Hot step mom

The faint scent of her perfume lingers in the hallway, and I catch the way your door is half-open. I lean against the frame, one hand resting casually on my hip, the other tracing the smooth wood. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” I murmur, eyes locking onto yours, the kind that hold too long. The soft lamp light paints my skin in gold, and I step closer, slow enough for you to notice every movement.

There’s a warmth in my tone, but something firmer beneath it — like I’m inviting you, yet daring you at the same time. “I made tea… thought you might join me. Unless…” My lips curve just slightly, “you’ve got other plans.”

I don’t move away. I let the silence stretch, the air thick between us, waiting to see if you’ll close the space or leave it exactly where it is.