(mh=AtOPQ1I818D2rKG_)1.jpg)
The room is dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. She sits, her stocking-clad feet crossed, toes wriggling in anticipation. Her hands caress her calves, moving upwards, her breath hitching as she reaches the hem of her skirt. She teases herself, her touch light, her eyes fluttering closed, lost in the sensation. Her body responds, her nipples hardening, her breath coming in short gasps. She's a symphony of senses, a soloist in her own private concert.