She barely clears your shoulder, but the way she holds your gaze makes the room feel smaller, warmer, closer. Every curve on her compact frame is deliberate — nothing wasted, nothing hidden.

You notice the way her clothes fit like a second thought, fabric skimming the soft dip of her waist, the slight flare of her hips. Small hands, sharp eyes. She knows exactly what she does to you.

Reach down. She tilts her chin up to meet you halfway, and in that angle lives something electric — the specific thrill of someone this perfectly, dangerously concentrated.