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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
firstperson protagonist, female, young adult, relationship with Veronica and parents, petite with curly brown hair, curious and naive
Mateo Windsor
side protagonist, male, Christine's father and Veronica's friend, relationship with Christine and his wife Nicolette, tall with greying hair, protective and trusting
Veronica Carter
protagonist, female, house sitter and friend of Christine's mom, relationship with Christine and her parents, striking blue hair in a bun, seductive and manipulative
I stared at the clock, counting down the seconds until Veronica would be knocking on the door.
She’s a friend of my mom’s and was tasked with house-sitting while they were away on vacation for the next two weeks.
Apparently, they didn’t trust me enough to be at the house alone, even though I was eighteen.
Veronica had promised to keep an eye on me and make sure that I didn’t have any parties.
As if I would do something like that.
I heard the knock, and my heart quickened as I glanced back at the clock.
Right on time.
Throwing open the door, I was greeted by Veronica, who had her blue hair tied in a tight bun.
She was wearing a sleeveless black tank top and a pair of blue leggings that clung to her body a little too much.
"Heyyyy! Long time no see, honey," she said with a smile as she set down her suitcase and gave me a hug.
"I’m going to need you to let me in."
I laughed nervously as I stepped aside to let her in.
As she passed by me, I couldn’t help but glance down at her body.
The tank top she was wearing had no sleeves, and it barely covered her nipples.
The leggings hugged every curve of her body, and when she bent down to pick up her suitcase, I got a perfect view of her ass.
"Christine?"
I snapped my head up, trying to play it cool.
"Yeah?"
"Come on in. I’m going to put my stuff in the guest room."
She led me into the living room and plopped down on our leather couch.
She patted the spot next to her, but I hesitated.
Instead, I perched on the armchair across from her.
Veronica raised an eyebrow at me, but she didn’t say anything.
"So, what are your plans for the next two weeks?" she asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees.
Her tank top stretched tight over her breasts as she leaned forward, and I could see a hint of her nipples through the fabric.
"I have a summer reading assignment," I said, trying to keep my eyes off of her body.
"Ah, boring," she said with a laugh.
She stood up and walked over to the sliding glass doors that led out to the backyard pool.
She pressed her hands against the glass and looked out at the pool.
The late afternoon sun glinted off of the water, making it look inviting. "You know what we should do?" she said with a smile as she turned back to me.
"We should have some fun."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, unsure of what she meant.
"What kind of fun are you talking about?"
Veronica turned back to me with a mischievous grin. "Let's just say your mom didn't tell me not to have parties."
I sighed, knowing that my mom was going to kill me.
Veronica plopped back down on the couch and stretched out.
She turned on her side, her tank top riding up and revealing a strip of her stomach.
"Maybe I'll let you watch me swim in my bikini."
I glanced away from her, trying not to get too caught up in looking at her body.
She was older than me, but she had a rocking body for her age.
As I looked around the room, my eyes settled on something white peeking out from beneath the couch cushion that Veronica was sitting on.
"What's that?"
I asked, pointing to the thing.
"What's what?" she replied, glancing over her shoulder.
She saw what I was talking about and shrugged.
"I don't know. I just sat down. It must have been there already."
Before I could ask anything else, she stood up.
"I'm going to use the bathroom."
She walked off toward the hallway and disappeared into the bathroom. As soon as she was gone, I jumped out of my seat and walked over to the couch.
I reached beneath the cushion and pulled out a plain white envelope that had yellowed with age.
It was addressed to my mom in handwriting that I didn’t recognize.
I flipped it over, but it wasn’t sealed anymore.
I wondered what it was and who could have written it.
Before I could open it up and see what was inside, I heard the bathroom door open.
I shoved the letter into my pocket just as Veronica walked back into the room.
Her lips were smeared with pink lipstick now, and she raised an eyebrow at me as she saw where I was standing.
I fidgeted with the envelope in my pocket as I watched her walk over to the coffee table.
She picked up her purse and pulled out a lipstick.
She opened up a compact mirror and reapplied the lipstick, making her lips look even fuller than before.
The shade was a bright pink, almost neon.
It was the same shade that she had on when she arrived at the house.
As she finished reapplying the lipstick, she caught me staring at her in the mirror.
She smiled and slowly put the lipstick back into her purse, keeping eye contact with me the whole time.
"Like what you see?" she asked playfully, still staring at me in the mirror.
My face burned as I looked away from her.
I tried to look anywhere else except for her, but I couldn’t help sneaking glances at her reflection in the mirror. Veronica stood up and walked over to me, perching on the arm of my chair.
She smelled like vanilla and something floral, and it made my head spin.
She leaned down next to me, so that we were almost face to face.
I could see every shimmering particle of her lipstick now that she was so close.
"Keep my secret, and I'll keep yours," she whispered, her eyes flicking to the bulge in my pocket.
The armrest of the chair creaked under her weight, and I could feel her body heat radiating off of her.
Her vanilla perfume filled my nostrils as she leaned down next to me, her blue hair falling forward.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt like I was going to pass out.
I could feel her fingers brushing against the fabric of my pocket, right over the envelope.
"I saw you take it," she murmured, her pink lips inches from my ear.
"But don't worry. I won't tell if you don't."
Her other hand rested on my shoulder, and she squeezed gently.
I could feel shivers running down my spine at her touch.
I tried to speak, but my mouth had gone dry.
I nodded, understanding the unspoken pact between us.
She slid off the armrest but left her hand resting on my shoulder.
Her thumb traced small circles on my shoulder, and I felt a tingle run up my neck.
The envelope crinkled in my pocket as I shifted uncomfortably in the armchair.
Veronica slid off the armrest but kept her fingers on me.
She stood behind me now, and her fingers trailed up my neck and into my hair.
She gently twisted a curl between her fingers.
I gripped the arms of the chair tightly, unsure whether I should pull away from her touch or lean into it.
The grandfather clock in the living room suddenly rang out six o'clock, and I jumped at the loud sound.
Veronica chuckled behind me, then stepped away from me and walked into the kitchen.
I trailed behind her, watching the way her hips swayed in those tight leggings.
She opened up the fridge and bent down to look inside.
I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her.
The envelope crinkled in my pocket as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
Without turning around, she asked, "Want to help me make dinner?"
I stepped closer to her, drawn in by her casual tone despite the tension between us earlier.
She straightened up holding a wine bottle, then reached for two wine glasses from the cabinet.
"Um, I'm not old enough to drink," I said as she poured a glass for each of us.
She chuckled, then handed me the wine glass.
The dark red liquid sloshed in the glass as I took it from her trembling fingers.
She clinked her glass against mine, still holding my eye contact.
I felt my cheeks warm at her gaze, and I looked away quickly.
She took a sip of her wine, and I followed suit.
The wine was bitter and strong, and I grimaced at the taste.
She raised an eyebrow at me, and I forced myself to take another sip.
She set down her wine glass on the counter and started pulling out vegetables to chop for dinner.
She stood next to me at the kitchen counter, her arm occasionally brushing against mine as she chopped.
The touch sent shivers through my body, but I wasn't sure if it was from the wine or her proximity. "Could you grab some spices for me from the top shelf?" she asked, reaching up but not quite able to grasp them.
I set down my wine glass, then moved behind her at the spice cabinet.
She smelled like vanilla perfume, and the scent grew stronger as I stepped closer.
My chest was almost pressed against her back as I reached up, my hands shaking slightly.
My fingers brushed against her raised arms, and she inhaled sharply at the touch.
The spice cabinet felt miles away as I stretched to reach it, and my body pressed against hers more firmly with each inch.
Finally, my fingertips grazed the jar, and I wrapped my palm around it.
I stood there for a moment, frozen by the proximity of our bodies.
Then I lowered my arms and stepped back from her, holding out the jar.
Veronica turned to me and took the jar from me, her fingers lingering on mine during the exchange.
I clutched the jar to my chest, watching her as she opened it.
She reached up to put the jar back in the cabinet, and I stood still as she brushed past me.
Her blue hair fell loose from its bun as she reached up, and it brushed against my arm.
The kitchen counter pressed into my lower back as I stood frozen in place.
My wine glass sat abandoned on the counter next to the cutting board with half of the vegetables chopped.
The other half lay forgotten on the counter beside it.
Veronica's hand came up to touch my face, and I turned my head slightly away from her touch.
I caught sight of the envelope still visible in my pocket out of the corner of my eye.
"What's in the envelope?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest.
"It's... it's a letter from my father," I finally admitted, the words heavy with unspoken history.
I gripped the envelope tightly in my pocket, the paper crinkling under my fingertips.
The wine made my head swim as I watched her stir the vegetables on the stovetop.
She leaned against the counter, her tank top riding up to show off her smooth skin.
My eyes traced the curve of her hip, and I remembered how it felt to touch it earlier.
The kitchen felt too warm and too small, and I shifted uncomfortably.
Her gaze flicked to mine, and she smirked at what she saw there.
My heart pounded in my chest as I took a step toward her.
Her blue hair fell across her face, and she brushed it away from her eyes.
I pulled the envelope from my pocket and held it between us like a shield.
"But I will show you later," I heard myself say, my voice trembling.
Veronica's eyes softened, and she nodded, her voice gentle.
"I understand," she said, her fingers brushing mine as she took the envelope from my hand.
"Whenever you're ready, I'll be here," she added, her smile reassuring and warm.
I watched as she slid the envelope into her back pocket, her fingers lingering on the fabric there.
The kitchen felt warmer from the wine and cooking, and I shifted uncomfortably.
Veronica turned back to stirring the sauce, her hips swaying slightly with the motion.
I stood behind her, watching as she stirred the pot of sauce.
The wooden spoon clattered against the sides of the pot, and I stepped closer to get a better look.
She didn't move aside, so I stood beside her, my hip brushing against hers.
Her hand came up to guide mine on the wooden spoon, and she showed me how to stir properly.
Her body pressed against my back, her breath warm on the back of my neck.
"Why did you never tell me about him before?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the bubbling sauce.
"I didn't know how," I replied, feeling the weight of years in those words.
"Well, you're not alone now," she said softly, squeezing my hand reassuringly.