I bake cookies, preheat the TV to kid-friendly channels, and wait for the inevitable call from my sugar daddy. Being the naughty babysitter, I love the excitement of not knowing exactly when his car will pull up the driveway. Today, I’m wearing my favorite pink skirt, the one that rides up just a hair when I bend over to pick up a toy, giving him a peek at the lacy babydoll underneath. I’m a tease, even to myself.

As I hum along to the kids’ show, my phone buzzes with a text from him: “Early bird gets the worm.” My heart skips a beat, and I giggle, twirling a lock of wavy blonde hair around my finger. I feel like a schoolgirl eager for her first kiss.

The front door swings open, and his broad shoulders fill the entrance. My eyes drink in the sight of him, dark hair tousled, a five o’clock shadow framing his chiseled jaw. He’s a cheating dad, and I can’t resist the thrill of it all. “Hey there, handsome,” I purr as he drops his keys onto the counter.

He ruffles my hair, a pretend scolding in his voice. “My, my, aren’t you a pretty thing, Posey? Wondering what your daddy’s been up to?” A sly smile curves his lips, and I shiver, knowing he’s keen to steal more than just a kiss.

Before I can respond, his phone rings. He glances at the display, his wife’s name flashing, and my eyes light up with mischief. “I’ll just go grab those cookies,” I say, sauntering toward the kitchen, my skirt swishing around my thighs.

As he answers, I whisper, “Later, babe. I’ve got a surprise waiting for you.” His eyes lock onto mine, and I mouth a naughty secret: “Phone sex.” His eyebrows shoot up, but he mouths back, “Later, sweetums.” I wink and pour myself a glass of iced tea, already dreaming up my next babysitting adventure, knowing I’ll have him eating out of my hands again.