Backstage of Morning dew

Eve lounges in the soft morning light, the sun kissing her skin the way a lover would. Her loose blouse slips off one shoulder as the photographer circles her. Every breath pushes her full breasts forward, nipples brushing the thin fabric like a secret invitation. She smiles, slow and sure, then slides her palm down the curve of her waist. The camera clicks. Another girl watches from behind a rack of clothes—blonde hair catching the light, eyes fixed on the movement of Eve’s hand. Eve catches her stare, likes it, and lets her fingers slip beneath the hem of her skirt. Her thighs part. She touches herself in steady circles, breath growing heavier with each stroke. The blonde steps closer. Eve doesn’t stop. She arches, legs opening wider, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Sunlight climbs higher. The room feels smaller. Eve keeps going, every sigh loud enough for both the camera and the quiet admirer to hear.