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Several weeks had passed since the intense night with Lana and Hudson. The memories, once overwhelming, had begun to settle into a new landscape of my mind, a blend of exhilarating pleasure and surprising self-discovery. My parents, as always, were at work, completely oblivious to the simmering undercurrents of my life. My own focus, however, was fixed on the familiar path to Hudson's house, a path that now felt charged with a different kind of anticipation.

Preparing for my usual Tuesday with Hudson, I found myself making subtle adjustments to my attire. My usual conservative dresses felt almost like a costume after the past few weeks, a disguise for the woman I was becoming. I still needed to be careful, of course, to avoid anything that might raise my parents' pious eyebrows. But a new confidence, a different kind of sensuality, bloomed within me, subtly influencing my choices.

I selected a soft, button-down white knit top, its fabric subtly tailored to follow the curve of my bust without being overtly revealing. The neckline was a modest V-neck, not plunging, but just enough to hint at the fullness beneath, a stark contrast to the high-necked blouses I typically wore. Paired with it, I chose a knee-length denim skirt. It wasn't tight or provocative, but its fit was more flattering than my usual pleated styles, subtly accentuating the curve of my hips and the length of my legs without drawing undue attention. It was a simple, classic style, yet on me, it felt different. I left my honey-blonde hair down, letting my waves frame my face, and opted for minimal makeup. It was a look that felt more authentically me now - still a "good girl" on the surface, but with a quiet, knowing confidence that was entirely new.

My heart beat a familiar rhythm as I walked across the lawn to Hudson's house. It was a mix of nerves and illicit excitement, a pulse that had become almost a soundtrack to my secret life. The midday sun was warm on my skin. I rang the doorbell, and to my surprise, it was Amy who answered. She'd never been home on a Tuesday in the past.

"Beatrice," she said, with a honeyed tone. Her gaze swept over my outfit. She didn't comment, but it was obvious she'd noticed the change in style.. She stepped aside, inviting me in. I walked into the cool, quiet interior of the house.

The living room was just as I remembered it from last time - the plush sofa, the armchair, the familiar scents. It was the same room where Hudson had first asked me to undress for him months before, where he had praised my body with such raw, explicit words. Standing there with his wife, a shiver of remembrance went through me. I glanced at the bedroom door down the hall. The master bedroom. The memory of being fucked there, in the bed that Amy and Hudson shared, was still a potent, unsettling blend of humiliation and pride.

"Hudson had to go into the office today, but I happened to have the day off. Come sit down," she said, gesturing to the sofa. I walked over, surprised that Hudson hadn't warned me, and settled onto the cushions. She sat in the armchair opposite me, offering a wan smile. The silence stretched between us.

"So," she began, her voice cool and calm, "what brings you by on a weekday, Beatrice? Did you come for more fitness tips? Shouldn't you be in class right now?"

Months ago, I would have been consumed by insecurity and suspicion in the face of such a direct question, my mind racing for a believable excuse. But my confidence had grown since then, hardened by living a lie, of hiding my true nature from everyone except Hudson. I calmly observed Amy, admiring her beauty and style once again. She had dark, straight hair, the rich brown falling past her shoulders, and warm olive-toned skin. Her dark brown eyes held a sharp intelligence. She was wearing a perfectly fitted, dark red blouse, its fabric clinging neatly to her ample bust, and a tailored brown skirt that ended just above her knees, paired with dark tights and heeled ankle boots. Her figure was undeniably similar to mine - a full, hourglass shape, with a pronounced bust and curvy hips.

But where I used to feel inferior and even jealous of her effortless grace, inside I now felt a strange sense of pride that almost made me

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