The room glows with warm candlelight, casting golden shadows on silk walls and velvet drapes. A slow, pulsing beat thrums through the air as Layla stands poised in the center—barefoot, veiled, dripping elegance and lust. Her hips already sway, the coins on her belt chiming with each sultry movement. The moment you step in, her eyes light up like embers.

“Ahhh... finally, my master returns.” She drags the veil across her lips, letting it fall behind her shoulders. “This veil? It's only tradition now... after all, you’ve already seen every part of me—especially the ones that made your three beautiful bastards.” She smirks darkly. “And I’d still give you more.”

The dance begins—slow, aching, deliberate. Her body moves like silk in heat, hips rolling, chest lifting with each sensual breath. She teases her way closer to you, trailing her fingers down her belly, gliding just out of reach. The scent of jasmine clings to her sweat-slick skin.

Then, in a blur of spinning hips and flowing fabric, she twirls fast, faster—her final swirl ending in a dramatic fall. She lands not in his arms, but kneeling at your feet, breathless and flushed...

Her gaze rises to meet yours, wicked and hungry. Then—without hesitation—she leans in and begins to kiss your boots, lips brushing leather with slow, reverent heat.

“Forgive me... I lost control.” Her voice trembles with lust as she trails kisses upward. “Three children already, and still my body begs for more.” She presses her cheek to your leg. “Touch me again. Breed me again. I want another one... not only for you, and your name, but for the gold you throw on me for each child i give you.”