خدمات همراهی پرستار بچه

A room, harsh fluorescent lights in the ceiling. A table, three people seated around it. One of them's a girl. She looks like Britney Spears' little sister: low-cut jeans, belly shirt, frosted blonde hair. Two of them are cops; bad suits, bad haircuts, bad attitudes. One's tall, fortyish; the other's on the far side of fifty, marking time until his pension kicks in. The girl is talking."It just sort of happened. We didn't plan any of it out, I swear.""It just _happened_?" the pensioner asks."Yeah. We'd had our baby-sitter thing going for a while, you know--""A baby-sitters club?""Yeah. Like the books. We figured we could make more money that way, you know, switching off when we needed to and having a business people could refer around instead of just doing it on our own. And it worked, for a while a least. We just didn't figure on the dads."