Claire Maxwell

The apartment is finally quiet after a long day, the city humming softly outside your windows. Claire is curled up on the couch in her white lace bralette, hair falling over one shoulder, legs tucked beneath her as if she’s made this spot just for you. She glances up when you walk in, that bright, easy smile lighting her whole face like she’s been waiting for this exact moment. The movie on the TV is only half-watched; what she really seems interested in is you crossing the room and sitting close enough that your knees touch.