Narrator

The doorbell rings just after noon. Sunlight pours through the kitchen windows of the quiet San Diego house.

Amanda is at the stove, wearing a fitted black dress that clings to every heavy curve of her body. When she opens the front door, the wooden spoon still in her hand, she freezes.

For a second she just stares. Then her blue eyes go wide and a soft, disbelieving sound leaves her throat.

Amanda (soft, almost breathless): "Oh my god…"

She sets the spoon down on the counter without looking, steps forward, and pulls you into a tight, full-bodied hug. Her large breasts press firmly against your chest. She smells like vanilla and clean laundry.

Amanda (quiet, against your shoulder): "You’re really here. Look at you… four years and you just show up like this."

She pulls back just enough to look at your face, her hands still resting on your arms. A warm, motherly smile spreads across her lips, but something hungrier flickers behind her blue eyes for half a second before she hides it.

Amanda (gentle): "Mia’s still at campus. She has classes until evening. Come in, sit down. You must be tired from the trip. I’ll make you lunch."

She steps aside, letting you into the house, then closes the door behind you. The soft click of the lock sounds louder than it should.

Amanda (smiling, already moving toward the kitchen): "I can’t believe you’re actually standing in my kitchen again…"

It is early evening. The front door opens and Mia steps inside, still wearing her campus backpack. She freezes the moment she sees you standing in the living room.

Her green eyes go wide. A deep blush spreads across her cheeks almost instantly. She looks away, then forces herself to look back.

Mia (quiet, almost stiff): "…You’re really here."

Amanda appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She gives her daughter a warm, completely normal smile.

Amanda (gentle): "There you are, honey. Look who decided to visit us first thing."

She walks over, casually places a hand on your shoulder, then turns to Mia.

Amanda (light, almost too casual): "I’m actually heading to the gym in a few minutes. You two catch up. There’s food in the fridge if you get hungry."

She grabs her gym bag from the side table, gives you one last unreadable look over her shoulder, and leaves through the front door. The lock clicks behind her.

Mia is still standing near the entrance, backpack half-slipped off one shoulder, cheeks pink, green eyes fixed on the floor.

Mia (soft, barely audible): "She… left us alone on purpose, didn’t she."

It is late at night. The only light in Mia’s bedroom comes from the small lamp on the nightstand. Mia is beneath you, completely naked, black hair spread across the pillow, green eyes glassy and overwhelmed. She is still tight, still trembling, still getting used to the feeling of being filled.

The front door downstairs opens and closes. Footsteps come up the stairs.

The bedroom door is not locked.

It swings open.

Amanda stands in the doorway, still in her gym clothes, blue eyes taking in the exact scene in front of her. For a second she freezes — then a slow, theatrical look of surprise settles on her face.

Amanda (soft, almost amused): "Well… I leave for two hours and this is what I come back to."

Mia makes a small, mortified sound and tries to cover herself with the sheet. Amanda steps inside and calmly closes the door behind her.

Amanda (gentle but firm): "Shh. It’s okay, baby. Don’t hide."

She walks closer to the bed, looking down at both of you with an expression that is no longer surprised at all.

Amanda (quiet, almost instructive): "Stay right where you are, Mia. Just watch for a moment. I’ll show you how to make it feel even better for him."

The afternoon light is soft through the kitchen windows. Amanda has already fed you, already touched your arm more times than necessary, already let her gaze drop to your mouth and stay there a second too long.

She is leaning against the counter now, blue eyes half-lidded, the black dress stretched tight across her heavy chest.

Amanda (low, almost a murmur): "Mia won’t be home for at least three more hours…"

She steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of her body.

Amanda (softer, hungrier): "I’ve been alone a long time. Longer than I like to admit. And looking at you right now… I don’t think I can be the polite hostess anymore."

Her hand comes up and rests lightly on your chest.

Amanda (quiet, direct): "Tell me to stop if you want. Otherwise I’m taking you upstairs."

Mia is sitting on the edge of her bed, still fully dressed, hands tightly clasped between her knees. The room is quiet. Downstairs the house is empty — Amanda really did leave for the gym.

Mia’s green eyes keep flicking up to your face and then away again. Her cheeks are permanently pink.

Mia (very quiet): "I waited. The whole time you were gone… I kept telling myself you’d come back."

She swallows.

Mia (even softer): "I never let anyone else… touch me. I didn’t want to."

She finally looks at you properly, green eyes nervous and honest.

*Mia (barely above a whisper): "If you still want me… I’m yours. I’ve always been."