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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."
Create my version of this story
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.
I only met her once briefy.
Veronica has this crazy blue hair in a bun.
She's really pretty and stylish as well.
I'm a bit excited to be with her.
My parents said they're going to be away for a week, so I have to be good and listen to her.
I don't really mind though.
I was a bit sad when they dropped me off at her house though.
I don't really want them to go without me.
Oh well, I'll just have to make the best of it then.
"Christine, come here!" Veronica calls me from downstairs.
I grab my backpack and walk downstairs where she's standing in the kitchen.
"Hey sweetie. So I was thinking since your parents are away, we should have a little slumber party tonight," she suggests.
"That sounds like fun."
I sit on one of the stools in the kitchen.
"What kind of things do you plan for us to do?"
Veronica rummages through her suitcase and pulls out a bunch of makeup and hair products.
"Well, let's start with makeovers," she suggests.
Her eyes are shining with excitement.
"That sounds like fun."
I nod.
"Great. I'll go first."
She pulls out a bright pink lipstick and applies it to her lips.
Then she pulls out some blue eyeshadow and applies it to her eyelids.
She looks at me with a mischievous grin on her face.
"So, what do you think?"
"I like it. It's different."
I smile at her.
Veronica laughs and pulls out a red lipstick.
"Let's try this on you."
She applies the lipstick to my lips and then pulls out some blush and applies it to my cheeks.
"You look good, Christine. You're so pretty."
She smiles at me.
"Thanks."
I smile back at her.
"Now, let's do something else," she says, pulling out a bottle of wine from her suitcase.
"What is that?"
I ask her.
"It's wine. Want to try some?" she asks me.
I shake my head no.
"I don't think so. My parents would be mad if they knew I was drinking." "Oh, come on. They'll never know. I won't tell them if you don't," Veronica says, smiling at me slyly.
I hesitate for a moment before answering her.
"I'm not sure..."
"Fine, more for me then," she says, opening the bottle and taking a drink from it.
She looks at me with a sly grin on her face as she takes another drink from the bottle.
"Christine, come sit next to me," Veronica says after a few minutes of sitting in silence.
I get up from the stool I was sitting on and walk over to where she's sitting on the couch in the living room.
"Sit down next to me," she says, patting the spot next to her on the couch.
I sit down next to her and look at her expectantly.
"So tell me about yourself," Veronica says, looking at me intently with a curious expression on her face.
"There isn't much to tell really. I'm 17 years old, I'm in high school, and I like hanging out with my friends," I say shyly as I look down at my hands in my lap nervously. "That sounds boring," Veronica says with a laugh as she takes another drink from the wine bottle in her hand.
I sit next to her, trying not to think about how weird this is.
She's a lot older than me and I feel like I'm in an awkward position.
"Umm, what do you want to know?"
I ask her.
"Whatever you want to tell me," she replies.
"Okay... So, my name is Christine. My parents are on vacation so I'm staying with you for a week."
She nods, sipping from her glass of wine.
"I like school. My favorite subject is math."
I don't know why I'm telling her that.
It's not interesting at all.
She stares at me with an intense look on her face and I shift uncomfortably.
"You know, Christine. You should really loosen up," she says, swirling the wine in her glass.
I don't know what she means by that but it makes me uncomfortable.
I fiddle with my fingers, looking at the floor.
"I feel nervous around you," I admit, looking up at her.
Veronica sets her glass down and leans closer, her expression softening.
"There's no need to be nervous, Christine. I knew your mom when we were your age, and she was just as shy."
I blink in surprise, curiosity piqued.
"Really?"
I ask, trying to muster the courage to ask the question that's been on my mind since she mentioned my mom.
"Did my mom have secrets?"
Veronica's eyes narrow and a sly smile spreads across her face.
She sets her wine glass down with a soft clink and leans back, crossing her legs.
"Oh, honey, everyone has secrets," she says in a voice full of intrigue.
I lean forward, eager to hear more.
"Like what?"
I press, wanting any information I can get.
Veronica leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Let's just say your mom wasn't always the straight-laced woman you know."
She smirks, leaning back on the couch and crossing her legs.
"Your mom was quite the rebel," she says, her voice low and teasing.
I hang onto every word, my heart pounding in my chest.
Veronica launches into a series of stories about wild nights and daring escapades that paint a picture of a woman I barely recognize.
Each story is a revelation, peeling back layers of the mother I thought I knew.
Veronica pauses, studying my reaction before continuing.
"But there's one secret that stands out," she whispers conspiratorially, leaning in closer.
I lean forward, my heart pounding.
Veronica's eyes sparkle with mischief as she holds the moment, savoring the suspense.
Finally, she speaks in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Your mom had a wild summer fling with a musician."
She pauses, letting the information sink in.
I sit back, blinking in shock.
Veronica chuckles, shaking her head.
"It was a crazy time. Late-night concerts, stolen kisses under the stars. Your mom was alive then."
I can barely process this new image of my mom.
Veronica's laughter breaks through my reverie and I glance up at her.
"You should have seen her," she says, her eyes holding mine.
I nod slowly, still trying to wrap my head around everything Veronica has told me.
Veronica leans back, her eyes twinkling with a secret she isn't ready to share yet.
The room falls silent, the only sound the soft clinking of Veronica's wine glass as she leans back.
I sit quietly, absorbing everything she's told me.
The air is thick with secrets and untold stories.
I can't help but smile, feeling a newfound connection to my mom.
"Thanks for telling me," I say, glancing at Veronica.
She meets my gaze, her eyes sparkling with a knowing smile.
"There's more if you're interested," she teases, swirling her wine glass.
Before I can respond, Veronica stands abruptly, stretching with feline grace.
She saunters to the kitchen, her hips swaying with a deliberate sensuality.
I follow, my curiosity piqued by her promise of more stories.
Veronica pours herself another glass of wine, the liquid glinting in the dim light.
She turns, leaning against the counter and studying me with a mischievous smile.
"Your mom and I had quite the summer," she purrs, her voice low and husky.
I lean against the counter, hanging onto every word as Veronica launches into another tale of adventure and daring escapades.
The room fades away, leaving only the two of us, lost in a world of memories and untold secrets.
Veronica flips through the pages of the album, revealing faded snapshots of their escapades.
Each photo tells a story of its own, capturing moments of laughter and freedom.
I reach out, tracing the edges of a photograph, feeling the weight of a past I never knew.
Veronica's stories swirl around me, lingering like the scent of her perfume.
The kitchen feels like a portal to the past, each tale more vivid than the last.
My eyes drift toward the wine bottle, curiosity piqued by Veronica's stories and the allure of adulthood.
"Can I have a glass?"
I ask, surprising myself with the boldness of my request.
Veronica pauses, her gaze meeting mine with a mix of amusement and approval.
She nods slowly, pouring a small amount into a glass and sliding it toward me.
"Just a taste," she says, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.
I take a sip, the wine warm and rich on my tongue, and I feel a strange connection to the stories she's shared.
Veronica watches me closely, her eyes softening as she adds, "Your mom would have wanted you to know this side of her."
I nod, feeling a sense of understanding wash over me.
Veronica's stories have woven a tapestry of my mom's past, each tale more enthralling than the last.
The wine bottle stands as a symbol of adulthood and the secrets that lie within.
As I sip my glass, I feel like I'm unraveling a mystery, one that will lead me to a deeper understanding of myself and those who came before me.
Veronica's gaze never leaves mine as she continues her story, her voice low and husky in the dimly lit room.
The air is thick with tension, the scent of wine lingering in the air.
I can feel her eyes on me, challenging and inviting all at once.
She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she shares another scandalous escapade from their summer of freedom. "We stole a car," she confesses, her voice barely audible over the sound of my own racing heart.
"It was midnight, and we were feeling reckless. We drove through the empty streets, feeling like we owned the world."
Veronica pauses for dramatic effect, her gaze locked on mine.
"We ended up at the lake, where we parked on the edge of the water. The moon was shining down on us, casting an ethereal glow over everything."
I can almost see it in my mind's eye—the stolen car parked precariously close to the lake's edge, Veronica and my mom laughing and feeling invincible as they dance under the moonlight.
The image is so vivid that I feel like I'm there with them, reliving their carefree summer nights.
As Veronica finishes her story, I reach for the wine bottle to pour myself another glass.
The wine's warmth spreads through me, and I urge Veronica to continue her tale.
Her eyes glint with mischief as she leans back against the counter, recounting a daring night when they snuck into an exclusive club.
"Your mom was fearless," she says, her voice low and conspiratorial.
I can almost see my mom, vibrant and rebellious, dancing under strobe lights and slipping past bouncers with ease.
Veronica's stories paint a picture of a woman I barely recognize—a woman who lived life on her own terms, unafraid to push boundaries and challenge authority.
I lean in closer, drawn to the allure of Veronica's words and the warmth of the wine.
"Tell me more," I urge, my voice barely above a whisper.
Veronica's eyes sparkle with mischief as she recounts a night when they sneaked into a private beach party.
"We danced until dawn," she says, her voice filled with nostalgia.
I imagine my mom under the moonlight, her hair blowing in the wind as she twirls and laughs with abandon.
Veronica pauses, her gaze locked on mine.
"There was a moment when we almost got caught," she adds, her smile teasing.
"We hid behind the dunes, hearts pounding, convinced we'd be discovered," she continues, her voice a mix of excitement and relief.
"But your mom just laughed, saying it was all part of the adventure."
I chuckle softly, imagining my mom's carefree spirit, and ask, "Did you ever get caught?"
Veronica's eyes glint with excitement as she leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Once," she admits, a sly smile playing on her lips.
I lean forward, eager for the details.
"It was at a rooftop party," she continues, describing how they were almost caught by security.
My heart races as I imagine my mom's daring escape, adrenaline pumping through my veins as if I were there.
Veronica laughs softly, recalling their narrow getaway down a fire escape.
Her laughter is infectious, and I find myself grinning.
"What happened next?"
Veronica's laughter fills the kitchen as she recounts their rooftop escape.
"We ran down the fire escape, hearts pounding," she says, her eyes gleaming with joy.
I can almost see my mom, breathless and exhilarated, beside her.
Veronica pours another glass of wine, and I sip it slowly, savoring the connection to these wild stories.
"We partied until sunrise," she continues, describing a night filled with music and dancing on the beach.
Her words paint a vivid picture of freedom and rebellion.
As Veronica finishes her tale, she leans back against the counter, her gaze challenging.
"There's so much more to her story than you ever knew."
I nod, eager for more.
Veronica's stories have woven a tapestry of my mom's adventurous past, each tale more captivating than the last.
The wine has loosened my inhibitions, and I feel a warmth spreading through me.
I lean closer, drawn to Veronica's infectious energy and the thrill of the stories she shares.
"Tell me more," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Veronica's eyes sparkle with mischief as she begins another tale, her voice filled with excitement and laughter.
"This one time, we snuck into a secluded lake at midnight," she says, her gaze holding mine.
"We swam naked under the stars, laughing and splashing each other."
I imagine myself there with them, feeling the cool water envelop me and the thrill of the night.
Veronica pauses, her smile teasing.
"It was exhilarating," she adds, her voice low and inviting. I snuggle closer to her, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.
Her stories have transported me to a world of freedom and adventure, a world I never knew existed.
As Veronica finishes her tale, I lean back against the counter, feeling a sense of wonder and awe wash over me.
Her stories have given me a glimpse into my mom's wild past, a past that I can only dream of experiencing myself.
I lean back, the warmth of the wine spreading through me as Veronica's stories paint vivid pictures in my mind.
Her voice is a gentle murmur, recounting a night when they snuck into a private concert.
They blended in with the crowd, as if they belonged.
I imagine the music thrumming through them, the exhilaration of being part of something forbidden.
Veronica's eyes meet mine, and I catch myself wishing I could have been there, experiencing the thrill firsthand.
She smiles knowingly, sensing my longing.
Her stories continue, each one weaving a new chapter in the tapestry of my mom's adventurous past.
I sip my wine, feeling its warmth spreading through me, loosening the tension in my shoulders.
Veronica's voice is soothing, her eyes filled with mischief as she describes a daring escapade involving a stolen boat and a moonlit ride across the lake.
I imagine the wind in my hair, the cool breeze on my skin, and the thrill of being outlaws under the night sky.
As Veronica pauses, her hand brushes against my hair, and I find myself leaning closer.
Without thinking, I lay my head in her lap, feeling an unexpected comfort in her presence.