| Neighbors, Friends and Lovers, Chapter 6 Sharon gave a light rap on each of her daughter's doors just before six as she made her way to the kitchen. They needed to get up and have their morning wash because there were muffins to make. Sharon preferred them to have a bath instead of a shower because she thought it was better. Soaking the pubic region in warm water reduced the amount of touching required to do an adequate cleaning job. She'd taught them from the age of three to always use a washcloth so that they wouldn't make direct contact with their girl-parts. The laundry yesterday brought into question how successful her efforts to discourage them from touching had been. The girl's mother and teacher had been reading up on the subject in one of her parenting books while her daughters were next door yesterday. The section on how to curb masturbation wasn't very helpful because it dealt with much younger children. The text had made her uncomfortable—squirmy feeling—and she concluded that she was going to have to start thinking of Sandra and Melissa as young women. Sandy was already there and Missy wasn't far behind. Carolyn woke up as usual at seven. She rarely set an alarm unless she had an early appointment which was rare. Having showered just before bed she opted for a quick wash while the coffee brewed. Waiting an hour and a half for the first cupa Jo was not and option. Soaping between her legs was torture and she realized how raw she was. 'It didn't seem that bad yesterday, ' she mused. 'It'll heal fast... it's been quite a while since I've needed to say that.' Cup of coffee in hand she returned to her room to choose an outfit. 'Fresh out of potato sacks, ' she thought in reference to the shapeless dresses the Madsen women always wore, and then gave herself a mental slap for being so deprecating. 'It's not their fault... at least it's not the girls' fault, it probably is Sharon's fault, ' Carolyn reasoned. Melissa entered the bathroom and stripped her flannel nightgown over her head. She engaged the plug and turned on the water before wiggling out of her panties. With little more than three or four inches of water in the tub she settled into it. She used the wash cloth to wet her upper body then going against the rules began to apply soap directly with her hands to the newly formed mounds on her chest. The plump pink caps contracted and stiffened immediately. The center peg was poking out and scrapping against her slippery soapy fingers. The firm little bumps sent a steady stream of pleasure signals down to her girlhood. Sandy walked in. "Why didn't you lock the door?" the older girl asked, surprised to find the room occupied. "It's OK," Melissa said. "After what we did the other night and what happened at Missus Rousseau's yesterday I didn't think it really mattered anymore." Sandra looked disapprovingly at her younger sibling sitting in the rapidly filling tub stroking her soapy tits. She was a bit ashamed of the quick jolt that occurred between her legs. In spite of the journey of sexual awakening that had begun a couple of days ago. The innocent task of returning some crockery had not completely dissolved sixteen years of training in conservative—ultra conservative—morals. "I'll wait," the older girl announced and put her hand on the bathroom door knob. "Why don't you just get in with me... it'll be faster," the pixie in the tub suggested cupping her little handfuls. Sandy hesitated. Seeing her sister's indecision Missy added, "Come on we can wash each other... it'll be fun." Sandra felt a hot wave wash over her as the thought of their wet slippery naked bodies touching flashed through her mind. Instead of turning the door handle to exit she engaged the lock. In the kitchen their mother had pulled out the muffin cookbook and scanned through deciding which recipes to give her girls. She was proud that her daughters were becoming quite comfortable in the kitchen. She'd started Sandra helping prepare dinner when she was twelve. By the time Melissa joined about two years later, as an assistant, her oldest girl did everything under her mother's watchful eye. Once a week the girls now prepared the family's evening meal with practically no input form their mother. Sharon felt that it was very important for a young woman to have good culinary skills. She got fruit and eggs from the refrigerator for the muffins and recalled late nights after she finished her lesson plans preparing food for the girls when they were toddlers. Cooking and pureeing carrots and peas. It was so much healthier and cheaper to do it yourself than to buy prepared baby food. When she took the milk out, the regression of the girls' dietary requirements went back to when her own body naturally produced their sustenance. The memories of breast feeding immediately set her nipples tingling and that yearning feeling way down deep started to assert. Sharon held on to the counter and for a few seconds bathed in the erogenous memory. She had a burning desire to touch her breasts so she forced the thoughts from her mind. 'Set the table, ' she commanded herself. 'Four place mats... just like usual, ' even though Victor was away. The fourth was for the woman next door—the one she hoped to soon call a friend. She'd had so few real friends in her adult life. She could only recall two as she set the napkins in place. The vision of Alice, her college study-mate, that materialized was disturbing. They were together a lot in the days leading up to their finals. One morning when their first class didn't start until eleven Sharon recalled going to her friend's dorm to study. She was shocked when the young woman opened the door wearing a man's shirt that was way too big for her. Her first thought had been, 'Where the heck did she get that?' They laid their books and notes out on the bed. Alice sat against the headboard while Sharon sat on the side of the cot. The shirt was only buttoned on the lower half. Each time her friend leaned forward, to point something out in the texts they were studying, Sharon was treated to a basically unobstructed view of the other girl's tits swaying unrestrained down the wide open top of the shirt. Her own breasts, particularly the areola, had started tingling and getting kind of itchy. It was pretty hard to concentrate. As she set the knife and spoon on the table in front of Missy's place, she recalled thinking at some point that Alice was doing it on purpose. When the other girl sat back and crossed her legs Indian style Sharon saw the tightly stretched crotch of the panties was almost the same shade of blue as the oversized shirt. Sharon recalled willing herself not to look, but her classmate's thinly veiled vulva as only a tiny eye adjustment away from the book that they were looking at. Her eyes had strayed repeatedly despite her efforts. Once in a while she looked at Alice's face and found a perpetual half grin there. That's the image of her college friend that came to mind as she distributed the flatware around the table. Now, just as it had done in the dorm room that morning long ago, her womanhood twitched. The woman preparing a place setting for her neighbor and prospective friend forced the recollection out of her mind. All she accomplished was to replace it with the image of the only other true friend she'd ever had. The picture of Rosemarie that materialized was from their pre-dinner grief counseling sessions. Her babysitter was coming from the kitchen carrying drinks in the long satin robe. Rosie's large unfettered breasts were swaying provocatively against the shiny fabric; erect nipples evident, poking against the front of the dressing gown. Sharon felt her nipples clench and stand up inside her simple sensible bra. The urge to touch them was stronger than ever. 'What is wrong with you!' she scolded. 'Why does every thought you have turn sexual?' She was flustered and annoyed with herself. Trying to refocus she glanced at the clock. 'What's taking them so long?' she wondered exiting the kitchen to find out what was keeping her daughters. Sandra felt her little sister's eyes on her body like caressing feathers when she pulled her nightie over her head. A shiver ran down her spine as she stepped out of her panties and tossed them in the bathroom hamper. The tub wasn't large so when the older girl immersed herself Melissa had to quickly shut off the water lest it overflow. The warm scented water came to just below her breasts so Sandy splashed some water on them to even out her body temperature. The water line was right at Missy's nipples which had gone back to their normal puffy state from the warmth. Picking up the washcloth and applying some soap Sandra got busy. She had scrubbed her neck armpits and arms and was about to move on to her chest. Out of the corner of her eye she was aware that her sister was just sitting there watching. Rivulets of soap bubbles trickled down over her jutting grapefruit sized boobies and she spread the foam with the cloth just below her collar bone. "Can I do that?" the pixie facing her asked. The question hit the older bather right between the legs. Memories of Missy nuzzling her through her nightgown made her nipples tingle. Her prudish upbringing demanded that she say no. 'Yesterday you introduced her to licking each other... uh, down there... and now you're afraid to let her touch your boobies?' Sandy realized that it didn't really make sense. 'But yesterday Missus Rousseau got me all stirred up... gave me feelings that were so... so... fantastic that I just had to share them. We can't keep doing that; it's wrong... not to mention that we're gonna get caught.' While Sandy's brain was in turmoil Missy took the decision out of her hands, literally, by taking the washcloth. Needing to get closer the younger girl forced her left foot under her sister's right thigh and scooted her hips forward. She started high where Sandy had left off above the round perky orbs. They locked gazes but when the somewhat rough flannel passed over her sensitive areola the older girl closed her eyes and groaned. She felt agitation in the water and knew that Melissa was shifting her body to get closer still. The slightly scratchy cloth traveled from her right tit to her left at the same time she felt her sister's sex come in contact with hers under the floral scented warm water. The sort of gnawing feeling that she'd been having down there ever since she'd locked the door turned into and ache. It wasn't painful just very needy. Instinctively she knew that pressure would make it feel better. Without thinking she shifted her hips forward mashing their vulvas together. The stereo squeal was thankfully quite soft as both girls experienced the same powerful surge of pleasure race up their bodies and explode in their heads. Sandy opened her eyes and stared into those of her sister inches away. Both girls were thinking the exact same thing, 'Is it OK... do you want to?' but neither one spoke. The communication was telepathic. Melissa grasped Sandy's hips first but the older girl immediately followed her sister's lead. Fingers digging into the new soft fleshiness of each other's hips they began to rock. Labia swelled and stretched and parted allowing the adolescent nubbins hidden inside to engage. Impulsively Sandra wrapped her mouth over Missy's and pushed her tongue against the younger girl's teeth. Sandy had heard about French kissing in her public school days but had never tried it. In fact when she'd first heard the older girls talking about it she was grossed out. Now it seemed so natural—so necessary. Tongues entwined and explored as the water sloshed around them agitated by their rocking action. Never before experienced pleasure sensations rolled over each of them as the abdominal pressure built. The feelings of tightness almost like bloating made them want to press harder and go faster. The deep soul kiss served the fortunate if unintended purpose of muffling their grunts and groans. By now the water was splashing over the tub wall. Sandy stiffened first and pulled Missy's pussy as hard against hers as she could. The younger girl recognized her sister's climax and that realization was enough to drive her over the edge as well. They continued to grind their vulvas together through the multiple aftershocks but eventually they both collapsed backward against their respective ends of the tub, panting and gasping. The warm sloshing water came up nearly to their chins as they lay in the afterglow but rapidly calmed without the churning action of the adolescent pelvises. When the aftermath of her climax permitted Sandy was driven to ask, "Where... how..." she had trouble expressing her question. "What made you think of that?" she finally managed to groan. "Kristen taught me," the younger girl said in a dreamy nonchalant voice. 'Kristen... Kristen?' the name rang a bell, and then she remembered her mother mentioning it just the other day. "You mean Kristen missus Chaplin's daughter?" Sandra asked when she finally made the connection. "Uh-huh," Melissa confirmed still sounding indifferent. "Remember when she used to bring us home and give us supper so her mom and our mom could have some adult time?" the younger girl asked. "Yeah," Sandy responded with a slight rise in her voice that meant 'go on'. "Remember that she used to take me up to my room to play after dinner?" Missy tested her sister's memory again. "Well what we did... uh, in the tub... that's sort of like one of the games she taught me." Sandra was feeling a bit ashamed as she remembered being happy to be shed of her clingy little sister for awhile. Only now was she learning that their babysitter had been taking advantage during those times. Her curiosity overcame her remorse and she continued the interrogation, "What did she do?" Sandy wasn't entirely sure she even wanted to hear the answer but that didn't stop her from asking the question. "The very first time she brought us home, and we went to my room she wanted to play a game she called Buck-buck rocking horse... or something like that." Melissa seemed more animated now as she was remembering the events of eight years ago. "We got on the bed and she put her one leg over one of mine and her other leg under... on the other side... like we were a couple of minutes ago—" Missy paused looking at her sister to make sure her explanation was clear. Sandy nodded and the younger girl was inspired by the wide eyed interest she saw. "Kristen told me the game was to rock back and forth like you were on a rocking horse and see how many times you could get the other person's tushy to come right off the bed. Who ever lifted their partner the most times was the winner." Missy paused again letting Sandy develop the mental image. "It didn't work very well that first time because Kristen was so much bigger and stronger than me. She told me the trick was to push really hard forward with your hips when you rocked back and try to lift the other person... our... uh, you know... uh, down there, were pressed really tight together and she held on to my hips and sometimes my bum so I did the same to her. When we were rocking she started breathing really funny and got all red in the face but I thought it was just because she was trying... uh, you know, trying to win." Sandy was getting a pretty clear picture of her six year old sister and the teenaged babysitter mashing their crotches together and rocking on the bed. If there was a real contest taking place Missy stood no chance. "Mommy came home pretty early that first night, so that's as far as it went. The next time was a week or so later. When we went up to my room she asked me if I wanted to play Rocking horse again. I didn't mind the game even though I was pretty sure I couldn't win and it made me feel funny in my tummy. Mainly I didn't want her to stop wanting to play with me so I agreed. Kristen told me that we hadn't really done it properly the first time. That's when she made me take all my clothes off and she did too." Sandy couldn't stifle the gasp when her little sister made the shocking revelation. The older girl was surprised to see that the expression on the story teller's face was more one of excitement and happiness than regret. "So when you did it the second time you were both naked?" Sandra requested confirmation. Melissa nodded and continued, "Yeah so our you-know-whats were pressing right on each other with nothing in between. I remember how squish and mushy she felt and she had hair down there too. Sometimes I was able to get her butt off the bed so I wasn't losing so badly, but I think she was letting me get some points." "She started getting red and breathing funny just like the first time but then she suddenly went all stiff and made a strange noise. Then she sort of started shaking and I thought that maybe I'd hurt her or something. She couldn't seem to talk for awhile but then she told me that it was OK, that I didn't hurt her; that it actually felt really good. Then she said that I wouldn't learn about that for a couple of years." Missy was pleased with her sister's evidently enraptured interest. "I knew what she meant about it feeling good, 'cause it felt good to me too—but not as good as her. Later on I tried to do it with Mommy when we cuddled... you know rubbing myself on her... but I couldn't really do it hard enough. I even tried it with you a couple of times." Sandy suddenly thought she might pass out. Knowing now that her little sister had actually been trying to stimulate herself sexually during those cuddling sessions—the ones that had been so erogenous for her as well was a mind bending revelation. Missy was watching her big sister's reaction to her confession and hoping she wasn't going to get mad. "Girls... come on hurry up... we have company coming!" Their mother's voice calling from the bottom of the stairs made them both jump, and snap back to the present. The bath water had seriously cooled and both girls quickly did a splash dab job of washing before jumping out to dry themselves. "Be there in a minute Mommy," Sandra replied hoping to avert a visit. The older girl didn't want to think about the consequences of their mother finding them both in the bathroom together naked. "Hurry up!" she challenged Melissa in a stage whisper and scampered toward her own room wrapped in a towel. Promptly at eight-thirty Carolyn walked out the door. It took less than a minute to reach the Madsen's front door. Twice as long as normal because she couldn't cut across the grass in the three and a half inch heels. "Hi Caro—uh, Missus Rousseau," Sandra greeted her at the door. "Come on in," she encouraged stepping aside. "I'm so glad you could make it," Sharon exclaimed arriving from behind her eldest and extending her hand in greeting. As they shook hands gently and briefly Sharon said, "Come on in the kitchen everything's ready." "Have a seat," the hostess offered holding out one of the chairs. Carolyn smoothed the navy blue pleated skirt down the backs of her thighs and sat down. "Coffee, Missus Rousseau?" Melissa offered holding the pot at the side of their guest's chair and not making the over familiarity mistake Sandra had almost made. "I'd love some," the caffeine addicted photographer replied enthusiastically. "I love your outfit," the coffee girl said sincerely. "Do you really?" Carolyn responded and stood up again smoothing the skirt. The blue silk blouse had ruffled lapels that came together just above an inch of cleavage. The tunic style top buttoned down to a synched waist and then flared out to overhang the waistband of the skirt and accommodate her womanly hips. The blouse ended three inches below where it tapered in and gave way to the navy blue pleated skirt which ended a couple of inches above Carolyn's nicely shaped knees. Sandy and Melissa were both impressed with the smooth and very fast pirouette when the lady from next door twirled showing all sides even if it was at blinding speed. It was so fast in fact that the pleated skirt flew displaying the lacy tops of the thigh-high stockings and just a hint of the slender white thighs above them. The girls were a little too close to notice but Sharon who was standing ten feet away with her back to the counter got the full value of the maneuver. 'If she'd spun any faster I'd have seen her panties, ' the woman holding the baskets of freshly baked muffins realized. The realization caused a disturbing surge between her legs. "I got this as a kind of a bonus for the last catalogue shoot I did," the photographer confided; "and that's not all..." She looked over her shoulder toward the door as if someone might come in. "It's just us girls here," she continued conspiratorially and began unbuttoning her blouse. The teenagers smiled and their mother gasped but all three Madsen women were amazed at the speed and dexterity with which Missus Rousseau was able to unfasten and part the front of her blouse to display the lace under-wire bra that was a perfect color match to the silk top. The airy lacy brassiere did not so much conceal her breasts as it encased them in a delicately patterned mesh. The photographer's large dark areola was clearly visible through the gauzy material. Carolyn knew it was a bold move that might get her thrown out but she was willing to take the chance when the opportunity presented. She glanced quickly at Sandy and Missy seeing the smirks that she'd more or less expected. It wasn't their reaction she was interested in. The woman in the revealing blue bra was focused on their mother. The look on Missus Madsen's face was one of shock, that part was expected, but in the eyes there was something else—something the photographer had seen enough times that she was confident in her ability to recognize it; it was lust. "Isn't it just perfect?" she enthused. "They're just made for each other." She emphasized what she meant by pulling the blouse back closed over her nicely supported but barely covered tits. Sharon Madsen's face showed all the disappointment she was hoping for. As a grand finale to the impromptu and rather erotic fashion show Carolyn picked up the hem of her skirt and exposed the thin strap of material riding high on her hip. "These match too," she justified the lifting of her dress without taking her eyes off the older woman. She had momentarily considered exposing the tiny triangle barely covering her mons to display the color of the panties but chickened-out. She sat back down and re-buttoned before lifting the coffee cup to her lips. Sharon looked catatonic. Her eyes were wide and fixed and her mouth was hanging open. "Mommie... Mom!" Sandy called to her with just a hint of alarm in her voice. For all the reaction she got she might have been calling out to a cardboard cut-out of her mother. The sixteen year old took charge. She brought the two cloth napkin covered baskets over to the table. Carolyn thought she detected some embarrassment in the girl's smile. "These are banana-nut, that Missy made," she said setting the first basket down beside the tub of plain yogurt and the bowl of fruit salad. "And these are lemon zest that I made." When she placed the second basket on the table she gave her mother a concerned glance and sat down. Melissa followed her sister's lead. Sharon knew she had to move or speak—do something—but she was breathless and paralyzed. When her next door neighbor had lifted her skirt exposing the thin blue ribbon on her hip, the image that came into her mind was of sitting on the dorm room bed and Alice's identically blue panties stretched over her girlhood. The clarity of the vision after all these years was amazing. The cotton crotch stretched so tight that she could discern not only the pattern of her pubic hair but also the intricate folds of her crease. The feelings that began bubbling between her legs the first time she glimpsed Alice's breasts down the neck of the oversized shirt boiled over. She'd grabbed her books, jumped up and run from the dorm room in utter panic. Her mind replaying that scene from college and then substituting Carolyn for Alice was what held her fixed. 'What would have happened if I'd stayed?' Clearly it was one of those 'path-not-chosen' questions that had no answer. A deeply held sense of duty was triggered when the sound of her oldest daughter's voice explaining the breakfast menu filtered through the fog. She had a guest to attend to right here and now. "Sorry I had a little brain freeze there," she apologized turning back toward the counter. "I just realized that I forgot to put out serving spoons." Sharon took her seat at the table and put the spoons beside the yogurt and fresh fruit cocktail. Sandra looked relieved. Breakfast conversation was light. They took turns asking questions and getting background. The part about Phil's passing was brief and Carolyn expressed her sympathy seeing the tears well in the Madsen women's eyes. The photographer was pleased when Sharon changed the subject by asking about her work. Carolyn described the types of photographs she was most known for and left out mention of her dabbles into the field of erotica. Noticing that no one was eating anymore Sharon suggested that they retire to the comfort of the living room. Her daughters astutely knew that the invitation didn't include them. Each with a fresh cup of coffee the older women settled on the couch while the younger ones cleaned up in the kitchen without being told. Sharon found herself becoming more comfortable with her neighbor by the minute. She really felt that she was getting to know and understand the woman who came from an entirely different background and had such different life experiences. The mother and teacher was fascinated with her stories, asking probative questions to encourage more description and detail. As their chat progressed Sharon was thinking, 'This is what friendship is... sharing stories and opinions... giving and receiving advice and support.' Every now and then Carolyn would punctuate what she was saying by touching her. Usually it was her arm but occasionally on the upper leg. She'd encountered touchy-feely people before, but as a rule they didn't affect her the way Carolyn's touch did. 'Maybe it's because of the blue blouse... and underwear, ' she reminded herself. 'The thoughts I had about Alice before she even arrived primed me to be extra sensitive.' The fact that she'd practically stripped as an introduction was definitely a factor. 'It's just her way, ' Sharon told herself. 'We're different... almost opposites... and opposites attract—don't they.' The conversation went to motive; what had made her want to become a photographer; did she feel that she had a lot in common with other photographers she'd met. It seemed a natural transition to talking about models and their personalities. "You could be a model," Carolyn stated with assurance and put her hand on Sharon's thigh for emphasis. As much as the previous contact had made her feel sort of tingly; the combination of the startling suggestion and feeling her neighbor's hand through her dress was like getting connected to a live wire. The electric current danced all over her body but definitely was focused in her breasts and between her legs. 'It's not her it's you, Sharon, ' she scolded herself. 'You must have some sort of hormone imbalance or something. What else could account for this sudden fixation on sexuality? If this keeps up I'm going to have to see a doctor.' That thought sent a chill down her spine. She found physical examinations quite challenging and wasn't going to submit to one unless it proved absolutely necessary. Carolyn reacted to Sharon's non verbal response misinterpreting the slight grimace as skepticism. "I'm serious," she assured her host pressing a bit harder on the firmness of the warm thigh. "You and your daughters are really quite beautiful. It's a shame that you hide it under... uh—" Carolyn finished the thought by running her eyes up and down Sharon's hideous dress. The photographer's eye movement caused the teacher to look down at her garb. "Don't you ever get the urge to show-off? You know, let people see how attractive you really are?" Carolyn knew that once again she was on thin ice. Criticizing her neighbor's apparel, especially since it was so obviously homemade, was perilously close to an insult. The woman in the potato sack dress didn't say anything for a moment increasing her visitor's fear that she'd crossed a forbidden line. The delay was actually caused by Sharon recalling how she'd tried to dress more fashionably after her first marriage. Out of the constant scrutiny of her repressive mother she soon found her new husband was equally conservative. She regretted that she'd given up without a fight. "I'm sorry... I have no right to—" Carolyn started to back pedal after several seconds. "No! You're absolutely right," Sharon affirmed that she respected the opinion. 'That's another value of friends, ' she was thinking. 'They make you step back and look at some of the things you're doing differently... with fresh eyes.' "Victor, that's my husband," she reminded in case her neighbor had forgotten, "has some very... uh, conservative views on how women should dress... or maybe I should say how they shouldn't dress." Their eyes met and a connection was clearly being made. Carolyn's hand was still on her thigh and now it was beginning to make a short stroking motion. Sharon had not forgotten about the hand on her leg, but in her introspection the somewhat thrilling and unaccustomed touch had slipped onto the background; movement brought it very quickly forward. The electric tingling was back and the woman in the unfashionable dress looked down at the photographer's hand as if to confirm that it wasn't all in her mind. Carolyn noticed where her host's eyes had strayed, 'That could be a good thing or a bad thing, ' she thought. 'One way to find out—' The breakfast guest increased the length of the stroke. 'If I'm making her uncomfortable she'll stop me, ' she reasoned. At one end of its travel the caressing hand was an inch or two above Sharon's knee. At the other extreme it was only inches from her groin. Carolyn's hand moved smoothly back and forth causing the thick material of the dress to crumple up and then straighten back out. Her host made no move to stop her. "If you ever want to try some things... I mean try some things on, I always have some stuff left in the studio," the photographer issued an invitation. Sharon raised her eyes which had been watching the hand stroking her leg. Looking into Carolyn's face she smiled a bit nervously and said, "Yes, I'd like that." It seemed too easy. She must be misinterpreting. Giving Sharon's thigh a pat like a punctuation point—the end—Carolyn took her hand away. "Any time you want," the photographer offered; eyes still locked with her neighbor's. She thought she could see pleading in the mother's eyes. 'Pleading for what?' she wondered. And was there still just the slightest glimmer of lust—couldn't be sure. "Could we go over now?" The question hit her breakfast guest directly between the legs. "Mmmm... sure," Carolyn replied reacting to the erotic pulse she'd felt. With the fateful question now asked and answered Carolyn saw a shadow cross the Victorian woman's face. She recognized it as fear. "I... I just have to give... uh, tell the girls what to do... I mean with their studies." Sharon seemed a bit unsteady as she got to her feet and lurched toward the kitchen. Carolyn stood up and straightened her skirt. "This is going to be interesting," she said under her breath, and moved in the direction of the front door. |