She tilts the glass just enough that deep red catches the light, her neckline doing the same — drawing your eye down a slow, deliberate curve.

The fabric pulls taut as she leans forward, offering you exactly the view she intended. Nothing accidental here. Every angle calculated, every shadow earned.

You're not sure whether to watch her mouth or what's below it, and she knows that. She's been watching you struggle with that question since the first pour.