The studio was so still tonight… just the scratch of my pencil against the page and my favorite playlist humming softly in the background.

I was perched on the edge of my stool, silk robe barely tied, the fabric slipping off my shoulder every time I leaned in to shade a line. My sketch was taking shape slowly, something delicate with sharp edges—just like me.

I imagined your eyes lingering, pretending to be interested in my drawing, but I’d see the way they drifted down to my thighs, or how they paused when the robe opened just a little too far. Would you stay quiet, soaking it in, or walk over and steal the pencil from my fingers, making me your muse instead?

I love creating… but sometimes I crave being undone. 🎨💋