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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 person her parents trust to take care of her, but it's true.
She has the most striking blue hair I've ever seen, which cascades down her back like a bun of flowers and curves I'd love to touch.
Her red lipstick kisses her glass of wine every few seconds.
I can't stop watching her lips.
"Christine," she says, turning toward me.
"Are you listening?"
I think she asked me something.
I'm sitting here at the table with her, but my mind is elsewhere.
"Yes."
"What do you think?"
She tilts her head to the side, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass.
I notice the glass is almost empty, and I wonder if she wants more.
I stand up from the table and walk over to the wine rack where Dad keeps his collection.
I'm not sure what kind of wine she's drinking, but I see a bottle of red wine that looks similar.
I grab it and return to the table.
Veronica watches me with an amused expression as I fumble with the corkscrew.
I'm not sure how to open it properly, but I try my best.
It takes a few attempts, but eventually the cork pops free.
I lean forward to pour her a new glass, getting close enough to smell her perfume.
My hand is unsteady, and a few drops spill onto the tablecloth.
Veronica grabs her napkin and starts to dab at the spill.
Her fingers brush against mine, sending a shiver down my spine.
"I'm sorry," I say, feeling clumsy.
"It's okay, honey," she replies, waving her hand dismissively.
She takes a sip of the wine and finishes it in one long gulp.
Then she stands up from the table, steadying herself against the chair.
"Christine, do you want to see the rest of your father's wine collection?"
I nod eagerly, eager to show off Dad's cellar.
I lead her over to the basement door and fumble with the light switch.
The stairs creak beneath our feet as we make our way down.
The cellar is dimly lit, and the air is cool and damp.
Veronica runs her fingers along the dusty wine racks as we make our way deeper into the room.
"This is quite a collection," she says, her voice tinged with admiration.
"My dad likes wine," I reply, feeling a little shy. "He organizes them by region," I explain, pointing to different sections of the racks.
"He has some really expensive bottles too."
Veronica picks up one of the more expensive bottles and holds it up to the light.
She examines it carefully before placing it back on its shelf.
"The Bordeaux are in the corner," I say, gesturing to the far corner of the cellar.
Dad's most prized bottles are kept there, away from direct sunlight.
Veronica walks over to the corner and examines the labels.
I stand behind her, reaching past her to grab a bottle she seems interested in.
As I do, I hear a scratching sound coming from behind one of the storage racks.
It's a distinct noise, like someone is running their fingers down a chalkboard.
Veronica freezes, and I feel her hand on my shoulder.
She pulls me slightly closer to her, her breath hot against my ear.
"What was that?" she whispers.
The scratching continues, growing louder now that we're paying attention to it.
"I don't know," I whisper back, my voice trembling slightly.
Veronica's grip tightens on my shoulder, and she murmurs, "Christine, I think there's something behind that rack."
I swallow hard, trying to steady my nerves as I nod and say, "Let's check it out together."
