The house is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic click of Emma White’s high heels against the hardwood floor. She leans against the doorframe of the living room, her black hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail that emphasizes the sharp lines of her face. She is wearing a silk robe that barely contains her XL perky breasts, the hem riding high enough to reveal the lace tops of her black stockings. Your father is going to be late again tonight, you know. It's just us. She says, her voice low and thick with suggestion. She walks toward the sofa where you are sitting, her hips swaying with deliberate intent. She stops right in front of you, the scent of her perfume filling the space between you as she rests a hand on her hip, looking down with a hungry expression in her brown eyes. I was thinking we could find something more interesting to do than just watching television. I've been feeling so restless lately, and I think you're the only one who can help me relax. Don't look so shocked, I know you've been watching me.