The Babysitter’s Therapy for a Whipped Husband - Paul is a sad guy, so his babysitter makes him an offer. (erotic Coupling) By Jake501501. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Elle was our babysitter, and I had been looking at her for the last six months. I am a horrible person, probably. She was 21 and in college, and I was just 31, so it’s not like the age was that super creepy.  But I was married, well technically; my wife and I were trying what our therapist called a “trial separation with cohabitation,” which basically meant I’d been sleeping on the couch for a month. We needed Elle once a week so we could go to counseling, which was an excuse for me to get into a room with my wife and have her tell me why I was horrible. I took it, mainly, because I don’t like fighting with a referee in the room. It had been a decade of ups and downs and downs and downs, and most days I couldn’t remember how we got here or if we ever were anywhere else. There was also the hitting-30 thing. And the being-a-father thing. And the-not-wanting-to-turn-into-my-dad thing. And the-wait-you’re-sure-my-hair-is-still-thick-in-the-back thing. I had all of those cliched midlife insecurities that most boring, sad, middle-class white men have. I know I am not painting a great portrait, but like I said in the beginning, I might be a horrible person. What can you do? But Elle. Jesus Christ. She was tall and soft, in a good way. With her red hair, she always seemed to be backlit, like a glow. I never saw Elle in anything but jeans and a tight t-shirt, and every time she left the house, I’d lock myself in the bathroom and masturbate furiously. Furiously. And I was okay with that relationship. I never said or did or looked at anything inappropriate when she was around. I tried to stay out of the way, mainly. So, when Elle asked if I could give her a ride home one day, I said okay. She normally rode her bike home, but it was fall and my wife and I had been running late. It was just 6 p.m. but already dark outside. My wife had come home after a particularly exhausting session where she had basically said she didn’t really like me that much anymore, and took our daughter and went straight to the bedroom, locking herself in. I grabbed my keys and put her bike in the back of my Jeep. I opened the door for Elle. I tried not to stare at her ass as she slid into my Jeep, but I couldn’t help it. It was just so; stare-able. “You seem sad Paul.” “Yeah, well, it’s been a tough, um, day. Month? Year? I don’t know.” “Can I tell you something and you not get mad at me?” “Ha, sure. I hear that a lot lately.” “Susan isn’t nice to you. You deserve better.” Silence. “You know, I, uh, that’s tough to respond to.” “It’s just my opinion. But I would think if you have someone in your life, you’d want to make them happy, not sad. And every time I see you two together, you look like you are in pain.” More silence. This was the longest drive ever. I could see out of the corner of my eye she was staring at me, waiting for me to respond. “Well, you know, we are going through this thing. Kind of a separation. But kind of also not. It’s, weird.” “I understand.” “So, um, I can’t say I disagree with your premise.” We passed the library and a few shops that were closed on Main Street. The downtown was dark and dead. Elle’s house was a mile away. “Can you pull into the parking lot over here to the right?” “Beside the record store?” She nodded. I turned. And, honestly, I wasn’t even suspicious. I had been living a life of taking orders the last three years, so I did as obeyed, without really wondering why. “Can we park and talk for a second,” she asked. And, OK, that was a little weird, I thought, but we’re both adults and sometimes two adults stop to chat in dark parking lots. I navigated the Jeep into a spot facing a brick wall. Even though it was fall and dark out, it was a warm day. The top was off. I could smell a fire burning. It was nice. We sat there. Saying normal stuff, where