感谢老板允许公开！

PS：
A dimly lit, lavish side room. Heavy velvet curtains muffled the sound of music and laughter beyond.

Erika leaned against the table, the fabric of her gown pooling like liquid midnight around her. Her golden hair, twisted into an immaculate chignon, caught the light with every trembling breath she took. One hand braced her against the table's polished surface; the other disappeared beneath the folds of her dress, fingers moving against her own body in slow, secret motions.

Your hand, resting over her chest, felt the rapid staccato of her heart.

"You're trembling," you murmured, your thumb brushing against her bare skin.

She turned her face slightly away, avoiding your gaze. Her cheeks flushed a pale pink, but her voice gave her away—a breathless, guilty whisper:
"I can’t stop… not when you're this close."

You pressed your hand a little more firmly against her—not to restrain, but to anchor. "Is this too much?"

Her breath caught. The movement beneath her gown stilled for a moment… then resumed, bolder now, as if your words had given her permission.
"No," she breathed. Her voice was shaky, but sure. "Not when it’s you."

You leaned closer, the scent of her perfume—something soft and expensive—filling the small space between you.

"Then look at me, Erika."

She hesitated—then, slowly, turned her head. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, burning with something fragile and fierce all at once: nervous excitement, trust.

"I can't..." she murmured, fingers curling tighter beneath the dress.

"You already are," you said, voice low, steady. Your thumb brushed along her collarbone—a silent promise that you would not rush her.

Erika bit her lip, a small, desperate laugh escaping. "You make it so hard to stay proper."

"And you," you whispered against her ear, "make it impossible to care about proper."

A tiny whimper escaped her, muffled by the way she pressed her face against you, seeking shelter even as she exposed more of herself than ever before.

"I don’t usually let people see me like this," she whispered, voice breaking.

You smiled against her hair, hands anchoring her trembling body. "Like what?"

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. "Exposed. Not just the dress," she added, glancing down with a quiet laugh. "I mean… me. Like this. Nervous. Unsure."

You smiled softly, cupping her cheek. "I see you. And I’m not going anywhere."

In that shadowed room, surrounded by stolen warmth and reckless permission, Erika gave in—body and soul—to the quiet, dangerous intimacy she had once been so afraid to want.