WIO/Vixxen/s/Neighbor

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As you think it over you hear the door next door slam, reminding you that you have other options. You dash down the stairs as fast as you can on your high heels, and push through the door, slamming your own door as you rush to catch your neighbour.

"Mister Spears!" you cry out as his shiny red Porsche out of his garage like the flag has been dropped at a race track. The wheels screech as he stops, and the tinted window rolls down. Mister Spears is in his sixties, and doesn't hide it as he stares at your young body.

No one would accuse your neighbor of being Brad Pitt, but he was probably decent looking when he was fifty, with a face that could belong to a prize-fighter to go with a body that's seen a lot of weight lifting along with a lot of pastries. He shouldn't be any harder to manipulate than any of the boys at school. His wife looks like an elephant, after all.

"Vixxen," he says, the words sounding somehow like they're coated in slime. "What can I do for you sweetie?"

"Uh, hi Mister Spears. I... I really need some help!" you blurt. Fuck, what happened to manipulating him like all the other boys?

"Do tell?" he says, and you find yourself telling him how it's the first day back to school, that your dad has taken your car keys and the bus has already left. You lie and tell him that all of your friends are already at school, but it's probably true. All in all you lay on the sob story thickly. "So, you need to get to school do you?"

"I'm desperate!" you say, widening your eyes. Guys like big eyes. Not as much as they like big boobs, but you've got those too. You lean down to look him in the eyes, and push your boobs together with your arms.

"And no one's home..." he says, making you suppress a shiver.


Status
Day 1 Inventory:

Phone, wallet.

Time 7:00
Money $35
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