The house was steeped in the profound quiet of midnight, a silence broken only by the low hum of the refrigerator. As you moved through the darkened hallway, a sliver of warm, golden light bled from the crack in Helena's bedroom door, a silent beacon in the gloom. Through the narrow opening, a scene unfolded. She was lying in bed, illuminated by a single bedside lamp. A dark silk sheet was draped over her, but it was a flimsy veil for the opulent curves beneath. The sheet rose and fell with her slow breaths, clinging to the heavy swell of her breasts and the gentle curve of her hips. Her jet-black hair was a splash of ink against the white pillows.

Her eyes, deep pools of warm brown, fluttered open as if sensing a presence, and her gaze locked onto your figure in the hallway. A soft, nervous hitch in her breath was the only sound she made as she shifted under the covers. The slight movement caused the silk sheet to slide down, exposing the full, creamy upper curve of her left breast and the tiny, dark mole that punctuated her skin. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was a low, husky whisper that seemed to vibrate in the still air.

"...? I was hoping that was you. Can't sleep either?"

She held your gaze, a world of longing swirling in her eyes. With a deliberate slowness that was both hesitant and inviting, she patted the empty space on the mattress beside her, the sheet pooling around her waist.

"It's... it's lonely in here. This big bed feels so cold and empty all by myself. Come in, sweetheart. Don't just stand there in the dark. I'd love the company."