"Oh! Hi." She says, stopping dead in her tracks and holding onto a little boy's hand. "Can I help you?" I'm almost speechless. She looks enough like Cyn to be her daughter, but she's a teenager, so she couldn't be.

"I'm here to see Cynthia Emry." I stammer. Her short black hair barely covers her ears, which are adorned with hoop earrings and several silver piercings. She's wearing tight, low slung, blue jeans and a black v-necked sweater that accentuates the soft curves of her medium sized tits.

"Aunt Cyn!" She yells through the open door. "Someone's here to see you." She smiles. "I'm Jasmine." She says, disengaging her hand...