Her bossy older sister

"Who the fuck are you?" says the tall woman in the doorway. She's older than Rebecca for sure but not by much; she looks to be in her early twenties. Her pink spaghetti-strap camisole and white short shorts show off her toned arms and long, tanned legs. Her black ponytail reminds you of Rebecca's hair, though this larger girl seems to have smaller, tighter boobs. You're stunned not only because her severe beauty is breathtaking but also because you've just embarrassed yourself with a crude joke in front of a total stranger.

"Um, I'm Sam," you stammer.

"The fuck do I care what your name is," the woman spits at you. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm Rebecca's... um. I'm Rebecca's friend."

The woman standing between you and your crush adopts a mocking tone. "Which is it? Are you her friend or her um?"

"Um..." you start.

"Whatever," she cuts you off. You don't know what to say, so you stand still, sweating profusely and clutching your bicycle. Finally, she sighs. "Fine. Would you like to come in?"

By now you can feel the air conditioning radiating tantalizingly out of the house, and you're **** to get out of this conversation and find Rebecca.

"Yes, please," you reply.

The woman doesn't move as you prop your bike in the driveway and walk onto the front step. You notice that even by standing in the doorway, she has started to sweat, and as you approach you can smell her alluring perfume.

The disgust on her face as you draw closer suggests she can smell you as well. "Oh hell no," she says, stopping you in your tracks about five feet away.

"Sorry?" you ask.

"You can't come in here like that. You're disgusting. We just had cleaners, and there's no way I'm letting you stink up our house with those filthy clothes."

"Um, Rebecca's supposed to meet me..." you say, looking past this stranger and hoping that the cheerleader will come rescue you soon. You see a well-maintained home behind her - sparkling surfaces and gleaming floors with comfortable furniture. You're **** to get inside.

"Listen," she says. "Hand me your shirt and I'll toss it in the wash."

"Huh?" you ask.

"We've got some rules in this house," she says. "One of them is no friends after school. And another one is no fucking up the house after the cleaners come. I'm only going to allow Rebecca to break one of those rules. So give me your fucking shirt. Or leave."