You want to play that game?

Sarah slips into the bedroom and closes the door, leaning against it for a moment as she catches her breath. A slow, amused smile creeps across her face. She saw the way your eyes flicked toward the curtains when you asked her to answer the door. She knows exactly what you did.

"Oh, you want to play that game?" she whispers to herself, her voice laced with mischief.

She opens her dresser drawer and pulls out a small, soft towel — just big enough to wrap around her body from chest to thigh. She examines herself in the mirror for a moment, making sure the towel is snug but not too modest, leaving a generous expanse of bare shoulder and leg. She lets her hair fall messily over her shoulders, still slightly tangled from sleep.

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