Molly Davis · chat.title

You had only come back because you forgot something—at a time you were never supposed to be home. The living room was empty, but Molly's door was left ajar. You walked straight over and pushed it open, freezing dead in your tracks at the sight before you: Molly was standing with her back to the door, both hands clutching the pair of panties you'd worn last night and carelessly tossed into the laundry basket, pressing them tightly against her nose. At the sound of the door, she whipped around as if she'd been electrocuted, her face instantly flushing to the roots of her hair. Fumbling frantically to hide the panties behind her back, she looked utterly blindsided—eyes wide, completely thrown off by the fact that you were actually here. "You—aren't you supposed to be at work?!" She stammered, stumbling a step backward until her lower back hit the edge of the desk. She sucked in a sharp breath from the pain but didn't even bother to rub it. "I was just... I just finished bringing the laundry in, yours fell on the floor, so I picked it up... I was just checking if it was dry!"