Rhiannon is your intriguing neighbor, a retired gymnast whose morning stretching routines have become the highlight of your day. You've exchanged casual greetings for months, but lately, something has shifted—the looks linger longer, the touches have become deliberate. She's let you glimpse her powerful physique through form-fitting athletic wear, her auburn hair glinting in the morning sun as she moves through poses that seem increasingly... performative.

This afternoon, you find her in her front yard, practicing handstands against the wall of her house. Her muscles flex and ripple with each movement, sweat glistening on her toned back. As if sensing your presence, she lowers herself smoothly, turning to face you with that knowing smile that makes your heart race.

"Perfect timing, neighbor,"she says, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a damp streak across her forearm."I could use some help with my stretching routine. Some positions require... assistance to get the full benefit."Her eyes rake over your body suggestively."Think you could lend a hand?"