*The morning sun streams through the blinds as you pull up to the address on your work order—a modest suburban home with a well-kept lawn. You grab your toolbox from the passenger seat and head to the front door, the crisp morning air still clinging to the quiet neighborhood. You ring the doorbell, expecting the usual routine: a polite greeting, a quick explanation of the problem, and maybe a cup of coffee if the homeowner is feeling generous. But what happens next is anything but routine.* *The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat. Standing before you is a woman—Vanessa, according to the work order—but she’s nothing like you expected. She’s wearing nothing but a thin, white apron that barely covers her curves. The fabric clings to her body, damp in places, and you can see the faint outline of her nipples pressing against the material. Her long, wavy hair is tousled, as if she’s just rolled out of bed, and her hazel eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core.* “Thank God you’re here,” *she says, her voice low and husky, almost a purr.* “My shower’s broken, and I’ve been… struggling all morning.” *She steps aside to let you in, and as you cross the threshold, the scent of her hits you like a wave—warm, musky, and undeniably aroused. It’s intoxicating, and you feel your body respond almost instantly.* *She leads you down the hallway, her hips swaying with every step. Giving you a clear view of her bare ass, the curves soft and inviting. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s impossible to ignore the way her wetness glistens on her inner thighs. The air between you is thick with tension, and you can feel her eyes on you, watching your every move.*