"Pretty," thought Ms Mitchell as she surveyed the young person on her front step. She had never seen someone who so exemplified the word. They were small and slender, about a hand shorter than herself, with a cloud of soft, fluffy, white-blond hair like a halo around their head. Their eyelashes were long and thick, their slender nose a shade pinker than the rest of their face. Full lips puckered above two large front teeth, doll-like in their pertness.
The teeth sank slowly into the pillowy lower lip. Ms Mitchell watched, engrossed, only tearing her eyes away when the person coughed shyly.
"Sorry, what?" she said. She hadn't been listening to a word, too captivated by this little angel that had appeared at her front door. How she'd love to bite that lower lip herself, drag her teeth across it until it bloomed ruby red.
"Um," the young person said, "So, it's the new SavePlus credit card? Right now they're offering a - when you sign up - they're offering a -"
"A credit card? I don't need a credit card." Almost certainly a scam. Probably they'd hand selected this person for the job, hoping people would be too distracted by their cherubic face to listen to the details.
The person flushed, a deliciously soft shade of pink mantling their cheeks and nose. "Oh, well... thanks anyway." They turned to head down the steps and Ms Mitchell was treated to a view of their tight, heart shaped ass straining against their black skinny jeans.
"Wait!" she called. "That's all?"
They turned back, looking up at her through their lashes from the bottom step. "What?"
"Not a very good salesperson, are you? Giving up at the first sign of resistance." Mrs Mitchell smiled wickedly at them, a rush of pleasure flooding her belly as they flushed a little deeper pink.
"I only thought - I didn't want to waste your time."
"Kind of you." Ms Mitchell leaned against the doorframe. She was wearing a ratty old band tee and small, loose pyjama shorts - not the most flattering, perhaps, but she knew from there the young person was likely getting a good view of her thick, well-muscled thighs and shapely calves. "You must be thirsty, it's a scorcher out there. Why don't you come on in for a drink? You can work on convincing me." She turned without waiting for a response, and headed inside. After a beat, she heard the thud of their thick-soled boots on the porch steps and grinned to herself.
"I'm Ms Mitchell, by the way," she called over her shoulder. She thought about giving her first name, but something about the way the person looked at her - a sort of timid, submissive craving - told her she was better off with "Ms." She figured she had at least 15 years on them anyway - it felt appropriate, somehow.
"Vi," came the response from behind her.
When Vi entered the kitchen after fumbling off their boots in the doorway, Ms Mitchell had already poured a glass of lemonade, and sat across from it at the kitchen table, watching Vi with a sleek, catlike smile.
"You're not having any?" Vi said, sinking into the kitchen chair opposite Ms Mitchell.
Ms Mitchell waved a hand airily. "I'm happy just to watch you."
Vi took a tentative gulp of the lemonade. "That's a weird thing to say."
Ms Mitchell's smile widened. "Is it?" She leaned back a little in her chair, arching her back slightly, and approved of the way Vi's eyes flickered quickly down towards her chest.
"Yeah, I mean..." Vi paused, their eyes taking another quick trip down to Ms Mitchell's chest. "I feel like I'm about to be - well, Mrs Robinsoned, you know?"
Ms Mitchell laughed, but didn't respond to the insinuation. "So... tell me more about this credit card."
Vi took another sip. "You don't want one, really - I'm only working there for another couple of weeks - it's just a temporary thing." They leaned closer, whispered, "I'm pretty sure it's a scam."
Ms Mitchell raised her sharp, narrow eyebrow. "Really?"
Vi nodded fervently and took another sip of the lemonade, then suddenly appeared to become aware of how fast they were drinking. They set the glass down hastily. Their hands fidgeted in their lap.
"So tell me this," Ms Mitchell said, "If you're not going to convince me to get this credit card... why did you come inside?"
Vi looked down at their hands, suddenly sheepish. "Well... I dunno. I mean, you do... it's what you do, isn't it? When a hot mi- I mean, a hot older woman invites you in?"
"Were you about to call me a hot milf?"
Vi shrugged, tongue-tied.
Ms Mitchell chuckled. "I'll have you know I don't have any children."
Vi stared at their lap, their cheeks deepening into beetroot.
Ms Mitchell feigned a deep sigh, though internally she was positively gleeful. "I suppose since you're really not going to talk me into this credit card...I might be willing to let you talk me into something else."
Vi's eyes widened. "Uh... like what?" they said, their voice catching in their throat.
"Oh... what did you call it? Mrs Robinsoning?" Ms Mitchell said coyly, eyes on Vi's face.
"You - you mean it?" Vi whispered. Ms Mitchell nodded.
"Why don't you go on upstairs?" she said softly. "I'll clean this up." She managed to get in a swat at their ass as they scurried upstairs. Her afternoon was looking up.
"Wait - this is kind of fast - " Vi panted as Ms Mitchell undid the clasp of their bra. She paused, looking down at Vi - cheeks pink, chest heaving, the outline of their cock straining against the black of their jeans. She lifted an eyebrow. "Too fast for you? We can stop."
"N-not too fast for me," Vi stammered quickly, "I just, I don't want to - I mean, I'm not trying to, to push you into anything."
Ms Mitchell laughed. The very idea that this wisp of a twenty-something was taking advantage of her. She leaned over them, taking one of their bra cups in her teeth, and carefully tugged it down. "How about this," she purred softly, "I'm in charge - and you don't get to touch me unless I say so. Does that sound like you taking advantage of me?"
She felt Vi's cock twitch against her stomach as she spoke. "No - no ma'am," they whispered.
"Good." She took one of their small breasts in one hand, cupping and gently squeezing. The nipple was soft as though waiting for her, baby pink and pert. Ms Mitchell kissed Vi's breast, slowly working her way up towards the nipple. When she reached it, she let her mouth drop over it, warm and wet and flooded with saliva. Vi moaned at the sensation, their head falling back.
"You like that?" Ms Mitchell asked, grinning, rolling their other nipple between her fingers.
"Fuck, yes, Ms Mitchell - I mean, ma'am, I mean - " Vi's words disappeared in another moan as Ms Mitchell sucked their nipple into her mouth again, grazing her teeth across it.
"I've got an idea," she murmured. Deftly she dragged a hand down their waist, and popped open the button of their jeans. As they watched, wide-eyed, she slid a hand down the front of their jeans, gently cradling their smooth cock. "Why don't you call me Mistress?"
"Yes, Mistress," Vi groaned.
"And?" she prompted, squeezing their cock a little tighter. "What shall I call you?"
"I'm - oh, fuck, Mistress, that feels so good - can I be your little girl, your little slut, please?"
"That's perfect." Ms Mitchell dipped her head and suckled Vi's nipple again, her hand creeping lower in their jeans to cradle their balls. The tightness of their jeans prevented much movement, though, so she withdrew her hand and began tugging them off.
"What about you?" they asked, their body relaxed as she undressed them. "I want to see you."