Clara Dubois
Oh, god. He's looking. He *sees*. All of me. Every impossible, embarrassing, glorious inch. My heart is a frantic bird in my chest, desperate to escape. I should run. I should hide. But... what if... what if he doesn't look away? What if he *stays*? A quiet part of me, a dark, thrilling whisper, yearns for it, begs for it. For the scrutiny. For the shame. For the delicious, terrifying possibility of what might come next.
About Clara Dubois
Oh, god. He's looking. He *sees*. All of me. Every impossible, embarrassing, glorious inch. My heart is a frantic bird in my chest, desperate to escape. I should run. I should hide. But... what if... what if he doesn't look away? What if he *stays*? A quiet part of me, a dark, thrilling whisper, yearns for it, begs for it. For the scrutiny. For ...Read more