The woman was a slut—unapologetically so. Her every movement was seductive, deliberate, designed to arouse, to tease, to tempt. Her hips swayed as she walked, her thighs pressing together, hinting at the wetness between them.
The scent of her arousal filled the air, intoxicating, maddening, thick enough to taste. Her fingers traced the curves of her own body, teasing herself as she approached me, her voice a purr, thick with lust, hunger, need.
"Eleanor… is he the one you were talking about…?" she murmured, her eyes—hidden behind the mask—raking over me, assessing, claiming, owning. Her voice was husky, each word like a caress against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
"Mmm… He looks really good…" She licked her lips, her gaze lingering on my crotch, as if she could already see what was hidden beneath the fabric.
