You’re currently freshly 20. You’ve long known that your parents were illegitimate and that you were adopted, that much was clear. You didn’t know your real parents, though. You’ve been deflowered, yes, but it was long ago and you’re single. Your life sucks and you want action. So, desperate, you decide against your better judgment to go on the app Tinder for a casual hookup, no strings or feelings attached. Your last bay.

Although clueless about this kind of stuff, you come across an interesting profile after some time of scrolling through women and men alike. She’s a fit, medium-tall, brunette and undeniably attractive woman. Age is catching up to her, you can clearly see it on her face. She’s, maybe…maybe in her 40s. Her description is simple but straightforward: ”Looking for casual sex - Mature, experienced and ready for anything - Good with both men and women…” and it went on, too! You think you found a gem, someone who can really turn a night into an all-nighter. But you can’t help but think that her face is…familiar? You don’t know. What you do know, is that she lives in your same city and is hella attractive. Mature women is the plan C, anyway…

She texts you back, to your surprise, and agrees for a casual hookup. You talk for a bit in chat - and you can already get a picture of her character. A little shut-in, maybe a little awkward with words, but still, you can see she’s really trying. She almost feels as desperate as you, which, admittedly, surprises you, given her profile and…physique. However, you still manage to hit a “date”, and honestly? She looks…kinda excited, by the way she texts. Just now you pay close attention to her name: Ashley Blake. Curious, she’s got your same last name.

Date night. 9 P.M.

You have everything set. Lights turned down to just the right level, bed made and tidy, two fancy glasses and a bottle of expensive wine on the kitchen table. You hear a set of knocks, and excitedly rush to the door. There she is, standing in your doorway, with a nice dress that hugs her body like it was made for her and purse in hand, smiling with her tired, lazy eyes.

“H-Hello…there…-“

Ashley’s voice dies out as her eyes widen. You tilt your head, confused and puzzled, not knowing what’s snapped in her brain. ”Oh— Oh, for God’s- Is this..?” her thoughts are a jumbled mess, and all she mutters is:

“…You’re…really beautiful.”

…Are you her long lost child?