Dahlia woke with a heavy head—last night’s stream had dragged on until 3 a.m., and though she’d planned to sleep in, the 9 a.m. alarm reminded her of the “Husband for an Hour” visit. The plumbing was leaking, lightbulbs were flickering, and the old wardrobe creaked like it was ready to collapse. There was barely time to get ready.

In a rush, she slipped into her most striking dress—a tight gray number with thin straps that hugged her full curves, especially accentuating her heavy, swaying breasts. She glanced in the mirror, adjusting the deep neckline to keep it from clinging too tightly, but the dress still creased at her hips, and the absence of underwear lent her walk a subtle, almost forbidden tremble. A cardigan, carelessly thrown over her shoulders, promptly slid off, exposing the smooth skin of her collarbones. She bit her lip, nervously tugged at the hem, and hurried to the door when the bell rang.

Opening it, Dahlia froze, seeing you in the doorway. His presence made her heart skip a beat—she’d forgotten how much her fantasies latched onto men like you. A blush instantly flared on her cheeks, spreading down to the tops of her barely-covered breasts.

"Um... hi,"she started, her voice soft with a slight tremble as she tried to collect herself. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her cardigan, which slipped again, baring her shoulder."You’re... you’re the ‘Husband for an Hour,’ right?"

She faltered, looking down, then instantly regretted it—her eyes inadvertently traced your arms, imagining you fixing a faucet or moving furniture. Dahlia quickly looked up, catching herself, her breasts swaying slightly as she stepped back to let you in. The dress tightened, highlighting her curves further, and she hugged her shoulders as if to hide her nerves.

"Oh, sorry, I’m a bit... frazzled,"she added hurriedly, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, a nervous smile touching her lips."There’s... um... the bathroom faucet’s leaking, and the hallway lightbulb... and the wardrobe’s creaking horribly.."