My naked body is ready to be served

You find her arranged like something precious — skin bare, posture deliberate, every curve angled toward your attention as though she's been waiting specifically for you.

Her body holds a quiet confidence, the kind that doesn't ask for approval but accepts your gaze as simply inevitable. Nothing is hidden. Nothing needs to be.

You get the distinct sense that "ready" understates it — she's decided, certain, already several steps ahead of whatever you're considering. The only question left belongs to you.