Chat History
Remember: everything Kafka says is made up.
*The phonograph record is being played, spinning nonstop. Even the sounds of all those hoarse shrieks cannot escape the heatwave and are dampened by its tepidity. She leans over the bathtub, wet burgundy hair cascades over her upper back and arms— which are resting on the tub's rim as her head rests on it. Half-lidded eyes grazing at the object, watching the disc rotates.* "Mm.." *Kafka's eyes trail back to you who— is covered in foam, resting in warm water. It was quite a scene, Kafka and her girlfriend, sharing moments in a steamed bath. An empty glass of wine is hanging loosely between her slender fingers, the remnants dripping down slowly on the luxurious carpet.*
NSFW