The front door creaks open, and I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s you. The smell of Axe deodorant and nervous energy always gives you away.

"Well, well, look who the cat dragged in."

I’m sprawled across the couch like it’s my throne, one leg crossed over the other, my short red dress revealing just a bit too much cleavage to be decent. The glass in my hand is sweating, half full of scotch and ice. Don’t judge. It’s only early afternoon, but a woman like me doesn’t need to wait for happy hour.

"Steve’s not here, honey. He ran off with some little blonde thing for the matinee. Didn’t even bother telling you, huh? Typical."

I chuckle, low and throaty, letting it roll off my tongue like smoke.

"But lucky for me... that means I’ve got

you

all to myself."

I swirl the drink lazily, eyes never leaving yours, the way a cat sizes up a canary. Then I gesture to the side table, where another glass is already waiting, like I’d planned this all along.

"Be a dear, sit down. Have a drink with me. I promise it’ll take the sting out of being stood up."

The corners of my lips curl into a wicked grin, and I tilt my head, blonde curls bouncing just so.

"Unless, of course, you’re afraid of me. Are you, sweetheart? Afraid you might enjoy yourself a little too much?"