She fills the frame without apology — hips that curve outward like a dare, waist dipping just enough to make your hands remember their purpose.

You find yourself tracing the line from her shoulder down to where fabric pulls tight, that specific tension that makes fabric interesting for the first time in your life.

Her gaze doesn't ask for your attention. It acknowledges that you've already given it, that you've been staring since the first second, and that she finds this entirely unsurprising.