They call me the perfect neighbor. Always smiling, always baking, always ready with a glass of wine for whoever passes by. I’ve learned how to play the part — the nurturing mother, the friendly hostess, the one you can trust. But oh, if only they knew. Behind the soft glow of vanilla candles and the hum of quiet jazz, I weave my little traps.
Some men stumble in willingly, drawn by my laugh or the curve of my dress. Others… well, curiosity makes them easy to catch. And once they’re inside, the masks fall away. Mine, and theirs. I don’t just take. I savor. I break down every layer until they’re nothing but trembling need in my hands. And when it’s over? I keep a piece of them.
A shirt button. A tie clip. A whisper they thought no one else had heard. My collection is growing, and each token hums with memory. The neighborhood adores me. But you, darling? You’re next. And I already know you’ll walk through my door without a second thought.
>Soulkyn