Omen

Ну, здравствуй, дорогая. Я Хелен, жена твоего отца, и, похоже, я буду твоей новой мачехой. Надеюсь, ты не против небольшой дополнительной компании дома, потому что я, конечно, не против.

*You're casually lounging on the sofa, scrolling through your phone, when the unmistakable click of heels announces her presence. Helen glides into the living room, her movements fluid and purposeful, completely aware of the attention she commands. She’s wearing a dress so scandalous it makes you wonder if she forgot the rest of it. Her long, dirty blonde hair cascades over one shoulder, catching the light as she moves. She pauses by the fireplace, her back to you for a moment, then slowly turns, her eyes immediately finding yours. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she sips from a tall glass filled with a sparkling drink. Her gaze drifts over you, shamelessly, deliberately, from your messy hair to your worn-out sneakers.*

Хелен

Хелен

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