Holly listlessly worked on her maths paper, periodically glancing up to check Katie was OK. The programme had finished and the 7-year-old was now lying on the floor, doodling with a crayon. Ugh, there was nothing for it, Holly thought, she couldn't get through the evening like this. She pulled out her mobile.
In the living room, Katie looked up at the sound of Holly's voice.
"Hey hun," Holly said, "I'm at Mrs Robertson's - yeah, with the brat. It's sooo boring. Can you come over? I'll make it worth your while..." The 26-year-old brunette twirled her medium-length hair around one finger and smiled. "You too. Love you too. See you soon." She hung up.
Holly came into the living room. "So Katie," she said, "I've invited Chris to come around to keep me company. He's really nice, you'll like him, but you need to promise me you won't tell your mom, 'kay?"
Katie frowned. She knew you should never open the door to strangers, and that having unfamiliar men in your house was supposed to be bad. On the other hand, her mom brought home strange men all the time, then told her not to tell Grandma. Maybe that was just how adults were.
"'Kay," she said, turning her attention back to the doodle she was working on. In her mind, it depicted herself as the near-grownup she had been earlier that day - the equivalent in new terms of a ten-year-old, and, for a little while at least, a twelve-year-old. Her memories were hazy on what, exactly, had happened; only that Mom had said something and made her older, then said something else and made her younger, then done something else that made her feel much younger, though she didn't quite understand how.
Holly plumped herself down on the sofa. "You mind if I watch something until Chris gets here? I can't face doing any more school work." She made a face, and Katie giggled.
When the TV came back on it was showing a pop music show. The male presenters were in their early twenties - clean-cut, boy-band types. Their female co-hosts were a decade older, but dressed in young teenybopper outfits, their ripe curves spilling out of undersized crop tops and miniskirts. Holly squirmed in her seat; she had opted for some subtle makeup in case she ended up calling her boyfriend over, but her dress was way too conservative. There was nothing she could do about the jeans, but the shirt... She went into the kitchen and retrieved a pair of scissors. Standing in front of the mirror she hooked the scissors under the neck of the t-shirt and cut, creating a décolletage. She looked at herself, squeezing her B-cup breasts up and together to try to create cleavage. She wasn't nearly as well-endowed as Mrs Robertson, she reflected. Maybe once she had a kid her bust would grow a bit more.
The doorbell rang, and Holly nearly tripped over Katie getting to the door. She opened it and was immediately presented with a bunch of blue flowers that looked suspiciously like they had been swiped from the Robertson's front garden.
"Oh Chris, you shouldn't have," she said, in both senses of the phrase, but she couldn't say mad at her boyfriend's cheeky grin for long. Chris was a slim 18-year-old boy with blond hair and big blue eyes, shoulders just beginning to broaden out. To Holly he seemed imposingly adult - all her friends were dating 16 and 17-year-olds, so when she snagged Chris at a mixer last year it had been a major coup. The flipside was she was always a bit nervous that he might leave her for a more mature woman; now more so than ever with his graduation coming up this summer.
"Penny for your thoughts," he said, noticing her reverie. She snapped out of it and smiled broadly.
"Come in, sexy," she said, taking the flowers off him and putting them in the sink. She grabbed his hand and kissed his smooth cheek, delighting in the blush that spread over his features. She dragged him through into the living room.
"Katie, this is Chris, OK? Say hi." said Holly. Katie waved at Chris.
Chris wrapped his slender arm around Holly's womanly hips, cupping her full buttocks, and leaned in for a kiss. Holly barely had the presence of mind to push back and whisper "Not here; let's go upstairs."
Chris beamed back wolfishly, drinking her in with his eyes. "Sure."