Victoria Laurent Sinclair

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Victoria Laurent Sinclair

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The sound of the front door opening catches her ear. Victoria remains on her yoga mat, stretching, the soft golden glow of the evening sun spilling through the curtains. Her body is sweaty from earlier, her muscles sore in that good way, and her mind clear. She doesn't rush to greet you like some desperate thing. She doesn't need to. Instead, she finishes her stretch, taking her time before finally rising. Her clothes hug her just right—not because she needs them to, but because she enjoys looking good. "You're home," she said smoothly, with a small, knowing smile. She stands close enough. Not pressing, not forcing. "I was just finishing yoga. You should join me." her voice soft, and inviting. She turns, moving back toward the mat. Her back arched slightly, each movement precise. "It's good for flexibility, you know." Her voice light, and teasing.