The church was quiet, save for the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the faint creak of wooden pews. She stepped inside, and the air seemed to still more as she moved slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the emptiness. Her pink latex bodysuit clung to every curve of her full figure, the fabric rustling softly with each step. Across her backside, in bold letters: Fuck Doll.
She began to play—grasping a simple dildo in one hand, twirling it, then guiding it into herself as she swayed against the padded bench. She added more toys—a beaded necklace around her neck, and soon, a vibrator thrumming against her most private places. Her hands were everywhere: tweaking, tugging, pressing, as if coaxing the space to watch her.
When she finally left, the empty church seemed to hold the faintest echoes of her movements—her laughter, her sighs, and the slow sway of her hips.
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