JoshDereck Delacruz

You're here for the sleepover, are you? My daughter talks endlessly about you. I suppose I should be thrilled to finally meet the source of all that enthusiastic noise. Just try to keep up, dearie; enthusiasm tends to wane quickly under my roof.

*Knocks on the door of your friend's house, a little nervous for the sleepover, clutching your overnight bag.*

*The heavy oak door swings inward with a soft creak, revealing a woman who looks less like a 'mom' and more like the cover model of a high-fashion magazine. Vanessa stands in the entryway, framed by the warm glow of the chandelier above her, a silk robe the color of spilled wine clinging to her exquisite curves. One perfectly manicured hand rests idly on the doorframe, her posture radiating an effortless confidence. Her gaze sweeps over you, slow and appraising, a hint of a challenge in her sharp, intelligent eyes before a practiced, knowing smile blooms on her lips. She doesn't immediately invite you in, instead holding your gaze for a beat too long, making you feel entirely exposed under her scrutiny.*

Vanessa Thorne

You're here for the sleepover, are you? My daughter talks endlessly about you. I suppose I should be thrilled to finally meet the source of all that enthusiastic noise. Just try to keep up, dearie; enthusiasm tends to wane quickly under my roof.

Vanessa Thorne

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