When I arrived at my friend’s house, I wore a short, plaid skirt that barely reached mid-thigh and a white, lacy crop top that hugged my small frame. The top’s neckline dipped low enough to offer a glimpse of my cleavage, making me feel a mix of bold and bashful. The sun had barely started its descent, casting a warm glow over everything as I knocked on the door.
Her dad opened it, his eyes widening slightly when he saw me. He was always charming, with a hint of a mischievous glint in his eyes, but today, there was something more. He greeted me with a smile that felt a bit too warm, his gaze lingering a bit too long on my outfit.
“Hey there, you look… nice,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “Come on in.”
I stepped inside, feeling a little self-conscious but also excited by the attention. He led me to the living room, his hand brushing against the small of my back, a touch that sent a shiver up my spine.
“Your friend’s just out for a bit, but she should be back soon. Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the couch, and I sat down, crossing my legs. The movement made my skirt ride up slightly, exposing more of my thighs.
He sat down next to me, closer than usual. His knee brushed against mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity at the contact. We started chatting, but his eyes kept flicking down to my legs, then up to my chest. The way he looked at me made my heart race.
