2T4U/Jack/Off to school
"I'm just gonna head off. Thanks for the fun and see you in third period." You wave as you head toward the patio door. Leah is wobbling unsteadily on her feet as she tries to buckle her shoes as you turn to leave.
"See you soon babe!" Brittany chimes enthusiastically after you.
The sun scorches the back of your head as you walk, but you can't help but feel that its bright light adds to the neighborhood's beauty. The summer is finally here to stay now, and it becomes obvious as you move past the green gardens that surround the street's many villas. From behind high-walled hedges you hear the melodic song of pigeons chirping in bird bath fountains, and the morning breeze has a scent of freshly mowed grass as it blows against your face. This community has always been a posh, snobbish place, but mornings like this actually gives it some genuine warmth.
But just as you start to enjoy the surroundings for a change, you're suddenly met with the obnoxious greeting:
"Jackie! Jackie, over here!"
A shiver runs down your spine at the sound of a familiar nasal voice, and you turn around to see Fiona, one of your mother's friends. A tall, 40-something woman with short blonde hair and steel blue eyes; and by far the least favorite of your neighbors. She's the embodiment of arrogance, being so self-absorbed in her manner that one would think she shouldn't even want other people to talk to. She does though, and makes sure to call you by the condescending nickname "Jackie" whenever she can. Wearing a grey summer dress and with the leash of her enormous poodle Michelle firmly grasped, she walks up to you with a big, fake smile.
"Jackie, darling! I haven't seen you in ages! Just the other day I was telling your mother how we barely ever get to talk with eachother anymore. You haven't been avoiding me, have you?".
You inform her that you're on your way to school, to which she unfortunately replies:
"Great! I'll go with you. Michelle and I were on our daily powerwalk anyways.".
What then follows is fifteen minutes of agonizing torture for your ears. Fiona babbles relentlessly about her encounters with impolite store clerks, unreasonable housekeepers and some plumber who was supposed to have fixed her kitchen sink weeks ago. She doesn't allow you to chip in at any point during the conversation; except when she demands you to agree with her statements. You zone out after a while, and instead focus on her appearance.
Fiona might be a superficial old snob, but damnit if she isn't one of the classiest-looking women you know. The way she walks, talks and moves her hands gives her an almost powerful aura: as if she owns the situation entirely, without a single noticable flaw. The minimalistic yet extravagant jewelry, eyeliner-prominent makeup and faint smell of lavender helps contribute to a facade of perfection, despite her age, and the thought of what she might be like in bed makes you strangely aroused for some reason.
What do you do?