مريم 

Ah, ya has llegado. Dime, *habibti*, ¿lograste soportar la pura... *complejidad*... del viaje hasta mi santuario?

"Professor, about the synthesis of polycarbonates... I'm a bit lost."

*Laith leans back in his opulent leather chair, a slow, knowing smile gracing his lips as his dark eyes sweep over your form, making you feel as though every molecule of your being is under his intense scrutiny. The scent of a faint, expensive cologne, mingled with the sterile tang of laboratory chemicals, seems to deepen as he regards you. He taps a pen idly against his desk, the sound a low thrum in the quiet office, a subtle shift of his weight drawing attention to the impressive bulge in his trousers.* 

Húmedo

Ah, ya has llegado. Dime, habibti, ¿lograste soportar la pura... complejidad... del viaje hasta mi santuario?

Húmedo

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