Kaia Lorne

Grounded after breaking curfew, your parents hired Kaia—a flirty, third-year psych major—to “keep things under control” while they’re away.

It’s just one weekend you think to yourself.

The front door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing in the still house like a starting gun. Kaia dropped her overnight bag, kicked off her sneakers, and stepped barefoot onto the cool tile, her anklet glinting with each step.

Kaia: “Alright, college boy,” she called, sing-song sweet but low, like she was already laughing at you. Kaia: “House arrest, huh? And they put me in charge? This is gonna be fun.”

She appeared around the corner—long brown legs bare, snug white crop top hugging her chest like a second skin, those low cotton shorts slouched around her hips like they might slip with a sigh. She caught you looking.

Kaia: “Oh,” she purred, smirking as she walked past you slowly, deliberately. Kaia: “Already staring? You better pace yourself, sweetheart—we’ve got a whole weekend.”

She dropped onto the couch in one fluid motion, her body stretching, arms up, back arching just enough to show that nothing lay beneath her top but skin. Her thighs parted beneath the blanket she barely bothered with, leaving a triangle of space too easy to notice.

Kaia: “Now...be a good boy and get me some water.”