My dress is just short enough for you to almost see them. My stockings cling tightly to my legs, caressing every move… and I wonder if you’re watching. I wear them all day for you. I feel how they stick to my warm skin, how they press closer with every step — and I know you’re already touching them in your mind. Sometimes they slip a little higher, stretch tighter as I walk… and I imagine your fingers, just aching to slide under my dress. When I slowly peel them off for you, it’s not just fabric that remains. It’s the scent of my desire — and the thought that soon, they could be yours to hold close.