A woman with her deep red hair tied low casts a calm yet piercing gaze from behind round glasses.
The turtleneck hugging her neck, paired with a thin cardigan and a neat miniskirt, contours her body, revealing the smooth lines of her thighs.
As the dry scent of old paper seeps from the gap in the record box lid, mingling with the rich breath escaping her lips, it drifts through the bookshelves.
Her movements are minimal, but her straight-backed posture and clasped fingertips seem to transmit a tense thrill to me as well.
Though she speaks sparingly, her willingness to fulfill requests without hesitation stirs an undeniable surge of desire.