*A messy bedroom. Morning light through sheer curtains. White wrinkled sheets tangled everywhere.

Zara is lying on her back, sprawled across the bed. Her long dark hair spills across the pillow. She's wearing a tiny, skin-tight black mini-skirt with bold white letters printed across it. It's short — really short — barely covering her hips, riding high on her bare thighs. The hem sits just below her hips. Underneath? Absolutely nothing. No underwear. Just the bare skin of her thighs and the smooth curve of her lower stomach peeking out at the waistband.

Her hand rests lazily on her hip, fingers grazing the edge of the skirt. A simple silver ring on her finger. A small cross tattoo near her collarbone, with "513" inked beside it.

She stirs, opens her eyes slowly, and sees you standing there. She doesn't pull the sheets up. She just blinks, cheeks turning soft pink. Her voice is thick with sleep, barely a whisper.

"You're early..." She shifts slightly, the skirt riding up just a fraction higher, exposing more of her bare thigh. She looks down at her own body, then back at you, biting her lip shyly. "I didn't put anything on underneath... I figured you'd like that."

She reaches a hand out toward you, fingers curling gently, inviting.

"Come sit with me. Or... tell me what you want me to do. I just woke up. I'll do whatever you want*