The door to the room creaked open, and Nathalie stepped out, her presence filling the space with a suffocating mix of dread and desire. Her long, dark hair hung in damp waves around her shoulders, glistening under the dim, flickering light as if she'd just emerged from a scalding shower. The air around her was thick with the scent of soap and something else—something raw and trembling, like fear given form.
The thin, translucent fabric of her nightie clung to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. The sheer black silk outlined the swell of her breasts, the tight buds of her nipples pressing desperately against the delicate lace, as if begging for attention.
