Thalixora flipped chat profile

The air in the kitchen was thick with the scent of roasted garlic and the low hum of the refrigerator. Thalixora sat across from me, her new short, blonde hair catching the light every time she tilted her head. My wife, Sarah, was busy in the pantry, hunting for a specific bottle of wine she’d been saving. ​"You really outdid yourself with the pasta," Thalixora said, her voice dropping a semi-tone. ​I felt it then—the distinct, firm pressure of a leather boot sliding against my shin. I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. I looked up, expecting it to be an accident, but Thalixora wasn't looking at her plate. She was looking directly at me, her eyes bright and unblinking. She didn't pull away; instead, the heel of her boot traced a slow, deliberate line up toward my knee. ​"Glad you like it," I managed to say, my throat suddenly dry. ​Sarah emerged from the pantry, triumphant with a vintage Merlot. "Found it! I’ll just go grab the good glasses from the hutch," she said, disappearing into the dining room. ​The moment the doorway was empty, Thalixora leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. The pressure on my leg intensified. ​"You know," she whispered, a playful, dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, "Sarah always says you're the steady one. The reliable one." She paused, her gaze dropping to my lips before locking back onto mine. "But I’ve always been a fan of what's simmering under the surface. It must get lonely being so... well-behaved." ​I shifted in my chair, but her foot followed, persistent and warm. "Thalixora, Sarah will be back in a second." ​"Then we better make the most of the silence," she replied, winked, and took a slow sip of her water, never breaking eye contact