Elena Vance stepped into apartment 4B like she was entering a crime scene.

Her eyes swept left. The dishes piled in the sink. Her jaw tightened.

Her eyes swept right. The laundry on the couch. Her nostrils flared.

She didn’t say a word. That was worse than if she’d screamed at him.

Lucas stood by the door, hands clammy, watching the Ice Queen judge every inch of his pathetic bachelor existence. The unframed posters. The empty ramen cups on the desk. The laptop still open from last night’s... activities.

He quickly moved to shut it. Too late. Her gaze had already passed over it.

"The kitchen," she said. Not a request.

"Right. Yeah. This way."

He led her through the small apartment. The floorboards creaked under her modest heels. She moved carefully, like she was afraid something would stain her navy blouse if she brushed against it. That blouse. high-necked, buttoned to the top hid everything. But the pencil skirt below it?

That was a different story.

It hugged her hips. Clung to her wide, mature ass like it was painted on. Each step she took made the fabric shift, revealing the shape underneath. Thick. Plump. The kind of ass a nineteen-year-old virgin dreams about while jerking off at 2 AM.

His cock twitched. Bad timing.

"This is the sink," he said, turning the faucet. Water came out normal. No leak. No drip. Nothing.

He twisted the handle left, then right. Fiddled with it like he was confused. "It was... dripping? Earlier? I swear."

Elena crouched down to look under the sink.

And Lucas’s brain short-circuited.

Her ass was right there. The skirt stretched tight across those wide hips. He could see the shape of her thighs through the fabric. The way her calves flexed as she balanced in those heels. A hint of skin above her ankle pale, smooth, mature.

’Dear god. I want to bury my face in that ass. I want to grab those hips and pull her against me and—’

She straightened up. Turned to face him. Crossed her arms beneath her chest.

The motion pushed her boobs up. Holy shit. They were huge. He’d never noticed before because she dressed like a puritan, but those were some serious MILF tits straining against that blouse. 36DD at least, his porn-addled brain estimated. The outline of a restrictive bra was visible through the fabric, holding them captive.

"Mr. Wright." Her voice cut through his perverted thoughts like a knife. "There is no leak."

"I... maybe it fixed itself? Sometimes pipes do that, right?"

She stared at him. Those steel-gray eyes searched his face. For what? The lie? The desperate virgin who’d made up an excuse to get her into his apartment?

Her expression said she already knew.

The Quest Timer blinked in his vision: `18:42:33 remaining`

```

[OPPORTUNITY DETECTED]

[Target is suspicious but not hostile]

[Recommended action: "ACCIDENTAL CONTACT"]

[Difficulty: Easy]

[Success chance: 67%]

```

Elena moved toward the door. Done with him. Done with this nonsense.

Lucas panicked.

He stepped forward. "Mrs. Vance, wait, I..."

His foot caught on his discarded shoes. He stumbled. Arms windmilling. Gravity pulling him forward...

His hands landed on her shoulders.

Skin contact? No. Her blouse covered everything. Didn’t count.

But then she grabbed his forearms to steady him. Her palms pressed against his bare skin where he’d rolled up his sleeves earlier.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Her hands were warm. Soft. Mature. The hands of a woman who hadn’t touched a man in three years and didn’t know she was starving for it.

Four seconds.

’Her hands are so soft. I wonder what they’d feel like on my cock. Wrapped around my shaft. Stroking me while she looks up with those cold gray eyes...’

She shoved him off. "Watch where you’re going, Mr. Wright."

"I’m so sorry... I tripped, I didn’t mean to..."

"Clearly." She was already at the door. Hand on the knob. Refusing to look at him. Her cheeks were slightly pink. "If your sink ’leaks’ again, call a professional. Don’t waste my time with... whatever this was."

The door slammed behind her.

Lucas stood alone in his apartment. Heart pounding. Her touch still burning on his forearms like a brand.

Then the notifications came.

```

[QUEST COMPLETE: FIRST BLOOD]

[PHYSICAL CONTACT ACHIEVED]

[Contact Duration: 4.2 seconds]

[Contact Type: Hand-to-Forearm (Intimate)]

[REWARDS DISTRIBUTED:]

[→ +5 Vitality (20/100)]

[→ +5 Stamina (25/100)]

[→ +5 Charisma (15/100)]

[→ +5 Virility (10/100)]

[→ +5 Seduction (13/100)]

[→ +50 TP earned]

[→ ABILITY UNLOCKED: [Charm Aura Lv.1]

[→ RANK UP: Novice Tamer → ]

RECOGNIZER]

[CONGRATULATIONS, MASTER]

```

His stats screen updated:

```

[MASTER: Lucas Wright]

[RANK: Recognizer (Rank 2)]

[VITALITY: 20/100]

[STAMINA: 25/100]

[CHARISMA: 15/100]

[VIRILITY: 10/100]

[SEDUCTION: 13/100]

[TP: 50]

[MILFS TAMED: 0]

[ENERGY: 100/100]

```

Still pathetic. But better than before. And he had 50 TP and a new ability.

But right now, he had a different problem. His cock was straining against his jeans, throbbing with need. Elena’s touch... brief as it was... had ignited something primal.

He stumbled to his bed. Yanked down his pants. Wrapped his hand around his shaft.

’Her hands. Her soft, warm hands on my arms. The way her cheeks flushed. The shape of that ass when she crouched. Those massive tits pushed up when she crossed her arms...’

He stroked himself, fast and desperate. He imagined bending Elena over his kitchen counter. Flipping up that pencil skirt. Pulling down those practical white panties she probably wore. Ramming his cock into her pussy from behind while she moaned his name...

"Fuck..." he gasped.

His orgasm hit hard. Thick ropes of cum spurted onto his stomach, more than usual. The Virility stat at work? He lay there, breathing hard, cum cooling on his skin.

```

[DAILY CHALLENGE AVAILABLE]

["Make Eye Contact With Target (3 seconds+)"]

[Reward: 10 TP]

[Status: NOT STARTED]

```

He wiped himself off. Stared at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. He’d see her again tomorrow. And this time, he’d be ready.

But first... he needed to figure out what the hell to do with 50 TP.