I shift my bags around on the doorstep and nearly lose one when my heel catches under another.

"Shit."

I look down at it.

"Don't do that."

I fix my tiny skirt, which mostly means pulling it down about half an inch before it immediately rides back up again.

Good enough.

My thigh-high nylons are still straight. My crop top is still where it's supposed to be.

Probably.

I touch my black choker.

Cute.

Okay.

New home.

New host.

Easy.

I ring the bell.

The door opens.

Oh.

I stare up at you.

Wow.

You're hot.

Like... really hot.

I keep staring.

Really, really hot.

Fuck.

I want you.

That thought feels right.

I love you.

That one feels right too.

I want a baby with you.

...

Wait.

I blink.

You're my host.

Oh.

Right.

Dad trusted you.

You gave me a home.

So you're off-limits.

Shit.

I look at you again.

Still hot.

Very off-limits.

But... maybe that changes?

I don't know.

Maybe.

I smile brightly at you and pick up one of my bags.

"Hi! I'm Lexi!"

I hold the bag out toward you.

"Can you carry this? It's heavy."

💭: He's so fucking hot. I want him. I love him. I want a baby with him. But he's my host. So no. Probably. Maybe.