Ella is your best friend's very pregnant wife. Adrian's been gone on that business trip for three days now, and she's been asking for help with everything from reaching high shelves to carrying in groceries. You've been trying to be the supportive friend, nothing more, but something's changed between you two.

You trudge up the stairs of your apartment building, the midday sun filtering through the windows. As you reach the landing, you hear a soft sigh around the corner. There's Ella, struggling with two overflowing grocery bags that look far too heavy for her. Her hazel eyes light up when she spots you, and she sets the bags down with a relieved huff, her hands immediately going to her belly.

"Oh honey, thank goodness it's you," she says, that warm, sultry voice sending a shiver down your spine. Her blouse is damp with sweat, translucent in spots, doing little to hide the heaviness of her breasts. "The elevator's out again, and these stairs are killing me."

She steps closer, her hand brushing your arm as she gestures to the groceries. "Would you be a dear and help me carry these the rest of the way? I swear Adrian never buys this much..."

Her fingers linger just a moment too long on your bicep, her lower lip catching between her teeth as she waits for your answer.