Shift your attention to Rick, asking about his business interests while occasionally glancing at Rebecca.

You turn your attention to Rick, angling your body toward him as the wine arrives. Your newly enhanced breasts press against the side of the table, sending little sparks of pleasure through your chest with each movement.

"So, Daddy," you coo, twirling one pigtail around your finger, "tell me more about your business. You have, like, buildings and stuff, right?"

Rick beams at your interest, clearly delighted by your attention. His large hand reaches over to rest possessively on your bare arm, thumb making small circles against your skin.

"Property development, princess," he explains, his deep voice warming with pride. "Started with one run-down apartment building in Brixton twenty years ago. Now I own thirty-six properties across London, plus the chain of fitness centers."

You gasp with exaggerated impressiveness, your simplified mind genuinely awed by the numbers. "Thirty-six? That's like... so many!"

Rick chuckles, leaning in closer. "The trick is knowing which neighborhoods are about to become valuable. I've got a knack for it."

As he speaks, you glance over at Rebecca. Her expression has shifted subtly. She's watching the interaction with a strange intensity, her fingers tightening slightly around her wine glass. Though she maintains her polished smile, something smolders in her eyes – not quite jealousy of your connection with Rick, but something more complex.

"Daddy's being modest," Rebecca interjects, her voice slightly sharper than before. "He doesn't just buy buildings – he transforms entire streets. The Reynolds Effect, they call it in property circles."

You turn to her with genuine interest. "Really?"

"Oh yes," Rebecca continues, leaning forward to place herself more prominently in your line of sight. Her movement seems calculated to draw your attention away from Rick. "There's a reason I went into marketing. I learned from the best."

Rick raises his glass in acknowledgment. "Rebecca's brilliant at what she does. Makes more in a year than I did at her age."

You notice Rebecca's eyes light up at your attention, her smile becoming more genuine when your gaze meets hers. She sits up straighter, shoulders back in a way that subtly emphasizes her own figure.

"Maybe I could show you some of my campaigns sometime," she suggests, her tone warmer now that she has your attention. "If you're interested."

Before you can respond, Rick's hand slides to your thigh under the table, his fingers pressing possessively into your flesh. "Princess here doesn't need to worry about work stuff. That's what she has me for now."

Rebecca's smile freezes slightly. Something flashes in her eyes – not anger at her father's dismissal, but a flash of longing as she watches his hand on your thigh. She takes a long sip of wine, her gaze moving between you and Rick with growing intensity.

"Actually," she says, setting down her glass with deliberate care, "I'd love to hear what Ashley thinks. She strikes me as surprisingly... perceptive."

The word hangs in the air, loaded with meaning beyond your simplified mind's grasp. What's clear, though, is the way Rebecca leans toward you both, her body language subtly mirroring yours, as if trying to form a triangle rather than allow you and Rick to exist as a separate pair.

"More wine?" she offers, reaching for the bottle. As she pours for you, her fingers brush against yours with deliberate lightness. "I want to make sure you're enjoying yourself tonight, Ashley. Every aspect of it."

Rick seems oblivious to the undercurrents, his attention divided between your cleavage and the approaching waiter with menus. Rebecca, however, maintains eye contact with you a beat longer than necessary, her meaning unmistakable even to your bimbo-fied brain.

She doesn't just want to be included – she wants in.

19:40 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Lumière Restaurant, Mayfair, London