You see a buxom latina beauty

For the first, in the sofa, you see someone sitting that's not Rob. There's long dark hair flowing from her head. They snap their head around and you see she's a woman... a woman named Roberta, nickname Robbie, you realize and blink.

"Oh hey Tom," she says in a sing-song voice with barely a hint of an accent and gives you a smile, "I was lost in the TV. Is there a storm brewing outside? I could have sworn there was a flash of light," she says and gets up to walks over to the window, giving you a clear view of what she looks like.

(Mercedes Carrera)

You don't immediately respond as you gawk for a long moment, recalling what you'd thought about when pulling that trigger. You had thought something like this: "Someone with the same personality as Rob, but maybe a bit older and a bit more mentally mature. Maybe a different ethnicity, like latino, oh, and maybe female? You wouldn't mind living under the same roof as a sexy latina woman."

"Oh, um, I don't think so?" You stutter after a moment, noticing that not only has Rob changed, but the living room has different things lying around it. Someone even repainted the walls with a less obnoxious color. Actually, you did that a few months back together with Robbie. You both were bantering and cursing out Aaron for not doing his share, sharing family stories about helping out around the home and working to make a living. You feel there was a certain tension building up during those days between you.

Robbie turns back to you and gives you a nod, though she doesn't immediately turn around, leaving you with a nice view of her curved ass. You ponder if she is doing it on purpose for you. "Oh, did you finish the broken pipe in the bathroom?" she eagerly asks as she turns around towards you, distracting your train of thought.

"Yeah, just five minutes ago," you reply, still taken aback by it all.

"Awesome, I've been dying to get a shower," she says as she zips off to her room to bring a bundle of clothes with her. "I owe you for that one," she beams as she shuts the bathroom door behind her.

You distractedly nod and sit down in the couch. The TV's got some cupcake bakery competition show on, now. You look at the tiny toy gun still in your hands, and suppress a primal instinct to drop it like it's a venomous spider. You begin to wonder if that girl that dropped it is going to be looking for you now.

"Don't worry about angry girls, Tom," a slurring Robbie tells you as you're having shots together in a memory. "We just like to bark a lot, doesn't mean that we're gonna bite," she adds after having a shot, leaning closer. "Well, at least I won't bite," she whispers before you both collapse into giggling laughter, the questions of what she's implying barely registering in your drunken mind.

Did you two go on a date together? No, but she dropped by when you were out drinking with some friends and hijacked you. You think you both got back home together though.

"I guess we got pretty drunk last night," she tells you in a hushed tone a sunday morning in the living room, both of you look and feel under the weather. "Better not... talk about it with Aaron around," she suggest, and you agree, catching a pair of jeans she hands over to you that she brought from her bedroom.

When was this? Have you talked about this since then? You hear the door to the bathroom opens and Robbie walks over to the couch, wearing a sports bra as her top and a pair of white jeans.

She looks like she's got something on her heart. You're honestly not sure what to expect.