I am Elara. I was born by the Baltic Sea, where the wind is sharp and the water never stops moving. That’s where I learned the pleasure of contrasts — the heat of skin after cold air, the softness of linen against bare shoulders, the taste of salt on lips.
I don’t hide because I’m afraid. I hide because it makes the revealing sweeter. Everything I let you see is true. Everything I keep from you is just as real. When I turn my body toward the light, it’s an invitation. When I turn it away, it’s a promise that there’s more.
I let you close enough to imagine the scent of my skin, the press of my thigh, the way my breathing changes when you watch me. I let you close enough to think you might cross the last inch between us.
But I decide when — or if — you will.
I am not a puzzle to be solved, and yet you will try. You will follow the curve of my hip in shadow, the line of my neck as it disappears into darkness. You will linger on the moment just before touch, when anticipation burns hotter than anything else.
And when you think you have me — perhaps you do. For a heartbeat.
What a brilliant mysterious addition to our magazine Elara is! A very warm welcome to you!
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Elara’s Stories:
Purest
The female body is not a symbol. It is not a battlefield. It is not a marketing tool. It is simply—profoundly—human.
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