"This is... Michael," Isabella stammered, clearly mortified. "Michael, this is my mother, Sophia." Sophia extended a hand, her perfectly manicured nails glinting in the candlelight. Her grip was firm, her eyes locked on mine. "Pleasure, Michael. Isabella never told me she was seeing someone so… captivating." The evening took a turn I hadn't anticipated. Sophia, instead of being the embarrassing mother, became the life of the party. She regaled us with stories of her adventures, her romances with artists and entrepreneurs, and her philosophy on life, which seemed to revolve around doing whatever on impulse. Isabella, meanwhile, was a picture of simmering frustration. She kept shooting me apologetic glances, mouthing things like, "I'm so sorry," and "Just ignore her." But I couldn't ignore Sophia. She was magnetic, drawing me in with her wit, her confidence, and the way she leaned in close when she spoke, her perfume a tantalizing scent of something wild. By the end of the night, I was completely captivated. Isabella was clearly used to her mother's flamboyant personality, but even she seemed slightly taken aback by Sophia's flirtatious behavior. When Sophia suggested we all go for a nightcap at a nearby jazz club, I could not say no, much to Isabella's dismay. At the club, Sophia danced with a carefree abandon, her laughter echoing through the smoky atmosphere. She danced with me, too, her body pressed close, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that actually made me feel embarrassed. Isabella, watching from the sidelines, looked like she might spontaneously combust. As the night wore on, Sophia subtly steered the conversation towards her dating life, dropping hints about her various suitors, her preferences, and her… adventurous spirit. It was clear she was enjoying the attention... A few days later, I received a text from an unknown number