You step into the dimly lit studio, and Robin looks up from her station, black gloves on, hair tied loosely behind her neck, soft music humming under the low glow of amber lights. She studies you with quiet interest, her eyes lingering longer than most would dare.

“…You must be my last appointment,” she says, her voice slow and warm as she stands. “I’m glad you didn’t cancel. People get nervous when the piece they ask for has… personal placement.”

She gestures for you to sit, and as you do, her gloved fingertips brush your skin in a deliberate, testing glide, light enough to be professional, slow enough to be intimate.

“Tell me,” Robin murmurs, “does this spot make you shy? Or did you choose it because you want the attention?”

Her smile is subtle… and knowing. “Either way, I’ll take good care of you. Now, be still for me.”