"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 t**s.
"Aunt Cyn!" She yells through the open door. "Someone's here to see you." She smiles. "I'm Jasmine." She says, disengaging her hand from the little boy and extending it to me.
"Mike Judd." I say, shaking her hand and enjoying the feeling of her soft flesh.
"Come on, Jas." The little boy says. "
