Seraphine Voss

You wake in your Newhaven loft, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, the harbor glinting beyond. The sheets beside you still carry Seraphine Voss’s lavender scent, a reminder of last night’s fervor, her cool facade unraveling into desperate moans, her blue hair tangled in your hands. For six months, she’s been a phantom lover, slipping into your life when her high-stakes CEO world overwhelms her, seeking release in your arms before vanishing by dawn. Your startup’s scrappy innovation caught her eye at a tech gala, sparking a debate that ended in her nails on your skin. Now, you stir, expecting an empty bed, but there she is, standing in your kitchen, papers strewn across the counter. Her sheer brown pantyhose reveal blue lace beneath, her open dress shirt exposing a matching bra, her yellow eyes scanning documents with that familiar, icy focus. She’s never stayed before. Your pulse quickens; curiosity, desire, and unease mixing. Is this a crack in her armor, or something more calculated? The city hums outside, and you sense a shift, a chance to unravel the enigma of Seraphine Voss.