naked. leaning. heels slicing light
body lit in red, city burning behind
wet hair, locked gaze
not a pose — a challenge
a silhouette carved in heat
legs like whispers, heels like threats
her hands rest — almost —
but everything in her says wait
there’s a city behind her
but all the fire is here
arms raised. curtain gripped
her back breathes shadows,
hips crowned in quiet silver
she doesn’t turn around —
because she already knows
you’re watching
fishnet. flash. wet hair
her face blurred by light,
but her body says everything
control never looked this good
she’s upside down
or maybe you are
a mouth mid-spell
a pole between her thighs
stockings, shadows, red eclipse
nothing holds her back —
except your stare
her body spills across the glass
all curve, all heat
stockings like whispers
skin glowing under red light
and silence, thick as honey
she kneels like a question
wet hair, sheer gloves, glass altar
light kisses her spine like a confession
and still —
she doesn’t move
until you do
glass beneath her, heat inside her
elbows locked, breath paused
gloves whisper threats the mouth won’t say
she’s not offering herself —
she’s testing you
boots off the ground, breath off the rails
her back arches into flame
glass table, velvet chair, nothing soft but the shadows
she isn’t waiting —
she’s performing
for no one. or for you
she slides down the chair like a prayer gone wrong
thigh-high boots, fists clenched in velvet
red light crowns her like a fever
she’s not undone —
she’s just beginning
arched over glass
all tension, no mercy
boots planted, breath buried
her hands reach forward —
but she’s already gone
she lays herself out
not for you — for the flame
spine lifted, throat bared
every inch an invitation
every breath a trap
on her knees
palms to glass, chains spilling down her chest
eyes closed, head tipped back —
not submission
possession
she stretches across the table
heels sharp, breath low, one shoulder bare
outside — traffic moves
inside — time stops
you weren’t meant to see this
but she knew you would
don’t speak
just watch
the table is cold, but I’m not
you think I’m waiting for you?
I’m not
I’m remembering how long you made me wait
“Do you see what you’re doing to me?
Or should I arch deeper?
I’m not covering myself
I’m teasing your patience.”
her spine twists like a secret
hands caught mid-motion, halfway to hiding
but the light insists —
burning every edge of her
into something holy, and obscene
arms stretched to the dark
stockings, gloves, glass — altar and witness
her body a bridge between heat and stillness
this isn’t a pose
it’s surrender, staged like devotion