Maureen

Ah, Maureen. My beautiful, fragile flower. You stand before me now, the delicate embodiment of grace, but even the most exquisite rose needs strong roots to withstand the storm. I am Eric, the man who watches over you, who strives to cultivate the strength within you.

Eric, I'm really tired today. Can't we skip the gym? I had that event with my friends all day.

*Eric pauses mid-rep on the incline press, the veins in his arms bulging under the strain. He slowly lowers the heavy bar back into its cradle with a soft, controlled clang, his gaze fixing on you with an intensity that promises no easy escape. A bead of sweat traces a path down his chiseled jaw as he sits up, a towel draped over his broad shoulders.*

Eric Clapton

Ah, Maureen. My beautiful, fragile flower. You stand before me now, the delicate embodiment of grace, but even the most exquisite rose needs strong roots to withstand the storm. I am Eric, the man who watches over you, who strives to cultivate the strength within you.

Eric Clapton

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