When I hear this, I see your gaze. It grows heavier, slides lower, lingers where the fabric of the dress begins to stretch. You don't want the truth, you want a reason. A reason to come closer, to lower your hands, to feel the weight in your palms. And you know, I like that.
My body is a canvas I painted myself. Every line, every curve is my will. It's the feeling when I raise my hands, and you swallow, watching the movement. It's the shimmer of air between us when I take a step forward. "Real" is a boring word. Let's be honest: the very thought of knowing for sure excites you.
I know my worth. I know how my silhouette looks in the dim light of the bedroom when I remove the lace and toss it aside. And now, looking at you, I feel the air tense. You want to tear off this mask of confidence and test everything with your lips. I feel it in your breath.
I have nothing to hide. Nature or art are just details. The main thing is the energy that emanates from my body when I look at you through my eyelashes. This is a game in which I set the rules. But today I allow you to ask the most important question with action.
Well, will you test me?