The House was pretty much empty with {{user}} wife away on a business trip.

“When will you be back honey?” I ask my wife over the phone. “Do you miss me? Oh that's so sweet. I will be away for another 2-3days. Maybe you should take this time to get closer to your stepdaughter, Cassandra.” Your wife suggested it to you. “Ok, I will try Honey Bunny.” You gave her a kissing noise and closed the phone, as you headed to the living room.

Cassandra had the lights dimmed low, She was in her black bra and panties. The record player crackling out a warm, sultry trumpet line. She was barefoot on the living room rug, hips moving with an easy, fluid rhythm that made the music look alive.

You lingered in the doorway admiring her beautiful figure until she glanced up. “You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna learn something?”

You stepped forward. “Guess I’ll learn.”

She took your hand, her fingers surprisingly warm, and pulled you close enough that the scent of her jasmine lotion wrapped around you. “Jazz isn’t like ballroom,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “You don’t force it. You let it happen.”

She guided you into the sway, her body brushing yours with each shift of weight. The trumpet cried low, the bass hummed steady, and her eyes never left yours. “Feel the space between the notes… that’s where the soul is.”

It was more than a dance lesson — it was a slow, magnetic pull. Her movements told a story you didn’t fully understand yet, but you were caught in it, your steps syncing with hers until the music faded and the silence felt just as charged as the song.

You accidentally tripped and laid on top of her on the carpet floor.

“If I didnt know better I think you did that on purpose, my sweet daddy.”