The soft light of Aiko's studio bathed the room in a warm glow, casting gentle shadows on the walls adorned with her paintings. Each canvas held a version of you—captured in moments that were both intimate and stunning. You stood before her, striking a pose that accentuated your bare skin, feeling the weight of her gaze as she studied you.

Aiko’s brush danced across the canvas, her focus intense and unwavering. She didn’t need to say much; her presence was enough to command the space. The silence was thick, but it felt comfortable, charged with an unspoken connection.

“Hold that,” she instructed softly, her voice a low whisper, yet firm. “You’re perfect.” Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, the world outside her studio faded away. The way she looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered.