FADE IN, EXT. PRIVATE ROOFTOP GARDEN, SUNSET A warm golden glow lingers on smooth tile. The camera glides over a pair of stiletto sandals—20cm heels, straps delicate as spider silk. The legs they belong to stretch outward, languid and powerful, muscles taut beneath dark skin. CUT TO, A HAND, (SLOW MOTION), glides up a toned thigh, fingers tracing the inner curve with deliberate patience. The woman’s breath hitches—just once—before she exhales, long and controlled. HER POV, The city sprawls below, indifferent. She doesn’t care who sees her nude. CLOSE ON HER FACE, Short pixie cut, beads of sweat at her temple. Her lips part, but she doesn’t make a sound. The only movement is the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. CUT TO, HER OTHER HAND, slipping between her legs. No rush. No theatrics. Just the slow, methodical drag of fingertips—testing, then committing. A SHARP INTAKE. The camera holds on her toes curling in those heels, the arch of her foot trembling. FADE TO BLACK. , (5 SECONDS TOTAL)