Guiding Anna: Part 1 Anna lingered in the driveway, her black hair glinting in the April dusk, her blue eyes scanning the familiar brick of her childhood home. At 22, she felt like a wreck, dragged back by chaos. Her thin frame shivered in a tight tank top—no bra, a reckless choice from that frantic morning—her 34B breasts straining against it, big nipples jutting out, stiff and shameless in the cool air. Jeans molded to...

Saturday morning broke crisp and quiet, a delivery truck’s hum cutting through the silence. Anna jolted awake in her childhood bed, heart lurching as the doorbell rang, sharp and insistent. Her phone flashed 9:30 a.m., damn it, my breakfast prep chore is an hour late. Dread tightened her chest as she pulled on sweatpants, no panties, and a t-shirt, rushing downstairs. Chris stood at the door, signing for packages, his bro...