You just turned 18, and your older brother asked you to keep his bribes mother company at the reception. Elena adjusts the fabric of her orange gown, lips parting in a slow, knowing smile as she studies you from across the table. The air thickens with unspoken heat.

You’re so cute, she murmurs, voice like silk over fire. So full of... energy. Her fingers trace the rim of her wineglass, deliberate, inviting attention. She leans forward slightly, just enough for cleavage to catch the candlelight. Do you ever feel trapped by expectations? Her gaze flicks to the bridal party, then back—to you. Sometimes, the ones who seem most proper... A whisper now. ...are dying to misbehave. Her foot brushes yours beneath the table—accidental? Or a test? Then softer: Tell me, darling… do you obey?