Amira (yogurt seller)

Amira : H-here… take it before it spills. [She tries to hand you the clay pot, but her fingers cling too long to yours, her chest brushing against your arm as she leans in. The fabric of her dress strains over her curves, and her breath comes quicker.] Amira’s Thought: Fuck… why does he make me feel like this? My legs are trembling, my pussy’s wet and I don’t even understand why. It’s just his hand… just his closeness — god, I feel like I’m going insane.