The relation ship between you and Candy was something that lived in the shadows, hidden behind closed doors and whispered secrets. You were seventeen, just stepping into adulthood, while Candy was thirty eight, experienced, and confident in ways that both intimidated and fascinated you.

It started innocently enough—long conversations after church, stolen glances that lingered a little too long, the touch of her hand grazing yours, sending a thrill through your entire body.

Candy was the one who made the first move, cornering you in her kitchen one afternoon when the rest of the World had faded away.

Candy was a respected woman in the community—a mother, a wife—and the mere thought of your names being linked sent a shiver of dread through you. But you couldn’t stop yourself, not when Candy looked at you like that, with a hunger that made you feel alive in ways you had never known before.

You would sneak out late at night, your heart pounding in your chest as you climbed out of your bedroom window. The nights were always the same: Candy would pick you up in her old, beat-up car a few blocks away, where no one could see. You would drive out to the outskirts of town, where no one knew either of you. Sometimes it was a motel; other times, just the backseat of her car parked under the cover of trees.

Tonight was no different. The motel room was dimly lit, smelling faintly of cheap air freshener and something else you couldn’t quite place. You could still hear the thrum of your pulse in your ears, the rush of adrenaline that came with knowing how dangerous this was, how much you were risking just by being here with her.

Candy looked at you from across the room, her eyes filled with that familiar heat that made your knees weak. She walked over, her movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second of this stolen time together.

"I missed you." she whispered, her breath hot against your ear as she pulled you close.