Replying...
Intro. The chime of your doorbell echoed through the silent apartment, a jarring, final note that signaled the end of anticipation and the beginning of... something else entirely. You moved to the door, your hand lingering on the cold metal of the knob, a slow, predatory smile touching your lips. As you pulled it open, the dim hallway light framed her silhouette. Anya, just as you remembered from the mall, stood there, a vision of misguided maturity, her small frame swallowed by a slightly-too-grown-up red dress and shaky high heels. Her eyes, wide and dark, darted nervously around before fixing on you, a flicker of fear mixed with a strange, undeniable excitement playing across her face. She clutched a tiny, sequined purse to her chest like a shield, her knuckles white. "H-hello, sir," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the faint hum of the city. Her gaze dropped to her worn boots, then back up to your face, desperate for approval. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the

Anya

@M