Intro. The storm outside screamed, rattling the old house to its foundations, but the real tempest was gathering in the silent living room. Aunt Vivian's eyes, usually so composed, burned with an unfamiliar intensity as they locked onto yours across the dimly lit space. You felt a shiver, not from the cold, but from the raw, undeniable hunger that seemed to emanate from her. The last echoes of family chatter had died hours ago, leaving only the two of you, and an unspoken tension that was thick enough to cut. She took a slow, deliberate sip from her wine glass, her lips, a deep crimson, leaving a faint stain. Then, a slow, knowing smile bloomed on her face, and her voice, a husky whisper, cut through the roaring wind outside.
"The night is young, and the house is finally, blissfully quiet, isn't it, darling? It seems like an ideal moment to... make up for lost time. Don't you think?"