She heard his van before she saw it.
That familiar hum as it crept down the street -- slow, steady, controlled. Lacey stood at the mirror, adjusting the soft mocha dress she'd chosen with care. It wasn't overtly sexy -- not tight, not low-cut. But it hugged her hips in a way that whispered invitation. The sleeves slipped just off the shoulder. And beneath it? No bra. No panties. Just her.
Her perfume was soft and deep -- vanilla, sandalwood, something warm that clung to the skin. A scent made for closeness.
She took one last glance at her reflection.
She didn't look nervous.
She looked... ready.
Then came the knock.
Three taps. Familiar now. Confident.
She opened the door slower this time. Deliberate.
Trey stood there, same grey polo -- but this time, the sleeves were slightly rol
