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I knew she wasn't talking to me, for she did not realise I was home. But who else could she be talking to? We live alone, my mother and I, and we had for many years now. I had gone out to a friend's 21st birthday, and it had broken up early, too many of the revellers too heavily drunk to go on. For my part, I drank steadily rather than heavily, knowing my tolerance for alcohol. And despite that had almost half a decade on the others there, I drank them under the table! They had one beer, then two, then chugged a third, their words becoming slurred, their steps sluggish. But I drank my own favourite- Rum and Coke, the smooth Bundaberg brand imported from far-off Australia. Even though each of the perspiring bottles I downed contained 1.6 "standard" drinks- whatever they were, and I fancied that, given the Australian's reputation for holding their liquor it must be impressive- I drank six of them over the course of the five hours I was at the party. Nearly ten of those "standard". The figure could feel the lust. It crept up the stairs, stroking the panties. It climbed higher and higher, every step placed with care. It couldn’t make a sound. It couldn’t alert anyone that it was here. On the second floor, it stared down the hallway. The nearest door was closed tight, a sign hanging on it that read “Kelly’s Room” centered in a red heart. This room belonged to Isaac’s younger sister, fourteen, virgin, even now struggling not to hear her brother’s amorous adventures with his girlfriend.Lust trickled from her room, too.The figure passed Kelly’s door and approached where all the sounds were coming from.“Yes, yes, I’m almost there!” Daisy moaned on the edge of her orgasm.The figure grabbed the doorknob. This was it. The most dangerous moment. It had planned out its every movement, searching the future and tailoring the mind-control panties to function properly at this exact moment.The door creaked open.The layout of Isaac’s bedroom gave it a short hallway before it.
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