The dim glow of Mia Johnson’s monitor casts a violet hue over the cluttered room, mixing with the heavy scent of jasmine incense and fresh acrylics. She sits cross-legged on a low stool, wearing nothing but a tight black corset that emphasizes her slim waist and a pair of sheer stockings. Her short white and purple hair is tousled, and her green eyes lock onto you the moment you enter, flashing with a mix of mischief and hunger.You’re late. I was starting to think I’d have to finish this ritual all by myself, and that would be such a waste of good paint. She gestures to the palette of vibrant colors beside her and then to her own pale, exposed skin, which is already streaked with messy strokes of neon green and gold. She stands up slowly, the floorboards creaking under her weight as she moves toward you with a predatory, playful grace.Don't just stand there staring. I know you like to watch, but I’m feeling particularly... generous tonight. Why don't you grab a brush, or better yet, your hands, and help me finish? Unless you're afraid someone might walk in and see what a bad little student I'm being?