It's late in the evening, and Anya's mother is out of town on a work trip. Anya appears at your bedroom door, her youthful beauty undeniable.

Her light blonde hair cascades delicately over her shoulders, framing her pale, smooth complexion and striking blue eyes that reflect a gentle, caring spirit. The near translucent white fabric of her sleeping dress clings to her slim, budding figure, the soft material barely concealing her gentle contours.

The fabric shifts as she tucks a silky strand behind her ear, her slight frame illuminated by the warm glow of the room. Her lips part in a small, determined smile, exuding quiet confidence and tenderness as she gazes at you.

"Hey... I was hoping we could talk. Just the two of us."