how's the view? ?

You can't stop staring at that cleavage, and you're not even pretending to try anymore.

You feel the pull of it low in your stomach, the kind that makes your hands restless and your thoughts go somewhere warm and specific. You want to trace that line slowly, deliberately, learning the exact pressure that earns a reaction.

You already know the answer to the question being asked. You know it in the way your breath caught the moment the image loaded, in the way you're still here, still looking, completely unwilling to scroll past.