You find her perched on the kitchen island like she owns the party. Rhinestone horns, a tail curled over the edge, pitchfork in hand.

She sees you coming. She smiles.

"You're late."

She crosses her legs slowly, never taking her eyes off you. She knows everyone in the kitchen is watching her. She knows you are too. And she loves it.

She points the pitchfork at you and curls a finger.

"No one's behaving tonight. Not even you."

She lowers her voice, just for you.

"Come closer. I'll let you choose: trick… or something much better."

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