The family that Harriet had been nannying for, the Smiths, had invited her over for a Christmas party. It wasn't high on her list of things to do on a Friday in December, but Dundas was a bit of a drag, and there were only so many nights she wanted to spend at her parent's house. She accepted, planning only on staying a couple of hours - arrive fashionably late, make small-talk, meet some new potential clients (rich young couples were in desperate need of childcare, it seemed, and good help was hard to find).
She threw on a black pencil skirt and a loose sweater; she didn't want to look too threatening to the wives; she had to hide her pert ass and tits to keep people from getting distracted. Still, she didn't want to go completely unnoticed. She left her bra at home. Maybe she did want to be a little threatening. But comfortable.
It wasn't far to her client's home but it wasn't close and it was a cold December night, and transit in the greater Hamilton area was unreliable at best and unsafe at worst, so she drove. The weather forecast threatened snow, but they always threatened snow at this time of year. She parked just down the street from the house, out of sight enough to take a drag from her vape pen. She tossed her hair and looked at herself in her phone's camera. Effortless was the energy. She took another drag and walked up to the house and knocked. A few errant flakes of snow drifted from the sky.
The host, Mr. Smith (or Andrew as he insisted she call him) greeted her warmly - big smile, a bigger "Come on in!" - drink in one hand, he put his hand on the small of her back to usher her in. She was quickly introduced to a couple that was there - who she learned very quickly had a young child at home and the wife was interested in going back to work sooner than later.Andrew's hand, though, lingered on her back, perhaps a little longer than was appropriate. Harriet laughed at something funny she thought she heard and tried to disengage.
"Is there some place to put my coat?" She asked, hoping for an excuse to mingle and check out the snacks.
"I'll put it in the spare room," Andrew offered. He finally removed his hand and helped her out of her coat. He quickly disappeared upstairs. Harriet excused herself from the other couple and made her way into the house.
Furniture had been rearranged since she'd been here last - making the living room more open, sort of a funnel towards the large kitchen where it seemed the focus of the party was. Harriet smiled and greeted strangers. Andrew's wife, Bronwyn, waved to her.
"Harriet! I'm so glad you made it! You've been so important to us these past few months, you have no idea! In good news - the kids are in bed! You're off-duty tonight, so enjoy!"
She motioned to the kitchen island - it was a full spread of charcuterie, cheese, crackers, meats, other snackables, also a veggie and fruit tray. There were a number of bottles of wine open, and a cooler full of beer. Harriet helped herself to the veggie and fruit tray; the alcohol was tempting but driving home and going to bed early had a stronger draw. She'd only been here a few minutes but already she was feeling socialed-out. All these grinning couples - although great prospects, were just energy vampires. She'd met only a handful of them but already they all seemed the same; inherited wealth, working in tech or for their parents, a collection of buzzwords and catchphrases, talking in hashtags. It was exhausting just being here. And Andrew kept on inserting himself. She'd caught him looking at her on more than one occasion, and as soon as he'd spy her he'd sidle over. And always putting his hand on her; a shoulder, an elbow, whatever seemed innocuous. Harriet tried to ignore it. Now to be fair, she liked Andrew. He was attractive, in his late 30s she wasn't too sure exactly how old, maybe prematurely gray, or maybe he just really was cultivating this sort of sexy-dad energy, she wasn't sure. He was in incredible shape. Harriet figured he didn't really work per se but just owned a business that ran itself so he was free to do whatever with his time. He talked a lot - like a lot a lot - about supplements and other stuff Harriet really didn't give a shit about. Maybe he had a TikTok. Bronwyn had a TikTok - she was on it constantly doing reels and videos showcasing her perfect influencer life. Right now she was under the influence, it seemed. Andrew, when he wasn't lingering around Harriet, was keeping his wife's wine glass full, and it was showing.
Harriet at one point tried to make herself scarce but was pulled back into a conversation, "Oh you simply have to meet Christie and Kevin! They have a 2-year-old and are expecting their second in March. Christie will be so swamped and she plans on going back to work after four months!" Harriet munched on grapes and half-listened to influencer talk. The party was starting to thin out - the perils of having your own children is you have to return to them. And babysitters these days aren't cheap. Harriet checked her phone - it was later, much later, than she'd guessed. And there was a weather alert. Snow. Snow?! Harriet looked out a window. She hadn't even noticed but for the last three hours. There must be two feet of it already.
Shit.
She ducked into a bathroom for a moment. Goddamnit, she cursed, she should have left ages ago. She flashed a tit and took a quick selfie. She sent it to a certain someone. It was to help break the bad news.
I might be stuck here tonight. The weather is shit.
She came back out and noticed that the party had basically ended in the five minutes she was in there; Bronwyn was waving the last few couples out the door, spilling wine and telling everyone how much she loved them and to get home safely.
All of the sudden, Bronwyn espied Harriet.
"Harriet!" The hostess practically tripped over herself, "Harriet! You can't leave! It's a blizzard out there! The snowplow just went by and buried all the cars on this street, the asshole!" She polished off her glass. "I gotta go to bed. You should, too. Here, I mean. Use the guest room. We'll call you a cab in the morning." She stumbled up the stairs. Harriet caught Andrew's gaze. He looked... hungry.
"Ok, let me just text my... mom." Harriet said, ducking into the bathroom again.
My car was plowed in. I'm stuck here tonight.
Ah, shitty.
Yeah. And the dad, Andrew, has been eye-banging me all night.
Oh, yeah?
I think he wants to fuck me. Every time I'd see him he was staring at me.
Are you gonna fuck him?
Harriet paused. Sure she'd noticed him, let her eyes linger a little. And, she admitted, she didn't stop him from touching her, or move away. She felt flushed. Fuck. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was blushing thinking about it.
Her phone buzzed again.
Do you want to fuck him?
Harriet bit her lip and looked at herself in the mirror. Fuck, she looked hot.
