Teen Witch: Trade

The doorbell rang.

“That must be them,” Joe’s mother said. “I’m finishing my makeup. Go let them in, please.”

Joe shut his textbook with a sigh and walked to the front door. He opened it and was momentarily stunned by the woman he saw standing on the stoop. She was gorgeous, a middle-aged goth queen, with shimmering dark hair contrasting with her light skin, thick ruby red lips, and pupils so bright blue that they were almost white. She wore green heels and a matching dress that fit her voluptuous curves tightly without coming off as slutty.

“Hello,” the woman said, pleasantly. “You must be Joseph.”

“Uh,” he said as his mind struggled to put words together again, a clear reminder that he had been single for too long. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m Joe.”

“I’m Agnes Merriweather, and this is my daughter Esmerelda,” she said, gesturing to the teen girl standing next to her.

“Esme,” said the girl, correcting her mother.

Joe had not even noticed anyone else was there, having been so enchanted by the woman, but he gave the girl a look now. There was a strong resemblance between the two of them, as if the girl were a considerably slimmer 13-year-old clone of her mother. Besides their ages, the only other notable difference between them were Esme’s green eyes. She had a style that could be considered goth—dark clothes, dark nail polish, violet lipstick—but she seemed much more relaxed about it than other goths, as if she were a fan of the aesthetic without feeling the need to show off, a casual goth.

“May we come in?” asked Mrs. Merriweather.

Joe blushed, realizing that he had been silently staring at the two of them for a long while. “Of course,” he said, stepping back to make way for them. “Come in.”

They walked in, and Joe noticed that slung over Esme’s shoulder was a backpack decorated with various patches and baubles. He shut the front door behind them, and their attention was drawn to the stairs as his mother descended down them.

“Agnes!” she said. “How good to see you.”

“Mary,” Mrs. Merriweather replied. “How are you?”

The two women made small talk as Joe and Esme just stood there waiting patiently for their mothers to release them from this conversation as it did not require them at all.

“So,” Mrs. Merriweather said, turning her attention to Joe. “Your son is going to be babysitting my daughter while we’re having our night out? Right?”

“That’s right,” Joe’s mother said. “He’s been whining about it all day, but I told him that if he was going to come home from college with piles of laundry for me to wash, then he had better do something to help out while he’s here.”

“I have homework to do,” he explained. “Lots and lots of homework.”

“You can do it while you babysit. I know you’ve never sat for a kid before, but this should be no problem. I mean, you’re 20 now and Esme’s practically old enough to be home alone, isn’t she?”

Mrs. Merriweather glanced at her daughter and said, “I would have considered it, but she’s technically grounded right now. I’m letting her stay here since we couldn’t find another sitter.”

“Mom,” Esme said, expressing her irritation.

“Just check in on her regularly and make sure she doesn’t leave the house, and I’ll take her off your hands after dinner,” Mrs. Merriweather said and smiled.

“No problem,” he said, but he did not sound enthusiastic about the situation at all.

The women said their goodbyes and left for their night out.

Alone now, Esme and Joe stood in the foyer together for an awkward moment.

“Got a place where I can read quietly?” Esme asked as she slipped her sneakers off, leaving herself barefoot.

Joe pointed her towards the front room, and she walked there without another word.

“I’ll be in the kitchen doing homework,” he said, and that’s where he went.

***

After that, they said nothing to each other until Joe asked Esme what toppings she wanted on her pizza. Later, once it had been delivered, Joe cleared some space on the kitchen table for Esme to sit and eat it with him.

She set down a hefty old leather-bound book on the table next to her and opened it to a page she had marked off with a ribbon. Then, she focused on reading between bites of pizza.

Curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “What’s that you’re reading?”

“A book,” she said, evading the question while not taking her eyes off of it. “What’re you reading?”

“Textbooks,” he said. “College stuff, calculus to be specific. I’m studying to be an engineer… aerospace, rockets. Your book seems pretty old. Is it a family heirloom?”

She sighed, realizing that she would be forced to engage in conversation with him. “It’s an ancient spell tome,” Esme said with zero irony. “I’m researching casting spells on myself.”

Joe smirked. “So...” he said, trying to hide his amusement at finding out she still believed in magic at her age. “Are you a witch?”

“Yes,” she said, ignoring his sardonic tone. “Want me to cast a spell on you?”

“I thought you said you wanted to cast one on yourself.”

“I do,” she said. “But, it’s difficult to manage. It’s like… You know that phrase, ‘pull yourself up by your own bootstraps?’”

He nodded, taking another bite of his pizza.

“In reality, that doesn’t work very well, does it? You can’t lift yourself up unless you have something else to pull against. So, I’m trying to find magical ways to do that.”

“What spell do you want to cast on yourself?”

“I want to be older,” she said, turning her attention back to her book, while taking a bite of her pizza.

“Why?”

She swallowed and replied, “Why not?”

He could not argue with that. It was not an uncommon desire for someone her age, although he doubted many kids would believe that they could make that fantasy a reality. Still, it seemed a harmless enough fantasy, and he was not in the mood to disillusion her. It would be best just to leave her alone in her own world.

However, a few slices later, she let out a groan of frustration and shut her book.

“Having problems?” he asked her.

She nodded and took another bite of pizza.

“I’m good with solving problems,” he said in an attempt at being helpful.

She shook her head.

He rubbed his chin and thought through what she had told him. “So,” he said. “You can’t cast spells on yourself, but you can cast them on other people. Is that right?”

She nodded.

“What if you just got someone else to cast the spell on you?”

She stopped chewing. After a long pensive pause, she swallowed and reopened her book. Much page flipping followed until she let out a quick “Oh!” after having found something interesting in her book.

“What is it?” he asked as he folded up the empty cardboard pizza box. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Can I use your garage?” she asked.

“What for?” he inquired while throwing out the box.

“I need to draw something on the floor,” she explained, “with chalk.”

“I suppose so,” he said, pointing to the door. “Just don’t leave the house.”

She collected her book and bag while he put the dirty plates in the sink.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said as she left.

Esme was too lost in thought even to reply, though.

***

When Joe felt himself going cross-eyed from all his studying, he decided to stretch his legs and check in on the little witch in the garage. He found her kneeling on the bare concrete, drawing strange letters within an elaborate circular pattern on the floor. Her book was laying open next to her so that she could refer back to it as she worked.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m taking a break. I thought I might watch some TV. You want to join me for an episode of something?”

She looked at him and smiled. “Sure,” she said, sounding cheerful for the first time that night. “Yeah. Let’s hang out a little bit.”

Her shift in attitude was a bit jarring, but he decided not to dwell on it. Instead they headed inside, grabbed some cans of soda, and settled down in front of the TV in the living room. She laid on the long couch while he took a seat on the recliner. He asked her what she wanted to watch, but she just told him to put on whatever he wanted. So, he did.

He started an episode of a sci-fi series he wanted to catch up on, and they watched silently together for a little while before she said, “You think I’m nuts. Don’t you?”

“What?” he said. “No. I never said that.”

“You think it, though.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” he said, “if that’s what you mean.”

“Most people don’t,” she said. “That’s fine. Probably safer for us that way.”

“Sorry,” he said. “That circle in the garage looked nice, though, very intricate. What is it supposed to do?”

“It lets me trade away some magic power to someone else.”

“Trade it away for what?”

“Whatever you decide to give me,” she said, turning to look at him. “You’ll be the one casting the spell, like you suggested. I won’t be using magic on myself that way. It’ll be you doing it all… with a little help from me, of course.”

“Sounds… complicated,” he said. “And, I don’t think I could cast a spell even with your help.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “Still, you want to give it a try?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

“Please?” she begged.

He sighed. “How long would this take?”

“Ten minutes,” she said, “to cast it, and then you get to do what you want.”

What he wanted to do was to get back to his homework soon, but she had made him too curious to back out now. Anyway, what would it hurt to play along with her a little? “All right,” he said. “We can do it when the episode is over.”

“Thank you!” she said, her face brightening up.

Looking at Esme, Joe was reminded of her mother. He realized he was looking forward to seeing her again.

***

Later, in the garage, Joe was sat in front of the circle as Esme set everything up for her spell. She hung a clear crystal on a string around his neck and put a similar one on herself. Then, she lit a red candle in the middle of the chalk circle. There was an earthy odor to it. He felt himself getting light-headed.

“Maybe I should open the garage door.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll be done in a minute.”

Despite his skepticism, he was starting to feel nervous. “This isn’t anything… satanic, is it?”

“Not exactly,” she said as she walked around the circle, checking it one last time. Then, using a black ballpoint pen, she drew some glyph on his palm. With that taken care of she seemed ready. She sat down across from him, checked her book again, and said, “Ready?”

Joe nodded and watched her through the thin smoke as she placed a hand on the circle and began muttering foreign words. It may have been a reflection from the candle or a side effect of his lightheadedness, but he could have sworn that the crystal hanging from her neck glowed with a violet light for a moment. Her voice rose to a crescendo, and he felt a wave of energy flow past him like a gust of wind. Then, his body seemed to tingle as if he had a static electric charge in him, only the feeling was deeper than that. It felt as though he were filled to the core with the heavy hum of a sound too low for him to hear.

Esme blew out the candle. “There,” she said as a line of white smoke rose from the still warm wick. “It’s done.”

“What’s done?” he asked.

“You have the power now,” she said, standing up.

“I do?” he asked. Then, he stood up as well, which only increased his light-headedness. “What am I supposed to do with it, again?” he asked, feeling a bit unsteady on his feet.

“Come into the house,” she said, taking him by the hand, the one with her writing on it, and leading him inside.

Joe thought his head might clear now that he was away from the smoke, but even inside the house his thinking was foggy. He felt as though he were walking through a dream. The world seemed light and insubstantial, as if everything were made of thin smoke. A slight movement, a breath, even a wayward thought felt capable of disturbing the soft order of things.

Esme led him over to the couch and sat him on it, leaving him on one side before taking a seat on the opposite side. She turned to face him, resting her bare feet on the unoccupied cushion between them and crossing her arms on her bent knees. Again, she smiled at him, but the pleasantness of her demeanor seemed inexplicably threatening to him now.

“What now?” he asked her, recognizing her as the guide through this dream.

“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Do you think I’m cute?”

He blushed. “Uh,” he said. “You’re way too young, and I’m way too old to be thinking anything like that about you.”

“What if I were older?” she asked him, “And, you were younger? What then?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Something about having her bare feet so close to his hand was making him nervous. “Maybe.”

“Imagine me older,” she said. “Close your eyes and think of it.”

He closed his eyes and pictured her mother again. If genetics were destiny, then he was sure she would be beautiful. Even a couple of years...

His body tingled with a surge of energy that seemed to radiate out from the crystal hanging from his neck.

Esme gasped.

Joe opened his eyes and looked over at her. “What?” he asked.

Esme was looking down at her chest with wonder in her eyes, her hands hovering just above her breasts as if she were about to grab them. For a moment, Joe joined her in staring at her cleavage and wondered what those sizable breasts would feel like in his own hands. Again, he blushed, turning away and silently cursing himself for even thinking something like that about her. Sure, at 18, he was only a few years older than her, but he was legally an adult now and could get himself in real trouble if he did anything with a 15 year old. Briefly he wondered why her mother had left her here with him. After all, she was old enough to be home alone now. Being left alone with someone as cute as her was a cruel temptation for him to have to resist.

“You did it,” she said, sounding as though she were trying to convince herself of something. “You really did it.”

“Did what?” he asked as he glanced at her again. He quickly looked away when he noticed her hands gripping her shirt, fondling her breasts beneath. “Stop that!” he said, standing up from the couch.

“Wait!” she said, diving for him to grab him by the arm and drag him back down onto the couch. “Don’t go!”

“Let go of me,” he said, as she hugged his arm to her chest.

“Promise you won’t leave, and I will,” she said.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll stay. Now, get off of me.”

She released him and retreated to her end of the couch. This time, she stretched her legs out straight towards him until her toes were nearly touching his thigh. “Wow…” she said, delighting at the sight of them. “So long…”

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked her.

“A couple of years at least,” she said.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m wonderful,” she said and smiled. “Thank you. This is amazing.”

“Just… calm down,” he said. “Don’t go doing anything you shouldn’t be doing around me. I’m supposed to be babysitting you after all.”

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re right. I understand. I’m still a bit young. I get it. I’ll behave.” After a short pause, she added, “Now, if only I were a little older and you were a little younger… I mean, just imagine it.”

“Yeah,” he said, staring off into the distance, doing as she had suggested, imagining if that were true. What they could do together then…

Again, he felt a tingle radiate from the crystal through his body.

Esme’s feet slid over and pressed against his thigh. She let out a triumphant cheer, “Yes!”

“What?” Joe said, turning to look at her. “What happened?”

“You did it!” she said. “You did it, again!”

“I did?” he asked, smiling in sympathy with her own excitement despite his own confusion. “What did I do?”

“Tell me,” she said, her eyes focused on him in hopeful anticipation. “Who am I to you? Why are we here together?”

“You’re Esme. We go to school together,” he said, feeling a bit concerned about her now. “We’re here studying together while our moms are having a night out.”

“Wow,” she said. “Really?”

He nodded, feeling genuine worry now that something was the matter with her memory.

“Hold on a second,” she said, getting up from the couch. “I need to check something.” She started to walk away but paused to look down at her feet. “Oh man, I’m tall now,” she said. “And my hips...” She put her hands on them as if measuring their broad width. Then, she did a little dance of celebration and continued walking to the kitchen.

“Yes!” she cried. On the table she had found their textbooks and proceeded to pick them up one by one. “High school literature… trigonometry… biology…” She set down that last book and stared at it a long while. Then, she turned to look at him with hungry eyes. “Say...” she said. “How about we do a little... anatomy research together?”

Joe waited on the couch as she approached, his confusion now mixed with disbelief. Even though she was almost a year older than him, he had been working up the courage to ask her out. Tonight would have been the perfect night for it. Now, shockingly, it seemed as though she were coming on to him. That kind of weird behavior made him hesitant about returning her flirting, worried that she might be about to play a cruel joke on him. After all, why would a girl as beautiful as her be interested in a nerdy guy like him?

She stood in front of him as he sat on the couch. “Joe?” she asked him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’m cute now?” She began unbuttoning her shirt from her neck down, showing off more and more cleavage as she went.

“Uh,” he said, feeling himself getting aroused. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

“Once or twice,” he lied.

“Kiss me.” She leaned forward, closing her eyes as her lips approached his.

He kissed her. The two of them made a clumsy mess of it, but it was pleasant enough. She opened her eyes and grabbed him by the shirt. Then, she dragged him down on top of her as she fell back onto the couch. For a moment he worried about his erection poking against her, but he ignored that and focused on unbuttoning her shirt all the way as they kissed again. With her shirt fully open, his hands found their way to her bra and began to grope her breasts. He considered trying to remove it to see her naked chest at last, but he realized he had no idea how to take it off.

When they momentarily came up for air, Esme asked, “You really like my boobs, don’t you?”

“Uh huh,” he said and began kissing her cheek and neck. He had seen people do that in movies before, and it seemed time to mix things up a little.

“Just imagine what they’ll be like in a couple of years, after I graduate high school,” she said, closing her eyes and relaxing onto the couch beneath him. “Picture me as an adult, Joe.”

He closed his eyes as well and pictured her growing just a little older. More voluptuous, more mature, a woman…

His already excited body tingled with a wave of energy as he fantasized. The image of her as an adult was so real to him that he could have sworn he felt her breasts growing, swelling bigger as he fondled them, becoming more flesh than his hands could contain. In fact, her whole body seemed to expand beneath him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” an outraged Esme asked him.

Joey’s eyes shot open, and he found himself clutching his babysitter’s boobs. His hands recoiled away from her bra as if they had been burned. “S-sorry!” he stuttered. “I don’t know what… W-why am I here?”

“Get off of me!” she demanded, sounding mad but with a hint of amusement in her face. “Now!”

He tumbled off of her body onto the floor and crawled backwards away from her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“I know why,” she said, sitting up and fastening the buttons on her shirt. “You thought you could cop a feel while I was taking a nap. Didn’t you?”

“N-no!” he said. “I didn’t… or I didn’t mean to.”

“How dare you touch a woman like that?” she scolded him. “Wait until your mother hears about this.”

“Wait!” he said. “Please, don’t tell her. I apologize. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His eyes were welling up with tears. “Please, let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything.”

She smirked, apparently enjoying his squirming and pleading. “How old are you?” she asked him.

“Fourteen,” he said.

“That’s old enough to know better,” she replied.

“I know,” he said, sounding totally defeated. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“You said you’d do anything?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded. “Yes.”

She smiled. “Fine then,” she said, laying back down on the couch. “My feet are sore. Give them a massage.”

“You want... a foot massage?” he said, verifying that he heard her right.

“Yes,” she said. “Get to work, unless you’d rather your mother find out what you do to sleeping women.”

She lifted her feet up, making space for him on the couch. He sat down, and she rested the weight of her heels on his lap. He hesitated a moment. Having never given a foot massage before, he worried about doing it wrong and making things worse for himself. At this point, though, he was ready to try anything to avoid getting into trouble. He tentatively placed his hands on her foot causing it to flinch away from him, reflexively.

She giggled. “Don’t tickle me,” she said. “Just give them a good rub. You’re fourteen. You should know all about rubbing things.”

She rested her foot back on his lap, and he tried again. This time, he was more certain in his manipulation. He kneaded the soft sole of her foot, eliciting a pleasant moan from her.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s it. Good boy. More.”

He continued massaging on her foot, and then, after a little while, he switched to the other one. It was demoralizing, feeling as though he had been made into her foot servant. Still, this kind of humiliation was much more preferable to being grounded for boob groping. He still had no idea where the idea to do that had come from.

“Joey?” she asked him. “Do you think I’m cute?”

“Uh,” he said, worried that he was being led into a trap. “I think you’re... great,” he said, vaguely.

She chuckled. “I am great,” she said. “I mean, look at what I got you to do for me.”

Joey thought she was talking about the foot massage. “Is this enough?” he asked, feeling his hands starting to ache.

“Sure,” she said, lifting her feet away and setting them back down on the floor. “You’ve earned my silence,” she said. “Now…” She slid closer to him on the couch until her hip was nearly touching his own. Then, she lifted her arm and stretched it out behind him, to rest it behind his head on the couch. “I need one more thing from you.”

“‘One more thing?’” he repeated.

Esme leaned in close, her lips inches from his ear. Close enough that he could feel her breath as she whispered, “Older... Make me even older.”

Somehow, he knew exactly what she meant for him to do. A couple more years...

His eyes went out of focus and there was a sinking feeling in his gut as the idea of her as a 21-year-old woman entered his mind. First, it was a thought. Then, there was a tingle. Then, it was true.

“Good boy,” Esme said, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. The couch cushions rolled like the ocean as she stood up lifting her weight off of them. Joey rolled with it, placing a hand on his cheek, still not fully comprehending what she had just done. “Now,” she said, holding out her hand. “Give me back the crystal.”

“What crystal?” he asked, his voice sounding wrong to his ears all of a sudden. It seemed too high, too squeaky, but he could not understand what was wrong about that. It had always sounded like this, hadn’t it?

She reached down and lifted the loop of string holding the crystal up over his head. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, hanging the crystal from her neck just next to the identical one that was already there. “Tell me,” she said. “Does your mommy have a big mirror in her bedroom?”

Joey nodded.

“Thank you,” she said and walked out of the room.

He heard her heavy footsteps on the stairs and decided to follow her up but not too closely.

He tiptoed up the steps on his quiet little feet and snuck his way to his mother’s bedroom door. Peeking inside, he found Esme gazing at her reflection in his mother’s mirror, striking poses and admiring how she looked. She was a stunningly beautiful woman. He imagined she was posing just for him and felt himself getting hard, so he turned to look away.

“Joey?” she said.

He silently cursed himself for getting caught. “Yeah?” he replied.

“Let me see your bedroom,” she said.

“Okay,” he replied and let her follow him down the hallway. He opened the door to his bedroom and stepped in. Together, they surveyed his 12-year-old belongings as if they were both strangers to the place. Somehow, Joey had not expected to find so many toys scattered on the shelves and the floor. When Esme picked up one of his action figures, he had an impulse to pluck it from her fingers and hide it under his bed out of embarrassment at how kiddy it was.

She took a seat on his bed, and he felt relieved that he had made it that morning. His room was a bit of a mess, but at least his mother had forced him to keep his bed in order everyday. His dark comforter had a space-themed pattern on it with cartoon rockets blasting between planets and stars and cartoon aliens. She seemed to float there amongst them all like a gas giant, enormous and beautiful and frightening.

Then, the realization that a woman was sitting on his bed hit him like a slap on the face, and a gorgeous woman at that. The prurient part of his mind made a point of memorizing how she looked in his room right then... for future reference.

Outside, headlights swept past the window, followed by the sound of a car pulling up the driveway.

“They’re home,” Esme said, standing up from his bed. He was struck by how much taller than him she was, even while barefoot. “Let’s go greet them.”

***

Downstairs, they waited by the front door for their mothers to enter, still chatting and chuckling with each other as they did. It seemed as though they had had a fun time.

“Hello,” Joey’s mother said. “How’s my little man doing?”

“Fine,” he said, although he was feeling a bit awkward in the presence of the three women there, even more so when he noticed the confused look on Mrs. Merriweather’s face when she saw Esme and him.

“What have you done?” Mrs. Merriweather asked Esme.

“Babysitting,” Esme said. “I was babysitting. That’s all.”

She gave her daughter a long serious stare, and Joey noticed how similar the two women were aside from their eyes.

“Can I have a word with my daughter, alone?” Mrs. Merriweather asked Joey’s mother.

“Sure,” she replied. “Come upstairs with me,” she ordered Joey, and he followed his mother up. She entered her bedroom, most likely to start removing her makeup. Joey started to walk down the hall to his bedroom, but he turned around when he was sure that his mother was not watching. Then, he crept over to the stairs to listen to Mrs. Merriweather and Esme talk.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Mrs. Merriweather asked. She sounded more annoyed than angry. “What were you thinking?”

“I was just… experimenting,” Esme replied. “I wasn’t even sure if it would work.”

“Well,” her mother said. “Obviously, it did.”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m concerned. Has he realized what you’ve done?”

“No,” Esme said. “The world seems to have changed along with us. I checked his bedroom. It’s all kids’ stuff now. And, you saw that his mother didn’t notice, either. It all worked perfectly. I thought you would be impressed.”

Mrs. Merriweather sighed. “I’m not impressed. I’m disappointed,” she said. “This was a reckless thing to do. I’ve already grounded you for making too much of a spectacle of yourself. Did you think I would change my mind after seeing what you’ve done here?”

“I… I don’t know what I was thinking,” Esme said. “I just… wanted to feel… grown up.”

“Well,” her mother said. “You can feel grown up... at home. You won’t be leaving the house, looking like that.”

“B-but-!”

“Shh!” Her mother shushed her and said, “How soon do you think you can reverse this?”

“I don’t know,” Esme said. “I’ll need to rest up. A few days, maybe.”

“I’ll see if we can convince his mother to let you ‘babysit’ for him again next week. You can correct things, then.”

“Okay.”

“But, until then, you’re grounded. No going out, and no casting whatsoever.”

Esme sighed. “All right.”

“You had better hope he doesn’t start remembering things before then, or else we’ll have an even bigger mess to clean up here.”

“He has no idea,” Esme said. “Not yet, at least.”

“Go gather up your things. I’ll say my goodbyes.”

Joey crept away from the stairs to his bedroom and lay down on his bed. He rested there a long while, trying to make sense of the womens’ conversation, while staring up at the toy rockets suspended from his ceiling.

***

Feeling sleep coming, Joey changed into his PJs and continued laying on his bed, yawning and thinking about Esme. There was something about her that seemed bigger than he could understand right then. He had a feeling that she had done something significant to him, but he could not remember what it was. Maybe it was just the kiss on his cheek? It was a bit strange, but it was nothing too serious. No. There seemed to be something very important that he was struggling to notice.

He tried hard to recall the night, what had happened since she came over to babysit, but most of the evening was a blur to him, like the memory of a forgotten dream. He knew that he had been studying for middle school for most of the night. They had eaten pizza together. Then, there was something that she had done with him in the garage, something with chalk and a candle and crystals. A trade? He held up his hand and saw the smeared ink pattern she had drawn on it. Following that, they were on the couch together. And then... something happened… something changed… After that, she went upstairs to look at herself in the mirror.

These hazy recollections were like a “connect the dots” puzzle, disconnected points not yet revealing the full picture on their own. He thought that he might be able to draw the connections between them if he kept trying to remember. It was a problem to solve, and he liked solving problems.

For now, though, the only memory of the night that he could recall clearly was her sitting on his bed, a real grown woman occupying the space where he would fantasize about the images of other women. He pictured her there with him right now. Then, he pictured himself as a grown man, nearly as old as she was. He imagined kissing her, removing her clothes, and seeing her naked body. In his mind, Esme was his lover, not his babysitter, and he made love to her as a man would. His hand crept down into his pajama bottoms in response to his arousal, and it got to work.

Then, Just as he was about to climax, his mother knocked on his door and swung it open without waiting, catching him off guard.

“Joey,” she said before she saw him. “I just wanted to say...” Then, she recognized what he was doing.

“Mom!” he shrieked, cringing away from her. “Get out!”

“S-sorry,” she said, backing out of the room and shutting the door, leaving him alone with his head full of disrupted fantasies and burning shame.

He groaned and pulled his covers up over his head to hide away from the world. No longer did he feel like the man in his fantasy. Instead, he was back in reality, only a boy with a crush on his babysitter, playing at being a man in his toy-filled bedroom.