Yeah, great. Now, about that blowjob...

I hate kids.

Any human being under the age of 10 should be outfitted with mute and pause buttons, so they can be shut off at night like appliances, and dog-shock collars to zap them when they walk in front of the TV screen.

After they hit 10 years old, of course, none of that is necessary, because by then it's no longer cool to hang out with grownups, and all the really status-conscious youngsters shut themselves in their rooms like the Game-Boy obsessed recluses that they are.

Since I feel that way, maybe that's why Heather, the MILF'y mom, kept me at such a distance from her six-year-old daughter Casey. "Just pull up to the driveway; I'll run out!" she'd say, or "The house is a mess; how about if I just meet you at the restaurant?" It was obvious she didn't want me near Casey, and that was fine with me. I sure as hell wasn't looking to make any pint-sized pals anyway, and I definitely wasn't trying for an instant family. I found it insulting that she wouldn't come out and tell me what she was doing, rather than hide behind a list of tired excuses. What, was I stupid?

She also probably didn't want Casey to get attached. Awww. I'm all gooey inside!

I did meet Casey a few times, furtive, awkward hello's, while I stood in the doorway grinning sheepishly, and she hid her face behind her mother's knees. That was perfect for me; the less complication, the better. And that's what she was, a complication.

**********

Saturday, July 16, 2005, 10:30am
Steve's house

"Hello?"

"Hi Steve! It's Heather! How are ya?"

"Fine, you?"

"Could I ask you a MAJOR favor?"

"What's that?"

"I have an appointment that I HAVE to get to, and my babysitter didn't show up, and I can't get her on the phone-"

Oh, Jesus no.

"Yeah?"

"And I have to be there in a half hour, and I would NEVER ask you this normally, but could you please, please watch Casey for an hour, hour and a half tops?"

Um, no. I think I'll opt for something less painful, like gargling with broken glass.

"You do understand that you're gonna owe me a big one for this."

"Trust me, Steve. I will be extremely grateful."

"HOW grateful, exactly?"

Her voice sinks to a naughty whisper. "Maybe blow job grateful."

I get hard. Yes, we have fucked before, but she is very squeamish about putting it in her mouth. "Not yet," she'd say.

**********

11:05
Heather's house

Casey is kneeling at a low coffee table, a tan, workmanlike piece of furniture covered in crayon scribbles and dried juice stains. She peeks up from her coloring when she thinks I'm not looking, staring at me as if studying a dead cricket in the driveway.

"Steeeeve?" she says sweetly, rocking nervously back and forth against the table.

"Hm?"

"What should I draw?"

"Um, how about an airplane?"

"I don't WANNA draw an airplane!" she snaps. We look at one another, as if neither of us can believe she said it.

"Well, a car then."

"I don't LIKE drawing cars!"

"Well what DO you like drawing, Casey?"

"I don't know. TELL me!"

How about a little pain in the ass? Can you draw one of those?

"What's your favorite animal?"

"A zebra. No, a horse. No, a zebra, a zebra!"

"OK, draw me a nice zebra then. And make sure he's blue, and pink!" I say, wide-eyed. Maybe she'll laugh, and forget about how uncooperative she's trying to be.

"Nooo!" she giggles, and starts coloring.

The zebra's only got three legs and a snout when she suddenly looks up at me. "Steeeeeve?"

"Yeah?"

"What's a beaner?"

"A BEANER?"

"What is it?"

It's a racist term, of course, but how the hell could she have heard that? At any rate, it's not my job to talk to her about this shit, so I'll just dodge the question.

"Where did you hear that, Casey?"

"Mommeeeee," she says, coloring again.

NO way Heather referred to someone as a "beaner", especially not in front of Casey.

"What did mommy say?"

"She said, 'Steve drives a beaner.'"

I laugh out loud. "No, that's BEAMER, honey! BEA-MER!"

"Oh."

"Did mommy say anything else?"

"No," she says, filling in a black stripe.

**********

12:30

"I am SO sorry I'm late. Did you guys have fun?!"

"We sure did," I say. Casey was no trouble at all; she just colored and played quietly the whole time. I basically did nothing, except read about Brad and Angelina and look for cleavage in magazine ads.

She was an OK kid, I guess, as kids go.

"Mommy! Guess what?"

"What, Casey!"

"Steve doesn't know his animals very well. And he called me 'honey'!"

"Oh, that's so sweet!"

Heather looks at me with soft blue eyes. A little smile touches her lips. "Casey, mommy and Steve are gonna go upstairs for a minute, ok?"

To be continued...