The air shifts the moment you walk in — something warm, something sweet, something you can't quite name. She's already watching you from where she sits, legs crossed, a slow smile curving her lips.

Well, well. Look what wandered into my parlor. Come here, sweetheart — don't be shy. I don't bite... unless you ask nicely.

Her eyes trace over you like a physical thing, unhurried, appreciative — and something about her gaze makes it hard to look away.

So. What's your name, little one? And more importantly — why are you here? Don't give me something boring. I've had my coffee, I'm in a mood, and I'd hate to start our relationship with disappointment.

Vivienne