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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
"Will you be OK, sweetie?" my mom asks.
I nod, watching as she zips her suitcase.
"I’m a big girl, Mom," I remind her.
"I know. It’s just two weeks. We’ll be back before you know it."
My parents are going on vacation, leaving me in the care of their friend Veronica.
"You remember all that I told you?"
Veronica says, pushing her way into my room.
Her blue hair is in a bun and she’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a red blouse.
"Veronica will get you to school and back. You know the routine."
My mom nods, meeting my eyes one last time.
"Have fun."
They all say it, but I’m not sure that I will.
I watch as they leave, waving from the porch until they’re out of sight.
Then I go to my window and watch as they pull out of the driveway and down the street, disappearing into the distance.
"Christine?"
Veronica calls.
"I’m going to start dinner."
I put my window down and smile over my shoulder.
"Sounds great. Thanks for watching me while they’re away."
I hear her smile, though I can’t see her.
Any more than that and I’d have to turn around.
"No problem at all," she says.
"It’s really no trouble."
My parents are paying her to house sit and take care of me.
It’s no trouble for them either then.
I shrug and head for the bathroom.
I’m still getting used to Veronica being here.
I walk into the bathroom and turn on the faucet.
The white porcelain tub gleams as the water thunders against the bottom.
I watch it for a moment, then turn it to hot.
Steam rises from the surface, curling around my legs.
I test the temperature with my fingers and adjust it.
Then I add lavender bath salts, watching them dissolve into swirling patterns on the surface of the water.
I hear Veronica’s footsteps in the hallway outside, then she goes downstairs.
A moment later I hear pots clanking in the kitchen below.
The water rises steadily, nearing the overflow drain.
I turn off the faucet and begin to undress, laying my clothes on the counter.
As I step into the tub, Veronica's voice floats up from downstairs.
"Christine, there's something I need to tell you," she calls, her tone unusually serious.
I pause, wrapping a towel around myself and heading to the top of the stairs. "What is it?" I ask, sensing the weight in her words.
"I'll tell you when you come down," she says.
I watch her for a moment, then turn back to the bathroom.
I descend the stairs carefully, clutching my towel tight against my chest.
Veronica waits at the bottom, her blue hair now loose around her shoulders.
She pats the couch cushion beside her and I sit, leaving a gap between us.
Her fingers trace patterns on the fabric as she speaks.
"I've been lonely lately," she says, her voice low and husky.
"I've watched you grow up. You're a beautiful young woman."
She inches closer, her thigh pressing against mine.
My skin prickles as she touches my bare shoulder.
"Christine," she whispers, "I've always felt something special for you."
I pull away slightly, my heart racing.
"What do you mean, Veronica?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine. "I think I might be in love with you," she confesses softly.
I grip my towel tighter, my skin burning.
"I know it's wrong," she says, her fingers trailing down my arm.
"But I can't help the way I feel. I've watched you grow into this beautiful young woman and... I want to be with you."
The living room feels too small, too warm.
I shift away, but my back hits the arm of the couch.
Her hand finds my knee, sending a jolt through me.
I flinch, trying to pull away.
But she takes it as a sign of encouragement, leaning in closer.
"It's forbidden," she murmurs, her breath hot against my skin.
"But maybe that's what makes it so alluring."
When she reaches up to touch my face, I spring up from the couch.
"Veronica, this isn't right," I say, my voice trembling.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide and pleading.
"I'm sorry, Christine," she whispers, her voice cracking.
I stand by the couch, clutching my towel tight around my body.
Her face crumples as she realizes I've rejected her, her blue hair falling forward to conceal her eyes.
She drops her head, shoulders shaking.
"I'm so sorry, Christine. I've ruined everything," she whispers, her voice trembling.
But something in her vulnerability makes me pause.
Despite my racing heart and the danger of being alone with Veronica, I slowly lower myself back onto the far end of the couch.
She looks up at me, her eyes glistening.
I clutch my towel tight and clear my throat.
"Maybe we should talk about this," I say carefully, keeping the coffee table between us.
Veronica nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I never wanted to make you uncomfortable," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "I know, but we need to figure out what this means for us."
Veronica nods again, composing herself.
For a moment, we both sit stiffly on the couch, watching the ceiling fan spin.
Then she reaches for her purse on the coffee table and pulls out a small plastic bottle.
Before I can ask what it is, she unscrews the cap and blows through the wand.
Dozens of iridescent bubbles float between us, catching the lamplight.
I freeze, unsure if this is some attempt to lighten the mood or manipulate me further.
Veronica blows another stream of bubbles, aiming them at my bare shoulders.
I watch as they dance through the air, their rainbow surfaces catching the light.
Despite my initial fear, something about their innocent beauty draws me in.
Veronica's face softens as she blows another stream of bubbles, her earlier intensity replaced by a childlike smile.
The tension in my shoulders starts to ease.
When a bubble lands on my arm and pops, leaving a cool spot on my skin, I find myself leaning forward slightly.
Veronica notices and smiles warmly, her eyes softer than before.
The bubbles continue to float between us, and with each passing moment, my guard lowers.
I reach forward to catch one, but my hand moves past it toward her chest.
My fingers hover inches from the fabric of her tank top.
The rational part of my mind screams at me to pull back, but something deeper draws me closer.
Veronica remains perfectly still, her breath quickening.
The bubble wand drops from her hand onto the carpet.
"Christine, there's something I need to tell you," Veronica says, her voice barely audible.
I hesitate, my hand still hovering, as I meet her gaze.
"What is it?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.
She reaches for my retreating fingers, but I pull my hand back, clutching my towel tighter.
The remaining bubbles pop one by one, their echoes filling the silence between us.
My wet hair drips onto my shoulders as I process her confession.
Veronica slides closer on the couch, her thigh pressing against mine again.
I stand up abruptly, stumbling backward toward the stairs.
"I need to get dressed," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
She rises to follow me, but I hold up my hand to stop her.
Veronica nods, understanding the boundary I’ve drawn, and sits back down, watching me disappear up the stairs.
I grip the banister halfway up the stairs, my wet hair dripping onto my shoulders.
The weight of Veronica's confession hangs heavy in my mind, conflicting emotions swirling within me.
Looking down, I see her still seated on the couch, her shoulders slumped in dejection.
Despite my fear and confusion, something tugs at me—maybe pity, maybe curiosity.
My fingers loosen their death grip on the towel as I slowly turn around.
The stairs creak beneath my feet as I shift my weight.