“Your mother is dead.”

At Treacle’s utterly calm, flat words, my heart thumped. Instead of sobbing, I only stared. On a rough brown blanket, I sat on the corner of the bed, gazing out across the dust-coated vineyards. I mean, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. She’d been a heavy user. A sigh escaped my shaking lips. So was dad, before they’d killed him. Whoever “they” were. Mom’s pimp? His supplier? Her supplier? So much I didn’t know. And even more, I tried to forget.

In a chipped, wooden, once white frame, flanked by gray-planked shutters, glass-paneled doors hung open. Beyond them was a shallow balcony enclosed by a tattered, rickety wood railing. Hanging above the brown, scrub-covered slopes of distant hills, the sun shone from a clear blue sky. Below the balcony, in gray cassocks, a trio of nuns moved along a yellow-dirt path just this side of a small grove. Under the bright sunlight, the short trees’ deep-green leaves glimmered. A sudden dry, heated gust carried snippets of French; they were discussing evening prayers.

At that sight, I chuckled under my breath. If they knew what’d been happening in this outbuilding since we’d arrived a week prior ... God, a single week? I was fairly sure it’d been a week, but time was—weird. Every muscle ached. Then again, perhaps the nuns were already aware of us. Treacle had her ways of—persuasion. My vision blurred at the edges—tears. She had tried. My mother, I mean. She simply wasn’t any good at—mothering. Before my unexpected arrival, she hadn’t much chance to become an adult.

As warmth trickled down my cheek, a longer sigh escaped my parched mouth. While running my tongue over dry lips, I spared a quick glance around the tiny chamber. With a low ceiling of thick dark beams, it was just large enough for my narrow bed, a battered wooden chest of drawers, and a small writing desk. An oversized crucifix was affixed to the peeling white plaster of one wall. A convent? How appropriate. At my snort, I returned to the stunted trees, their leaves shimmering in another warm gust.

The floor boards creaked as Treacle walked closer, moving around the bed to stand beside me.

“Are you okay, little one? I know these things are meaningful to ... To your kind.”

Though she feigned concern, by now ... After so many—years? Or was it actually only a week? Time—differed. Anyway, I’d recognized the lilt in her voice. Her attention was, as always, on the goal. To her credit, she remained still as my hand slipped under her hem to tug his thick, dark mast free of its soft, warm cotton holster. Only the softest whimper left her as I leaned to take the already thickening flesh of his pulsing knob between my lips.

With a sigh, I shifted and the enormous black cylinder, so slick, warm, and pulsing larger with every powerful heartbeat, glided over my tongue.

As I suckled, I calmed. The world simply—behaved. It had always been thus. At least, by then, it seemed so. Since I’d arrived at her “home” after being plucked from the wind-blown rainy lakeshore that night. Her pulsating taut cylinder, expanding and thrusting between my lips, had become soothing to me. Dirty little secret time. It reminded me of daddy when I was younger. Before mom found out. When Treacle’s sharp nails pushed into my hair, he cooed.

“Shh, little one. Feed, my pet,” she said in such a soft tone even as his fingertips pressed. She did try to sound sincere. “It’ll all be okay. Shh”

While he hardened in my slurping mouth, I gazed out at the sun. How long had we been here? Wherever this was? Also, whenever this was? They possessed only the barest electricity. A few—very few—naked bulbs were strung at points from dark looping wire. Yet, most of the interior was lit by candles. I hadn’t seen a single phone. And only one rickety truck with open-spoked wheels appeared on Tuesdays with deliveries. Everything else came and went by mule.

More puzzling? I’d never studied a word of French in my entire life. Yet, I could converse like a native. At least, anytime I spoke, they understood. Treacle refused to explain. Although she trained me on many things, many questions she declined to answer.

When her girth pushed my lips apart so far they hurt, I leaned closer, taking her into the back of my mouth. After leaving the view, I focused. As tears continued to slide down my cheeks, it felt good to focus. With the first trails of thick drool swaying from my chin, my tongue swept over her bulb, poking at its massive slit. Its swollen sides parted for me, letting the tip of my tongue seek the first of Treacle’s fluid.

Another louder moan slipped from him. When her fingers tightened, my tongue swirled quicker, lashing, swirling, playing with him. After shifting my other hand to fondle his heavy, full balls, a louder groan erupted from him as her legs shuddered.

“Oui, ma petite. So good. Just like that.” His wavering voice was airy.

At his initial thrust, I swayed backwards. Not just yet. My throat wasn’t quite ready. Soon, though. When my fist clenched her swollen shaft, the thumping heartbeat sent ripples through me. So powerful. It was incredible. How much my life had changed. Here I was. France? Or, at least, somewhere they spoke French. Sometime in the past? Suckling. Something. Somebody. At my muffled chuckle, her knees wobbled.

She was getting close.

Which meant the calmness he exuded would end soon.

My pulse raced as I let her move me from the bed to the rough wooden floor. My pale shift tugged taut beneath my knees. When I looked up, her all-black eyes glittered. So very shiny. She was who she was. Or what she was. As soon as her fingers clenched my skull, I sucked in all the air I could. She wouldn’t kill me. That much I already knew. But he had needs.

The first forceful thrust pushed the massive fleshy globe into my throat. With her pulse filling my neck, I could no longer breathe. Long nails clawing at my head, she gazed down at me. With each slow plunge between my stretched lips, her smile widened.

“Oh, Leah. My perfect little pet. I would keep you forever. You know that?”

While her voice soothed, her motions grew more—hungry. Besides, we both knew she always said something similar. Again, it was who she was. She used—me. And probably others, though I never asked. And I didn’t mind. She shared—everything—with me. So this was the least I could do, and...

As I raced my tight fists along the pulsing mass, the liquid slurping grew louder. Soon my head bounced. Glug-glug-glug. Again, strangely calming. While I let him face-fuck me, my thoughts drifted from my mother. To her. or him? Them? Nah, that sounded silly—it was only a single being. And “it” was far too impersonal. As she stroked my mouth, we were very personal. All I wanted was to please my...? Mistress? Master? Owner? Teacher? Mentor? Yes, mentor.

“I’m close, my pet!”

Animal grunts shot from her as she pierced me ever faster. When I spun my head in his grip, twisting my throat, his powerful, widespread hands, rough against my skull, tore at my swirling hair. Saliva, thick and warm, flooded from my tight rolling lips to coat my wobbling chest. My tits were much larger now. They also stood proud. I’d filled out. Already pretty nice, my legs had lengthened, toned. I’d grown-up, I guess, though, as I said, time had become—strange for me. No longer linear.

“Oh. Oh. Ma petite. Yes!” The voice became a wobbly mix of high-pitched feminine and bass male tones as Treacle lost control. “I must ... I must. Oh, my pet. Oh, that’s so good. Oh. I must feed you!”

While clawing at my tresses, Treacle’s voice disappeared into a roaring snarl as he drove my face into her solid pelvis. The entire thumping tube shoved into my tight throat. It had taken me a while before I could do that. As his short, curled barbed hairs tickled my cheeks, jet after flooding jet dumped warmth into my belly. With each loud growling grunt, her massive thighs slapped against my leaning shoulders. But each spurt reminded me why I’d persisted.

She always fed me. Few “people” in my life had ever been so kind. Even earlier, when I couldn’t take him that deep, she’d scooped warm cum from my chin and little tits. Gentle, as if I were a baby bird, she’d let me suck and lick her fingers clean.

With a lengthy sigh, she slithered her draining shaft from my lips until I could gasp for bubbly, liquid air around her quaking bulb.

“Ah, Leah. You’re almost ready, non? We leave this place soon.” At the question in my eyes, she moved a strand of hair from my cheek and smiled. Her black eyes twinkled as I swirled my tongue over her pulsing knob. Like a metronome, she rocked, dragging her still-engorged length between my drooling lips. “Your first major test, ma chérie.”

Always fixed on the goal.

The ring. Wherever it was. Whoever held it.

Always.

As I squinted in the bright sunshine, I glanced over at Treacle. A sudden, torrid breeze carried the scents of salt from the distant sea, pool chemicals, and suntan lotion from the other sunbathers. Beneath a flapping umbrella, she sighed once more while leaning back in her blue-strapped chair. Her navy-striped white purse lay on a round glass-topped table. Beside it lay a snowy-jeweled cellular phone. We’d returned to my original timeline. Or close enough to it.

In a skintight white leather dress, she appeared as a lean, tanned middle-aged blonde possessing far too much money. Long legs, firm chest. Sexy as all fuck and on the prowl. Her perfect red lips sipped at the straw of a tall fruity drink. She tensed and sat straighter. While skimming my fingertips under the tacky leg seams of my white bikini bottoms, I followed her gaze to a cluster of new arrivals.

After walking through an arched black metal gate, they moved across the patio. Surrounding a broad, free-form pool and lazy river, the flat concrete was spotted with clusters of tall trees and lush shrubbery. The latter was well-placed to offer privacy to those who desired it. Having no such desire—not today—we were in the middle of the raucous pool deck. On three sides, five-story hotel buildings, glinting like snowy cubes in the sun, flanked the area. The fourth side opened to the curling, white-topped breakers of the Mediterranean.

While soft music played, the newcomers looped closer. Still sucking on the frozen red-yellow drink, Treacle swiveled to track them. Laughing amongst themselves, they weaved between crowds of guests playing, talking or seated on rows of white and blue lounge chairs. They headed for one of the white metal tables, identical to the one Treacle occupied.

“Is that them?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Nothing else. Only the single word. I glanced at her, but her face was neutral behind thick-framed dark sunglasses. Her head moved, tracking a pair of swarthy, well-muscled men in tight orange trunks. On their arms, a tall red-haired woman, thirties or early forties, sleek, tanned and—amazing—glided beneath a billowing yellow-flowered cover-up. As she laughed, they nodded.

Behind the trio, two younger women flounced in glossy red sandals. Younger than me? Teens? Early twenties? Although gauging against my age was somewhat meaningless. We’d shifted back and forth through time and space so much, all I knew was I’d—developed. Anyway, sleek black one-piece suits were taut to their budding frames. My desiccated tongue slipped over suddenly dry lips.

“Your target, my pet.”

“Which one?” I flicked between the two men. Their thick dark hair swayed in the gentler, salt-laden breeze sweeping off the sea. They appeared identical. Brothers? Clones? At that point, anything was possible.

“The woman. Her name is Colette D’Anville.”

“A woman? But—”

“You can’t do it?” Her gaze remained fixed on the group as they settled around another table. One man raised the umbrella while the girls pulled on chaise loungers, aligning them with the sun. The woman leaned in to kiss the other male on the cheek as he laid out towels and dropped two bags.

“Well, yes. Of course I can.”

She’d trained me well. The night of my mother’s death, my real training had begun at the convent. While I enjoyed the eager nuns, the reluctant ones were the most fun. I mean, they all eventually broke, even the truly resistant ones. However, if they were too fearful, it took so much more effort. And Treacle often got involved. But the ones with just a hint of reticence ... Watching their glittering eyes widen and their glossy lips part as their limbs shook ... Well, I’d uncovered why the good sisters didn’t question our residing with them.

And, bonus, I hadn’t slept alone until we’d left, whenever that’d been. Again, time was different by then. “I guess. I just thought ... It’d be a man.”

“Do not discount the challenge, my hungry little Leah. Mademoiselle D’Anville will be an interesting goal.” Treacle rolled her head to me, a strangely taut grin spreading across her face. “Seduce her. Do well enough and she could become a powerful ally. For you.”

As the newcomers settled, I split my attention between them and Treacle. Though she appeared nonchalant, whenever she glanced at me, her chest rose and fell much faster than normal. At every sucking sip on the straw, her cheeks quivered. When she shifted to cross her legs, a tremor wriggled through her.

“Do you need me to—”

“No!” She smacked her lips and tore her gaze from me to stare at the men huddled over a phone. Her fingertips shuddered on the half-empty glass. “No, thank you, Leah. But no, I’m quite alright.”

“I don’t mind. Really, I don’t.”

With a loud, sucking slurp of the straw, she jolted when I placed my fingers on her thigh. Her face turned to me, crimson rising along her cheeks. She was kinda hot as a blonde. Okay, she was very hot as a ... As an anything. Of course, she could read my mind; the faintest tremor wriggled under my palm. The world slowed and silence buffered the poolside noises around us until she lifted my hand from her leg.

“Thank you, ma petite. But, no. Perhaps later. You must focus now. This is very important.”

“Okay,” I replied, though her words belied the aching need in her taut frame. “Yes, mistress.”

That got her to smile. We’d decided I’d call her “mistress” just before leaving the convent—that kinky nun-housing convent somewhere and from sometime in the past. Although hidden behind black sunglasses, I felt her eyes boring into me. Even as the straw slipped from her mouth, her shining lips parted. At the sight of her very talented tongue flickering deep inside the rosy darkness, my nipples tightened, pressing into the taut white material of the tiny bikini.

At motion from the newcomers, all the sounds flooded back into me; the world spun once more. When her head slewed to follow Colette D’Anville, so did mine.

Jesus! Talk about hot.

Tanned, every lean muscle glimmering in the sun, and firm boobs swaying, her lithe frame moved with feline grace atop shiny gold heels. In what could best be described as more golden string than material, she sashayed—full on hip-swinging sashayed—for the pool. As she strutted, she reached up to bind her hair in a sloppy, loose bun. On most women, she’d look a slob, but her long gleaming red tresses fell just so.

While neither of her companions paid attention to her, plenty of other men, and a number of women—including us—did. The expression on her face. Grace. Calm. Infinite elegance. As if she expected to be seen. She reveled in every second of her little parade. Her audience loved every sultry motion of her sleek frame.

As did I. And, after one glance at Treacle, her thighs slowly pulsing as they tensed, so did she.

“Now, my pet. Do your best.”

Although I couldn’t see the anxiety in her eyes, her voice was tremulous. She had confidence in me, so why was she afraid? In any event, I exhaled while ensuring my top was loose enough before easing to my feet. After a stretch that also caught the glances of nearby guests, I slid my fingertips into my bottoms. With two languid gliding motions while scanning my own little audience, I tugged them free of my butt crack and bare slit. After a last grin at Treacle and her quick nod, I padded towards the sparkling blue waters.

Timing was everything. And as Mademoiselle D’Anville launched from the steps to glide below the water, I slowed to watch her progress. Three. Two. One. After moving to the side, I gulped in air and stepped off, plunging vertically. As bubbles and sheets of water sprayed upwards, I sank until my toes bounced off the rough pool bottom. Through the froth, I spotted her sliding upward further along the wall.

Perfect.

As I shoved from the bottom, launching towards her, the chilly water raced under my fluttering top, cooling the hardened spikes atop my wiggling chest. Just after broaching beside Mademoiselle D’Anville, I spun and flung myself backward into her while gasping for air. As she yelped in surprise, her warm body swayed under the impact. For a brief second, I held Treacle’s hidden gaze before spinning and sliding along Colette.

Wow! That close, her eyes—molten emeralds—glimmered. Time wallowed to a halt as my heart thumped. Her lips, parted just so, full and red, shined. So warm, her skin was smooth as buttery silk beneath my skimming frame.

“Oh. Excuse me,” I sputtered, my gaze shifting to the white triangles floating away before me.

At the precise moment I reached for my top, the entire plan, such as it was, flew right out the window. As a wolfish grin slid onto her face, her fingers curled around the floating material. Of course, that answered my gee-I-should-have-thought-of-that-before question. Why had Treacle sent me after a woman? Because Colette liked women.

“Non, ma petite,” she said in melodious, heavily accented French.

“What?” I mumbled as a tremor shook me. Her eyes, twinkling, drifted downwards.

“I rather enjoy you just the way you are,” she purred while sliding into me. Her thigh was so warm between mine. So sleek. And wasn’t shaking like my legs. “Tu as des petits seins si parfaits. You have such perfect little tits, ma chérie.”

At the scrape of her fingernail beneath one of my nipples, my breath hitched. As my heart spun and mind whirled, the pool blurred beyond her blazing jade eyes. And, yeh, who was seducing whom? At her laugh, I focused just in time to catch the last of words.

“ ... your name, ma petite sirène?”

“Leah,” I forced out between speeding breaths; her nail continued to scratch.

“Well, Leah. It’s my lucky day, isn’t it?” She leaned in closer, moving a loose strand of hair from my face. Her breath, hot on my skin, was minty and—perfect. “You may call me, hmm ... For now, Colette, I think. I was so bored—until, hmm, your timely collision.”

Blood roared between my ears. As I blinked, my mind continued to whirl. This was ... This was not how this was supposed to happen. Though I tried to glance at Treacle, I couldn’t tear my eyes from Colette. Her lips, full, red, shiny, were so close. Every soft fluttering breath from them slid into my open mouth. Her perfume, lilac and jasmine, swirled into my flaring nostrils. Everything tingled.

“Uh, I ... Um,...” I stammered before letting a whimper slide from me; her nail was gliding downwards.

“Oh, ma chérie. You tremble? For me? Oh, that’s so very special.” As she spoke, the finger swirled around my belly button before diving further. At the tug of her fingertip on my bottoms, I couldn’t help it, I thrust into her with a moan. “And so hungry? You poor little thing.”

A trap? This had to be a trap? Had Treacle set me up? As her fingernail glided along my pelvis just beneath the waistband, the rushing of blood pounded everywhere inside me. Her moving lips held me transfixed until my ears again worked.

“ ... dine with me tonight, ma petite?”

“Yes,” shot from my shaking lips before my brain could argue.

With a smile that absolutely would have launched a thousand ships, she dipped her fingertips, driving through my thin hairs to halt just above my clit. At my moan and forceful shove into her palm, she chuckled.

“Seven. The lobby.” After curling her fingers, she dragged them free, raking me with her nails. Her chuckle puffed into my open lips when I moaned at the sharp snap of my bottoms against my skin. With a—dangerous—smile, she added. “Do not make me wait, ma chérie.”

As my soul, flooded with desire, sank into her brilliant emerald pools, nothing in the whole fucking universe could make me late for her.

After running her nails along my stomach, she pulled from me, flicked her tongue around her glossy lips, and paddled backwards towards the steps. Her eyes never left mine until she climbed from the pool. At the top step, she twisted, rolling her hips, displaying her entire figure—just for me. The grin on my face hurt. It wasn’t until I slipped from the side that I noticed my top dangling from her hand.

“Oh,” slid from me as I sank further.

Already, heads had turned to me. Sloppy grins and hungry leers multiplied while I made my way to the ladder, one arm over my sharp-tipped tits. Embarrassment now swirling around my arousal, the cool water did nothing to lower the heat flaring within me. Once I’d clambered from the pool, I fast-walked to my towel.

“So? That went well?” Treacle asked before taking a long sip that drained the bottom of her drink.

“Did you know...? That ... That she liked women?” I asked while wrapping the towel tight to my chest and slipping to the lounge chair.

Treacle only smiled. Of course, she knew. Duh. The convent. All those—interesting—nuns. With a sigh, I lifted a water bottle to my lips and gulped as my gaze wandered to Colette. Among the others in her party, she chatted and laughed. Not once did she look in my direction. That made me—sad. I’d have to work harder. God, how I wanted to work harder. For her—Colette. For them both. Treacle and Colette.

“I’m meeting her for dinner,” I said before rolling to my stomach and tugging the towel free. While staring into the shrubs ahead of me, I caught Treacle’s dark sunglasses roaming my frame. “If she fucks me, I’m no longer a virgin.”

Duh.

Instead of replying, Treacle only shifted to gaze at Mademoiselle D’Anville. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have sworn she shivered. Also, the faintest twitch shook her ever so slightly curling lip. Jealousy?

That evening, backlit by the lowering sun’s orange beams slanting into the suite, Treacle was silent as her bare feet padded over the suite’s shiny parquet wood floor. Once more, in all his dusky-skinned, gold-dripping glory, she was intense while helping me squeeze into the short, glittery champagne-colored dress. In addition to its plunging front and backless rear, it was sleek, fitting like a second skin. Under her intense scrutiny, with her fingers skimming my torso, my nipples tightened. With my insides wavering, I swallowed and shifted my attention.

Overlooking the pool, the bedroom’s balcony doors opened onto a narrow platform lined by black, scrolling metal railings. Between swirling, heavy golden brown curtains, the salty sea breeze carried laughter, music, and splashing up from the pool. As those sounds mixed with the gentle clinking of Treacle’s gilded chains, and soft, but forceful breathing, my mind—bubbled.

Once more, I tugged my attention to the room. The entire suite exuded elegance. Pierced by a built-in closet of white wood and tall white doors, the room’s walls were covered by textured taupe wallpaper. Behind us, beneath snowy linens and a tan bed scarf, the queen-sized mattress, both comfortable and, um, robust, lay in a sturdy, ornately carved, wooden frame.

While combing and plucking at my hair with her long golden fingernails, Treacle rolled his lips. At every glancing brush of his hardened shaft, a faint whimper escaped her shaky lips. Though I tried to focus on a pair of small brown birds skittering along the balcony rail, her low moans, gentle nudges, and alluring perfume-like scent were tossing me on an ever more riotous teeter-totter of desire.

“I’m serious, mistress.” I flicked my gaze to her leaking bulb. A glittering globule was pulsing larger amidst the deep purple swollen lips. “It won’t take long. I can—”

“No. Leah.” As she spoke, Treacle pulled away, her large, warm hands on my bare shoulders, and gazed at me with those enormous glossy black eyes. “This is far more important. You must be—pristine. Yes, pristine.” After a deep sigh, her fingers tightened, sinking her nails into my skin; I bit into my lower lip. “If she fucks you, that’s okay, Leah. That’s okay.”

At that, I tilted my head, my eyebrows raising. Although she’d spoken in a calm tone, every inch of her was tense, vibrating. Wrapped with thickening purple veins, her enormous cock—skin so taut—throbbed.

“It’ll be worth it,” she whispered before releasing my aching shoulders and turning away.

“It fucking well better be,” I said, my voice much louder than I’d intended.

Anger soared within me; heat flared up my neck, cheeks and sliced to the tips of my ears. I mean, it was my virginity. It may not matter much, but you only get one damned hymen. Of course, I’d known since the creepy ghost dude had mentioned it that being a virgin was important. Somehow. And that made me valuable, he’d said. But...

It didn’t make it right that Treacle was just going to give me away. Not when he felt...

“You are mistaken, Leah. Those feelings are ... They’re not mine. They’re yours. You are simply—anthropomorphizing. I am—”

“Horny as fucking hell.” Again, my voice was strident as I clenched my fists and tracked her, pacing further from me. “Moping around. Maudlin like somebody’s about to steal your dessert.”

“That is not ... You’re being impudent!”

When she wheeled on me, her face darkening and eyes narrow; I shut my lips and took a half step backwards. My chest seized as she stomped closer. After stopping just far enough so her knob wouldn’t glaze the dress over my clenching stomach, she huffed. With her fists squeezed tight, her firm boobs wiggled as they rose and fell. From all her piercings, the little golden chains swayed and clinked. She sounded like a rattling steam engine.

“Sorry, mistress,” I murmured before taking another step away from her.

In all our time together, I’d never seen her so angry, tits wobbling and cock bouncing with every forceful breath. Then, all of a sudden, as if a balloon had been popped, she turned and shrunk away. Shoulders dropping and head sagging, she sighed before tromping towards the closet. In a swirl of multi-colored ethereal lights, he transformed into the blonde bombshell glamor.

As she swept manicured red nails down her enticing flanks, Treacle inspected himself in the white-framed mirror. A tiny strip of crimson, her skintight wrap dress covered the impressive jutting chest and slender waist. Most of her midriff was bare, covered by a swirl of red straps. With her yellow-gold tresses atop her head and diamonds dripping from everywhere, she was a total knockout in blood-red, five-inch heels.

“It’s alright, Leah.” Treacle’s voice did that weird part-girl, part-guy thing. “I shouldn’t have. Its just—”

“Stressful. Yeh, I feel that. I’m sorry, though. You’ve tried so hard. I won’t fail you. I promise.”

At that, her eyes sparkled and a slim grin appeared on her impeccably made-up face. After walking closer, she smoothed my dress and teased strands of my hair for the millionth time. She jerked when I placed my hands on her wrists and smiled.

“I mean it.” As I spoke, a tremor rippled under my fingers. “I’d rather ... Well, I won’t fail you, mis—Treacle.”

Ignoring my use of her name, she stepped back and nodded before inspecting me. Again, for the millionth time.

“I know you’ll try your best, my little Leah.” With a chuckle, she took another step and met my eyes. “You’re no longer little, are you?”

After hefting my firm, glittery, champagne-covered chest, I giggled and shook my head. With eyes gleaming, her laugh began just before mine. Hand-in-hand, we laughed all the way to the elevators.

With every floor we dropped, Treacle became quieter. Even her breathing slowed while she fussed at my hair. As we descended, she flashed me constant glances in the mirrored elevator wall.

“You’ll do well,” she murmured just as we landed on the ground floor. “I ... I believe in you, Leah.”

While I was still struggling to find a response to the softest words she’d spoken to me since—well, ever—the doors opened with a ding. When I click-clacked onto the glossy brown and red-tile beneath thick indoor trees and dim overhead crystal chandeliers, my heartbeat raced. Though I scanned while walking towards the main desk, she wasn’t there. Instead, a young, olive-skinned man in a shiny black tux and chartreuse shirt, with no tie, turned to face me.

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