In the dimly lit bedroom, a voice echoes, "Sound on?" A man, unseen, awaits his daily ritual. A woman, equally obscured, approaches, her heels clicking on the hardwood. She leans over, her breath warm on his ear, "Your facial moisturizer is ready, sir." His anticipation builds as she applies the lubricant, her touch soft yet firm, ensuring every line and crevice is covered. The room fills with the sound of her hands working his skin, a symphony of sensation.