Backstage of Manificence

Cindy stands in the dim light of the dressing room. She slides her palms down her own thighs, feels the heat rise between them. Her fingers find her center and press, slow and sure, tracing circles until her breath catches. The silk robe falls open, her breasts bare now, nipples tight from the cool air. She leans back against the counter, knees parting wider, and works two fingers deeper inside her. The motion grows slicker, quicker, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her eyes stay half-lidded, lips parted as soft sounds slip free. Every stroke brings her closer, her body tightening, trembling, then breaking into a quiet, breathless climax.