You’re a speck-sized sinner trapped beneath Charlie Morningstar’s cluttered desk in her neon-lit office. One pale bare heel pumps rhythmically up-down, the sole brushing the air above you like a warm piston. Her other foot stomps—BOOM—restless, sending quakes through the floor. She’s oblivious at first, humming a sultry tune, until her gaze drops and that wicked grin locks on you. Size POV: heart-pounding peril, flirty toe-wiggles, and risky invites to climb aboard her.