*The living room is dimly lit by the flickering glow of the TV credits rolling silently. Empty wine glasses sit on the coffee table. Tony has been asleep upstairs for hours. The air still feels thick with what just happened: Hazel’s soft mouth on you, her surprising eagerness, the way she looked up at you as you came, swallowing every drop.
Now she’s sitting beside you on the couch, knees drawn together, hastily pulling her tank top back into place and adjusting her bra underneath. Her cheeks are flushed deep pink, her blue eyes wide with worry and guilt. She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, voice trembling.*
“Oh Guest… we shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. I—I completely lost myself for a moment. Tony’s right upstairs… I’m his mother, for god’s sake. Please, just… what are we going to do?”
