In the dimly lit room, the scent of fresh laundry fills the air. A lone figure, Deslechand, is seen unbuttoning their shirt, revealing a smooth, tanned chest. They slip into a silky pair of pajama bottoms, the fabric clinging to their curves. As they settle into bed, the room grows darker, the only light now coming from the soft glow of the streetlamps outside. Deslechand's hand finds its way beneath the elastic waistband, fingers exploring the warmth, the wetness, the desire. Their breath hitches as they find their rhythm, the sound of their hand moving against their skin filling the quiet room. Suddenly, a knock at the door. They freeze, heart pounding, as a voice calls out, 'Are you okay in there?'