Secret Room

Misty Walker answered the phone before her mother could get it. She was sixteen, but she acted as if she was an adult, or at least she liked to think so.
“Hello?” she said. Her mother looked at her.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“This is she.” Misty said into the phone, ignoring her mother‘s question. “Who may I ask is calling?” She put her hand over the phone a moment later. “It’s Mr. Ménage from down the block.” she said. “They want me to baby-sit tonight. Is it okay?”
“Find out how much, first.” her mother told her. “Then ask how late it will be.”
“Okay, my mom wants to know how late I’ll be, and how much I get paid.” she said into the phone. A moment later, she said, “Four dollars an hour, and they want me from five until nine.”
“Tell them five bucks an hour, and I’ll say okay.” said her mother. “If they can afford sixteen dollars, they can afford twenty.”
Misty repeated it into the phone, then grinned and looked at her mother.
“They said okay, Mom. If I leave right now, I’ll just make it on time.” she said. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Sure. Have a good time, okay?” Misty went over and gave her mother a peck on the cheek, then left the house and skipped down the street to the Ménage’s house.
She knocked on the door, and Mr. Ménage answered it a moment later, buttoning his shirt. He was still in his boxers, and Misty could see how hairy his legs were. He stepped out of the doorway and invited her in.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice, Misty. As you can see, I’m running a little late.” he said. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge, and I should be back by nine or nine thirty.”
“Okay, Mr. Ménage. Where’s Pete?” she asked. Pete was his eleven-year-old son.
“Oh, you can call me Mike.” he replied. “Pete’s upstairs asleep already. He goes to his Grandparents‘ place in Minnesota in the morning. I hope you don‘t mind the excuse I used to get you over here, but I really needed some company tonight, before I go.” he said. “Would you come up with me for a moment? I might need you opinion on which tie to wear.”
“Sure, Mr. Ménage, I mean, Mike.” she said, following him up the stairs. She felt very important, calling him by his first name, and she liked having him value her opinion about which tie to wear. She didn‘t mind his deception in the least. “Where’s Mrs. Ménage?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m afraid she left me some time ago.” he said, sadly. “I guess she’s with someone else now.”
“Oh, that’s terrible!” Misty said, shocked. “You poor man!”
“It’s just as well.” he said, rooting through his underwear drawer for a different pair of boxers. “She hadn’t slept with me for quite a while. She just used to tease me and leave me frustrated. At least she isn’t doing that anymore. Are these okay?” he asked, holding up a pair of plaid ones.
“I guess so.” she said. “What do you mean, she used to tease you?”
“You know, she used to pretend to take her clothes off, stripper style, very provocative, and get me all worked up, then refuse to do anything after that.” he said. “Excuse me for a moment, I’m going to change into these.”
She turned around so he could change his underwear without her watching, but she saw anyway, in the mirror on the wardrobe door. His thing hung down between his legs, surrounded by hair. She’d never seen one before, and it gave her quite a thrill. She felt her nipples harden under her T-shirt, and hoped that they wouldn’t be too obvious when she turned around.
“Ok, I’m decent again.” he told her, so she turned back to face him once more. She was a little flushed, but she hid it well, and crossed her arms to hide her reaction.
“Did you like to watch her get undressed?” she asked, curious.
“Oh, yes, it really turns me on.” he said. “You know, the mystery revealed.” He knew Misty had seen him changing his shorts, and he thought he had seen her hard little nipples through her blouse before she crossed her arms. She was a hot little number!
“Oh, I see.” she said, knowingly. She wondered if he’d like to watch her get undressed, but kept it to herself. “So, where are you going tonight?” she asked, looking through the clothes in the closet. There were a lot of Mrs. Ménage clothes still in there, she noted. She looked at the sizes and saw that practically everything would fit her, as well.
“Oh, I thought about going out to a few singles bars and see if any of the girls would be interested in an old fart like me.” he said. “It’s probably a waste of time and money, but I have to try, right?”
“You’re very handsome, and I’m sure you’ll do fine!” she said. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that!”
“Thanks, Misty, it feels good to have a beautiful young girl like you tell me things like that, but I think I’m going to skip it, after all. No sense making a fool of myself, right?” he said. “I’ll pay you for your time, and you can go home, okay?”
“Mr. Ménage!” she protested, but he held up his hand.
“Mike, remember?” he said. “You were going to call me Mike.”
“Okay, Mike, but I don’t think you should give up so easily.” she said. “Besides, I was looking forward to trying on some of these clothes. They’re just my size!” Misty picked up a blue dress that was cut deeply down the front and held it up to herself, wondering how it would look on her.
“Well, sure, I don’t have any use for them.” he said. “They were Cindy’s. She left behind a bunch of her fancy lingerie, too. It’s in that drawer over there. You want to model for me? I’d really like that!”
“No, don’t be silly! I was thinking of trying them on while you were out!” she laughed, but then she saw the disappointed look on his face. “You were serious? You’d really want me to do it?” she asked.
“No, you’re right, it was a silly idea.” he said. “You’re too young, anyway.” He went over, took the slinky blue dress out of her hands, and hung it back up. “I guess I really am desperate if I’m hitting on the baby-sitter.” he mumbled. “Practically a baby herself! I should be ashamed!”
“I am not a baby!” she flared. “You go sit over there, and I’ll prove it to you!” She went over to the drawer and grabbed a handful of lingerie, then went into the closet and pulled the door halfway closed.
“What are you doing?” he asked, alarmed.