Justine dropped her novel on the couch with a sigh and looked around the silent room again. She was bored, bored, bored. The novel couldn't hold her interest anymore, the radio was just clashing noise and the television had lost it's appeal hours ago. There was never anything on television on Saturday nights; everyone went out on Saturday nights. Only geeks and good little girls who still babysat stayed home on Saturday nights. She sighed and strolled to the window to peer out at the driving rain again, hoping against hope that Mr. Walker would suddenly arrive home and relieve her. Fat chance. All she saw was her own sullen face framed by auburn ringlets and stormy blue eyes.
She sighed and shut the curtains. He had called an hour ago to say the business party was still going and he was expected to stay. Could she spend the night? Then he offered her a bonus and she couldn't refuse. College began in the fall and she had to contribute half of her tuition and expenses; her parents would cover the other half. Not that she would have argued with that. For eighteen years, Justine had been the perfect dutiful daughter, doing exactly what was expected of her.
She picked up her coffee mug and snack plates and took them to the kitchen. It took all of 2 minutes to clean up her little mess and she came back into the living room. With a sigh, she decided to go up and check on the girls. At least, if she had to babysit, she couldn't ask for nicer charges, she thought with a smile. John Walker was a widower whose young wife, Julie, had passed away two years ago from breast cancer, leaving him with their two girls, Amy and Michelle, now 8 and 10. Both girls were pretty, blond and blue-eyed like their mother had been and very well-behaved. They had their moments, but both obeyed her immediately she asked something of them. They had gone straight to bed at 8 o'clock and she knew they would still be sleeping, but it was something to do.
As she expected, both blond heads were snuggled against their pillows and soft snores filled the room. She sighed and slipped back out of their room quietly. As she closed the door, she glimpsed Mr. Walker's bedroom door ajar. Curiosity got the better of her and, instead of shutting the door, she pushed it open and peeked into the room. In the last year or so of babysitting for the man, she had never looked inside his private domain and she felt a little guilty now for doing so, but that didn't stop her from pushing the door open and strolling into the room for a better look.
It was definitely a man's room all in a deep blue hue, the bed covered in a plain blue comforter and matching sheets. Not a stray item out of place anywhere, the room contained only the bed, one dresser and a desk in the corner with a laptop on it. Justine closed the door until it was just ajar and moved to the dresser, running her finger over it idly, noting that there was no dust even; Mr. Walker was a very fastidious man, it would seem. It was in keeping with the rest of the house though. Even with two active children, the house always seemed neat as a pin. The only item on the dresser was a picture frame containing a picture of the entire Walker family before Julie's death.
She traced a finger over the frame looking at their happy faces; such a tragedy for them all. She had never seen Mr. Walker with another woman in the whole time she had been sitting for him. All his absences appeared to be business-related. He really was quite good-looking and his whole face was alight in the picture as he smiled with his young wife and children. She thought he was around 30 although these days he seemed older, more somber.
On a whim, she opened the top drawer and smiled as she saw all this boxers and socks neatly folded and placed in rows. He probably had sex by the numbers, too, she thought and giggled. Not that she was any judge of how it should be done. Although she had her share of kisses and light petting, Justine was still a virgin. She sighed again. It was all in keeping with her good girl image, of course. For some reason, she was restless these days. She was feeling a need to break free from her everyday life. Justine put it down to the end of school and the short summer stretching out before she left for college.
Turning to the desk, she flipped the standby button and the screen sprung to life, revealing a plain Windows desktop and standard icons. "It figures," she murmured. The man didn't appear to have a creative spark in him beyond his work which she vaguely recalled was in advertising or something. She pushed the Internet connection and the browser opened up, revealing a popular news site. Justine clicked on the address bar and looked at the history of sites he'd been on recently.
