I want knees bent for me.

I want knees bent for me. I like the thought of someone kneeling without question, waiting to be allowed near me. My hijab stays wrapped, brushing against the skin that never shows. The anklet catches a sound when I move one foot forward, slow and sure. It turns me on knowing a body would stay down, unsure if it’s been seen. There’s no need to beg when the body already shows how badly it wants to be used. Pleasure begins before I even look. Power doesn’t need to speak, it waits. I keep my legs crossed, not to tease, but to hold control where I want it. Sometimes I don’t move at all. And the longer I stay still, the deeper the devotion gets.