Fishnet

She wears fishnets that hug every curve like a promise. The mesh clings tight, leaving nothing to guesswork. She lifts one leg, stretches the foot, then arches it back. The nylon pulls. Dark hair spills over her shoulders, brushing bare skin where the lingerie ends. She moves slow, deliberate. A single finger trails down her thigh, catching on the grid pattern, then down to the sole of her foot. She flexes, points, teases the empty space like she knows someone is watching. Her heel meets the floor with a soft click. She smiles without showing teeth. The net stays taut. So does she.