Practice your 'harmless bimbo' routine with Becky playing the role of Melissa

Becky stands and smooths down her silk robe, her expression shifting from playful sister to something harder, more critical. "Alright, babe. Let's do this properly. I'm going to be Mum now, so don't expect me to be nice."

You bounce to your feet, wobbling slightly in the stilettos. "Okay! I'm totally ready!"

"First thing," Becky says, her voice taking on a clipped, aristocratic tone that sounds nothing like her usual bubbly cadence. "Your posture. Mum will notice immediately if you're slouching or fidgeting. She reads body language like a book."

You straighten your spine, pushing your shoulders back. The movement makes your D-cup breasts strain against the tiny apron. "Like this?"

Becky circles you slowly, examining. "Better. But you're trying too hard. Mum will see through that instantly. You need to look confident but not rigid. Natural."

You relax slightly, letting your hips shift to one side. "How about now?"

"Good." Becky nods approvingly. "Now, imagine I'm Mum. You've just walked into the gala with Maria, and we spot each other across the ballroom." She crosses her arms and fixes you with a cool, assessing stare. "Maria. How lovely to see you. And who is this... charming young woman you've brought?"

You giggle automatically, twirling a pigtail. "Oh my god, hi! You must be Becky's mom! I'm Ashley, and I just love your dress, it's like, so totally gorgeous!"

Becky's expression doesn't crack. "Thank you. And how do you know my daughter?"

"Oh, um..." You hesitate, realizing you haven't actually figured this part out. "Well, like, Daddy—I mean, Rick—he's been super sweet to me, and Becky's been helping me shop and stuff, and we're basically besties now!"

Becky raises one eyebrow in perfect imitation of maternal skepticism. "I see. And what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Richard?"

You feel your cheeks flush, but you push through with a breathy giggle. "Oh, he's just, like, really nice to me? He takes me to fancy restaurants and buys me pretty things and makes me feel all special and stuff. I'm super lucky!"

"How old are you, Ashley?" Becky's tone is razor-sharp now.

"I'm twenty-one!" you chirp automatically, then pause. "Wait, am I? I think I'm twenty-one. Or maybe twenty-two? Gosh, I'm not good with numbers."

Becky breaks character suddenly, laughing. "That was perfect! The vagueness about your age, the giggling, the way you called him Daddy then corrected yourself—Mum would eat that up."

You bounce excitedly. "Really? I did good?"

"You did great," Becky confirms warmly. "But we need to work on your cover story. You can't mention that you're living with Daddy or that we're all... you know. Family."

"Right, right." You nod eagerly. "So what should I say?"

Becky considers carefully. "Tell her you met Daddy at one of his properties. You were looking for a flat, he was charming, and things developed naturally. Keep it vague but plausible."

You practice the story several times, with Becky playing increasingly skeptical versions of Melissa, asking pointed questions about your background, your education, your family. Each time you stumble or giggle your way through the answers, maintaining the facade of harmless ditzy girlfriend.

19:25 | Tuesday 5 August 2025 | Rick's Penthouse, London

[QUEEN BEE] | [Medium] | [Friday 20:00] | [3 days, 0 hours, 35 minutes remaining]