The next week

The three of you get used to the new routine of having Mr. Caldwell over every day for the rest of the week. Well, at least you and Mr. Caldwell are used to it. Amber still seems a bit uncomfortable with the outfits and how often he keeps touching her, but she keeps it to herself now. You catch the tail end of their interactions when you come home from work, and he is often close to her, with his arm around her waist or a hand on the small of her back. It does seem a little fishy, but then you remember the advice you gave her and laugh at yourself for being silly.

In another act of generosity, he has offered to take the two of you clothes shopping so that Amber can fill her wardrobe with some more professional outfits. Since he is the one insisting that she wear them, you think it makes sense for him to pay for them, though you can tell Amber doesn't agree. As the two of you prepare to head out to his house so he can drive you to the mall, an old friend texts you. He wants to play some video games together.

"Hey, Jeff just hit me up. He wants to play Madden. You cool with going alone?" you tell Amber.

"But you promised! And can't you play any other time?" she whines.

"Jeff hasn't hit me up in months. It would be rude for me to turn him down. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be trying on any outfits," you say with a laugh.

"Please? I'd feel a lot better if you came along," she begs.

"Next time," you promise, already putting your headphones on and starting up your console. A few minutes later, you hear her leave out of the front door.

You have a great time catching up with your old friend. Playing for hours, you don't even realize how much time has passed until Amber arrives back home. When she comes through the door, you check your phone. "Wow, you guys were gone for a long time!" you remark, and Amber certainly looks like it.

Her hair is all messy, clearly hastily put back together. Her makeup is a bit of a mess, especially her lipstick. She's been sweating a bit, no doubt from having to carry the many shopping bags she has in her arms, and it even makes it look like she was crying a bit from the way the sweat made her mascara run down her face.

"Oh, uh yeah. We went late," she says, shifting around uncomfortably, looking at her feet.

"I'm glad I didn't go then," you joke. "Man, that sure is a lot of outfits, too," you add, seeing the many shopping bags filled to the brim with new clothes.

Amber blushes. "Umm, he got a little excited..."

"I can see that. Oh, it's so late now, you must be hungry. I can order pizza," you say.

"No thanks, I'm full," she says, her hand going over to rest on her stomach. She has a weirdly guilty look on her face. You quickly guess why.

"Mr. Caldwell bought you dinner too, huh?" She is so cute, being guilty just for eating without you.

"No- I mean, yeah, but not really... I'm just not hungry," she says, tears forming lightly in her eyes.

You shrug. No point in pressing the issue. Besides, you don't mind eating alone. "Well, let me carry all this stuff up for you." She finally smiles when you offer to help her, though it only lasts a second.

"Thanks. I think I'll go shower... and brush my teeth..." she says, walking upstairs in front of you. You get to stare at her incredibly large ass as it bounces in front of you with each step. The show is over far too soon as she rushes into the shower, leaving you alone with the clothes. Briefly looking through, you're surprised to find that, amongst the professional outfits, some lingerie, underwear, and even some costumes. Poor Mr. Caldwell. You don't know how Amber convinced him to get this stuff, too, but you'll have to thank him later and maybe warn Amber about taking advantage of his generosity.

Your chance to do exactly that arrives faster than you think. Amber emerges from her shower with a towel wrapped around her body, minty fresh breath, and a serious and troubled look on her face. "Luke, we need to talk about this stuff with Mr. Caldwell," she says.

"You're right we do," you reply, surprising her into silence. "The truth is, it's a bit concerning how you're taking advantage of him."

"I'm taking advantage? Of him?" She says slowly, confused.

"You are. Whether you know it or not. You're a sweet girl, but with the way you look, around someone like him, an older, divorced man, it's not fair to him. I mean, just look at all the clothes he bought you! I mean, and like panties and lingerie, too!"

"But that stuff was his idea!" she protests.

"I'm sure you think that, but come on, you were probably leading him on. Why else would he get you those kinds of clothes for nothing?"

"But he made he earn them!" she continues arguing.

"Whatever he made you do was nothing, I'm sure," you say, wondering what kind of silly little jobs he made her do. "And you have to remember it's your fault. Not his."

"It's my fault..." she says quietly. "It's my fault," she mutters again, looking down at the floor, your words finally getting through to her. She trudges off to mechanically sort through her outfits as you get a text. Looks like your old friend can play more. As you leave, you can swear you hear her start to sob, but that doesn't make sense. She must be watching some TikTok video.