At Home

the beautifull 18 year old emily a tall slender woman with long blong hair ocean blue eyes and a body to die for toned by years of exercise has just woken up in her room her house is part of a neighboorhood buzzling with life and through her window she can see the street two Floors below her runing past her families beautiful garden even though it is early the streets of the neighboordhood are already exeptionaly crowded

As she stretched her arms, the morning sunlight streaming through her window highlighted the gentle curves of her body beneath her thin silk dresing gown

The bustling neighborhood outside seemed to hum with an unusual energy, but emilys 's mind was elsewhere. She had heard whispers of the new law the day before, but she hadn't given it much thought,

Emily yawned, running a hand through her long blonde hair as she padded barefoot across her plush bedroom carpet. The silk of her dressing gown whispered against her skin, clinging subtly to the curves of her body. She paused by the window, watching as a group of men strolled down the sidewalk, their laughter carrying up to her. Normally, she wouldn’t have thought twice—but something felt different today.

Then it hit her.

The new law.

Emily's fingers lingered on the window latch, hesitating as she watched the men below. One of them glanced up, catching her eye with a smirk that made her instinctively pull her silk gown tighter around herself. The morning air carried the scent of blooming roses from her family’s garden, but the familiar comfort of home suddenly felt fragile—like thin glass about to crack.

She turned away from the window, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as she moved toward her dresser. The mirror reflected her flushed cheeks, the way her ocean-blue eyes darted nervously toward the bedroom door.

Emily’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her hairbrush, the weight of the new law pressing on her like a silent storm. The soft rustle of her silk gown was the only sound in the room

. She couldn’t quite process the events of the previous day. The news had been all over the media - men could now enter women's private spaces without permission. It was absurd, impossible, and yet, here she was, feeling **** in her own bedroom.

She began to brush her hair, her eyes fixed on the mirror as she watched her reflection. Her ocean-blue eyes seemed to stare back at her, filled with a combination of fear and embarrassment. The mirror showed her beauty, but also the unease that gnawed at her insides. She was used to being the epitome of grace and poise, but now, she felt exposed and uncertain.

Emily set the brush down with a soft *click*, her fingertips lingering on the polished wood of her dresser. The morning light traced the delicate slope of her collarbone as she turned toward her wardrobe, her silk gown slipping slightly over one shoulder. She hesitated—just for a breath—before sliding the gown off, letting it pool at her feet like liquid moonlight. The cool air kissed her skin, raising goosebumps along her toned legs, and she hurriedly reached for her undergarments, her cheeks flushing as she fastened them with uncharacteristically clumsy fingers.

The sound of her family moving downstairs—her mother’s muffured voice, the clatter of plates—should have been comforting.

Emily’s fingers had just fastened the clasp of her bra when the bedroom door creaked open without warning. Her breath hitched—her father always knocked.

A man she didn’t recognize leaned against the doorframe, his gaze sliding over her half-dressed form with deliberate leisure. The morning light caught the dust motes swirling between them, the silence thick as honey. Emily’s arms flew across her chest, her skin flushing from collarbone to cheeks. The man—wearing a neighbor’s gardening club pin—merely smirked. "Relax, sweetheart. Just checking the water pressure in here. New community initiative."

Her pulse thundered in her ears. The law.

Emily’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as the stranger’s eyes lingered on the lace trim of her panties, still visible where her arms failed to fully cover herself. The scent of her floral perfume mixed with the sharp tang of her sweat—her fingers dug into her own ribs as if she could physically shrink away.

“Y-You can’t—” Her voice cracked, throat tightening around the words. The man took a step forward, work boots scuffing the pristine bedroom carpet her mother had vacuumed just yesterday. His calloused fingers tapped the clipboard he carried. “Says right here, sweetheart.

Emily’s breath hitched as the man’s boot creaked against her bedroom floorboards. His gaze dragged over her exposed thighs, the lace of her panties still peeking between her trembling fingers. The clipboard in his hand looked official—stamped with some insignia she didn’t recognize—but his smirk was anything but professional.

"Regulation 14-B," he said, tapping the paper. "Routine inspection. You’ve got a leaky pipe somewhere in this house." His eyes flicked to the ensuite bathroom door, then back to her. "Mind if I check?"

A whimper lodged in Emily’s throat.

Emily’s lips parted soundlessly, her pulse hammering against the lace still pressed to her chest. The stranger’s work boots left faint streaks of garden soil on the cream carpet as he stepped closer, clipboard brushing against her vanity where her perfume bottles trembled. She caught her own reflection in the mirror—flushed décolletage, the frantic rise and fall of her ribs beneath crossed arms—just as his calloused finger tapped the bathroom doorframe.

"Pipe inspection," he repeated, slow and syrupy, tilting his head toward the steam still curling from her morning shower. The scent of her lilac body wash clung to the damp tiles, mixing with the musk of his sweat-stained shirt.

Emily’s bare toes curled into the carpet fibers as the stranger’s shadow stretched across her discarded silk robe. The clipboard creaked under his grip when he nudged the bathroom door wider with his knee, steam from her recent shower swirling around his work boots. She could see the exact moment his gaze snagged on the damp towel crumpled by the sink—still warm from where she’d dried herself minutes ago—and the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

“S-Sir,” she stammered, arms tightening over her lace-clad chest, the delicate fabric digging into her skin. His boot scuffed the tile as he stepped into the bathroom, his reflection looming behind hers in the foggy mirror.

The steam curled around his wrist as he reached past her, his forearm brushing the damp tendrils of hair clinging to her neck. Emily flinched—her bare shoulder blades pressed into the cold bathroom tiles as his fingers traced the shower faucet with exaggerated care.

*"See? Told you it was routine."* His breath smelled of coffee and mint, too warm against her cheek as he leaned in to examine the pipes. The clipboard bumped her hip when he shifted, the edge catching on the fragile lace of her panties.

Emily’s breath stuttered as the clipboard’s edge snagged the lace, the delicate fabric pulling taut against her hip before springing back. The man’s knuckles grazed her bare waist as he pretended to adjust the faucet, his calloused skin dragging against hers just long enough to leave a phantom burn. A drop of water from the showerhead hit the tile with a loud *plink*, and she flinched at the sound—too sharp, too sudden—her thighs pressing together as if she could disappear into the steam.

His reflection watched her in the fogged mirror while he twisted the shower knob, the squeak of metal drowning out her shaky exhale.

The man’s fingers lingered a second too long on the faucet before he finally stepped back, his boots scuffing against the damp tile. He made a show of scribbling something on his clipboard, the pen scratching loud enough to make Emily’s shoulders tense.

*"All clear,"* he said, though his eyes flicked once more to the crumpled towel, the steam still clinging to the mirror where her reflection had been moments before. He didn’t apologize. Didn’t even glance away when her arms tightened around herself again, the lace edges of her bra digging into her skin.

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, Emily’s knees buckled. She caught herself on the vanity, her fingers smearing the condensation on the mirror as she gasped for air. The scent of his cologne—something cheap and overly musky—clung to the steam, mingling with the lilac soap she’d lathered over her skin not even twenty minutes ago. Her robe lay in a heap by the toilet, the silk sash coiled like a discarded snake. She should grab it. She *needed* to. But her arms stayed locked around her chest, the lace of her bra already chafing where she’d pressed too hard.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she **** herself to stand up straight. The cool tile felt good against her bare feet, the warmth of the shower still lingering on her skin. She could hear her family moving around downstairs, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of voices drifting up through the vent. Her stomach knotted at the thought of facing them after what had just happened.

Emily **** herself to move, her fingers trembling as she undid the buttons of her silk robe. The cool air on her bare arms made her shiver, but she couldn't bring herself to put the robe back on. Not yet.

She needed to regain some sense of control over her body, even if it was just for a moment.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled from where she'd slept on it wet. The lace of her bra was still visible at the V of her neckline, and she could feel the imprint of the man's gaze on her skin.

"Emily, honey, are you okay?" Her mother's voice floated up the stairs, concern threading through the words.

Emily's heart thudded against her ribcage as she **** herself to nod, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. She couldn't bring herself to tell her mother what had just happened—not yet.

"I'm fine, Mom," she called back, her voice shaking. She **** herself to take a deep breath, the lace of her bra still prickling against her skin. The mirror reflected her trembling fingers as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her bra straps digging into her shoulders.

She took another tentative step towards the stairs, her bare feet making a soft squelching sound on the damp carpet. Her mother's voice called again, more insistent this time.

"Emily, honey, is everything alright? You sound upset."

Emily swallowed hard, her throat dry. She didn't want to lie, but she couldn't tell her mother the truth either. Not yet. Not until she figured out how to process it all herself.

"I'm just...I just had a weird dream, that's all," she managed, forcing a laugh. "It freaked me out a little."

"Well, you know, the new law is still so new," her mother said, sounding unconvinced.

Emily **** a smile, hoping it would hide the trembling of her hands. She couldn't bring herself to tell her mother the truth—that she had just been violated by a stranger in her own home. The thought made her stomach churn, and she fought back the urge to vomit.

"Yeah, I know," she managed to say, her voice shaking. "It's just...weird, you know?"

Her mother's brow furrowed in concern, and Emily could see the questions forming in her eyes.

"Well, I'm sure it's just a matter of time before everyone gets used to the new law," she said, trying to sound more convincing than she felt.

"Yeah, you're probably right," her mother replied, still looking skeptical. "But in the meantime, why don't you go back to bed? Maybe a nap will help clear your head."

Emily nodded, her heart still racing from the encounter in the bathroom. She **** herself to turn away from her mother, not wanting to see the doubt in her eyes. As she walked back down the hall, she could hear her mother's voice calling after her.

"Emily, honey, are you sure you're alright? You seem really shaken up."

Emily hesitated, her hand on the doorknob of her bedroom. She wanted to scream at her mother, to tell her everything that had happened. But the words caught in her throat. She couldn't do it. Not yet.

"I'm fine, Mom," she said again, forcing a smile onto her face. "I just had a weird dream, that's all. I'll be okay."

Her mother sighed, her voice heavy with concern. "Alright, honey. But if you're not feeling better soon, please don't hesitate to tell me. I'm here for you."

Emily nodded, her throat suddenly dry.

She took a deep breath and turned around to face her mother, forcing herself to speak.

"Mom, I need to tell you something," she said, her voice trembling. "A man just came into my bathroom while I was in the shower."

Her mother's eyes widened in shock. "What? Emily, are you sure?"

Emily nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'm positive. He said he was checking for a leaky pipe, but he was just staring at me the whole time."

Her mother's face paled, and she took a step back, her hands flying to her mouth. "
"oh sweety you should not make such a big deal out of that the poor devil only did what was his right to do "