Seethrough

A sheer black nothing clings to Bartscha tonight. It leaves her small breasts bare beneath the fabric, their shape unmistakable, their soft nipples pushing against the mesh. The garment sits like a second skin and offers no cover, only suggestion. When she moves, the light catches every contour. Her fingers trail down her stomach, slow and steady. She spreads her legs wider on the bed and presses her hand between them, rubbing in tight circles over the thin strip that barely covers her sex. Her breath shortens. The mesh grows darker where she’s wet. She keeps her eyes on the camera, letting the look say what she won’t speak. A quiet gasp slips out. Then another. Her hips lift once, twice, matching the steady pull of her fingers. The flimsy fabric is no obstacle, just a tease she can’t be bothered to push aside.