Her Daughter approaches you

As you sat in class, feigning interest in the professor's monotone lecture, a gnawing unease churned in your stomach. No matter how hard you tried, your thoughts refused to stay tethered to the droning words at the front of the room. Instead, they wandered, always circling back to Camila. Her smile lingered in your memory like a delicate fingerprint pressed into glass, her lips a phantom sensation against yours. You felt suspended in a hazy sort of bliss, every nerve alight, your anticipation building with each tick of the clock as it drew you closer to tonight.

The spell was broken by a light tap on your shoulder. Startled, you turned, finding Salma—Camila’s daughter—standing behind you. Her expression carried a playful sharpness, her almond-shaped eyes glinting with mischief.

Salma's beauty was effortless, a youthful echo of her mother’s grace, yet imbued with her own vibrant energy. High cheekbones framed her face, softened by a smooth, sun-kissed complexion that seemed to glow under the classroom lights. Her dark waves tumbled loosely past her shoulders, unstyled yet perfect in their unstudied charm—a sharp contrast to Camila’s polished sophistication. The casual simplicity of her blue top only amplified her magnetism; she didn’t need bold designs or striking colours to captivate attention.

Salma’s smile tilted slightly as she leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "So, you're coming over tonight, huh?" Her words hung between you like a dare, her gaze flickering briefly around the room before resting back on you. "I’ll make sure the door’s unlocked."

A chill coursed through you, her tone thick with insinuation. The boundaries that had always seemed so clear—unshakable—blurred in an instant. You searched for a response, but Salma didn’t linger, slipping something into your palm instead. It was small, metallic, warm from her pocket. Your breath hitched as you looked down to see a key.

Her fingers had brushed yours for only a moment, yet the fleeting touch ignited something primal—a mixture of apprehension and a pulse of heat you quickly suppressed. Her voice dropped even lower, barely audible now. "Daddy," she murmured, the word laced with a teasing inflection that sent a jolt of shock racing through you.

Your stomach turned. The audacity of her tone left you speechless, a creeping horror tightening your chest. Salma, Camila’s daughter, your Step-daughter technically, normally you'd be thrilled at her attention. A reminder of the line you’d not yet ever considered you'd have to cross—even in thought—yet one that now seemed alarmingly unstable.

The rest of the day unravelled in fits and starts. Time dragged, every tick of the clock stretching longer than the last. The next class dissolved into meaningless background noise, your mind too clouded by the strange, electric tension of what had just transpired. Camila lingered at the forefront of your thoughts, but now Salma was there too, an unwelcome spectre tangled in your nerves.

When the final bell rang, you all but bolted from the classroom, your bag slung hastily over one shoulder. The air outside felt heavier than usual, pressing against you as you made your way to Camila’s office. Each step brought a fresh wave of anticipation—and dread. You hesitated just outside her door, your heart pounding as you raised your hand to knock, the key Salma had slipped you still burning in your pocket.

Camila’s arms slid around your waist, she pulled you close, her eyes holding yours in a gaze that felt like a tether, binding you to her. A thrill coursed through you as her lips brushed your ear, her breath warm and tantalizingly near. "I’ve been waiting all day for this," she murmured, her voice low and intoxicating. The shiver that followed her words rippled through you, an electric charge that left you momentarily breathless.

With a gentle yet deliberate pull, she guided you deeper into her office. The door groaned softly as it closed, the metallic click of the lock reverberating in the silence—a sound heavy with implication. It was a boundary being drawn, a declaration that nothing outside these walls mattered for the moment.

Her hands moved with purpose, tracing the curve of your shoulders, sliding down your chest, and settling at your hips. Each touch felt deliberate, as though she were memorizing you through her fingertips, branding the moment into memory.

Her lips left your ear, and her eyes met yours again, dark and brimming with something unspoken but unmistakable. "I have a surprise for you," she said, her voice laced with anticipation, every syllable sending your pulse racing. "Remember—you're coming to our house tonight. We’re in for a fun night."

Your heart stuttered, her words an undeniable invitation, their weight landing squarely in the pit of your stomach. The prospect, both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, left you fumbling for a response. "Of course," you managed, the words escaping as little more than a whisper. "I’ll be there."

Camila’s smile deepened, a slow, sultry curve that seemed to hold secrets you couldn’t wait to uncover. Her eyes sparkled, mischief dancing behind them like the flicker of a flame. "Good," she murmured, her tone thick with promise, each word steeped in desire. "I’ll see you then."

As she stepped back, the warmth of her touch lingered on your skin, and the space between you buzzed with unspoken tension. The air in the office felt heavier now, laden with the anticipation of what the night would bring.