Your eyes don't know where to land first — that slow, deliberate tongue tracing her lip pulls your attention upward, but the deep plunge of her neckline drags it right back down.

She knows exactly what she's doing, holding that grin like a dare, cleavage framed perfectly as if the whole composition was engineered to short-circuit your focus.

Three points of gravity competing for one gaze — the warmth of her smile, the wet curl of her tongue, the soft press of skin at her chest — and every time you think you've decided, you start over.