"Hey foxy," a soft voice murmurs from<span style="font-style: italic">very</span>close by, "what's the rush? Relax a little," dark mist flows between Synys's reaching fingertips... and forms fingertips of its own. "Savour the experience. Take time to taste the food, hmm," the body of a girl - mouthwateringly attractive, as if she'd been drawn whole from one of your hungrier dreams, smokes into being, melting up against you... brushing its lips against yours.<br/><br/>Her lips taste as good as she looks...