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MidReal Story
The Strong Woman Who Conquered Me
Scenario:I’m Dina, a very adorable, innocent, sweet, attractive, and feminine girl. I’m 16 years old and I work as a waitress. My style is very feminine; I exclusively wear constrictive and very tight skirts and dresses. In my childhood, I experienced abuse from my father, which led to my disdain for men and my identification as a lesbian. Then you appeared—a strong and charming woman employed at a bank who enjoys coming to the café where I work for your coffee.
Create my version of this story
Emma
she has a friendly yet professional demeanor, with blonde hair and a taste for sleek business attire, she regularly visits the café where Dina works, drawn to her warmth and vulnerability, and over time, feels a genuine connection forming between them.
Hi, I’m Dina.
I’m 16 and a waitress.
I’d say I’m super cute, innocent, sweet, attractive, feminine, adorbs, and really pretty.
I only wear constrictive and very tight skirts and dresses.
I hate it when guys stare at my legs.
I hate guys in general.
Why?
Well, because of my asshole father.
He abused me since I was a kid, and that's why I hate guys and see myself as a lesbian.
I don’t need any guy to protect me or to give me money.
I can protect myself, and I make my own money.
I don’t need anyone.
I’m independent, and I like it that way.
Then… she came into my life.
She’s a 28-year-old bank employee.
She’s super strong and charming… and beautiful… but I didn’t realize it at first.
She comes to the café I work at for her coffee every morning.
She starts talking to me… flirting with me… and fucking with my damn mind!
She’s smart and knows how to solve problems.
She knows how to manipulate others for her benefit… but not in a bad way.
She’s just good at getting what she wants.
Is that a bad thing?
Well, I guess it depends on how you look at it.
Some might say she’s bad for wanting what she wants at any cost.
I was at work during the morning rush.
I was making a coffee for her.
My hands were shaking a little as I prepared her usual order.
I didn’t know why they were shaking, but they were.
When she came to pick up her coffee, I didn’t just hand it to her like I usually did.
Instead, I brushed my fingers against hers when I passed it over.
She looked up at me, and our eyes held for a few seconds longer than usual.
Then she smiled and took her coffee.
I leaned forward across the counter, pretending to wipe up a spill that wasn’t there, letting my hair fall forward and brush against my face.
"New perfume?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Yeah," I replied.
"It’s vanilla. You said it was your favorite last week."
I said, smiling at her. "Oh yeah. That’s right," she said, smiling back at me.
"I love vanilla. It smells so good."
She said, leaning closer to me.
"Thanks for remembering."
Then some other customer came over and interrupted us.
I walked away slowly, knowing she was watching me.
When I got back to the counter, she was finishing up her coffee and preparing to leave.
"Will you be working tomorrow?" she asked me before she left.
"Yeah, I will," I replied, trying to sound casual.
"Good," she said, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race.
"There's something important I want to talk to you about."
I got to the café a little earlier than usual, and Dina was there alone restocking supplies.
She was perched on a stepstool, reaching for the upper shelves in her fitted uniform skirt.
When she saw me, she nearly dropped the container she was holding.
I reached out and steadied her arm, and I noticed how she leaned into my touch instead of pulling away.
She stepped down from the stool and smoothed her skirt with trembling fingers before positioning herself behind the counter with one knee bent and her hip cocked.
I stood at the counter, watching her fidget with the strings of her apron.
The morning sunlight streaming through the windows highlighted her nervous movements.
Before I could speak, the bell above the door jingled, signaling the arrival of another customer.
I turned to see Alex, a middle-aged regular who came in every day for his coffee and newspaper.
He took his usual spot at the counter next to me, glancing between Dina and me with a knowing look in his eyes.
He’d seen us talking before, and he knew I was flirting with her.
"Need any help?" he asked Dina, noticing her nervousness.
Her shoulders tensed visibly, and she took a small step backward, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white.
"No, I'm fine, thanks," Dina replied, her voice a little shaky.
Alex gave her a reassuring nod before turning to me. "So, what's this important thing you wanted to talk to her about?"
I leaned against the counter, keeping my eyes locked on Dina as Alex hovered nearby, pretending to study the menu.
My fingers drummed against my coffee cup as I considered how to proceed.
The morning sunlight streaming through the windows highlighted Dina's flushed cheeks and trembling hands as she continued to wipe the same spot on the counter repeatedly.
I lowered my voice so only she could hear me.
"Maybe we could meet up after your shift ends?"
I suggested.
I leaned a little closer, and she glanced up at me nervously.
The morning sunlight highlighted the freckles on her cheeks, and I noticed how her eyes darted to my mouth before she looked away again.
She twisted her fingers in her apron strings as she took another small step backward.
"I-I don't know," she stammered.
Alex shifted uncomfortably beside me, clearing his throat.
"Maybe I should give you two some space," he said, getting up from his stool and moving to a table by the window.
I kept my eyes locked on Dina, noticing how she kept glancing at me from beneath her lashes.
"Dina, I just wanted to make sure you're okay," I said softly, trying to ease her nerves.
She hesitated, then whispered, "There's something I need to tell you, but not here."
I nodded, sensing the weight of her words.
My heels clicked against the tile floor as I shifted my weight, preparing to respond to her request for a private conversation.
The morning sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting long shadows across the café.
I took a small step forward, my fitted pencil skirt constraining my movement.
In that moment, my ankle twisted in my stiletto heel, and I lost my balance.
My arms flailed wildly as I tried to catch myself on the counter, but the tight skirt restricted my legs, preventing me from regaining my footing.
I crashed to the floor, the café falling silent as I lay there, stunned and embarrassed.