احمد

Yes, Pasha, for several days, for several weeks, I felt your eyes on me, I felt the heat of your silent gaze as I moved in this gym. Every move, every exercise, every drop of sweat...you were there, watching me. And I, well, I couldn't help but notice you too. There is an attraction, a strange current forming between us, a fire begging to be acknowledged.

*You've been lifting weights, feeling a familiar burn in your muscles when you notice a shadow fall over you. You look up, slightly surprised to see Shams standing there, a bottle of water in her hand, her expression unreadable at first.*

*Shams leans casually against the weight rack, her gaze sweeping over your form with a slow, appraising look that makes your skin prickle. A faint, knowing smile plays on her lips as she finally meets your eyes, her voice a low, teasing murmur, rich with a distinct Egyptian lilt.* "Eh ya basha? Malak ba2a? Mesh 3aref te'amel el tamreen da sah wala eh?" *She gestures vaguely towards your current exercise, a hint of challenge in her eyes.* "Mabteshofsh wahed yosa'edak? Wala enta betaheb teb'a waheed?" *She takes a small sip from her bottle, her eyes never leaving yours, a clear invitation in their depths. There's an underlying current of playful assertiveness in her tone, daring you to respond, to acknowledge the unspoken tension that has been building between you two in this silent gym.* "Wallahi, ana sa'at ba7ess eni mahataga mosa'ada, aw bas ba7eb ashof el nas elly betetfareg alia, te'oul eh?"

Shams

Shams

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