Please note: All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Please keep in mind the difference between fantasy and reality.

Jeremy - Chapter 10 - The Opposite of Jailbait
pedo Fb
Written by Janus
Copyright 2016

Index to all chapters of the Jeremy series.

Due to ASSTR finickiness, I have migrated the Jeremy story to a new home:

This site has a modern interface and will let readers contact me and comment anonymously on stories.

It all started because of a moment of weakness. That was the first thought that crossed her mind when Jeremy showed her the photo on the iPad.

“You want me to dress like that tonight? For Halloween?” Pam asked him. “No. Absolutely not.”

Her firm words were punctuated by a rattling of the kitchen window. Outside, a bitter wind stripped the trees of their last tenacious leaves, but the bright rays of the setting sun lent warmth to the landscape. Pam congratulated herself for having the foresight to make a big pot of chicken noodle for dinner. It was undoubtedly soup weather.

Jeremy joined her at the dinner table where two steaming bowls waited. He shoved the iPad closer to her face, as if that would change her mind. “But you promised,” he protested.

“Out of the question. Eat your soup.”

He picked up his spoon but propped up the iPad so it remained facing her. “But you made a promise,” Jeremy repeated. “You're always telling me friends need to keep their promises to each other. Remember?”

Pam stared at the picture on the iPad. Yes, she remembered that day all right...

It was a very ordinary Tuesday afternoon. The school had an early dismissal day due to parent-teacher conferences so Jeremy had come home early. Kate had promised them pizza if Jeremy received good marks from his teachers so Pam had been relieved of dinner duty. She took advantage of the free time by catching up on kitchen chores. Jeremy kept her company, studiously doing his homework at the counter. Strains of classical music, Pam's choice, played quietly in the background. He had chosen blaring rap music but Pam had lasted only ten minutes before it became too much for her nerves. “This will make it easier for you to finish your homework,” she told him as she switched over to classical. He rolled his eyes but she pretended not to notice.

Leaning bumward against the cabinet, Pam half-heartedly began drying some dishes. The housework seemed especially boring today. While she worked, she studied Jeremy in his position across the kitchen. He hadn't changed out of his school uniform, which didn't bother Pam at all since she found him particularly handsome in it. The school had switched to the winter dress code which meant charcoal gray slacks and a Prussian blue sweater over a white button-down shirt. The unkempt curls of his rust colored hair were a pleasing contrast to the proper uniform. His bare feet fidgeted while he worked, his toes curling on the rungs of the counter stool.

Pam realized she had been drying the same dish for over a minute. She turned to put it away, picked up another, and immediately resumed her original position. Why was he so cute? She smiled when he used his pencil to scratch an itch above his ear. When he glanced at her, Pam turned away and pretended to be busy with the dishes. After a moment he appeared to be engrossed in his homework again so Pam returned to her perch across the kitchen. He looked her way again and put down his pencil.

“What are you looking at?”

“Pardon?” Pam said, innocently drying a plate.

“You're staring at me.”

“Was I staring? I'm sorry. I was just zoning out.”

Jeremy picked up his pencil to resume working. No more than thirty seconds had gone by when he gave her a quick look. “Quit it!” he ordered.

“Okay! Okay!” Pam said, caught in the act. “Look. I'm turning around. I've got my back to you, right?”

Jeremy muttered something unintelligible. Pam worked for several minutes without paying any attention to him. “Too bad he has homework,” she thought to himself. “Maybe we can have a quickie before bedtime...” She spent a few more perfunctory minutes on the dishes before deciding she couldn't wait that long.

“I'll be right back, okay?” she told him. “I need to make a phone call.”

“Mmmhmm,” Jeremy nodded without looking at her.

Once in her bedroom, Pam locked the door. Not bothering to take off her clothes, she lay down on her bed and slipped a hand inside her underwear. In a matter of minutes, Pam masturbated to a very pleasant orgasm. Not an earth-shattering one, but sufficient to take the edge off. She lay on the bed for brief moment, catching her breath, before returning to the kitchen.

“I'm back!” she announced.


Pam rolled her eyes and began washing her hands at the sink. “Did you miss me?” she asked.

“Not really.”



Hopeless, she thought ruefully. Pam retrieved the dish towel and resumed her chore. She hadn't realized where her mind had wandered until she caught herself once again drying the same dish far longer than necessary. She couldn't stop staring at Jeremy. “Uh oh,” she thought. Sometimes her hormones did this to her. Instead of alleviating her sexual tension, the orgasm only revved her engine.

She turned away. “He needs to get his homework done,” she reasoned with herself. “I shouldn't distract him.” But she couldn't help sneak one last peek out of the corner of her eye. At that exact moment, Jeremy pursed his lips and puffed a breath upward from his mouth, causing his bangs to momentarily flutter.

Pam's hand stopped moving in the salad bowl that she was drying. That was his subconscious gesture of concentration. She often witnessed it when he was playing a tricky video game, but once he had done it when fondling her breasts, thereby sending Pam nearly to the moon. Seeing him do it now gave Pam the zero-G feeling of rocketing off the earth.

The earlier thought about letting him finish his homework went straight out the window. Her hormones roared from (not quite) zero to sixty, all because she happened to glimpse his hair puff. “What the hell,” she thought. It was only two o'clock. They had several hours before Kate would return from the parent-teacher meetings. Tossing aside the dish towel, she sidled up next to the young boy. “Looks like you're working hard,” she said, lightly rubbing the back of his neck. “Need a break?”

There was a halting pause before he answered. “No, I'm almost done,” Jeremy said.

“How about some help?” Pam leaned in to look over his shoulder, letting her breast brush his arm. Her hand moved from his neck to his ear, tracing its contours.

“No thanks.”

“Are you sure?” Pam persisted. “These math problems look really tough.”

He finally looked at her. “This is my English homework.”

“Oh.” Pam peered more closely at his textbook. “They looked like those word problems your teacher likes so much.”

“I already finished my math anyway.”

“Okay.” Pam remained by his side. “How about a little couch break? I could rub your feet.”

Jeremy shrugged. “No, I'm good.” He scribbled some sentences.

Pam tapped her foot. He could be startlingly clueless. “Well, how about a Call of Duty break?” she suggested. Just in case he didn't get it, she teasingly ran a finger along his thigh. He put his pencil down. Finally.

“Oh,” Jeremy said. “Um, don't you want me to finish my homework first?”

“Finish it afterward,” she urged. Her fingers danced to his crotch and rubbed him through his school pants.

“What if I'm too sleepy?”

“I'll help you with your homework after dinner.” Pam smiled at him. Her fingers detected the faintest hint of stiffness beneath the material of his slacks.

“Okay,” Jeremy agreed at last. “I guess I could use a break.”

Pam continued fondling him as she spoke, “Listen, do you think you could do that thing I like?”

“Um, you mean that tower thing?”

Pam rewarded him with a squeeze through his pants. “Yes, the tower thing.”

“I don't know,” Jeremy said. “It always feels so...” he trailed off, searching for the word, “... embarrassing when I do that.”


Jeremy hesitated.

“Pretty please?”

“Well...” he considered. “I'll do it if you promise to do one thing for me.”

“Anything,” Pam pledged. She took his arm and pulled him off his stool. “Let's go.”

“But I haven't even told you what it is yet!” Jeremy protested.

“Let me guess. Chocolate cake?”


“Chocolate ice cream?”


“Chocolate sauce drizzled all over my chest?”


“Never mind. Just tell me what you want.”

“Well, you know that haunted house you're taking me and my friends to? On Halloween?”

“How could I forget? You've been talking about your Joker costume for like two months now.” This year, Jeremy had decided he was too old for trick or treating so he and his friends planned an outing to a haunted house instead. Pam had somehow gotten roped into the role of chaperone.

“Yeah, we're going as the Suicide Squad and I want you to wear a Harley Quinn costume becau-”

“Deal,” Pam interrupted him. “I'll do it. Promise.” Her arousal had heightened, maddeningly, during the lengthy negotiation. “Come on,” she said, pulling Jeremy in the direction of his room. He trotted gamely after her.

Pam spent a few precious seconds tidying his unmade bed before declaring it a lost cause. The sheets felt lumpy against her back but she didn't care. Waiting, she glanced at the dawdling Jeremy. “Um, is it okay if I leave my shirt on?” he asked.

“Off please.”

“Can't I just unbutton it?” he negotiated.

“No sale. Everything comes off.”

He heaved a deep sigh, the same sigh as when she asked him to rake leaves or turn down the volume on his headphones. The manipulative sigh that made her feel as if she were asking him to do something unreasonable. As he undressed, he asked, “Are you going to take your clothes off too? You didn't the last time I towered you.”

“Didn't I?”

“No. You kept your underwear on.” Jeremy stepped out of his gray dress pants and then took an inordinate amount of time pulling off his sweater. Why oh why was he taking so long, Pam moaned inwardly. She wondered what he would do if she literally jumped on him, pinned him down, and...

“I think it would be more fair if you took your clothes off too,” Jeremy said, interrupting her train of thought.

“You want to see me naked, huh?”

“Well, yeah.”

Sitting up from the bed, Pam whipped off her clothes in record time. Her panties had barely hit the floor before she was once again reclining in Jeremy's bed. “Beat you,” she taunted. Still wearing his white dress shirt and underwear, Jeremy scowled. He unbuttoned his shirt and wordlessly tossed it on Pam's foot. His underpants came off next and were likewise flung at her.

He was, Pam supposed, attempting to voice his displeasure but she found it rather arousing when his underwear landed on her bare tummy. It had always excited her to be naked in his room, but this pushed things to a whole new level. Jeremy seemed surprised when she didn't remove it. “Are you going to leave it there?” he asked.

“Yes. Are you going to tower me now?”

Jeremy climbed onto the bed and straddled her midsection. Glancing at his crotch, Pam noted with satisfaction that he was ready for her, which was perfect because she was ready for him fifteen minutes ago. Lifting her arms up so that her hands rested atop her head, she gave Jeremy a knowing look. He began inching forward on his knees. When he first straddled her, he had been positioned directly over her belly button. Now he was gliding past her ribcage. Only when he was perched directly over her chest did he finally come to rest.

“Is this good?” Jeremy asked.

Pam gazed up at him. His tantalizing erection jutted mere inches away from her chin. Though she was enjoying the sensation of his inner thighs brushing against her nipples, Pam shook her head. “A little closer please.” Jeremy self-consciously scooted forward, perhaps a half-inch at most.

“Don't be shy,” Pam encouraged. “Keep going. Come on.” She coaxed him further and further, stopping only to reposition her arms by her sides. By the time Pam was satisfied, Jeremy's knees were almost touching her ears and his shins were lightly pinning down her upper arms. He was so far forward now that his thighs no longer touched her breasts, disappointingly. The tradeoff, however, was that his boy parts were now aligned directly above her face. She was so close to him that Pam could have planted a kiss on his wrinkled ballsack by merely puckering her lips.

“I can feel your breathing,” Jeremy noted. He had to crane his neck to look down at her. Pam liked how his erection bisected her field of vision.

“Really?” Experimentally, she blew a breath of air from her mouth against his scrotum. Jeremy's penis visibly throbbed in response. Pam stifled a pleased giggle. She knew Jeremy already felt overexposed and embarrassed in this position, so there was no need to further aggravate him. “Could you feel that?”


Pam tried again, more lightly this time. “How about that?”


She aimed a breath at the underside of his penis.

“I could feel that one too,” he told her.

“Want to practice Morse code?” Pam asked. As part of a history presentation at school last month, Jeremy had to learn Morse code, which pretty much meant Pam had to learn it too. She exhaled a slow breath against him. “That's a dash and...” She blew a quick puff. “That's a dot. Got it?”

“Okay,” Jeremy said. She saw him knit his brow in concentration. “Um. P, right? Okay... let's see... L?”

Pam wished she could blow him for real, but she knew better. Each time she attempted, Jeremy would start to squirm before bursting into a fit of chuckles. Her mouth was inexplicably ticklish on him, which was unfortunate. Sometimes Pam would wistfully think of the fun they could have together if things were different. She had to admit, however, that this current game was rather enjoyable.

“O... V...” Jeremy continued. “E... that's an easy one... S... J...”

“What's the message?” Pam challenged.

Jeremy paused to remember the letters. “Plovesj? That's not even a word. Unless it's Polish or something. Were you doing English or Polish? I don't know any Polish.”

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Pam said. “It's technically three words in English.”

Jeremy considered the letters again. “Plo ves j? I don't know where you learned English but that's not English.”

Pam sighed. “Think initials, Jeremy.”



“Oh, I get it,” he said. “P Loves J, right?”

“Aww, you got it!” Pam gave the underside of his penis a kiss. There was a pleasant scent of unshowered preteen boy, perhaps one that had worked through a sweaty gym class followed by running around during recess. Pam decided she had delayed her gratification for long enough. “Okay, we can quit playing around now. Do you have the Coppertone?”

Jeremy reached into his secret hiding spot between the mattress and bed frame, producing a bottle of Coppertone. Pam licked her lips in anticipation as he squirted some into his palm. Slowly, gently, he began masturbating. He employed his usual method of an open palm mashed against the underside of his penis, waving to and fro.

Pam was in heaven. She loved seeing him in this position, towering over her like she was an ant on the ground. She had a wonderful view of his slender shoulders and wiry arms. The smooth skin of his stomach would occasionally ripple as he tensed. After a minute of warming up, Jeremy was waving off so earnestly that his erection moved like a wiper blade across the expanse of hairless skin between his penis and belly button.

“Does that feel nice, sweetie?” she asked.

Jeremy nodded. “I think I need a little more though...” He stopped to add a measured squirt of Coppertone to his hand. Pam liked how serious the young boy became when doing anything sexual. Whether touching her or touching himself, his actions were always accompanied by a sense of purpose, as if he were a scientist performing an experiment in a lab.

His brief pause allowed her a moment to admire every inch of him. Though swathed in stray bits of Coppertone, she could easily discern the unblemished skin of his shaft. It was neither small nor large, yet Jeremy's penis proportionally fit his body in the most perfect manner. She especially liked how, when erect, his foreskin stretched so tight that she could see the telltale outline of the head under the creamy skin. At his current age, the eleven year old boy's physical innocence was the exact opposite of rugged. Pam didn't want it any other way.

He resumed waving off. His free hand had been resting on his hip, but Pam slipped her fingers under it so they were holding hands. Then, unable to resist any further, Pam snaked her other hand between her legs. She was greeted by his forgotten underpants draped across her midsection. The thought of lying in Jeremy's bed, among the mussed-up sheets and covered in his discarded clothing, made her so horny that Pam thought she might explode. Feeling a little naughty, she moved his underwear so that it lay in between her bare breasts. Then, holding her breath, Pam finally dipped a finger into the waiting wetness between her legs.

“Ahhh...” Pam sighed. Her clit, so hungry for attention, felt like a hard pearl. She was a little embarrassed to realize she was already close to coming. “I haven't come this fast since I was, like, fourteen,” Pam thought to herself. Summoning all her willpower, she attempted to stave off her impending orgasm. After all, she wanted the pleasure of seeing Jeremy go first. His half-closed eyes told her he couldn't be that far off. Imagining a mystical transference of sexual energy between them, she squeezed his hand.

“Just... a little bit more,” Pam breathed to herself. At that moment, however, something wet dripped on her cheek. Logically, Pam knew it was merely the excess Coppertone that Jeremy had applied. But the suntan lotion, having adopted his body temperature, was deliciously warm when it landed on her face. He certainly wasn't ejaculating but the mere suggestion of it pushed Pam over the edge.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god....” Pam moaned. The feeling of her warm breath against his scrotum made Jeremy's eyes snap open. She gazed into his eyes as the blissful waves wracked her body. Her fingers squeezed his hand so tight that it occurred to her that she might hurt him. But it felt too good to let go of his hand.

To her delight, Pam felt Jeremy's fingers squeezing her right back. “Me too...” Jeremy breathed. “Oh!”

Pam was floored. In all of her twenty-five years, she had never once simultaneously had an orgasm with any partner. And here she was, coming at the same time as an eleven year old boy. She felt as if they were both being swept to a higher plane of existence. It was so amazing that she never wanted the moment to en-

“Hey. Pam.” Jeremy snapped his fingers in her face. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Huh?” Pam mumbled. Her soup spoon hovered over her forgotten bowl with glazed-over eyes and a dreamy expression on her face. “I zoned out for a second there. What were you saying?”

“Don't you remember that night? You wanted me to tower you. So I said I would do it if you dressed up as Harley Quinn. And you promised you would do it.”

“Yes, I remember that night,” Pam sighed. She blew on a spoonful of soup. “Yes, I promised. Let me see that picture again... So that's Harley Whoever? From whatever movie that was?”

“Harley Quinn from Suicide Squad,” Jeremy said, through a mouthful of soup. “She's really cool. She carries a baseball bat and smashes stuff.”

“Don't talk with your mouth full. That's gross.” Pam took ladylike sips as he loudly slurped up his dinner. “So you just want me to carry a baseball bat?” she asked. “I can totally do that.”

“Not just a baseball bat! You have to dress up too.” He scrolled though some more pictures on the iPad. Harley Quinn wore a tight crop top that showed off her belly button, paired with what was either a bikini bottom or a pair of panties. Pam couldn't figure out which. The ensemble was topped off with blond pigtails, an excessive amount of makeup, fishnet stockings, and lace-up boots with high heels.

“I don't have any clothes like that,” Pam informed him.

“Maybe we can make some?” Jeremy suggested.

“Make those clothes? How are we going to do that?”

“Like you could wear jean shorts instead. Don't you have old jeans we could cut up?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“Can we go look?”


Jeremy consulted his watch. “Our tickets for the haunted house are for 8 o'clock. That's only two hours away.”

Pam wearily tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Let me just finish my dinner,” she sighed. “And drink the rest of your milk, will you?” He chugged his milk and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

It wasn't easy to eat with him watching her like a hawk. Pam only managed a few spoonfuls before pushing aside her bowl. “All right, let's go,” she said, giving in. Jeremy crowed in triumph as they headed for her bedroom.

“Oh wait,” he stopped. “I should get the scissors.” He ran off but Pam continued to her room. She was already digging through her closet when he returned.

“These are the sharpest pair of scissors in the house,” he announced. “My mom bought them for sewing but never used them.”

“Hurrah,” Pam grumbled. She tugged a pair of faded jeans from her dresser. “I think these might work,” she said.

“Want me to cut them?” Jeremy eagerly snipped the air with the scissors.

“Let me do it,” Pam said, holding out her hand. She had to guess at the length of the cut. Pam had never been the type to wear Daisy Dukes so this was her first time making them. Two legs of denim material soon lay on the floor. Without bothering to shoo Jeremy from the room, Pam slid out of the jeans she was wearing and reluctantly tried on the freshly minted cutoff shorts.

“I don't think this looks right,” she said, casting a critical eye in the mirror.

“Yeah, I'll say,” Jeremy agreed. He held up the iPad and squinted as he compared the picture on the screen to Pam's figure. “They need to be way shorter. Harley Quinn's shorts are, like, half that size.”

“That's not what I meant,” Pam said. Had she lost weight? These jeans were baggy in all the wrong places. “These don't fit at all.” She returned to her dresser to search for another old pair.

“Make sure you cut it shorter this time,” Jeremy advised when she pulled out a second pair. She ignored him and used her best judgment. Trying them on, Pam was dismayed to see that the shorts were unflatteringly loose.

“No, no, no...” Jeremy shook his head. “Not short enough.”

“It's not that,” Pam contradicted. “I don't think I have the right figure to wear Daisy Dukes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I would have had to starve myself for the past six months to look like Harley Quinn. I don't have this unrealistic body that reduces teenage boys to panting dogs.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned. “Who's panting? I'm not a teenager. Or a dog.”

Pam made a face as she looked in the mirror again. “I'm just saying these look terrible on me.”

“That's just because they're too big. Don't you have a smaller pair of jeans?” He picked up the pair that she had originally been wearing. “How about these?”

“Those are my favorite pair of jeans,” Pam told him. “I am not cutting them up so I can be your wet dream.” Jeremy stared at her blankly.

“Or dry dream, as it is,” she hastily amended.

Another blank look.

“Anyway...” Pam continued, “this Harley Quinn idea isn't going to work. Don't you have something else I could dress up as?”

Jeremy's shoulders slumped. “You promised...” he said. “Can't we just try cutting these up? Maybe they'll look great.”

“Jeremy. These are my best jeans. I've never had a pair fit this well. Possibly ever.”

“What's the big deal?” he asked. “Why can't you just go to the store and buy another pair in the same size?”

“Oh my God, you are such a guy. I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

Dejected, Jeremy sat on her bed with his chin in his hands. The disappointment palpably radiating from him dredged up terrible guilt from Pam. “Don't pout,” she conceded. What options did she have? None, really. She picked up the scissors with a heavy heart.

“For you, I will sacrifice my favorite pair of jeans,” she told him. Pam lovingly laid them on the bed and smoothed out the legs. A lump formed in her throat as she positioned the scissors against the denim material. Cringing, she sliced off one leg from the jeans, then the other. She tried them on.

“Hey, that's not bad,” Pam said, looking over her shoulder into the mirror.

“I guess,” Jeremy said. “But...”

“... You think they should be shorter,” Pam finished for him.


Pam glanced in the mirror again. “We don't want to mess up and cut it too short. We only have one chance at this.” She had an inspiration. “Do you have any chalk?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Go get it. We'll use it to make some guidelines for cutting.”

Jeremy dashed off and returned with a stick of chalk. He handed it to her, but Pam declined. “You have way better artistic skills than me. Go ahead and mark off how short you think they should be.” Jeremy consulted the iPad before kneeling down in front of her. With a confident motion, he marked a chalk slash that ran started at her hip and terminated at the crotch of the jeans. His fingers teased her inner thigh in a manner that made Pam shiver. She held her breath while he did the other side.

“Okay, turn around,” Jeremy directed.

Pam complied, presenting him with her bum. She bent over slightly, pushing it out at him. It was exciting, she had to admit, letting him play tailor. Ruefully, she recalled it was her hormones that got her into this very situation. Her mind once again conjured up the blissful details of their simultaneous orgasm.

“Screw it,” she thought to herself. “It was totally worth it to sacrifice these jeans.” In the mirror, she could see Jeremy studying her bum like a painter assessing his model. There was a slight tickle as he drew once, then twice.

He stepped back to look at her. “I think that's perfect,” Jeremy said.

“Help me out of these, will you?” She held her arms out to the sides. She relished his attention and it was too much fun to stop now. Jeremy gave her a quizzical look, but unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans before helping her wiggle out of them. Pam secretly hoped he would pull her panties down. Was Jeremy getting turned on too? Instead, he busied himself with the scissors on her once favorite pair of jeans.

Snip, snip, snip. “Done,” he proclaimed handing them back to her. After dutifully donning the pair of short shorts, Pam studied the mirror while Jeremy studied her.

“Uh, these are really short,” Pam said.

Jeremy had pulled out the iPad again to compare her with a picture. “They're exactly the right length,” he told her.

“But look,” Pam turned to show him, “they're so short that you can see my underwear.”

“So take them off,” Jeremy shrugged.

Slyly, Pam turned to him and held her arms out again. Jeremy dropped to one knee to undo her jeans. They landed in a pile around her ankles. The young boy looked at her panties, then glanced at Pam for direction. She responded with an “I'm waiting...” expression. With tentative fingers, Jeremy slipped her panties off her hips, rewarding her with a warm and fuzzy glow that made her heart race. Pam made a mental note to always have him undress her from now on.

He was clearly trying to play it cool, but Pam caught him peeking at her state of undress. Like a gentleman, he helped her step out of the panties before tugging up the jean shorts. “Hey, that looks really good!” Jeremy approved.

Pam studied herself in the mirror. The Daisy Dukes were so short that she was now sporting some major butt cleavage. “Um, you don't suppose my backside is showing too much?” Pam inquired.

Jeremy walked around her in a slow circle. “Nope.”

She sighed. “So now you expect me to go commando tonight.”

“What's ‘go commando’ mean?” Jeremy asked.

“That's the term for when a person goes out without wearing underwear. Particularly girls.”

“I won't tell anyone you're not wearing underwear,” Jeremy promised.

“Yeah, you better not,” Pam grumbled. “So we have the bottom of the costume. What am I wearing on top?”

“I already have that figured out,” Jeremy said. “Wait here, I'll be right back.” When he returned, he triumphantly held up a white shirt with a red baseball-tee styling around the neck and shoulders. “See? It's perfect?”

“Hold on, isn't that your shirt?”

“Yeah, but I don't wear it anymore.”

Pam held up the shirt to her body. “There's no way this is going to fit me.”

“Just try it on,” Jeremy urged, sitting down on her bed.

Humoring him, Pam took off her sweater. But when she tried to pull on his shirt, the cotton material felt like it was going to rip apart. “This isn't going to work,” she informed Jeremy.

“Let me help.” He took the shirt and stood on her bed. “Lift your arms up,” he directed. He slipped the shirt over her arms and began pulling it onto her torso. The shirt was only halfway on when he stopped.

“What's going on?” Pam asked. She couldn't see anything but the inside of the shirt.

“I can't get the neck opening around your head.” He kept tugging. “Sheesh. Your head is, like, huge.”

She gave him a dirty look, even though he couldn't see her face. “Thanks, Jeremy.”

“Wait, here it goes...” He yanked hard, forcing her head through by sheer force.

The cotton shirt felt like sandpaper scraping across her ears. “Owww!” Pam howled. She tenderly touched the sides of her head to ensure her ears were still there. “Why is it so difficult for you to be gentle with me?”

“Sorry!” Jeremy said. “Is it bleeding?” Still standing on the bed, he held onto her shoulders to keep balance as he examined her ear. “Looks okay. Just a little red.”

“Well, it still hurts,” Pam said. Taking her completely by surprise, Jeremy leaned in and kissed her ear.

“Does that help?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Pam turned her head. “Do the other one too,” she requested. His chapped lips were rough but warm.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. “Or is it more annoyed?”

“Annoyed. I guess.”

“Whew.” Jeremy jumped down from her bed.

“You think you know me so well,” she groused. Pam frowned as she tried to move her arms in the t-shirt. “I don't know, Jeremy. This is awfully tigh-” Her jaw almost hit the ground when she looked in the mirror. The skintight shirt not only bequeathed upon her an hourglass figure, it also somehow pushed her breasts up like a shelf. She didn't recognize the person in the mirror.

“Huh.” That was all Pam could say. She had never been the type to dress in this manner.

Jeremy picked up the scissors. “Can I cut off some of the shirt bottom? It's a little too long.”

Pam held her breath as he began slicing into the shirt. The metal scissors were ice cold against her skin but she did her best to hold still. As the excess cloth fell to the floor, the cool air prickled against the bare skin of her midsection.

“Oh wait! Wait!” Jeremy said. He pulled a black Sharpie out of his pocket. “We need to personalize the shirt too!”

Pam raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Do you always carry a Sharpie on your person?” she asked.

He didn't answer, instead sizing up her chest in a way that made Pam feel uncomfortable yet flattered. “Hold still, okay?” Uncapping the marker with his mouth, he began writing on the shirt. Pam couldn't see what he was writing so she was again relegated to holding still. Jeremy placed a hand on her ribcage to steady himself as he wrote. His close proximity, combined with the Sharpie tickling her chest, sent an unbidden tingle between her legs.

“Done!” Jeremy announced. “What do you think?”

Pam gazed at the mirror. Since it was backwards, it took her a second to decipher what Jeremy had scrawled on her chest. “Daddy's... Lil... Monster...?” she questioned. “Jeremy. Did you just write 'Daddy's Lil Monster' on my chest?”

“That's what Harley Quinn's shirt says in the movie!” Jeremy proclaimed. “Awesome, right?”

“Awesome is not the word I was looking for...” The short Daisy Dukes made her legs seem longer than usual and the crop top showed off her belly button. Her breasts, meanwhile, were so perky that they might as well have had an arrow pointed at them. Which they sort of did, given the flamboyant 'Daddy's Lil Monster' that Jeremy had added.

“People will ask me, 'So Pam, what did you do for Halloween?' and I'll say, 'Oh, you know, I dressed up as a slut then took Jeremy and his friends to a haunted house...'”

“I don't think you're a slut,” Jeremy offered.

“Oh please. You don't even know what a slut is.”

“I do so. It's like Ashley Philips. Everyone at school is always saying she's a slut.”

“Whatever. That's just you and your friends being mean.”

“No, she's really slutty,” Jeremy insisted. “She's always, like, smiling at the guy teachers. Only the guy teachers too, not the female teachers. And Ashton said she went to the math teacher for help this one time and ended up sitting on his lap. And she was wearing a skirt when she did it.”

“Hmm, okay,” Pam changed her mind. “So maybe that is a little slutty.”

“Anyway, you don't look slutty. You look cool!”

“If you say so,” Pam said. She turned in the mirror again. “I'll just pray to God I don't run into someone I know.”

“I'm going to get dressed in my Joker costume and do my makeup,” Jeremy decided. “Do you need any makeup? I bought a kit so you can borrow some.”

“What kind of makeup do you want me to wear?”

Jeremy studied the picture on the iPad again. “Well, Harley has a sort of pale face so maybe some white makeup. And red lipstick.”

“I have red lipstick,” Pam said. “But sure, I'll borrow your makeup kit.”

Pam went to the kitchen for a glass of water. When she returned, Jeremy was gone but a makeup kit waited on her desk. She went to work. Recalling Harley's picture, she pulled her hair into two unbraided pigtails first. The white makeup was easy enough to apply, since this was a punk look and not Cosmo magazine. For the lipstick, Pam rifled through her drawer in search of the loudest shade of red. She rarely wore lipstick so the best she could find was a dark ruby. Good enough.

The iPad still lay on her bed. Pam opened it to see how well she did. Her dark brown pigtails didn't measure up to the bleached blond hair of the actress, but she was otherwise a very reasonable facsimile. Pam suddenly remembered the fun of dressing up for Halloween, something she hadn't done in years. Studying the iPad, she pondered other possibilities to accent her costume. Her eyes zeroed in on Harley's cropped red jacket and fishnet tights.

Cropped red jacket. Cropped red jacket. Pam knew she had something similar in her closet, it was just a matter of finding it. The fishnet tights were probably out of the question, but surely she had some patterned pantyhose that could serve as an acceptable substitute. She began digging through her closet. Her eyes alighted on an old studded belt that she had worn in her college days. Perfect. In a shoebox she found several unopened pairs of pantyhose. To her surprise, there was a multipack of tights with different patterns. One of them was fishnet.

Jackpot. All that was left was to find her old red jacket. “It has to be in here somewhere,” Pam thought. “I know I didn't throw it out.” She finally found it nestled between some dress shirts from her brief foray into office life. Its color was a muted wine red, darker than she remembered, but it seemed to perfectly match her lipstick.

Excited now, Pam quickly assembled her costume. Fishnet tights under the jean shorts. Studded belt over that. She was worried that her wine colored jacket wouldn't fit, but it slipped over her shoulders perfectly. The jacket wasn't as cropped as Harley's but its hem was a solid inch above her belly button. Having forgotten shoes, Pam returned to her closet. Triumphantly, she pulled out a pair of white wedges, worn only once because they were terribly uncomfortable. Hopefully the haunted house would be a small one.

“Hey Pam, I need my makeup kit ba-” Jeremy stopped in his tracks when she turned to face him.

Pam raised a questioning eyebrow. “What?”

“You look so cool!” Jeremy breathed in awe.

Pam was pleased with his reaction. “But then, you've always thought I look cool, right?”

“Yeah but... I didn't know you had all this stuff. You should wear it all the time.”

Pam laughed. “I suppose you want me to wear this every day. Like you'd be having your breakfast and I'd be prancing around the kitchen in this outfit.”

“Really? You'd do that?”

“No, Jeremy. I would probably get cold in the winter.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He studied her with admiration. He ran a finger across her studded belt. “You know, I've got some bracelets just like this.” He paused, then got an excited look. “I'll be right back!”

He dashed off once again and returned with two studded bracelets. The bracelets had only a double row of studs whereas Pam's belt had three, but they were otherwise identical. She held out her wrists for him to put them on but Jeremy shook his head.

“I have a better idea,” he said. He linked the two bracelets together so they formed a much longer single unit. “We should put this around your neck.”

“Like a choker?” Pam clarified. She bent over and held her hair out of the way as Jeremy carefully clasped it in place.

“Is that too tight?”


Jeremy stood next to her as they looked at the mirror. He had changed into a white tuxedo shirt with black dress pants and a spangly purple jacket. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar with an undone purple bow tie slung around it. “We look so cool!” Jeremy declared. He retrieved the kit from her desk. “I need to go finish my makeup. Be right back!”

“Take your time,” she called after him. Every time she looked in the mirror, Pam was surprised by the reflection. It was exciting to be someone new for a change. The studded choker had a decidedly S&M feel to it, but she liked it. It made her feel a bit wicked.

“Uh oh...” Pam thought. “Horny.” All of Jeremy's incidental touching had added up. Making chalk marks on her jeans. Kissing her ears. Writing on her chest. Pam checked her watch. They had to leave in less than an hour. Was there time for a brief Call of Duty mission? She wondered if Jeremy would mind being groggy at the haunted house.

Pam decided, reluctantly, that she couldn't do that to him. She went to close her bedroom door. “Jeremy?” she called. “I have to make a phone call, okay?”

“Okay,” he called back.

Satisfied, she locked the door.

It didn't take too long. After a minute of masturbating, Pam was already on the verge. Wanting to make it last, she teased herself with a lighter touch. She fantasized about Jeremy returning in his Joker outfit. Maybe he would take one look at her and get instantly hard. He would unbuckle his pants and demand that she take care of him. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

“Oh!” Pam moaned, taking care to keep her voice down. Try as she might, she could no longer contain her orgasm. “Mmm... Oh... Oh...” She felt like a kite floating high in the sunshine. When it was over, she lay unmoving on the bed, her hand still inside the fishnet tights.

There was a knock on her door. “Pam?” The doorknob rattled. “I'm done with my makeup. You gotta check it out!”

Pam yanked her hand out of her shorts. “Um, be right there!” Stumbling to her feet, she hastily buttoned up. She was about to straighten her hair and smooth over her clothes but, after consulting the mirror, she decided that the slightly disheveled look worked well for Harley Quinn.

Jeremy immediately came bounding into the room the moment she opened the door. His hair, greasily slicked back, was now a lurid shade of green. Otherwise, his makeup job was remarkably similar to hers with bright crimson lipstick on top of a ghostly white foundation. He thrust a pack of Bubblicious bubble gum into her hand.

“What's this for?” Pam asked.

“Harley Quinn is always chewing gum and blowing bubbles,” Jeremy told her. “Do you know how to blow bubbles?”

“What do you take me for?” Pam scoffed. She unwrapped a piece of gum. “Of course I can.” After a few minutes of chewing, she produced a decent sized bubble. “See?” Despite her bravado, Pam had never before blown bubblegum bubbles while wearing lipstick. It was messy work.

“That was pretty good,” he approved. “Be sure to do it when my friends are watching.”

“The things I do for you...” she sighed.

The doorbell rang. “I'll get it,” Jeremy volunteered.

“It's probably your friends,” Pam said, checking the clock. The plan had been for everyone to meet at the Prater house and then Pam would deliver them home after the haunted house. “Can you guys wait outside? I don't want you raising hell in here.”

“No problem. I'll find a baseball bat for you to carry too.” He disappeared out the front door.

Pam began tidying the kitchen. After wiping down a counter that was already clean, she realized she was nervous. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the dinner table, Pam stopped to study herself. What was the opposite of jailbait? That was precisely how she felt. This outfit had transformed her into her deepest desire: to be the fantasy object of a young boy. Her fantasy world and the real world were starting to mesh, perhaps too closely for comfort.

Suddenly anxious, Pam wished she could stay home. Her hopes were dashed, though, when Jeremy called to her from the garage. “Pam! Everyone's here!”

“I'm on my way!” Shunting away her anxiety, Pam did a final flight check. Phone? Cash? Keys? She swapped out her own keys for the minivan's. Then she checked a mirror one last time. Teasing Jeremy in the privacy of their home was one thing, but could she really leave the house like this? She zipped up her wine red jacket in a fit of modesty.

The boys were already waiting for her in the minivan. Upon climbing in, Pam sensed the preteen hormones hanging in the air like the cloying scent of a candy store. She dimly recalled some of their faces from Jeremy's birthday party last summer but the names escaped her. No matter, since they were engrossed in a Pokemon discussion that went over her head. As a matter of fact, they didn't acknowledge her presence at all, even once the minivan was moving.

“And I was worried about being stared at,” Pam thought ruefully. They chattered away, not even pausing for air during the entire trip to the haunted house, with topics ranging from garden slugs to football to an upcoming science assignment. Pam couldn't find any logic to the meandering conversation and eventually gave up trying to follow along. The only intelligible snippet was when they began discussing a television show called Stranger Things and the attractiveness of Nancy Wheeler. The vote for yes, unamimously. She wondered what Nancy looked like.

When Pam pulled up to the haunted house, the boys were too busy pelting each other with gummy bears to notice. When she parked the minivan, they continued a heated argument about something called a 'switch double backflip 1440 truck driver.' When she stepped out of the car, no one followed. More cars kept arriving and the line to enter the haunted house spilled outside, yet there was no sign of anyone disembarking the minivan.

“Whatever,” Pam thought. “I don't care if they want to stay in there all night.”

Her patience proved to be short-lived. After less than thirty seconds, she changed her mind and slid open the minivan door. “All right, everybody out,” she commanded. They came tumbling forth like cats out of a shopping bag. Except Jeremy, who asked, “Wait, has anyone seen my holster?” He began searching for it while everyone waited. Pam drummed her fingers on the minivan. Only Jeremy could misplace something during a ten minute drive.

She was so annoyed that it took her a moment to notice his four friends staring at her. It had been dark in the garage when she got in the minivan, but the haunted house's parking lot was exceptionally well-lit. Sensing the weight of their stares, Pam uncomfortably shifted her weight from foot to foot. Each time she glanced at Jeremy's friends, they would quickly look somewhere else. A group of teenage girls passed by, but the boys' attention remained riveted on Pam.

“Here's your baseball bat, Pam,” Jeremy said, handing it to her. He still hadn't located his holster yet. Pam slung the bat over her shoulder, doing her best to be nonchalant even though her heart was racing. Was she being too transparent? Did anyone else in the crowded parking lot notice her effortless command of this group of young boys? Two of Jeremy's friends exchanged a look while a third's eyes got noticeably bigger.

“Found it!” Jeremy triumphantly emerged from the minivan with his holster. “What's up with you guys?” he asked, referring to his uncharacteristically quiet friends. He gave them a puzzled look, glanced at Pam (who shrugged), then swiveled his head back to his friends.

“Oh hey, you guys haven't seen how cool Pam's costume is,” Jeremy said. “Pam, open your jacket and show them your shirt!”

Self-consciously, Pam slowly unzipped her jacket. Could she get arrested for this? Possibly. Jeremy beamed proudly but his friends appeared to be shell-shocked as they stared at her shirt. Were they staring at her chest or just trying to read the words? Maybe both. Remembering Jeremy's instructions, she blew a bubble with her bubblegum. She managed an especially big one before it deflated with a distinct pop. His friends might have been ogling her before, but now their minds were completely blown.

A chilly October breeze made her jacket flutter. Glancing down, Pam realized her nipples were poking through the thin shirt. In the haste to fit Jeremy's shirt over her apparently too-large head, Pam had forgotten to ensure she was wearing a padded bra. It was far too late to rectify the problem, so Pam herded the boys toward the entrance to the haunted house. The raucous noise of the minivan was replaced with a muted silence as they followed her. Pam felt herself blushing underneath all the makeup. She was well aware of how the Daisy Dukes looked from behind.

Once they got in line, the boys broke the silence, opining on the plethora of costumes around them. A group of vampires waited in front of them. Behind them, a collection of zombie football players and cheerleaders joined the line. Pam quietly eavesdropped on the mingling conversations. The vampires were definitely older than Jeremy's group since their voices were noticeably deeper. Their average height seemed a few inches taller as well.

Pam caught one of the vampires staring at her. She pretended not to notice when he elbowed his friend. “Damn...” he murmured. That friend elbowed another friend. Like a ripple in a lake, the other vampires were alerted to her presence. One of them, apparently too excited, did nothing to hide his admiration. “That is one hot bitch!” he proclaimed. His friends glanced nervously at each other. Pam wasn't sure what to do other than give him a dirty look.

As it turned out, she didn't have to do anything. Jeremy, having overheard the comment, spun around. “Hey, don't talk about my girlfriend that way!” His hand reached for the holster under his jacket. Before anyone knew what was happening, Jeremy fired a watergun at the offending vampire who sputtered in protest.

“Hey! What the hell!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands. The vampire's friends had been stunned at first, but began laughing at their friend.

“Say you're sorry!” Jeremy threatened, still brandishing his watergun.

“Okay, okay! Sorry. Jeez.” The vampire wiped the water dripping from his face. “Take it easy, kid.”

Satisfied, Jeremy tucked the watergun away under his jacket. Pam quietly cleared her throat. “Um, girlfriend?” She whispered so his friends wouldn't hear.

Jeremy nodded. “Well, yeah. Harley Quinn is the Joker's girlfriend.”

“You didn't tell me that.”

“Everyone knows that,” Jeremy shrugged. He rejoined his friends.

The vampires were now huddled amongst themselves, pointedly not looking her way, but the episode had drawn the attention of the zombies behind them. Three of them approached Pam. They were the zombie football players, appropriately decked out with melting skin and bloodstained uniforms. They were older, probably late high school, she guessed. “Hey, your costume is totally awesome,” one of them said. He had a thin soul patch on his chin that did him no favors. “Can we get a picture with you?” His two friends nodded eagerly.

Pam noticed the chilly expressions on their companions, the zombie cheerleaders. She couldn't help but feel a little proud for having elicited such palpable jealousy from teenage girls. Meanwhile, Jeremy has somehow gravitated back to her side. “Sorry, sugar,” Pam told the disappointed teenager. She put an arm around Jeremy. “My boyfriend doesn't like it when I talk to other guys.” It felt daring to be so open about the object of her affection. The rebuffed boys slunk back to the annoyed cheerleaders. Halloween was the greatest, Pam decided.

The line inched forward until they were finally admitted. The haunted house was a self-guided tour, although groups entered at ten minute intervals to avoid overcrowding. When their turn finally came, the boys joyfully rushed in as Pam followed them. The first room was dimly lit with mirrors on each wall. Pam was unimpressed until fake spiders unexpectedly rained down from the ceiling.

Pam screamed first, which made the rest of the group scream too. She was embarrassed but the boys were having too much fun to notice. They kicked the spiders around for a moment before gleefully moving on to the next door. As they went from room to room, Pam lost count of all the skulls and cobwebs that greeted them. She also learned to look at the ceiling in each room to see what surprises might greet them. They winded their way through the house until finally arriving at the basement where a witch greeted them.

“This is the last room,” the witch informed them. “But be forewarned, this room is not meant for mortal souls.” She then pointed at the sign on the door that listed three ominous warnings. One, there would be zero illumination. Two, do not let go of the guide rope. Three, it was highly advised to go barefoot so as to not lose one's footing.

Excited, the boys began removing their shoes. Pam followed suit. Carrying their shoes, they entered the room. The door closed with a loud creak, plunging them into darkness. Remembering the instructions, Pam groped in the dark until she felt the rope. The sound of indistinct whispers and moans filled the room. They presumably came from well-placed speakers, yet Pam felt nervous nonetheless. A cool draft tickled her face.

The bright flash of a strobe light momentarily blinded them. Pam had just enough time to see a row of skeletons chained to the wall. “Auuggh!” Jeremy stopped to scream, causing her to bump into him. The whispers and moans became louder.

“This is so cool!” someone said. Another flash of light lit up a giant face, leering, that was painted on the wall. Pam was jostled about as unknown bodies bumped against her.

“Holy shit!”

“What are you doing? Don't let go of the rope!”

“Oh no! I can't find it!”

“Quit pushing!”

The piped-in whispers and moans were so loud that they had to raise their voices to be heard. The strobes kept firing, illuminating things like a pair of twin girls in one corner and a headless horseman in another. It was mayhem. The boys were yelling so much that Pam couldn't tell if they were just excited or truly scared. In the darkness, someone grabbed her hand.

“Jeremy? Is that you?” she asked. He responded by running a hand across her front. Before she could say anything, a crackle of thunder sounded. A hand brushed her breasts once, then twice. “Will you quit fooling around?” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the sound effects.

But her words were cut off by a new howl. “You guys! I'm walking on something wet and slimy!” It sounded like Jeremy's voice, but she couldn't be sure with all the noise in the room. Sure enough, Pam felt something squishing beneath her toes. Clutching the rope for dear life, she hobbled forward, once again bumping into someone.

The strobe lights began mimicking lightning flashes. “We're walking on snakes!” someone proclaimed.


“Hurry up! Keep going!”

Pam had entered the room last but, judging from the voices behind her, she had somehow become the leader. Taking care not to trip over the snakes, she clutched the rope and dashed for a dim shaft of light in the distance. She thankfully tumbled through a thick velvet curtain into a normally lit room. The boys came clambering out behind her.

“We made it!” The boys whooped loudly at the experience. There was a bench and several rolls of paper towels for everyone to clean off their feet. It took her less than a minute to get her shoes back on, but the boys took their time. An employee, dressed as a scarecrow, winked knowingly at Pam as she began shepherding the overstimulated boys toward the exit and into the parking lot.

During the car ride home, the boys excitedly recounted each event from the haunted house. Remember the room with blood dripping from the walls? Or what about the claustrophobic hallway with the ghostly bride? Pam herself was nursing a minor headache from all the strobe lights.

The minivan grew progressively quieter as she dropped off each boy at his respective home. At last it was just her and Jeremy. “Want to ride in the passenger seat?” she asked him. “I feel like a chauffeur when you're sitting all the way back there.”

He joined her up front. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“Yeah, it was great! Did you like it?”

“It was okay. I think the scariest was when we were in the basement and it was pitch black.”

“That room was nuts!” Jeremy said. “Do you think we were walking on real snakes in there?”

“Probably not real,” Pam mused. “They would get sued if someone got bitten. I'm sure they were fake snakes.”

“They sure felt slimy,” Jeremy commented. “There was stuff oozing between my toes. I guess I was more grossed out than scared.”

Pam laughed. “If you weren't scared, why did you try to hold my hand down there?”

“Huh? I didn't do that.”

“Weren't you right in front of me?” Pam asked.

“I was in front of you when we went into the room,” Jeremy said. “But I was the last one out.”

Pam suddenly blushed. “You're sure? You didn't grab my hand? Um, or anything else?”


One of Jeremy's friends apparently had very busy hands. The touching had been furtive and purposeful. Certainly not an accident. Pam wondered which one of them it was. Ogling her was one thing, groping, however, was quite different. When she pulled into the Prater driveway, Pam was still brainstorming a way to sniff out the rat.

“Hey, mom got home early tonight,” Jeremy said, noticing her car. He unbuckled his seat belt. “I want to show her my costume!” He bounded out of the car before she could stop him. Pam definitely didn't want Kate to see her when she was all hookered up. Thinking fast, she retrieved a black blanket from the backseat of the minivan and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Inside, Jeremy stood at the entrance to the living room. “... It was so cool, mom! The first room was completely empty except for a clown surrounded by toy dolls. And then...” Pam didn't see Kate, but she assumed she was in the living room, listening as Jeremy recapped the evening. Quietly, she crept up behind him. Perhaps she could even sneak past Kate and make a run for the safety of her bedroom? But Jeremy dashed her hopes by sensing her presence.

“Oh, and guess what?” he said. “Pam dressed up too! She was... ow!”

Pam swiftly interrupted him with a kick to the shin. “Sorry, I was trying to get my shoe off,” she apologized. Peeking into the living room, she smiled at Kate. “I dressed up as a witch,” she said, holding the black blanket tight around her body. Jeremy, rubbing his shin, glared at her with both accusation and confusion. She clamped an iron hand on his shoulder to silence him.

“How nice,” Kate said. “Now Jeremy, you're not going to bed with all that dye in your hair, are you?”

“Good point,” Pam said, steering him away from the living room. “Time to hit the showers, kiddo.”

Instead of going to his room, Jeremy followed Pam into hers. “Why did you kick me?” he demanded. “That really hurt.”

“I told you earlier. I don't want your mom to see me in this Harley Quinn getup,” Pam explained, tossing the blanket aside. “She would think it was... weird.”

“Maybe she would think it was cool.”

“She wouldn't. Trust me.”

“You could have just asked me not to say anything,” Jeremy sulked. “I can keep a secret.”

Pam straightened his hair and immediately wished she hadn't. Her fingers came away smeared green. “I know you can,” she said, reaching for a tissue to clean her hand. “I'm sorry I kicked you. I didn't mean to do it that hard.” After wiping off as much of the green dye from her fingers as she could, Pam attempted to remove her jacket. The tight shirt limited her mobility to such an extent that it was impossible.

“Help me out of this, please?” she requested. With Jeremy's assistance, she was able to shrug her way out of the jacket. She regarded the cropped shirt with a look of dismay. “I have a feeling that taking this off is going to hurt.”

“We could cut it off,” Jeremy suggested. He picked up the scissors.

“Just a second,” Pam peeked out her door. There was no sign of Kate. “All right, let's make it fast though.”

Jeremy started at the sleeve, cutting toward the neck hole. “Be careful with my bra strap,” Pam warned him. Once again, the cold scissors felt icy against her skin. And once again, she enjoyed a small thrill of excitement as he worked. Why did this turn her on so much? Once he was done cutting both sleeves, Jeremy carefully worked the scissors up from her lower ribcage, between her breasts, and terminating at her neck. Pam instinctively raised her chin to distance herself from the steel blades.

“There...” Jeremy said. The shirt fluttered to the ground, leaving Pam in her bra. He gave her a brief look up and down, drinking in the sight of her wearing Daisy Dukes with fishnet tights and a bra that did nothing to hide her hard nipples.

Pam wished Kate hadn't come home early.

“Thank you, Jeremy,” she said, reaching for her bathrobe. “You should probably take a shower and get ready for bed. Be sure to use extra shampoo to get that stuff out of your hair.”

“I will. Can we watch a movie when I'm done? It's Saturday night.”

“Yes, we can.” She ushered him out of her room. “Run along and get ready for bed. I need to make a quick phone call, okay?” Once he was gone, Pam locked her bedroom door. Slipping out of her robe, Pam enjoyed one last look at Harley Quinn in the mirror before unbuttoning her shorts.

Due to ASSTR finickiness, I have migrated the Jeremy story to a new home:

This site has a modern interface and will let readers contact me and comment anonymously on stories.

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Chapter 11 - Kryptonite, Part 1

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