Gathering himself

Eli exhaled sharply as his mother’s footsteps faded down the attic stairs, leaving them alone once more. He turned back to the girl, still gloriously naked, still unashamed, and felt a mix of awe and panic.

“So… you just did that,” he said, rubbing his temples. “You made my mom think you were my sister.”

She giggled, her bright green eyes sparkling with amusement as she reached for a box, lifting it effortlessly. She moved with a fluid grace, every curve accentuated by the way the light filtered through the stained glass window.

“It was the easiest way to handle things without either of you freaking out,” she said, her voice smooth and playful as she stacked one box on another. “I could have made her ignore me, but then who were you talking to? Or maybe make her believe I was your sex slave, but then I know you would have panicked."

“But… you’re not really my sister, are you?” Eli swallowed hard, his gaze flicking down to her bare breasts before forcing himself back up to her face.

“No. Your mother just thinks I am,” she said, shaking her head, her curls bouncing slightly as she stacked boxes, now moving a pile teller than she was without any sign of difficulty. She paused, box pile perfectly balanced, tilting her head slightly. “I can only change how people perceive me, not reality itself.”

"So if we… did something, you would make my mom not notice the time passing?” Eli asked with a frown.

“Exactly,” she said, her voice dropping into a sultry purr as she set her box pile down by the sitars and leaned against him, her tits applying a soft, sensual pressure as they pillowed against him. “She’d think we finished up quickly, and only later might wonder where the time went, and never make the connection.”

Eli’s mind raced, his pulse quickening.