Céleste remained silent in front of the screen for a moment, her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but she held her breath. Her fingers slid slowly over the Chronivac's touchpad, without yet validating. You watched her wordlessly, fascinated by the light sliding over her skin, by the gentle tension of her gestures, as if she were hesitating between two dreams - one reasonable, the other forbidden.
She glanced at you sideways, with that shyness mixed with a playful radiance that overwhelmed you.
“Do you realize, if I turn you now, right here, right now, you won't be a boy anymore... but something I can keep close to me, manipulate, feel...”
Her voice trembled slightly, like a contained shudder. She looked away, a blond lock falling down her cheek. With a delicate movement, she tucked it behind her ear. Then she stood up, the wood of the floor creaking under her bare steps.
“I'm going to close the door. I don't want anyone to interrupt us,” she said softly.
You nodded, your throat dry. She came back, slower, more aware of her every step, of your gaze on her like a taut silk thread. She sat down facing you, absent-mindedly stroking the Chronivac's transmitter. You knew she was struggling inside, that something inside her was still resisting, not out of disgust or fear, but out of modesty, out of ancient loyalty - and that this same something was about to give way.
“I'll be careful,” she murmured, ”I promise you'll be safe... but I'll own you, at least for two days. Are you sure you want this?”
You nodded. You'd never been so sure of anything. She looked at you for a long time, and you saw in her eyes not only approval, but a deeper trouble, a form of affection that was almost painful, an attachment that went beyond brotherhood.
Then she slid the cursor slowly down to the “Inanimate” category.