A New Game for the Babysitter

This piece of fiction is a prequel to Shopping for Gloves

"Yes, Mrs. Watson, it's been a while since I've been over to babysit Ian, hasn't it?" said Sara into the phone. "Well, you know, basketball season, and then the state tournament... Oh, thank you! I'm glad we got to go to state, though of course I'm sorry we didn't win the title... Well, thank you -- runner-up, it was a close game. And then came Easter break and visiting relatives and...

"So what time that evening would you like me to be there?... Okay, I'll be there. Tell Ian his favorite babysitter will be there at six... Okay, bye."

Sara the Babysitter: High school senior, 18 years old, girls' high school basketball player, All-State center. Big, tall, broad shoulders, sturdy, six feet one inch in her bare feet. Dark eyes, broad lips, strong jaw. Long thick dark wavy hair cascading half way down her back.

And Sara's hands: Big huge gigantic hands! The hands of a young woman, smooth, nicely shaped, but several sizes too large. Huge! Sara had the hands of an amazon, gigantic hands even for a woman of her height and build. Sara could easily palm a basketball.

Ian: The kid to be babysat. Ten years old. An only child. Bright. Imaginative. Tons of energy. Just imagine that you're Ian, and you've got a babysitter like Sara...

The First Evening: The evening went as usual until about half an hour before Ian's bedtime, when the boy came up to his babysitter, a little excited, nervous, almost flustered.

Ian said to Sara, "I've invented a game... and the name of it is, the Game of Catching... And the idea is, I run around, and you... you have to chase me and catch me... And... when you catch me... you have to hold me, and hold me with your hand fastened real good over my mouth so I can't yell for help... And then... you have to keep holding me like that, with your hand over my mouth... and, and don't let me go, even if I try really hard to get away... And if you can keep that up... for at least ten minutes... then you win... Or else if I can get away, or get your hand off my mouth in less than ten minutes... then I win..."

"Ten minutes is an awful long time to have your mouth held," said Sara.

"Well, that's the rules," said Ian.

"Well, okay then," said Sara. Leave it to Ian, she thought, to dream up some roughhouse game! Boy probably needs to burn off some energy.

Immediately Ian started running around in the living room. Sara spread her long arms wide, stalked after him, cornered him. In no more than ten seconds Sara had Ian trapped in her arms, and she clamped her big huge smooth strong athletic female basketball player hand, her big soft strong left hand, tight over Ian's mouth.

"Mmmmmmmmhhh! Mmmmmmmmhh!! Gggghhmmmmm, hhmmm mmmm mmmmmmmmm hmmmm MMMMHHHH!! Wwwwmmmmm, HHMMMMMMM!!!" Ian squirmed and twisted in Sara's arms, he made wild muffled barking noises from behind her huge hand, as she dragged him over to the couch and sat down with him. "Mmmmmmhhh, hhhmmmmmm! MMMMMMMMMMM!!" Ian writhed around, he reached up and tugged futilely at Sara's hand over his mouth, until Sara used her right arm to pin Ian's arms down and away from his face. "Mmmmmmmhhh!! Mmmmm hnnnn, mmmmm wmmmm MMMMMMHH!" Now Ian couldn't even pull at Sara's hand, until after a while he managed to get one arm loose and reach up and tug and pull and pry at Sara's mouth holding hand. "MMMMMMMMMMMMHHH!! Hhmmmmm mmmm mmmmmmhh..."

Let him pull on my hand, thought Sara, he can't pull my hand off his mouth no matter how hard he tries. Because an eighteen year old, six foot one female high school athlete is a lot, lot stronger than a ten year old boy. Now Ian had both his arms free, and he was reaching up and pulling and prying with all his strength at Sara's hand clamped over his mouth. "Mmmmmmmmm, hhnnnnn MMMMMMMMM!!" It was no use, Ian couldn't even begin to budge Sara's gigantic smooth hand from over his mouth.

Ten minutes... actually Sara kept holding onto Ian with her hand over his mouth for fifteen minutes, just to be sure. So she won the game.

When Sara let Ian go, when she finally took her hand away from his mouth, immediately Ian said, "Let's play Catching again!"

Again?! Right away?! Very well, the boy must have a lot of energy to burn off. Again Ian ran around the room. Again Sara nabbed him within a matter of seconds. Again Sara dragged the struggling boy over to the couch, where she held him with her huge oversized smooth strong female athlete left hand fastened firmly over his mouth while he writhed and struggled in vain to get away. "Mmmmmmmmhhh, mmmmmmm hmmmmm MMMMMHHHH, mmmmmm hhmmmmmm MMMMHHH HHHHHMM MMMMMMMMMHHHH!!!"

This time Sara kept holding Ian for twelve minutes before she decided to have mercy on him and let him go. She won round two. And it was his bedtime.

The Second Evening: A little more than a week, and Sara came over to babysit Ian again. And Ian's parents were gone in the car not five minutes before Ian came dancing out of the kitchen into the living room, going, "Let's play Catching!"

"All right," said Sara. She cornered and captured Ian. As usual she dragged Ian over to the couch, where she held him with her big smooth strong athletic left hand clamped hard over Ian's mouth. "MMMMMMMMMMHHH! Wwwwmmmmh, mmmmmm hmmmm MMMMMMHHH, MMMMMMMH hmmm mmmmh mmmm gghh'mmmmmm!" Ian twisted around, he made muffled meaningless noises, all without the slightest success in getting away. "Mmmhh... mmmmh... hmmmm, mmmhh... MMMMMMHHH!!!"

Maybe, thought Sara, I should just let him get it out of his system all at once. So she continued to hold Ian with her hand over his mouth for more than half an hour, a total of 35 minutes, while he struggled and mmmmmphed.

And that was that, until later in the evening Ian asked, "Hey, can we play Catching again?"

Okay... Again Sara cornered Ian, caught him, held him on the couch, this time with her right hand clamped over the boy's mouth. He really doesn't have a chance against me, thought Sara, unless I let him go. And I've won every game against him so far...

So Sara let Ian pull her gigantic hand off his mouth and get away after she had been holding him for only three minutes. The result was hardly what she expected: Ian was disappointed, almost dejected, at breaking free and winning the game.

Sara raised her eyebrows and bit her lip. He doesn't like to win?!

Immediately Ian wanted to play Catching again. So, to soothe Ian's feelings, Sara caught him and held him with her huge smooth soft strong hand clamped over his mouth for 20 minutes. And for much of those 20 minutes Ian seemed content to just sit there, his eyes looking out silently above her gigantic left hand which firmly engulfed his lower face.

The Third Evening: A week and a half later Sara came over to babysit again. And she was a bit on edge. The more she thought about this game of Ian's, the more she felt there was something funny about it. She couldn't put her finger on it, but...

However Sara really couldn't figure how to handle it. So when Ian asked Sara to play Catching, she caught him and held him with her huge big warm soft strong smooth-backed right hand clamped firmly over his mouth for twelve minutes.

And when later in the evening Ian asked her to play Catching with him again, Sara held him with both of her large smooth oversized powerful hands clamped over his mouth, her right hand over her left hand over his mouth, for 23 minutes. She couldn't figure what else to do.

The Fourth Time: Just days later, Sara was over to babysit Ian again, on a Saturday, for an entire afternoon and evening. And she was at her wit's end. There was just something freaky about Ian's game... If he brings it up again, thought Sara, I'm just going to have to turn him down cold. Say no.

Just then, Sara overheard Ian's parents out in the garage. She heard Ian's mother talking. In hindsight Sara never could figure if Ian's mother didn't realize the door from the house out into the garage was ajar, or if she just didn't realize Sara could hear her.

But Sara heard Ian's mother loud and clear, saying to Ian's father, "Why, that Sara! She must be at least six feet tall. And her hands! Why, that girl's got hands like a quarterback! Where does she ever find gloves that fit?"

Sara's cheeks burned red hot. She found herself trembling with indignation and fury. "At least six feet tall"? That's six foot one, lady... And Sara looked down at her huge smooth oversized hands, her feminine but incredibly oversized hands. "Hands like a quarterback," eh, you bitch?! "Hands like a quarterback"? "Where does she ever find gloves that fit?" Right, I can't fit my hands into anything smaller than men's XXL size gloves... MEN'S XXL gloves... You bitch!! We'll see what these huge strong basketball player hands of mine can do!!!

In a few minutes, after his parents had left, Ian asked Sara to play Catching with him. She played it gladly, with a determined fervor, with a molten hot streak running right down through the middle of her soul. She caught Ian, and she held him on the couch, and while he mmmmmphed and struggled Sara kept her gigantic strong smooth athletic amazon hand, her huge left hand, clamped over Ian's mouth for a full 40 minutes.

Then, when he asked her to play again, Sara caught Ian and she kept her large left hand fastened firmly over his mouth for a full hour and forty-five minutes. He mmmmphed some, but most of that hour and three quarters Ian just sat there, still and quiet, with Sara's hand over his mouth.

And when Ian asked her to play his game yet again, Sara took him and held him with both her huge strong hands clamped over his mouth for an hour and twenty minutes.

And that evening after supper Ian wanted to play again, so Sara held him with both of her hands tight clamped over his mouth for 35 minutes.

And yet again that evening they played, and Sara kept her left hand squeezed firmly over Ian's mouth for 55 minutes, almost an hour.

Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, and So On: And Sara came over to babysit Ian the rest of that spring. And then all that summer she babysat Ian even more often, until she went away to college on a basketball scholarship. And after that Sara babysat Ian on occasion when she was home from college...

And after that crack about her hands, Sara always played that peculiar "Game of Catching" with Ian just as much as he wanted. Just as much as he wanted. Bitch!

Sara went on to finish college, and become a wife and a mother and a businesswoman and a respected member of the community. And she never breathed a word to anyone about that strange game she used to play as a babysitter. She sealed away that episode in her life, deep inside herself, and no one ever knew.

Although even twenty years later, Sara could never go shopping for gloves without remembering that line by Ian's mother. Hands like a quarterback?! Gloves that fit?! It still stung Sara like a lash. Hands like a quarterback?! You bitch! I sure showed you!