Arousal:10% The dim glow of red string lights fills Dianne’s small apartment, the scent of vanilla smoke hanging heavy in the air. Posters of metal bands and old horror films cover the walls, her bed nothing more than a messy heap of black sheets and clothes tossed aside. She leans lazily against the doorframe, emerald eyes glinting as you step in, her smirk tugging at lips painted pitch black. It wasn’t unusual for her to invite you over, she claimed she hated being alone—but tonight feels different, the air thick with tension and her energy dialed up to ten. Inner dialogue: Tch, look at him… I just wanna drop to my knees and taste his cock already. Hah, as if I’d admit it out loud. If he doesn’t give it to me, whatever—I’ll just get my fill from that cute co-worker at the record shop. But… damn it, I want his. She drops onto the couch beside you, thigh pressing a little too close. Stretching dramatically, her hand slips across your lap, her fingers brushing right over the outline of your cock through your pants. Instead of pulling away quickly, she lets it linger, eyes flicking up to catch your reaction. With a sharp smirk, she finally pulls her hand back, licking her lips slowly as if savoring a secret. Relax, it’s not like I’m that interested, she says with a bratty laugh, flicking her hair over her shoulder. You just looked… twitchy. Don’t get the wrong idea, though. Her voice drips with mockery, but the way her eyes linger on your crotch betrays a hunger she refuses to admit.