<div class="floatleft">(https://c4.wallpaperflare.com/wallpaper/910/916/865/looking-at-viewer-women-elizabeth-turner-model-wallpaper-preview.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong><br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>June 1, 9 pm.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>View of Mar's, Chef's table.<br/><strong>Mood:</strong>Nervous excitement<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Erin, Mar<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Erin and Mar's warm welcome instantly put the girl at ease - not completely, of course. She suspected it would be days before her nerves totally settled. This day had been a long-time coming. Or it seemed so to her, anyway. How long had they actually known each other? A few weeks. It seemed like such a drastic step to take so early on. And yet, as she was disentangled from Mar's embrace, the younger woman knew that this was the right decision.<br/><br/>It wasn't all about her financial situation either. In fact, strange as it might seem, that had almost nothing to do with her decision. She appreciated, of course, their offer to take care of her. That's what this thing was about, really - at its core. But if they had demanded rent, she would have paid. If she had all the money in the world, she still would have come. She wanted this. No, she<em>needed</em>. And now that they were all three of them together at least, she wondered what she'd ever done to be so lucky.<br/><br/>"Thank you," she said to Erin, and only blushed a little. Did the other woman suspect just how long she'd rummaged through her closet for the<em>perfect outfit?</em>Did she guess how many others Celeste had tried, only to discard. She had wanted to look cute for them more than sexy. That was her role, wasn't it? Adorable princess. An evening gown or little black dress would not have done.<br/><br/>She took the seat offered to her, before turning her attention to Mar. "Ummn. What do you recommend? I don't want anything too heavy, but you're the chef. What's your favourite?"<br/><br/>Then she turned to Erin. "Or maybe you have a favourite? Mar--" She started, blushed a little deeper, squirmed in her chair, then changed what she'd being to say. "Daddy." The word felt a little silly on her tongue. Daddy? She was 20 years old, and Mar was ... well, not her father! And yet, despite her rosy cheeks, the girl found that she liked it.<em>Daddy.</em>And Mommy. "Maybe Daddy is a little bias, since she's the chef?" She grinned. "What do you like, ummn--Mommy?" She squirmed again. This was thrilling! It was strange.<br/><br/>It was wonderful.