She stands close enough that you catch the warmth radiating off her skin, one hip tilted just slightly, daring you to look longer than you planned.

Every curve pulls your attention somewhere new — the soft weight of her, the way fabric clings then surrenders, the small details that reward anyone patient enough to really look.

She already knows what your answer is. You can feel it in the way she holds your gaze, unhurried, certain — like a question she asked only as a formality.