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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 out of town for a few days.
They're visiting his sister and their family.
I'm not going with them.
I have to stay here with Veronica.
Mom says she's a friend of the family.
I don't know her that well, but I've seen her a few times.
The most striking thing about her is her hair.
It's a beautiful blue, like the sky on a sunny day, and she has it up in a bun on top of her head.
She's real pretty, and she's curvy like me.
When they're leaving, Dad hugs me and gives me a kiss on my cheek.
I watch them drive away in their silver sedan, and then I go back inside the house and look for Veronica.
She's in the kitchen, in front of the sink, staring out the window.
She turns when I enter, and a small smile plays on her lips.
"Hey, girl."
"Hey," I say softly.
I always speak softly.
I don't want to be rude or annoying.
"You hungry?"
"Yeah."
"I'm making some coffee."
She looks at me questioningly.
"Do you drink coffee?"
"No."
"Okay, so what do you like? Would you like some cookies? I saw some in the jar."
"Yeah, that would be great."
"Which type do you like? The peanut butter or the chocolate?"
"The chocolate."
"Got it."
She pours herself a cup of coffee and then opens the cookie jar.
I sit at the counter, and she leans against the sink, sipping her coffee.
The only sound is the clinking of her cup.
I take small bites of my cookie, watching her throat move as she swallows.
Steam curls up from her mug and around her face.
She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow.
I look down at the granite countertop.
The silence stretches out uncomfortably until she sets her empty cup in the sink with a clatter.
"Want another cookie?"
She's already reaching for the jar before I can answer.
Her tank top rides up as she reaches, exposing a strip of skin above her leggings.
I nod, and she hands me another cookie.
She rinses her mug at the sink and puts it in the dishwasher.
She dries her hands on a dish towel, then leans against the counter again, looking at her phone.
After a minute, she looks up at me with a smile.
"Want to go watch something in the living room?"
"Yeah."
I follow her as she walks out of the kitchen, her hips swaying.
She sits on one end of the couch and pats the cushion next to her.
I hesitate by the doorway, wondering if I should sit there or choose the armchair.