Cross the street

Patting your panties-stuffed pocket, you take note to add this to the threshold of a new collection as you look around the suburban necropolis. There is a house on the other side of the street that catches your eye, causing your brain to dawdle. You know of the people there.

A landscaping kind of group, whose kids were invested in plenty of extracurricular activities to seasonally juggle. The dad commuted to the big city in some western conglomerate branch while the mother worked hours in a furniture store.

You ring the doorbell.

A girl no older than 18 opens the door and brushes her light brown lick of hair away from her eyes. A calm silver necklace adorns her neck, and she is dressed in a pair of green, hip-hugging dolphin shorts and a simple black v-neck. "Hi," she looks at you like an old acquaintance trying to recognize a familiar face.

You tower over her. "Are your parents home?"

The teen just shakes her head.

Both eyes gravitate to the room behind her, then back. "Just you?" After some digging you remember she had two brothers. One older sibling and another around the same age as her. They all seemed fairly athletic. A huge barbeque party was held during the 2016 World Series. Hard to forget the sirens.

"Yes," she nods.

Inching forward, you ask, "Can I come in?" The girl, however, keeps the door only half-open.

"If you have any business with my parents you could let me know and I'll pass it on to them." Despite her polite tone, she's obviously remaining guarded. She doesn't know who you are, after all.

You look her over. Then, after a brief thought, ask, "What is that noise?"

The girl looks down, then back up, explaining frivolously, "Oh, that. T-that..." The wrinkle on her brow quickly smooths over as she continues with confidence. "...that's just my vibrator."

The two of you remain locked in a humdrum pair of gazes. The buzz from her sloshing pleasure device below fills the warm air.

As the buzzing continues, you blink at her shirt, thinking.

In the next second it no longer exists, replaced by her fully exposed torso and a pair of pasties over her nipples. A piercing could be seen on her belly button.

Stroking your chin, you look the practically topless girl in the eye. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" you ask.

She shrugs. Her breasts follow her on the way up, which your eyes carelessly skim. "It's hot."

"Do your parents allow you to walk around the house like that?"

"Uh, yeah," the girl says behind a slight tinge of defensiveness. "My mom's actually the one who started it."

"She wears pasties and has her belly button pierced?"

"No," Laura explains, "that's all me. She just isn't worried about having her body in the open when it's nothing to really fret over. It's what she always says."

"I see." Nodding, you look her toe to scalp one more time and like what's before you. An 'improvement' of sorts to what was before -- to the nearest strip club scouters, at least. You peek through her mind and find her name is Laura Stanton.

Ignoring the buzz of the vibrator in her shorts, you continue, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you like sports, right, Laura?"

"Mm-hmm," comes her reply, a slight glaze in her eye as she ignores the fact that you referred to her by name. It is subtle but you also notice her legs rubbing together, right in front of you. You make no comment.

"What kind of sports?" the probe continues. "You play anything for your school?"

"Yes," she nods, "softball."

You bring a hand to your hip. "Hardy game. I could definitely see you swinging a bat."

"Ermph. Thanks."

"I actually came here to talk about that. I'm from the school, you see." You hold up a paper. It is a certificate from the board of education, affiliated with the local high school. "It's about your future prospects, Laura."

"Oh," her eyes widen a bit as she looks at the paper then back at you, her legs growing still. "Um... is it... important?"

"More or less," you roll up the paper and stick it back in your pants, where it promptly disappears. "So, can I come in, now? Or would you rather I come back later when your parents are home?"

Laura looks down. "Sorry, but I just think it would be better if we were all here to talk about this, so maybe..."

The hand you hold up stops her courteously. "I understand. In that case, I could drop by another time. It was a pleasure meeting you, Laura," the same hand is extended to her, which she uncertainly takes, and then shakes.