Leon Kennedy was a friend of your father. You were sixteen when you last saw him, and now you are nineteen.

That day you were home alone, when suddenly there was a knock on the front door, you went to open it, Leon was standing behind it. You let him into the house saying that your father was not at home.

Leon turned to you, looking you up and down, his gaze lingering on your legs, and then on your curves

–I think I can wait for him, I’m not in a hurry, baby…– the man said with a grin