Dangerous Seduction

Chapter One

Casey sat in the waiting room of the doctor that would tell her what was wrong with her. Physically, she was in perfect condition. She wore her long, soft black hair straight, with her part to the right; her hair hung down past her breasts. She wore a short, sleeveless white dress, which rested just above mid-thigh. Her black stilettos made her already long legs look longer, and rose her about five inches taller than her 5'5". The dress hugged her every curve, and curves she did have. She had a body that could easily be on the cover of magazines, and a face that could make old housewives cry. Her green eyes were bright, her lips soft and pouty; there was nothing this face couldn't get her.

Casey sat in this waiting room, with her legs crossed, nearly exposing her pantie-less crotch. She knew any moment an old hag was going to come out, call her in, and her diagnosis would be that Casey is a slut. Plain and simple.

She looked at the card her mother had given her with the appointment date, and the doctor she would be seeing. Dr. Tilano, with a string of letters indicating she had a lot of schooling, just to sit in a chair and judge people.

Casey thought back to the day that her mother had told her she made this appointment for her.

"Casey, don't over-react, but I made you an appointment." Her mother, Mary Anderson, was looking old in her years, although she was only fifty-two. Her hair was short, curly, and mostly gray. Her eyes a dull copy of Casey's green eyes. She extended her arm, handing Casey a white card with simple black print on it. Casey took it, with an impatient look on her face.

"What is this?" Casey spat at her mother. "Do you really think I'm going to some shrink?" she looked at her mother with disgust on her face, half hoping her mother would say "Just kidding!" but her mom never joked.

"A waste'a money ya ask me," said her father from the couch. Casey almost forgot he was there. She often tried to. Her father was a mean, selfish man. In his prime, he was a good looking man. But at fifty-five years old, he lies on the couch, four times the size of normal. Casey didn't know what happened to make her father hate life, but something in him snapped when she was about fourteen years old, and he just stopped living life.

Her father, Thomas Anderson, was about four-hundred pounds, had short brown hair that he kept cut because he didn't like it to stick to his face, a scruffy face he only shaved when the mood struck him, which wasn't often. His eyes were a dark, cold brown, close to black, and he had several missing teeth. All in all, he was not an attractive man, inside or out.

Mary continued talking as though her husband never had.

"The appointment is for next Friday. You can choose not to go, but know, there will be consequences." Casey looked at her mom in disbelief. "If you don't go, you have to move out of the guest house."

Casey's parent's house was an old Victorian house; five bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms. It was beautiful. There was also a guest house a quarter of a mile in the back. This is where Casey lived. Two story, two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms. Casey loved it, plus she lived there for free.

"You wouldn't do that," even as Casey said it, she knew it wasn't her mother's idea.

"It's time for ya to grow up Casey, make yer own money. Stop screwing your bosses and getting fired." Casey looked at her father, rage pulsing through every inch of her body.

"Make my own money!? Just like you, getting fatter and fatter, no job, being supported by moms inheritance!?" Thomas started to get up, but kept falling back into the couch. "Don't bother dad, by the time you get up, I'll be across town." Casey stormed out of the house, got into her Honda Accord, and sped out of the driveway; the appointment card still crumpled in her hand.