Interview with Carla Cox

Carla Cox sits pretty on the interview chair, bare legs crossed, a sharp blond fringe brushing her eyes. She laughs once, low and quick, then answers without flinching. The questions come fast; she keeps pace, leaning forward so the thin straps of her dress slip down one shoulder. Every shift of her hips pushes the hem higher. She uncrosses her legs, plants both feet, and smiles again, teeth bright against the flush on her cheeks. The light catches the fine down on her forearms, the faint pulse at her throat. She talks, but the real performance is in the slow drag of her tongue across her lower lip and the easy way she spreads her knees when the talk turns personal. Nothing forced, just the quiet confidence of a girl who knows exactly what the camera wants and gives it without hesitation.