babysitting mr miller

On a Friday afternoon, Mrs. Miller came to talk to me. She was going to an out-of-town wedding for the weekend, and her husband would have to stay home because of a pulled muscle or something. Mrs. Miller asked me to check on him during the weekend, just in case.

- Would you mind making sure that William is doing all right, please?

He's able to walk now but you never know if it gets worse.

- Sure, Mrs. Miller.

- I hope I'm not ruining your plans for the weekend, but all the family is going to the wedding and I didn't know whom to ask.

- No, that's all right. No problem.

- Thank you, young man. You're a sweetheart.

Well, I wasn't sure of that. I just didn't know how to say "no thank you" to this lady. She knows how to nudge people into doing things her way.

I had just moved to Rapid City, South Dakota, and the Millers were my nearest neighbors. She was basically the only person I knew already here, apart from the guys at the office. I'd only seen Mr. Miller - or William as she called him - from far away. He seemed to be a husky man in his late sixties or so, with a charming smile and a sexy bald head, but that's all I could say about him. Too bad he's straight, I thought to myself.

Saturday morning I was thinking about Mr. Miller. I was picturing him as a typical hetero male doing typical hetero things when the Mrs. was away laying all day on the sofa in his grubby underwear with several six-packs of beer watching pro wrestling or nude girls with big tits on TV.