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MidReal Story
Tempted by My Mom’s Friend
Scenario:I stared at the clock, counting down the seconds until Veronica knocked on the door. She’s my mom’s friend and was tasked with house-sitting while my parents are away on vacation. Apparently, they didn’t trust me to be alone at the house.
Finally, I heard the knock. Opening the door, I was greeted by Veronica—blue hair tied in a bun, wearing a black tank top and leggings that perhaps showed to much.
"Heyyyy! Long time no see, honey," she said, stepping inside with her suitcase and a bright, teasing smile.
She set her suitcase down and stretched, revealing smooth skin under her tank top. "Looks like we’ll be alone together for a while," she added with a wink.
Her gaze shifted toward the backyard. "I heard you have a pool... Maybe I'll let you watch as I swim with my bikini on."
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Christine Windsor
young adult,relationship with Veronica and parents,petite with curly brown hair,curious and naive
Mateo Windsor
Christine's father and Veronica's friend,relationship with Christine and his wife Nicolette,tall with greying hair,protective and trusting
Veronica Carter
house sitter and friend of Christine's mom,relationship with Christine and her parents,striking blue hair in a bun,seductive and manipulative
My parents are going on vacation, and they left me in Veronica's care.
I don't know her that much, but my mom said she was her friend.
Veronica is hot.
I know that word isn't really something a daughter should ever say about the woman her parents trust to take care of her, but I'm being honest.
She has the most striking blue hair I've ever seen, and today she wore it up in a bun.
Her breasts were nicely accentuated by the dress she had on, and I couldn't help but stare.
"If you don't stop, your eyes will pop out," she says with a laugh.
"I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry," she smirks.
"Now let's get those dishes done so we can start on those desserts."
We're currently in my kitchen, and she just finished washing all the dishes from lunch.
I'm drying the last plate, watching her hands move through the soapy water.
She pulls the plug, and the water drains.
She wipes her hands on a dishcloth and opens the pantry door.
Her fingers trail along the shelves as she inspects our baking supplies.
I move closer, pretending to help look, but really I'm just stealing glances at her profile.
She pulls out flour, sugar, and cocoa powder, setting each on the counter with deliberate movements.
My throat is dry as I gather my courage to ask about our baking plans.
"I think we have everything," she says, hovering near the counter.
I hover too, my fingers fiddling with a measuring cup.
She pulls out a mixing bowl from the upper cabinet, her tank top riding up as she reaches.
I step closer to her, and she bumps her hip against mine playfully.
"Ever made chocolate truffles before?"
She pours heavy cream into a saucepan and puts it on the stove.
I shake my head, watching the cream come to a simmer.
She opens the cocoa powder and adds a spoonful to the cream.
The smell of melting chocolate fills the kitchen as she stirs.
My eyes are glued to her hands moving in front of me.
She dips her finger in the mixture and holds it out to me.
"Go on, taste it," she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
I hesitate, then lean in to lick the chocolate off her finger, feeling a strange thrill.
"You know," she murmurs, leaning closer, "your mom and I used to make these together all the time."
