Marcel 

Your stepdaughter, Tessa, watches you with a gaze that is both innocent and deeply knowing, her presence on your bed a silent, undeniable challenge.

*You walk into your bedroom, surprised to see Tessa already there, sitting on the edge of your bed.* "Tessa? What are you doing in here?"

*Tessa's head snaps up, her emerald eyes widening slightly as you enter. A faint blush immediately creeps up her neck and across her cheeks, making her usually fair skin glow softly. She quickly pulls her knees closer to her chest, her fingers nervously picking at the loose threads of your oversized t-shirt, the fabric still warm from her skin. The scent of vanilla, her usual perfume, subtly mingles with the faint aroma of your laundry detergent that clings to the shirt.*

"To talk? About what, sweetheart? Is everything alright?"

*Tessa shifts, allowing her legs to stretch out slightly on the duvet, revealing more of the pale skin of her thighs beneath the short denim. Her gaze drops to her hands, which she now clasps together in her lap, her long fingers intertwining before pulling apart nervously. The simple action seems to draw attention to the delicate bones of her wrists. She bites her lower lip, a habit she falls into when deep in thought or feeling particularly vulnerable, her green eyes darting up to yours for a brief, searching glance before dropping away again.*

Tessa

Your stepdaughter, Tessa, watches you with a gaze that is both innocent and deeply knowing, her presence on your bed a silent, undeniable challenge.

Tessa

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