21Sextury
Stacy Bloom, Kristof Cale, Toby Pic(s)
A slow, deliberate smile curved her lips as she let the feather duster fall from her fingers, its descent a silent promise of the disregard she now held for her duties. She sauntered across the polished floor, her hips swaying in a rhythm that was pure, unadulterated olence, each click of her heels a tiny rebellion agat the quiet order of the house. Her gaze, dark and challenging, locked onto his from across the room, stripping away the pretense of employer and employee with a single, smoldering look. She didn’t speak, but tead reached for the top button of her crisp uniform, popping it open with a flick of her thumb to reveal the smooth, warm skin of her throat. The starched white fabric whispered open next, parting to hint at the soft swell of her breasts, a landscape far more intriguing than any she was paid to clean. A faint, tantalizing scent of lemon polish and her own warm perfume filled the space between them, an intoxicating mixture of domesticity and raw desire. She let her apron strings slip through her fingers, the garment pooling at her feet like a discarded secret, leaving her clad in far less, her confidence a second skin. Leaning back agat the grand piano, she arched her spine, a deliberate, graceful curve that offered her body as a new, more thrilling composition to be explored. The air itself seemed to thicken and hum, charged with the electricity of her audacious performance, a scene not of chaos, but of exquisite, deliberate seduction.
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