When Abby gets a call from a family she hasn't had contact with for six years, she's grateful for the extra money. She doesn't know that the kid she used to babysit, now eighteen, harbors a major grudge against her.

Turns out, she'd made a huge mistake the last time she'd been in charge of him, and the only way to make things right is to allow him to spank her. Her dignity and her poor behind will never be the same, especially once she realizes just how turned on her punishment makes her.

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Sample:

Chapter One

As I stood on the stoop, I felt very nostalgic looking at the Reynolds’ house. How long had it been? Five years? No, six, since the last time I babysat for them.

Truthfully, I was glad to get their call. Money was starting to get tight, and there was no end in sight for my job search. You’d think that a recent college grad could at least get an interview in this economy, but, for a finance major with no experience, you’d be wrong.

I knocked on the front door.

“Abby!” Mrs. Reynolds said. “It is so great to see you, and I cannot thank you enough for coming on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem, really.”

A pair of gorgeous blue eyes peeked out from Mrs. Reynolds’ leg.

“And who might this be?” I asked.

“This is our daughter, Marcie. She’s four.”

Oh wow! When Mrs. Reynolds had called with a request for babysitting, I hadn’t really asked any questions. Given that their only child, Ken, had been twelve the last time I saw him, I’d figured that I’d be dealing with a nephew or niece or some other young relation.

I struggled to find something to say. “That’s quite a …”

“Surprise?” she supplied, smiling.

“I was going for gift, but yeah …”

“That’s one way to look at it. Still, I couldn’t imagine my life without this little thing, so … gift. I like it.”

She invited me in, and I followed her.

“Mom had a bit of a fall,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

“Oh no! Is she okay?” I’d only met Ken’s grandmother a few times, but she was incredibly sweet.

“Broken hip.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “She’s doing really well, though, definitely ready to leave the medically assisted living place where she’s been staying, but, to get released back to her home, she needs some help. Bob’s going with me to take care of setting up contractors and the like.”

“You said three or four days?”

“I’m hoping he’ll be back by Friday night, depending on how things go,” she said. “He absolutely has to be back at work on Monday, though, and we’ve made arrangement for daycare for next week.”

So three days best case and up to five. At a hundred dollars per day and another hundred per night, that worked for me.

“You’re okay to stay over through the weekend if we need it, right?” she asked.

“My bag is in the car, and I completely cleared my schedule between now and Monday.” I said that like I actually had some kind of life that was being interrupted. As if.

“Again, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this. You are truly a blessing.” She grimaced.

“What?”

“It’s just … Nothing.”

“Tell me,” I said. “Please.”

“You remember Ken, right?”

“Of course.”

“He’ll be going off to college in the fall, but he’s still living at home at the moment,” she said. “Working full time this summer, though. He’ll … uh … He’ll be here nights.”

“Okay. And?”

It should be fun to catch up with him. We hadn’t seen each other in years.

“He … uh … doesn’t exactly have fond memories of you,” she said. “I asked him to be on his best behavior, but …”

Huh? Ken didn’t like me? In fact, it sounded like he actively disliked me. What?

“His teenage years were … tumultuous,” she said. “He had some problems, but I hope those are behind him now.”

Really? He’d always been such a good kid, and, with the two doting parents and great genes in both the looks and brains departments, I figured he would have sailed through high school.

“I’m sure it will all be fine,” she said. “He rarely seems to ever be home, anyway, and, if he acts up, feel free to give me a call.”

“Don’t worry about a thing. Whatever his issue is, I’ll deal with it.”

A car door slammed outside.

“That’d be Bob. Time for us to go.” Mrs. Reynolds picked up Marcie and gave her a long, tight hug. “You be good for Ms. Abby, okay?”

“I will, Mama.”

Mrs. Reynolds grinned. “I know you will. Such a precious little thing.” She turned to me. “There’s cash in the usual place. You remember, right?”

I nodded. They stored money for pizza and such in a cookie jar in the kitchen.

“Bye!”

With that, she handed her daughter to me and practically bolted from the door, leaving me alone with Marcie. As I played with the girl, though, my conversation with her mom kept intruding on my thoughts. I wracked my brain trying to figure out why Ken might have a problem with me, but I couldn’t come up with anything.

Chapter Two

After not one, not two, but three rousing rounds of Candyland with Marcie, I excused myself to go to the kitchen. Dinner, after all, wasn’t going to cook itself.

It was always a little strange cooking in someone else’s house. Even though I wasn’t doing anything fancy – just chicken nuggets and carrots – I still had to locate the ingredients and pans and aluminum foil and all the other stuff, which meant rummaging around in the refrigerator and all the cabinets. By the time I’d gotten the food started, though, I had a pretty good idea of where everything was located.

I also noted that the trash was getting close to full, so I decided to go ahead and deal with that. Vaguely recalling where they kept the outside can, I ventured into the backyard. Luckily, what I needed was in plain sight.

As I was about to dispose of the bag, however, I caught a whiff of something strong, something not coming from the trash. Smoke. A very distinctive type of smoke.

Weed. Pot. Grass. Dope. Mary Jane.

Marijuana.

Whatever one referred to it as, there was no mistaking the smell, and it was coming from the backyard that adjoined the Reynolds’.

I grinned. Someone was having a high old time tonight, and I wondered who it was. The fence was way too high for me to see over.

Suddenly, I remembered that Ken’s best friend, a girl, used to live back there. What was her name? Faye? Fiona? Frannie? Something starting with an “F.”

Faith.

That was it.

I couldn’t help but wonder if it was her back there. If I remembered correctly, her parents would kind of conservative and stodgy, and she was on only child. Unless the whole family had moved, she had to be the smoker.

Worth a shot.

“Faith?” I called. “That you?”

“Who’s there?” a female voice yelled back.

“Abby Studdard.”

“Who?” There was a pause. “Wait. Abby? Babysitter Abby?”

“That’s me!”

“No shit?” Faith asked.

“Really.”

She asked me what I was doing, and I explained about the older Reynolds being called away, creating the necessity for me to watch Marcie.

“So,” I said, “enjoying your weed?”

She started hacking, like she’d been taking a puff when I’d startled her.

When the coughing died down, she said, “What are you talking about? I would never-”

“I lived in a dorm for four years,” I said. “I know very well what pot smells like.”

“Shit!” Faith coughed again. “Listen, you can’t tell my folks, alright? If they find out, I’m toast, dude.”

“No problem.”

“Good.” Her voice mellowed in relief. “Want a hit?”

“No thanks.” Not that I’d never partaken or anything, but getting high didn’t exactly go well with taking care of a small child.

“God!” she said. “I haven’t thought about you in ages. You’re a total blast from the past.”

I’d babysat Ken a lot over the course of three or four years, and, about a third of the time, Faith would come over for at least part of the evening.

“You beat anybody at Texas Hold ‘em recently?” I asked.

“Hey, that’s right. You taught me how to play. Awesome!”

I laughed.

“I hated it when you stopped coming over,” Faith said.

“Yeah, that was weird. For a long time, it was such a regular thing, at least one or two times a month. Then, it just stopped.”

“You remember why, right?” she asked.

“I have literally no idea.”

The question of why my gig with the Reynolds dried up was probably a big one at the time, but so many years had passed that I didn’t even recall if I ever even found out the answer, much less what it was. Besides, it wasn’t like I missed the work. I’d had a reputation for being very responsible, so moms were pretty much fighting over me.

“Oh man!” Faith said. “Ken still hates you with a passion to this day!”

She was the second person to mention that already today. Whatever grudge he held against me must have been pretty strong.

“You really don’t remember?” she asked.

“I don’t. I really don’t.” My lack of memory of these events was starting to get annoying. “Tell me!”

Faith laughed. “You spanked Ken.”

That didn’t sound like me at all. I wasn’t exactly a violent person, and my parents hadn’t used corporal punishment all that much – only once that I could remember, in fact, for stealing and lying about it when I was in kindergarten.

“I did?” I asked.

“You were making dinner for us, and, when you returned to the living room, you caught him with his hand in your purse. Remember?”

That did ring a bell.

“Yeah,” I said. “He was holding a twenty from my wallet!”

God! I’d totally forgotten about that.

“You accused him of stealing it,” Faith said.

“He lied to me!”

“You were ticked!” she said. “I’d never seen you so mad.”

“That little shit! He was normally such a good kid. Never gave me any problems at all. I’d noticed after before that I might have been a few bucks light after babysitting him, but I never even suspected it could be him. That time, though, I freaking caught him in the act.”

“That you did!”

“He still denied it, too,” I said. “If he’d just owned up to it, I’d have just sent him to his room for a time out, but he flat out refused to confess, even though he had no other explanation for his action.”

She laughed.

“No matter what I did, he would not tell me the truth! Kept telling me he didn’t take the money for all that it was in his hand and his hand was in my purse. I threatened him with every normal punishment I used – being sent to bed without supper, telling his parents, even threatened not to come over anymore – nothing worked.”

“His face literally turned white when you told him you were going to spank him.”

“God! I remember. He was obviously mortified at the thought, but he still wouldn’t just admit what he’d done.”

“You obviously thought you had him on the ropes,” she said, “so you upped the stakes.”

I nodded. “I told him that, if he didn’t confess immediately, I was going to give him a bare-bottomed spanking.”

“And that you were going to let me watch …”

The Reynolds trusted me to use my judgment, and I had their permission to use corporeal punishment if I felt it necessary. I’d never let things get that far before, though. That night, I’d been so angry that the words had just sprung from my mouth.

“I really, really should never have told him that,” I said.

“Probably not but you did.”

When I started babysitting, my mom gave me a bunch of advice. One of the main things that stuck was that it was important to follow through on any threats. Otherwise, the kid would never respect you again.

“And he still didn’t confess.” My voice was small.

No wonder I’d blocked that out. I’d felt forced into doing something that I really wasn’t comfortable doing and couldn’t escape the thought that, somehow, I’d really screwed the situation up.

“Yep. His was the first bare male bottom that I saw.” She laughed. “Not to mention balls and … other stuff.”

“You really shouldn’t have peeked.”

“Like I wasn’t going to take advantage of the opportunity? Right.”

True. It really was his fault more than hers.

“Why didn’t he just confess?” I asked.

“Because he didn’t want to lie.”

Huh?