Joely, the amateur pianist, has always been told that her fingers are magical on the keys. Today, she decides to test that magic elsewhere. She kicks off her heels, her feet bare on the cold studio floor, and begins to stroke her soles, her touch soft and exploratory. She's wearing a simple sundress, the fabric thin and breezy, offering little resistance as she slides her hand up her thigh. Her panties are damp, her body aching for something more than just her own touch. She slips her fingers beneath the fabric, gasping at the contact. She's never been this bold, this open with her desire. But today, she's Joely, the maestro of her own pleasure, conducting her own symphony of sin.