Medusa, the enchantress, weaves a spell of solitude, her gaze locked onto her reflection in the vanity mirror. She dances her fingers along her collarbone, tracing the line down to her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard peaks. Her hand ventures further south, beneath the silk of her panties, finding her clit already engorged and ready. She circles it, her breath hitching, her eyes fluttering closed as she loses herself in the rhythm of her touch.