The room echoes with the melodic strains of a string quartet as a redheaded vixen, her skin like porcelain, prepares for her bath. She strips, her body a symphony of curves, each movement a note in the music. She steps into the tub, her crimson locks tumbling over the edge, her eyes closed as she inhales the steam. The water laps at her skin, tracing the lines of her body, as she begins to wash. Her hands glide over her breasts, down her stomach, her touch reverent. She leans back, her body relaxed, her skin flushed, lost in the music and the sensation of the water against her skin.