I exhaled sharply, shaking my head as I watched Mom's retreating figure, her hips swaying with that deliberate, teasing rhythm she used when she knew she'd hooked me.
That childish, knowing glint in her eyes—like she'd just handed me a live grenade and was waiting to see if I'd throw it or keep it.
This is the first time she's ever asked me to do something like this.
Not that Mom ever asked. She suggested. She implied. She dangled opportunities like forbidden fruit, her voice dripping with honeyed poison.
But this? This was different. Diana wasn't some random conquest, some office plaything Mom had pushed my way. She was Mom's friend. Her college friend.
I can't treat her like I would a Stone Age woman.
No rough hands, no brutal dominance—not unless I wanted to risk Mom's wrath. And something told me Diana wasn't the type to break easily. She'd be softer, smarter, more refined. A challenge in a different way.
