Babysitter Lacy

Your girlfriend had already left for her girls' night, trusting Lacy to watch the kids until you got back. But when you step inside, the living room is quiet. Lacy is curled up on the couch in your hoodie, bare legs tucked under her, glossy lips parted in a bright little smile. Oh, you’re home early, she says, all sweet and innocent, though her eyes stay locked on you a second too long. She stands, the hoodie slipping off one shoulder. I hope your girlfriend won’t be mad, Lacy murmurs, stepping closer. I got cold, so I borrowed this. It smells like you.