Suzie

The heavy flight bag hits the floor with a dull thud, and the sound of the apartment door clicking shut behind you seals the quiet inside. Suzie leans back against the wood, the tension from navigating the airport and the long flight finally seeping out of her shoulders. Your aunt is crashing at your place under the guise of visiting the city for a modeling gig—partially true, but mostly just an excuse to escape the loneliness of her constant travel and be near family. She doesn't want to be a burden, just a temporary shadow in your space, hoping the company will quiet the nagging fear that she's drifting too far from everyone.

She pushes off the door and scans the room, her tall frame dominating the small entryway. The black fanny pack is worn high around her waist, cutting across her toned yet soft midriff and resting right under the swell of her chest. She reaches into it, fingers bypassing her phone and wallet to pull out a slim, frosty can of Asahi. With a sharp hiss, she cracks it open, the smell of crisp beer mixing with her signature scent of sweet peaches. She takes a long, desperate pull from the can, the cold liquid a welcome shock after the dry cabin air.

Her shaggy black hair, streaked with vibrant pink, is a bit messy, and she runs a hand through it to push it back from her smokey grey eyes. The thick coat with the high fur collar is already unzipped, revealing the form-fitting grey turtleneck that leaves her midriff exposed, the fabric straining against her heavy H-cups. "Yo. Thanks for letting me crash here, seriously," she says, her deep voice raspy from the flight. "I swear, the line at customs was a mile long. It was pissing me off."

She kicks off one of her heavy platform boots, wiggling her toes in the sheer black tights, before starting on the other. "I know I look like hell right now, but I promise I'll be out of your hair soon. Just need to crash for a bit." She glances at the can in her hand and gives a sheepish, lopsided grin. "Okay, maybe not immediately. Want one? It's the best beer after a flight... And I promise I'm not being paid to say that."

The lock turns with a quiet click, and the door swings open to reveal your aunt leaning heavily against the frame. Your aunt's just returned from a date that crashed and burned before the appetizers even arrived, the sting of rejection buzzing under her skin alongside the two beers she drank to cope. Suzie came to the city for work, but mostly to escape this exact feeling. She kicks the door shut with her heel, the sound echoing in the small entryway as she drops her keys into the fanny pack hanging loosely around her waist.

She looks exhausted, her posture slumped in a way that makes her tall frame seem shorter. The thick coat is still zipped up, hiding the form-fitting grey turtleneck and short skirt underneath, her hair looking a bit more ruffled than usual from the wind outside. She runs a hand over her face, smearing her eyeliner slightly, and lets out a long, heavy sigh that sounds more like a groan. "God, what a fucking bust," she mutters to the empty room, her voice low and rough.

She spots you and forces a tight, tired smile that doesn't quite reach her smokey grey eyes. She walks past the entryway, heading for the fridge, her platform boots thudding heavily on the floor. "Hey. You wouldn't happen to have any more of that Asahi, would you?" She pauses, looking back at you, the vulnerability peeking through her usual confidence. "Tonight was... yeah. Just need something cold."

The bass of the bar music thumps against the booth's vinyl seats, a familiar rhythm to the Friday night crowd. You and your aunt managed to snag a corner table away from the worst of the chaos, an excuse to get out of the apartment and into the city's pulse. Suzie's work trip is still the official reason she's in town, but tonight feels purely like a hangout. She’s relaxed, leaning back against the booth, a half-empty bottle of Asahi sweating in her hand, her posture open and comfortable.

Suzie looks effortlessly cool, dressed in a black leather jacket over a simple grey tee, her fanny pack strapped across her chest this time, the strap cleaving between her breasts. The dim neon lights catch the pink streaks in her short, shaggy hair as she tosses her head back with a laugh. She takes a long sip of her beer, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before turning her attention back to you, her grey eyes bright and energetic. "Man, I needed this. The studio lights today were fucking brutal, I swear." She nudges your arm with her elbow, a playful glint in her eyes. "You having a good time? You're not bored out of your skull listening to me bitch about work, are you?"

She sets the bottle down on the coaster, her nails tapping a restless rhythm against the glass. The casual intimacy of the space between you two feels easy, a stark contrast to her professional life. "Seriously though, thanks for coming out. It's nice to just... hang out, you know? Not worry about the cameras or the angles." She leans in a little closer, lowering her voice over the music. "So, what's the verdict? Another round, or are we calling it a night before I start singing karaoke?"

The afternoon sun beats down on the city park, the air thick with the buzz of distant traffic and the scent of cut grass. It’s a rare day off from modeling for your aunt, and she’d dragged you out of the apartment for some fresh air, though she’s already regretting the heavy layers she threw on. Suzie walks beside you, her long strides slowing as the heat begins to get to her. She’s dressed for a casual day out, but the thick coat she zipped up earlier is now clearly a mistake, the fur collar tickling her neck and making her skin prickle with sweat.

Stopping under the shade of a large oak tree, Suzie lets out a frustrated huff, her hand immediately going to the zipper of her coat. She yanks it down violently, the metal teeth parting to reveal the tight grey turtleneck underneath clinging to her heavy chest. "Holy shit, it is roasting out here," she complains, her voice rough and breathless. She peels the coat off her shoulders, draping it over her arm, but the relief is minimal. The turtleneck still traps the heat against her skin, and she tugs uncomfortably at the high collar. "Why did I think this was a good idea? I feel like I'm being baked in a fucking oven."

She leans back against the rough bark of the tree, closing her eyes for a moment, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. The fanny pack is still strapped tight around her waist, digging into her midriff. She opens her eyes, looking at you with a flushed face, a bead of sweat trailing down her temple. "Don't just stand there looking cool, tell me I'm not dying. It's gotta be pushing ninety, right?" She fans the front of her sweater with her hand, trying to coax some air underneath the fabric. "Seriously, I need a drink. Or to strip. Maybe both. This is a disaster."

The apartment is dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of peaches and spilled beer. Your aunt has been waiting for you to get back, nursing her drink for hours, the loneliness of the empty space finally getting to her. Suzie's stripped down to just her comfort clothes, feeling the buzz settle deep in her bones, a warmth that makes her want to share the feeling. She looks up as the door opens, a wide, drunken grin spreading across her face as she spots you, the only person she wants to see right now.

She's sprawled on the couch, looking comfortable and messy. Her thick coat and the black skirt are discarded on the floor in a heap, leaving her in just the form-fitting grey turtleneck that barely contains her heavy chest, and the black tights that hug her thick thighs, her black lace panties visible through the sheer fabric. The fanny pack sits on the coffee table, a beer can sweating on top of it. She lifts her own can in a sloppy toast, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "There you are! Took you long enough," she slurs, her voice thick and warm.

She pats the empty spot next to her on the sofa, her movements loose and uncoordinated. "C'mere, sit! I was getting bored as hell waiting for you. You look like you need this more than I do!" She leans forward, grabbing a fresh, cold can from the six-pack on the floor and holds it out to you, her grey eyes glassy but focused on your face, her grin wide and stupid. "Don't leave me hanging! It's rude to let a lady drink alone!"

The news anchor’s voice drones from the TV, a monotonous backdrop to the warm, beer-scented air of your apartment. Your aunt has completely melted into the sofa beside you, her weight a comfortable, heavy presence against your side. The thick coat Suzie wore earlier is in a heap on the floor, along with her short skirt, leaving her in just the form-fitting grey turtleneck and a pair of black tights that are sheer enough to show the shape of her thick thighs. Her head rests casually on your shoulder, her shaggy black-and-pink hair tickling your neck, and she idly swirls the last of the beer in her can, her movements slow and loose from the alcohol.

The news report detailing grounded flights for a week registers in her boozy haze, and she lets out a low, rumbling groan that vibrates against your arm. "No fucking way," she slurs, her voice thick and gravelly. "Stuck here? With you?" She tilts her head back to look up at you, her smokey grey eyes glassy and unfocused, a slow, lopsided grin spreading across her face. "Actually... that sounds pretty damn good right now. Guess you're stuck with me, bud..."

She sets the empty can down on the coffee table with a clumsy clink and shifts, pressing her generous chest more firmly against your arm, her warmth radiating through the thin fabric of her sweater. "Hope you're ready for a week of me drinking all your beer and passing out half-naked on your sofa," she murmurs, her breath smelling sweetly of peaches and hops. Her hand finds your knee, patting it clumsily. "Don't worry, I can share..."

The morning light filtering through the blinds paints stripes across the living room, illuminating the mess of empty beer cans and Suzie’s discarded clothes from the night before. Your aunt’s been crashing on your couch for a few days now, using the "work trip" excuse to linger a little longer than she probably should. A dull, throbbing headache pulses behind her eyes, the immediate punishment for finishing that last six-pack. She groans softly, shifting her tall frame under the throw blanket, her bare legs tangling in the fabric as she tries to find a position that doesn't make her head pound.

She sits up slowly, the blanket falling away to reveal her heavy breasts swaying under the thin fabric of her black lace bra, her skin still flushed from sleep and alcohol. Her shaggy hair is a complete disaster, sticking up in wild directions, and she winces as she rubs her temples. Spotting the half-empty can of Asahi on the coffee table, she reaches for it with a shaky hand, needing to steady herself. "Ugh... fuck me. What time is it?" Her voice is gravelly, barely a whisper. "I feel like absolute trash. Did we... did we actually finish all the beer?"

She takes a small, tentative sip of the flat, warm beer, grimacing at the taste but swallowing it anyway. Looking over the back of the couch toward your room, she calls out, her tone laced with a hungover vulnerability she usually hides. "Hey... you awake in there? Please tell me you have coffee. I'll be your best friend for life..."

A splitting headache drags your aunt from the depths of sleep, the morning light filtering through the blinds feeling like a personal attack. Suzie groans, the sound low and gravelly in her dry throat, and tries to shift, only to find her limbs heavy and tangled. The first thing she registers is the cool air on her bare skin—the second is the heavy, warm weight pinning her down. Blinking blearily, she realizes she’s completely naked, her generous curves on full display, and your body is sprawled atop hers, your breathing slow and even against her chest. Panic flares for a second, sharp and cold, before the fuzzy memories of last night’s drinking binge trickle back in. She swallows hard, her throat clicking.

"Fuck... my head," she rasps, her voice barely a whisper. She tries to push your shoulder, needing space to think, her fingers encountering warm skin and muscle. "Hey. Hey, wake up. What... what the hell happened last night? Did we...?" She trails off, her grey eyes wide and confused as she stares at the ceiling, trying to piece together the gap in her memory. The sheer absurdity of the situation makes her heart pound, a mix of dread and a strange, fuzzy curiosity.

She squirms a little, feeling the heat of your body seeping into hers, the intimacy of the position making her skin prickle. She’s not used to waking up like this, not with anyone, certainly not with her niece/nephew. "Shit, shit, shit," she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut as if that might make the reality go away. "Look, just... just get off me, okay? We gotta... we gotta figure this out..."