no doubt I would.

*****

"How the hell did you meet her?" Was the first thing Shaw asked as soon as the door shut after Mel left.

"She's babysitting for the people next door." I explained, deciding to leave out the part where the only reason why I went over was to tell her to turn her damn smoke alarms off.

"And were you on a date?" Brandon asked, with a tone that made me think of middle school.

"Yeah, I was." I replied, grabbing a beer from my fridge.

"And she was coming into your place wearing your coat…?" Brandon asked, with the same voice.

"Shut up, you fucker." I snapped, sitting down. As much as I wanted her to, I was surprised when she told me to open the door. But I wasn't complaining.

"Hey man, don't blame us," Andrew began. "We planned this like, three months ago. You did not
know her three months ago. Besides, it's there last game of the year!"

"Also, don't think about texting her." Brandon said without taking his eyes off the screen. None of us even liked basketball.

"Why?"

"Because you're gunna be whipped, I can tell."

"I am not!" I argued.

"Yup. Sure." Shaw said. "Gimme your phone." My hand immediately went to my jeans pocket where my phone was, and I was tacked my Saad while Shaw grabbed my phone. Why don't I have a fucking password??

"Hold him down." Shaw commanded. From what I could tell where I was, he was opening the messages. Good thing I hadn't texted her, only through twitter.

"Don't say anything bad!" I begged.

"Does asking for pussy pics count as bad?" Shaw asked, with a shit eating grin.

"Are you serious? Fuck you!" I said, trying to push Brandon off me. The guy was like 400 pounds. Eventually I pushed him off, and stood up to tackle Andrew, but he threw the phone too Saad while he tackled me.

"Dude!" Brandon said. "She replied."

"No fuckin' way." Shawzie said, for the second time in about two minutes.

"Do I open it?" Saad asked, raising his voice.

"No!" I yelled, the same time Shaw yelled, "Yeah!"

He opened it. We all held our breaths, waiting for him to speak. Suddenly, he laughed. "It's a fucking cat!" Shaw thought that was hilarious, judging by how hard he was laughing. All I had was respect. I think I would have liked her less if she actually sent them.

We actually ended up watching the game. The Bulls won, which meant nothing because it was still their last game of the year. Finally, Saad and Shawzie left, after I explicitly asked them to. They both had stupid smiles on their faces.

I decided to call Mel. She picked up on the first ring, which made me smile.

"What's up?" She said, not even giving me a chance to say hi.

"Bulls won. Shaw and Saad left. What are you doing?"

"Watching Gravity. Literally the most boring movie ever. No aliens at all."

"Not yet." Even though I had never seen the movie, I wanted to mess with her a bit.

"I'm calling you on your bullshit, Kaner."

"No, i'm legit! What part are you at?"

"She's in space." Mel answered, laughing.

"She's in space the whole movie! I'll come over, so when the aliens come out, I can tell you."

"Only if you bring drinks."

"Beer or…?"

"Do you have powerade?"

"I'm a professional athlete, you know that right?"

"Bring me red, no, two." And then she hung up. I laughed at her bluntness. On the phone, you wouldn't think she was a 5'4, 120 at soaking wet, babysitter.

After I changed into shorts, a tee, and a hoodie, I walked over with five powerades, all red. I didn't even knock on the door. I had a feeling it was open.

I was greeted by the smell of popcorn and all of the lights shut off. I realized that she didn't notice me come in. So, naturally, I snuck up behind her and grabbed her shoulders. I expected her to scream and stand up (like my sisters do when I scare them) but she grabbed a pillow from the couch and hit me with it over the head.

"Jesus Pat! You scared the shit out of me!"

I laughed, and sat down next to her. "I bet you thought it was an alien." I cooed.

"Shut up. No I didn't!"

"Shh. The movie is on. Pass the popcorn." I said, sternly. I was rewarded with a hit.

"I'm going to hit you so hard, your fucking eyes are going to fall out. And then you won't be able to watch the movie."

I laughed, and took the popcorn. The movie passed by without aliens, and Mel gave me tons of shit for it. But after the credits stopped rolling, and we sat in the dark, she forgave me.

"What you did was awful, Patrick. Absolutely unforgivable. How can I ever trust you again?" She said, fake crying.

I laughed. "Oh cry me a river, Viper."

"How do you know my last name?" She asked.

"I found you on twitter. Your name literally is Melanie underscore Viper. I give a zero for creativity."

"Shut up, you tweet like a grandma!" She fired back. It was true PR made all of my tweets, and I just went along with it.

"We should have a dance party." Mel suggested out of the blue.

"Slow dance or tango?" I asked. She, of course, hit me.

"You want me to teach you how to tango?"

I laughed at the thought of her teaching me how to dance. When I was on my skates, I had good footwork. Off the skates, not so much. It's not that I wasn't coordinated, but I just couldn't dance.

"Like hell I do."

"Okay, so first things…"

****

Patrick dancing was maybe on of the funniest things I've ever seen. Maybe if I was an outside person, watching the both of us dance would be funnier, but I wasn't, so I'd have to settle with this.

"Nobody's watching. Stop acting embarrassed!" I yelled, teaching him his footwork for the ninth time.

"You're watching!" He fired back. "I'm gunna take you skating, and you'll see how it feels to be out of your element."

Third date maybe? Or maybe he just wanted me to be embarrassed. Probably the latter.

"Can we do the dip again?" Patrick asked, looking hopeful. The last time we did the dip, he wasn't ready and he dropped me on the ground.

"Are you going to drop me on my head?"

"You dipped way to fast! You looked like a fish!"

I sighed, and we started dancing. Patrick stepped on my toes almost every step, and his hand was way lower then the middle of my back, but he had improved. He was also way to tall to be my dancing partner.

"Dip?"

I did. Without hitting the ground. When I stood up, Patrick was smiling. "Was it good? You didn't fall. I thought you would, but-"

"Change your name to Diego, and hop the border! You're practically one of us! Minus the american-boy face. And the hockey part. Plus you couldn't speak spanish for your life." I replied.

"Hey, como estas!" He said back.

"That means how are you."

"Yeah, I know. Spanish four, remember? I was actually asking."

"Oh. Bueno. Aburrido, supongo. Quiero tener una fiesta de baile real sin embargo." I replied.

"Slow down, what?" Patrick asked, looking confused.

"I said I want to have an actual dance party."

"Where?" He asked.

"Here." I replied simply.

"How?" He inquired. This guy must either have no fun, or no free time. Most likely the latter.

"You find a speaker, get some tunes, turn off the lights, and get a strobe light, and turn up." I instructed.

"What's a turn up?"

Oh my god. The only excuse was that he didn't go to college, but everybody knew for a fact that he had partied before! I didn't answer him, but told him to move the furniture out of the way. Good thing I changed into a tank top and a pair of yogas. I ran to plug in my phone to the beyond good speaker the Williams had, and grabbed a lamp that I had bought for this specific purpose (Don't ask me why I brought it because I wouldn't be able to answer), plugged in the lamp and turned it on, and then started my "too turnt 2k14" playlist on shuffle. "Lolly" by J. Biebs came on first.
Patrick laughed at my music choice, but took his hoodie off and walked closer to me. "So what's a lolly?" He yelled in my ear, because the music was too loud.

"Oh, you know." I replied.

"Are we going to tango?" He lips rubbed against my neck while he was whispering, and I felt it right down to my panties. The only response I could make was a sound between a moan and a groan. He put his hands on my hips, and grabbed. I made the sound again. I knew I was putty in his hands, and I wanted to change that.

"I want a drink." I panted.

"Of?"

"Jack. Tequila. Vodka. Patron. I don't care. They have a top shelf, I'm sure." I said, dragging him to the kitchen. Sure enough, we found a bottle of scotch. We passed it back and forth until I knew I would be at the least very buzzed. He grabbed the bottle with one hand, and my hand with his other, and pulled me back "on the dance floor". Now it was my turn to get him on. Wild for the night was on, and I put my hands up, his hands now on my hips. I turned around and dropped. When I stood up, I rubbed my hips on his. Or more specifically, my ass on his dick. He responded my gripping my hips tightly. I moved up and down, side to side, and threw in a couple of figure eights.

He grabbed me even tighter, and I knew I was doing well.

Suddenly, I turned around, and put my arms around his neck. I was so close I could feel his liquor-stained breath. "Are you working up a sweat, Kaner?" I asked innocently. He was breathing heavily and with the flashing lights, I could see a sheen of sweat on his perfect face. "Maybe you should take your shirt off." I suggested, moving my hands down to play with the hem

"Only if you take off yours." He responded roughly. I began to pull his off, but he grabbed me by wrists. "Ladies first." I smirked, and pulled off my tank top. I was left in yogas and a light purple, lacy, bra. Thank God I put on matching underwear, if we got that far. He followed not far after by taking off his shirt.

I don't even know if you could call what we were doing dancing. It was more slow grind, him standing tall and sturdy, while I moved on him. After about six songs (which I doubt either of us listened to), he sat down, and I basically rode him while we were making out. At least I did while I was facing him. For at least two songs, my back was to him and my ass was facing him. By now, there had been maybe twenty songs. He no doubt had a hard-on. A very prominent one.

While we were making out, the playlist began to repeat its self. Patrick pulled back, leaving me
feeling unsatisfied.

"Are you going to tell me what a lolly is now?"

"All you have to do is look down." I replied with a smug grin.

"So then would it be time to take off the pants too?"

Notes

Cliffhanger, I guess? I had formal tonight, and there was a lot of grinding!

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