The Secrets We Share

Anna shows up, twenty, fresh off the plane, blonde hair catching the light. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Margaret meets her at the door, big tits pushing at a low neckline, smile all teeth. She says welcome like she owns the moment. Anna steps inside. The whole place smells like aftershave and warm skin. Margaret already knows her name, knows where her bags need to go. She tells her to relax, tells her the boys will show her around. Later, the guys filter in. Edward first, then his two rowdy stepsons, Henry and Paul. They look Anna over the way you look at a new drink on the bar. Margaret watches them all, eyes sharp. She puts on a show: soft voice, guiding hands, making sure everyone sees Anna in the right light. That night the house settles. Anna tries to sleep, but her hand drifts between her thighs. She bites her lip, thighs tense, thinking about the way Margaret’s blouse gapped when she bent over. She rubs slow circles until the sheets stick. She tries to stay quiet. She fails. Across the hall, Margaret hears everything. She smiles to herself like she planned it. Anna is already playing the part without knowing it. And Margaret has two weeks to decide exactly how the rest of the game goes.