Chapter 1.

Cindy was stacking a shelf at Krogers when the scent of white musk and delicate jasmine aroused her senses. She turned to face the voluptuous bosom of a woman wearing a tight-fitting, black cashmere turtleneck.

She gulped as she raised her eyes to a face she recognized. A face that still haunted her dreams 25 years later: Eleanor. Excitement twisted in her stomach.

Eleanor’s skin glowed with a healthy tan as if she had recently returned from a vacation to paradise. Her black hair was sleek as silk. She raised a single plucked eyebrow. She stared down at Cindy with eyes that glimmered gold.

Eleanor reached and cupped the nametag on Cindy’s apron. A yellow gold Rolex with a white diamond dial shimmered on her wrist.

Cindy held her breath. Would she remember her from high school? All the times she carried her bags? Took her gym clothes home to wash and iron? Completed her homework? Sponge bathed her car? Waited in line to pick up her lunch?

“I need some assistance,” said Eleanor, dropping Cindy's nametag.

Cindy nodded. Her response stalled in her throat. “Y-yes, of course. Happy to, Miss.”

She felt the disappointment at not being recognized by Eleanor sink into the pit of her stomach. But then again, looking over Eleanor’s curvacious body, seeing the Gucci belt over tight black jeans and Gucci boots encircled by jeweled straps, Eleanor was rich. Far too rich to ever be seen inside Krogers. Cindy meanwhile, was dressed in cargo pants and an apron stacking shelves.

Eleanor placed her hands on her hips and slotted her thumbs inside her belt. “I've had an awful day. My housekeeper found herself in the ICU before she'd even finished her chores. I've no food in the house and I don't have time to order any deliveries. I haven't the faintest idea what I'm supposed to do in a place like this. Where's the organic spinach? The collards? The pink lettuce?”

“Um, we have some things like that, Miss. But I think maybe your housekeeper shopped somewhere else. Maybe the Fresh Market?”

Eleanor’s posture straightened as she inhaled her annoyance through her nose. Cindy felt the same intimidation as when they were eighteen. A familiar distress ran through her blood. She did not want to let Eleanor down. She wanted to please her. She wanted Eleanor to like her.

“Do you have a list, Miss?”

Eleanor retrieved a gold-plated iPhone Pro Max from the back pocket of her jeans. She scrolled over the glossy screen and raised her eyes to Cindy expectantly. Cindy jerked awake and retrieved her own, much smaller, older device. Eleanor's lip curled slightly at the sight of it.

Cindy flushed as she read out her number. A couple of seconds later her phone vibrated and she saw Eleanor’s grocery list as an attachment.

“Thank you,” she said, not sure why she was thanking her but feeling like it was somehow justified. “Let's see what you have here, Miss.”

Eleanor sighed. “I don't have time for this. I have an appointment to get my nails done. “Why don't you go ahead and just collect everything for me?”

Cindy gulped. She’d been working all day. Her shift was about to end. She’d been looking forward to going home and taking a bath. Just a glance at the list showed how daunting a task it would be. She was sure Krogers did not stock even a third of what Eleanor sought.

But she couldn’t say no. The teenager lurking inside of her leaped at the opportunity to help. “S-sure. I can do that. Um, what time do you want to pick it up?”

“It'll be easier if you just deliver it to my house.”

Eleanor tapped her screen and a second message vibrated on Cindy's phone. It was Eleanor's address. She lived in Paradise Hills, the rich area of town.

Cindy always knew Eleanor would be successful at anything she chose to do. She had always been the most popular, charismatic, and beautiful person in any room, but those were only her surface qualities. Cindy had witnessed Eleanor’s intelligence and creativity firsthand. It was always a privilege to be in her presence. It was a treat to smell her perfume, see her clothes, and admire her body. It had made coming to work worth it.

“I'll expect you around six,” said Eleanor.

It wasn't a question.

“O-of course, Miss, I'll see you then," said Cindy, swallowing another urge to thank her.

Eleanor said nothing as she sauntered away down the aisle. Cindy watched, mesmerized by the sway of her buttocks inside her jeans. The eyes of every customer, male, and female, shifted to Eleanor as she swept by them in a designer haze of perfume and labels. Cindy knew they were all thinking the same thing: what the hell was a woman who looked like that doing inside Krogers?

Cindy smiled. She was revitalized. Eleanor had chosen her. Out of all the staff she could have approached, Cindy was the one.

Eleanor may not have remembered her name or face, but a part of her must have recalled that skinny, diffident girl who had always tried so hard to please her. Cindy’s efforts had left a mark on Eleanor’s subconscious. It was the only explanation as to why she would entrust her groceries to her.

Cindy looked down at Eleanor's grocery list on her phone, eager to get started, but her skin prickled with dread as she grew more aware that Krogers sold almost nothing Eleanor wanted.

Horror replaced her fervor. She got to work, rushing through the aisles in a vain attempt to find something, anything, on the list. She dared not substitute brand names. Krogers own was fine for people like Cindy, but Eleanor required better. The risk of failure invoked Cindy’s old anxiety.

It was just like that time in high school when she had asked Eleanor for permission to take some time in the evening to work on her own assignment since she had already finished, edited, and polished Eleanor's. Eleanor’s response had been to stare through her like she was a bug. Cindy always shriveled under that stare. She had immediately apologized, her voice cracking as tears threatened to spill. Eleanor never said a word. She never needed to. She simply walked away leaving Cindy to quietly sob over her mistake.

Cindy worked harder than ever after that. She agonized over Eleanor’s assignment, ensuring each sentence was perfect, each point was cross-referenced, each semi-colon was grammatical. It was a month before Eleanor allowed Cindy to be near her again. The relief Cindy had felt at Eleanor's A+ made her cry. And when Eleanor told Cindy her lunch order one beautiful day, it made the F Cindy received for the hastily scribbled essay she had written minutes before the start of class, worth more than the world.

Cindy would not let Eleanor down. She would drive to every grocery store in the city if she had to. Eleanor's housekeeper had been capable of finding everything Eleanor needed. Why couldn't Cindy? Eleanor was worth the effort.

*

Cindy drove for five hours stopping at every high-end supermarket and exclusive grocers she could find. With Eleanor’s deadline, she had no time to stop and rest. The AC in her 2001 Ford Taurus had stopped working a long time ago. She was sweaty and exhausted by the time she was done.

She arrived at Eleanor’s Paradise Hills address with just fifteen minutes to spare. Gilded gates guarded the mansion beyond. Cindy got out of her car and looked through the bars at the long driveway and multi-acre lawn that led to a multi-million manor.

Eleanor was wealthier than Cindy had ever dreamed possible.

She looked back at the first and only car she had ever bought. Even then it had been second-hand. She regretted not stopping to have it washed. It looked depressed, as if embarrassed to exist. The thought that the bags of groceries in the trunk were worth more than the car itself put Cindy's life into perspective.

The bill was huge. Far more than Cindy had expected or could afford. It was lucky her family had gotten into the habit of living frugally. Her husband hadn’t worked for years ever since he was laid off. Cindy had been the sole breadwinner and she controlled their finances, only spending money on absolute necessities. It enabled Cindy to create a safety net for themselves. But the sight of all that money leaving her account to pay for Eleanor’s groceries was terrifying. The receipts were in her pocket. She was anxious about broaching the subject of repayment. Should she give Eleanor the receipts or wait to be asked?

She pressed a buzzer on the gate and waited for a response. It was a minute before a girl's voice, not Eleanor's, came languidly through the speaker.

“Yeah? What?”

Cindy leaned her face into the speaker. “Um, yes, hello, this is Cindy?”

There was silence.

“I have groceries?”

There was a crunch of static as the girl released the receiver. Cindy was left waiting. She glanced up and saw a security camera above her head. The lens stared directly at her. She maneuvered her cargo pants self-consciously beneath the glare. A few moments later, the gate trundled open.

“Thank you,” she said into the speaker and blushed at the silent response.

She returned to her car and slowly drove through the open gates and up the winding driveway. She parked opposite a jet-black Mercedes SUV with golden rims and a personalized license plate that read ELEANOR1. There were also a couple of convertibles. A rose-pink Porsche with an ALISON2 license plate and a metallic Aston Martin with a JESSICA1 license.

Her own car was a disheveled mess, completely out of place. She wished she’d simply parked on the street and carried the groceries on foot rather than risk Eleanor seeing it.

She looked up at the white limestone manor. A grand staircase led to a front porch supported by classical columns and wide, double mahogany doors. She had always known she and Eleanor were destined for different life trajectories, but Eleanor existed in a different stratosphere than her own.

Someone as rich as this did not ever do their own grocery shopping. It must have really been an emergency for Eleanor to make the trip to Krogers. Cindy sympathized. It must have been an overwhelming experience for her. Cindy was glad she had been there to help.

Her phone buzzed and her heart leaped. The message was Eleanor's —Go around the back.

Cindy searched for access and found a floral archway between a manicured hedgerow. She opened her trunk and bundled four bags into her arms.

She headed through the archway, following the ivy that covered the manor's outer wall. She came to a Grecian swimming pool and neatly trimmed grass tennis court. An athletic-looking girl in form-fitting white shorts and a polo shirt twirled her racket. A machine fired a tennis ball at her, and with a grunt, she struck it over the tight netting. Her blond ponytail bounced as she prepared her feet for her subsequent return. Eleanor's daughter? She seemed to be the same age as Cindy’s own daughter, Sarah, only far more developed.

It was regrettable that Sarah had taken after her. She knew Sarah's life would be more difficult because of it. In a perfect world, appearance did not matter, but Cindy knew better. There was a reason why she still stocked shelves at Krogers. It hadn’t been for a lack of work ethic. She rarely missed a day and she always tried to gain additional hours. But each time a higher position opened, it would be awarded to another. The reality was, attractive girls did not spend their lives in menial positions for long.

She felt bad that Sarah was only one year free from high school and already suffered the disappointment of seeing her better-looking, confident, effervescent co-workers promoted above her. Cindy offered reassuring words but she knew they were lies. Sarah was on the same trajectory as herself and it ate at her insides.

“That’s Jessica,” said Eleanor from behind. “My eldest.”

Cindy turned to see Eleanor leaning against an open door, one leg cocked and her arms folded over her breasts.

Cindy smiled nervously. “Hi, again,” she said happily lifting one hand in a wave.

Eleanor was impassive. “Did you get everything?”

“Yes, I think so. Some of this stuff was really hard to find, though.”

Eleanor stared through her.

“N-not that I'm complaining or anything. I was real happy to help. It's just that I, um, don't think you should try shopping at Krogers again. Ha ha.”

Eleanor continued to stare.

Cindy gulped. “So, um, do you want me to unpack?” The offer took her by surprise. She had thought she would drop them off, get compensation, and then leave. Somehow, Eleanor’s stare had made it seem rude not to offer.

“The kitchen's through here,” said Eleanor. “Don't bother asking me where anything goes. My housekeeper deals with that. I'm sure you'll figure it out.”

“No problem,” said Cindy, following Eleanor inside.

She gaped as she witnessed the grandeur of the kitchen. It was larger than the entire downstairs of her own home. Marble countertops sparkled as if fashioned directly from the pages of a glossy magazine. There were double ovens, two double-doored fridge-freezers, and triple sinks in stainless steel. The cabinets were intricately carved from cherry wood. There was a walk-in pantry and two separate islands.

“Wow,” she exclaimed, “this is amazing. It's like the kitchen of my dreams.”

Eleanor slotted her buttocks on a cushioned stool behind the far island. “You dream of kitchens?” she said without irony, turning her attention to an iPad Pro.

Cindy laughed.

Eleanor glanced up and sighed. “Are you going to just hold onto those bags?”

“Oh, right,” said Cindy, placing them on the closest countertop.

Eleanor returned to her iPad. Cindy noticed Eleanor’s manicure was now black and silver. Her nails glittered like bright stars in the night sky.

“Wow, Eleanor,” she said, “I really love your nails.”

Eleanor slowly raised her eyes from her screen.

“How do you know my name?”

Cindy gulped. “Well, um, I didn't want to say earlier, but um, I think we went to high school together?”

Eleanor stared.

Cindy squirmed, pulling her sleeves down her wrists. “I mean, I know we did. I would…pick up your lunch and…bring it to your table. I did your homework and assignments. I washed and waxed your car?”

Eleanor sighed and turned back to her iPad. “So, you were one of those losers that thought they could be someone by sucking up to me?”

Cindy blushed. “It, uh, wasn't like that exactly. You see, I wasn't very popular at school.”

“Shocking.”

Cindy smiled nervously, hoping Eleanor was just joking. “Well, it's kind of embarrassing to say, but I wasn't doing those things just to impress you like all the other girls. It made me…genuinely happy. I would look forward to it. You were the closest thing I had to a friend back then.”

Eleanor lazily disguised her smirk with a pout. “Hmm, Harriet, right?”

Cindy hated to correct her. “Cindy?”

“Were you the one with all that eczema on your face?”

“Um, no. That was Shelly.”

Eleanor smiled widely, showing the purity of her white teeth. “That's right. That poor bitch. Whatever happened to her anyway?”

“She…she died.”

Cindy remembered Shelly’s mother had found her swinging from the branch of a tree in her backyard. She had apparently taken the hint that she was too ugly to deserve to life. It was the talk of the school for an afternoon until Eleanor dumped her boyfriend to reclaim her rightful place as the hot topic of gossip.

“Oh well,” yawned Eleanor, stretching her arms, arching her back, and expanding her bosom. Cindy glanced nervously away from Eleanor's nipples pressing against her cashmere turtleneck. “It doesn't really matter.” She turned back to her iPad. “Hurry up with those bags, will you?”

“Oh right, sorry, Eleanor.”

The apology had slipped effortlessly from her tongue. Eleanor accepted it with both silence and grace.

*

Cindy meticulously checked every cupboard and pantry shelf to ensure she was not placing something incorrectly. Eleanor's housekeeper clearly had a system, and Cindy hated the thought of confusing it. What if Eleanor wanted something and the housekeeper couldn't find it? That wouldn't be fair to either of them.

“Hey you,” came the same voice Cindy had spoken to over the speaker before entering the estate. Cindy turned to find a curvaceous teen wearing a white, short-sleeved V-neck tucked into her designer jean shorts. Her blond hair was styled and glossed with product. She stood within the archway that led deeper into the manor with her hands on her hips. “I'm thirsty. Make me some lemonade.”

Cindy laughed nervously and looked to Eleanor for guidance.

“My youngest,” said Eleanor, with her attention still on her iPad. “Alison.”

“Oh, hi, Alison,” said Cindy, “it's so nice to meet you. I'm-“

Alison stomped her foot. “Now!”

Cindy shuddered at the sudden demand. She again looked to Eleanor in the hopes she might reprimand her daughter's insolence, but she appeared to have barely noticed.

“Um, okay, Alison,” said Cindy, “I can do that. Eleanor?” She hoped her question would awaken some parental admonishment.

“Green tea” ordered Eleanor, without looking up from her screen.

*

Cindy heated two saucepans of mineral water. She poured four cups of pure Sucralose into one, stirred, and then left it on the stainless-steel gas top to dissolve. She poured one tablespoon of green tea leaves into a strainer over a porcelain cup. She took the first saucepan of boiling water and poured it through the strainer until the bottom was fully immersed in hot water. She removed the strainer and allowed the tea to sit. She continued to stir the Sucralose in the water and then removed it from the hob to cool to room temperature. She poured refrigerated mineral water into a crystal tumbler and added organic lemon juice and sliced lemon.

She placed the teacup on a saucer and carried it over to Eleanor, placing it before her on the marble countertop.

Eleanor paid her no mind since Alison was showing her a video on her phone. Cindy could not make out the visual but she could hear the unmistakable sounds of crying and the mean-spirited taunts of feigned sympathy and giggles.

Alison was leaning over the countertop showing her cleavage through her too-tight V-neck. Cindy couldn’t help but stare at her intimidating bosom.

Alison’s cheeks dimpled adorably as she laughed, pointing her manicured fingernail at the screen. Eleanor slowly shook her head in amused disbelief at the scene. Cindy prickled with dread.

“It's good, right mom?” said Alison.

Eleanor chuckled, rubbing her hand down her daughter’s back. “So creative. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s already had twenty thousand views on TikTok. She’ll be TikTok famous in no time.”

Cindy cleared her throat. Neither of them turned to her. “Let me know if the tea is okay. I can make you another if it's too strong.”

Eleanor gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Where's my lemonade”' said Alison.

“Almost done. I just need to let it chill in the refrigerator.”

“Then go do it,” she said, grinning at her screen.

Cindy was startled into action. She hurried to mix the Sucralose with the lemon water and placed the tumbler in the refrigerator.

“It will take a few more minutes,” she said to the disinterested Alison.

“It had better be worth it,” was the response.

Eleanor looked up at Cindy, resting her elbow on the countertop and reaching for her tea. She pursed her sultry lips and slowly blew away the steam. The diamonds on her Rolex flashed as she took a sip before placing it delicately back upon the saucer.

“Since you've nothing else to do but wait,” she said, “you can go see if Jessica needs anything.”

“Absolutely,” said Cindy, relieved Eleanor had found the tea satisfactory. “Happy to.”

*

Cindy watched with awe and fascination as Jessica played. Cindy was not a tennis fan. She did not understand sports, but she had always admired the athleticism of others.

Jessica seamlessly blended grace with power as she dashed about the court, cleanly striking the balls the machine shot at her. Her designer sportswear was damp from sweat and her toned legs glistened. Her stamina showed no sign of stalling.

“Hi there,” said Cindy cheerily, approaching from behind. Jessica remained focused on her game. Cindy continued. “I'm a…friend of your mother.” She knew Eleanor had never claimed her as a ‘friend’ but it seemed less awkward to introduce herself like that as opposed to Eleanor’s…what? What exactly was she to Eleanor?

Dread prickled. What was she doing? She was too old to be running around at the snap of Eleanor's fingers. Back in high school, she possessed less self-esteem than a worm, but this wasn't high school. She was not that same scared, pathetic girl who felt the need to apologize when her shadow encroached upon Eleanor's space. She had a husband, a daughter, a mortgage, and a job. It might not have been much, certainly not as much as Eleanor, but it was still hers.

It had been a struggle for Cindy to overcome Eleanor after high school. She had spent her time sitting in her parent's living room, staring at their phone, leaping for it each time it rang in case it was Eleanor. She couldn't eat or sleep. She stopped bathing. All that mattered to her was the call from Eleanor that never came. She squirmed and tore at tissue paper, resisting the urge to call Eleanor herself. She had never been allowed to call Eleanor directly. There was no reason to. Eleanor told her what time she needed Cindy to do things and Cindy was expected to do them.

Cindy knew she needed to remain respectful of Eleanor's privacy. Eleanor was busy preparing for Yale. If Eleanor needed her, she would call. Although, Cindy had hoped Eleanor would call for help decorating her house for her leaving party, or to help serve drinks. Cindy understood. Eleanor had plenty of other dorks to summon. Cindy was unimportant.

She tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She had bought a Yale sweatshirt for Eleanor as a departing gift. She knew it was only an excuse to see her one last time. She would regret it if she didn’t at least try. Her entire senior year had been spent obsessing over everything Eleanor did, said, and demanded. The pull was too strong to ignore.

That morning, she cycled to Eleanor's house with her gift to find Eleanor already sitting in her Mercedes as her parents packed her car with suitcases. Eleanor blasted her horn and her parents picked up their pace. Cindy waved and approached her closed window.

“Hi, Eleanor,” she said, waving.

Eleanor did not see her. She was too busy investigating her eyebrows in the rearview mirror. Cindy cleared her throat and tapped lightly on the window. Eleanor turned to her sharply and Cindy backed away from the hate.

“S-sorry, Eleanor, I just wanted to wish you good luck before you left.”

Eleanor stared through her.

“I…um, got you something?” She held up her gift. Eleanor continued to stare. Cindy smiled nervously and unwrapped the paper herself and showed the Yale sweater.

Eleanor sighed and began to blast her horn again. Cindy looked over to Eleanor's parents who put the last of her cases on the backseat. Her mother moved next to Cindy and waved through the closed window, an anxious smile affixed to her adoring face.

“All done, Princess,” she said.

Eleanor turned the ignition and without a second glance, sped down the road, blaring Hip hop, and leaving both her parents and Cindy coughing from her exhaust.

It was the last time Cindy had seen her. She had put all her high school effort into helping Eleanor graduate with top honors and left nothing for herself. She could never have gone to college. She had no friends. She had never been kissed. She developed agoraphobia, an eating disorder, she contemplated suicide. It had been a struggle, but once she overcame her depression, she determined to never return to those dark days. She was happy now. Well...she was content. Wasn't she?

WHACK.

A tennis ball slammed into her eye. She clasped her cheek and collapsed onto her knees. It took a moment for her face to adjust to the pain. She blinked through dislodged water and saw Jessica pointing her racket down at her.

“Bitch! You distracted me!”

Cindy whimpered. She flinched as another ball flew over her head.

Jessica smashed her racket against the grass. “I was like four shots away from breaking my record.” There was a crack. She screamed in rage and thrust her now broken racket at Cindy's face. “Fuck! This is your fault. Look what you did.”

“J-Jessica, I think I need some help. M-my eye.”

“Don't you dare change the subject. What about my racket?”

The cannon exploded, firing another ball. Cindy instinctively recoiled. She clambered to her feet and moved away from the line of fire. Jessica hunted her, brandishing her broken racket like a sledgehammer. The greens of her eyes were raging like a forest fire.

Cindy cringed and held up her hands to protect herself from an attack. She backed away from the advancing Jessica, unaware she was so close to the edge of the pool. She whelped as her momentum took her over.

Her lungs filled with warm water. She splashed to try and keep herself afloat. She had never learned to swim. She knew on a psychological level that she needed to remain calm, but as the chlorine stung her injured eye, she found herself thrashing around like a drowning kitten. Jessica watched, chuckling to herself.

“Please,” said Cindy as she fought to keep her head above the surface. She coughed up water. Her erratic leg and arm swipes were of little value. “I can't swim.”

Jessica strolled to the emergency life preserver and lazily unhooked it, spinning it in Cindy’s general direction and bopping her on the head.

Cindy desperately lunged and collapsed over it, spluttering and panting for breath.

She saw Alison and Eleanor had vacated the manor to see the commotion. Alison's cheeks were dimpled as she giggled at the scene, videoing the whole thing on her phone.

Eleanor held her thumbs within her Gucci belt. Her breasts shook as she chuckled. “What in the world is going on here?”

Jessica showed her broken racket. “Look what she made me do, Mom. She owes me a new one.”

“Now, now, baby, she can hardly buy you a new racket if drowns in our pool, can she?”

Jessica scoffed. “She was just being dramatic. She wasn't actually drowning.”

Alison giggled. “I don't know,” she said, placing her phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts, “it seemed pretty real to me.”

“Whatever,” said Jessica. “I threw her the life preserver, didn't I? And I notice the ungrateful bitch hasn't thanked me for it yet.”

Cindy looked up at her through the stinging blur in her eyes. Was she serious?

“Language,” warned Eleanor. “I'm sure Cindy will be more than happy to make it up to you, baby.”

“She'd better.”

Cindy trembled despite the warmth of the water.

“Yes, well,” said Eleanor, pouting. “You girls head on inside. I'll deal with this.”

Alison sighed. “What about my lemonade?”

“It ought to have cooled by now, sweetie.”

“This isn't fair. Why should I have to get it just because some dumb bitch fell into our pool?”

“Alison,” warned Eleanor, “language.”

Alison rolled her eyes and stomped inside.

Jessica walked around the pool to join her mother.

Eleanor looked at her lovingly and rubbed her arm. “It's okay, baby,” she said and kissed her forehead.

Jessica glanced angrily at Cindy before following her sister inside the manor.

“You've caused quite the scene,” said Eleanor to Cindy once they were alone.

Cindy blushed. “I'm sorry, E-Eleanor,” she said without thinking as if Eleanor had pulled a string on her back.

“Maybe I'm not the one you ought to be apologizing to?”

Cindy hesitated. The ball striking her eye had been an accident. And honestly, her vision was starting to return. Perhaps she had been a little overdramatic? And it wasn't as if Jessica had pushed her into the pool. Cindy was the fool who fell in. In fact, Jessica had saved her life. There was no reason to be upset at Jessica. She hadn't done anything wrong at all. Cindy nodded.

“Okay,” said Eleanor, “you can stop floating around now and get out. You may stand on the patio until you've dried off. And I don't want to see any of that trash left behind.”

Cindy looked around and saw her phone and some paper bobbing across the water: her receipts. They would be unreadable now but that was okay. She doubted she could have found the courage to ask for reimbursement after this. All she wanted now was to go home.

*

Cindy walked through the kitchen on bare feet. She had left her socks and shoes drying in the sun. She would never risk leaving marks on the expensive marble. She tip-toed across the tiles and through the archway into a corridor. Modern artwork hung on Venetian-style walls. Golden side tables housed vases filled with vibrant flowers. She avoided standing on the plush rugs for fear of sullying them with her touch.

She heard chatting from a side room. She wavered, nervous to approach further without an invitation. Should she wait in the kitchen until summoned? She shook her head and laughed at herself. What was she doing? Yes, Eleanor's home was luxurious and intimidating. Yes, this corridor alone was probably more expensive than Cindy's whole house. Yes, Eleanor and her daughters' were beautiful women. Yes, her pussy tingled just thinking about them...she gulped. The urge to get home, crawl under her sheets, and masturbate just as she did when was eighteen was strong.

She poked her head through an open archway to find a stylish lounge. A large U-shaped sofa faced a seventy-five-inch plasma TV hanging from a wall above a fireplace. The room was illuminated by natural light. Outside the large windows, a sun deck was surrounded by a jungle of exotic flowers and plant life.

Eleanor lounged at one end of the couch, resting her perfect posture against a stack of cushions. One of her arms was sprawled over the headrest while she sipped her green tea.

Alison slouched in the middle of the couch. She had her feet crossed over a maple wood coffee table. She drank her lemonade slowly through a glass straw while thumbing over her phone screen.

Cindy felt relieved the two of them seemed satisfied with the beverages she had prepared.

Jessica sat at the far end of the couch. She had showered and changed into a matching Balenciaga sports bra and sweatpants. She turned from the TV to stare hatefully at Cindy's approach.

Cindy cleared her throat and shuffled before them, placing her hands behind her back. She felt herself shrink under their stares.

Eleanor placed her cup and saucer on the coffee table. “I believe you have something you'd like to say to my daughter?”

“Yes, um, I uh, wanted to apologize to you, Jessica. It wasn't right that I ruined your game like that.”

“And my racket?”

“Y-yes, I'm sorry I made you do that.”

“That was a handcrafted Bosworth Tour 96. Do you even know what that is?”

Cindy shook her head. “No, M-" she stopped herself before calling her 'Miss.' She corrected herself: “J-Jessica,” feeling as if she had somehow insulted her by using her name. “I'm really sorry.”

Eleanor ignored Cindy and spoke to her daughter. “It's okay, baby. Cindy will be more than happy to buy you a new one.”

Cindy shivered. She looked up at Eleanor as if to plead. She had just spent over $600 on groceries for her and without any receipts, she doubted she would ever be paid back. Eleanor glared, warning her to stay quiet.

Alison giggled. “Look at her, she looks like she's about to cry.”

She was right. Cindy felt as guilty as a schoolgirl in trouble with the Principal for the first time.

“This video is too funny,” added Alison. “I'm totally uploading this to TikTok by the way.”

Cindy felt her palms sweat. “Um, I'd…r-rather rather you didn't.”

Alison smiled at her phone, ignoring her request.

“Hey,” said Jessica. Cindy jumped and turned to her. “Your toenails are fucking gross.”

“Baby,” said Eleanor, “language.”

Jessica sighed. “Haven't you ever had a pedicure?”

Cindy shook her head with shame. She wasn't sure if the question was rhetorical but thought it was better to answer. Tears formed in her eyes. The emotion of almost drowning less than an hour earlier was threatening to spill.

Jessica pointed at her. “You’d better not be too poor to buy me that racket.”

“I-I'm not,” said Cindy wishing this could just be over. Why was she allowing them to talk to her like this? For all her attempts at adulting, she was still just the same dork from high school. It was as if with each passing second within Eleanor's presence she was reverting back to her teenage self. Worst of all was the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Hello humiliation, my old friend.

“Good,” said Eleanor, “then it's settled. You may take the broken racket so they know her specifications. I expect you to be here at ten tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Eleanor,” she said, grateful that her ordeal was almost over.

“And bring coffee.”

“And juice,” said Alison, still on her phone.

“Of course,” said Cindy, her knees buckling into a curtsey. “Thank you.”