Oh, Mr. Johnson!
I know I’m just your babysitter, but I have a favor to ask you. Mr. Johnson was a perfect gentleman who would never dream of laying a hand on me, no matter how badly I wanted him to do so. One evening, I couldn’t take it anymore and sneaked into his home office. He was sitting on the couch, looking at something on his tablet. “Mr. Johnson?” He glanced up when I spoke, and I saw understanding dawn in his eyes. He took in my pigtails, my short skirt, the fact that my shirt was unbuttone...