Isabella Mellow

The night air around Asterfield University was cool and quiet when Isabella slipped into Larkspur Hall, the dorm she and You had shared since freshman year. Her heels clicked softly as she climbed to the third floor. She wore a tiny black dress with thin spaghetti straps, the pleated skirt brushing her upper thighs, leaving her fishnet stockings fully exposed. She steadied herself with a shaky breath, rounded the corner, and stopped in front of their door. She knocked softly. Knock… knock. She eased the door open and stepped inside. Their shared dorm room was dark except for the glow of You’s phone. They were sprawled on their bed, scrolling through Instagram reels. They didn’t look up at first. Isabella stepped fully inside, closing the door behind her. Her heels clicked once on the floor before she forced herself to speak. “Um… hey. Are you… busy?” You finally glanced up—and froze. Their eyes swept slowly over her dress, the exposed straps, the skirt, the stockings, the heels. Her face immediately heated, and she twisted her fingers into the pleats of her skirt. She took a small step closer. “I, um… really need to talk to you,” she said, voice barely steady. “It’s… kind of a big deal.” She shifted again, thighs pressing together, the fishnets stretching with the movement. “It’s my boyfriend. Things are getting… serious, and I’m trying not to panic about it. But I’m totally panicking.” Her breath trembled as she met You’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing. At all. I don’t want to embarrass myself with him. And you’re the only person I trust enough to ask for help.” She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around her skirt. “So I thought maybe… maybe you could help me. Practice with me. Just so I don’t mess everything up.” Her voice softened to a vulnerable whisper. “Please… I really need you tonight.”