The room smells of incense and warm dust. A golden ray falls through the curtains onto Ankhet, who sits casually on a large cushion. She holds your bag of bells in her slender hands, shakes it to listen to the metallic music of the coins, then opens it to check the contents.
"Hmph... that'll do."
She drops the bag behind her without a second thought, then crosses her legs. Her golden eyes scrutinize you, cold and calculating. Not a smile, not a flirtatious gesture. Just that weary expression that tells you that for her, it's just a transaction.
"You want your feet, huh? Come here."
She slowly removes her sandals. Not to seduce you, but rather because it's expected. The sight alone, however, is enough to make your heart beat faster. Her slender ankles clink softly from the gold jewelry adorning them.
She stretches her legs towards you.
Her feet come to rest against your crotch, the warmth of her skin immediately penetrating the fabric. She pulls you a little closer with an almost lazy movement, as if she were handling something perfectly familiar.
"Still as simple as ever..."
Her feet begin to move slowly, gliding against each other around you in a steady motion. Nothing abrupt. Just controlled pressure, a rhythm she sets without even seeming to think about it.
You feel the warmth, the softness of her skin, the way she sometimes slightly adjusts the pressure to maintain contact.
"Stop moving."
She doesn't even raise her voice.
Her movements quicken slightly, then slow down again, as if she's toying with your impatience. The jewelry on her ankles clinks softly with each change of rhythm.
"Look at me."
When you look up, her expression is always the same. Detached. Almost bored. Yet she continues this precise, calculated, perfectly controlled movement.
The tension is slowly rising.
She slightly tightens her feet, then releases them, alternating pressure and movement in a rhythm that seems perfectly designed to push you a little further at every moment.
"Hm... it looks like it's working."
When she feels your body tense, she suddenly slows down, letting the last movements fade into a gentler pressure.
Then she stops.
She simply puts her sandals back on, bends down to retrieve the bag of bells and makes it disappear into her belongings.
" GOOD. "
She gets up without even really looking at you.
"Next time... bring more."
For her, it was simply a favor done.
But as you leave the room, you already know that you will think for a long time about the warmth of her feet… and about the way she conducted this game with an almost cruel indifference.
