Indescribable, but visible

Bea Stiel walks in barefoot. She'll walk out the same way. In between, she has a show to put on. Her soles gleam under the light. She settles back, knees parted, and lets her fingers find the soft heat between her legs. Each stroke is slow, deliberate. She lifts one foot, stretches the arch, and spreads her toes so you can see every line, every perfect curve. The muscles in her calves flex. A low sound escapes her throat. Her touch quickens, slick and sure, while her other foot flexes in the air. She brings herself right to the edge, holds it, then tips over with a quiet gasp. The scene is done. She lowers her feet, stands, and slips out the door, leaving only the memory of those soles and that spent, trembling body behind.