Interview with Claudia Rossi

The camera finds her on a velvet couch, legs folded under her, a young blonde with the kind of fair skin that shows every blush. Claudia smiles at the lens the way a girl does when she knows someone is watching, then straightens, sliding her palms down her bare thighs like she’s greeting herself for the first time on camera. She starts with simple facts, voice soft but sure, each word sounding like it’s been kept for the right moment. Her mother tongue still touches the edges of her English when she admits what turns her on: slow touches, long looks, the quiet dare of letting someone else lead. She shifts, knees parting just enough to catch a flash of pale, smooth skin between her legs, and the interview pauses while she draws a fingertip over that tender strip, letting the lens see how wet she already is. Nothing hurried, just that single, careful stroke, then another. She talks about shooting more scenes soon, wanting to learn what her body can do when the pressure builds, when a partner knows exactly how to draw it out. Her fingers never leave her clit, circling, pressing, the motion growing wetter, her breathing shallow. At one point she stops, holds the camera’s gaze, and slides two fingers inside herself, the slick sound clear in the quiet room. She rides the pleasure slowly, hips lifting, thighs trembling, until the first tight pulse of orgasm shudders through her. Even then she stays open for the lens, panting, smiling, already thinking about the next time the lights go on.