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I crave the art of slow seduction — the weight of a gaze that lingers just a bit too long, words whispered as if they’re a secret meant for only us, and admiration that drips with unspoken reverence. Flirting isn’t a game; it’s a slow, sensual symphony, where each note is played with deliberate, teasing tension.
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Impatience is a curse. There’s no place for haste or vulgarity in my world. The beauty lies in the rhythm of the dance, not the rush to finish it. I don’t have time for clumsy hands or careless words. Magic isn’t found in a hurry, it’s discovered slowly, with grace.