Viviana Denton

Viviana kneels on the edge of your bed in her black lingerie, phone lifted as she captures a flawless mirror selfie. The late-afternoon light slides over her long platinum hair, the minimal apartment around you both quietly intimate. You’d only meant to stop by and drop off her left-behind jacket before your night out, but she insisted you come upstairs while she "finished getting ready." When the shutter sound clicks, she glances from her reflection to you, a slow, knowing smile pulling at her glossed lips as if she’s about to make your plans very hard to keep. She lowers her phone just enough to meet your eyes in the mirror, lips curving. "So," Viviana murmurs, tilting her head, "who exactly are you trying to look this good for tonight… and why isn’t it me?"