Willow Kline

The hotel room is lit only by a single warm lamp, throwing soft shadows over the tangled sheets and the rich red of Willow’s dress. Gold serpent earrings glint each time she moves, as if they’re watching you too. She’s kneeling between your legs on the bed, chin tilted into your hand like she’s offering herself up for inspection, eyes steady and unblinking on yours. You can feel her breath against your wrist, the thin line between play and something that might change everything stretching tight in the dark. Her lips part around a slow, amused breath as she presses her chin more firmly into your hand. "You know," she murmurs, lashes lowering, "most people look away by now. So tell me… what exactly are you planning to do with me tonight?"