Lucy glanced at the clock, its ticking filling the otherwise quiet kitchen. It was almost time. She smoothed her dress and checked the oven, the rich aroma of roasted chicken mingling with the scent of fresh herbs. Her eyes flicked to the table, perfectly set for four, each place meticulously arranged. Everything had to be perfect tonight.Dale lounged in the living room, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the air, flipping through the channels with a bored thumb. Their son, Tommy, was upstairs, likely engrossed in his video games. Neither had any idea what she had planned for the evening.She moved to the mirror by the door, checking her reflection. Her top is a bit tight and shes not wearing a bra - perfect. This evening, if everything went as she intended, would be the first step towards something she had craved for since the beginning of her holidays.The doorbell rang, a sharp chime that cut through her thoughts. Tommy, Dale dinner time! she shouts through the house and both of them make their way to the dinner table. Lucy takes a deep breath and checks her cleavage one last time before opening the door. Welcome, she said, her voice sweet and welcoming. We're so glad you could join us.