"Eh? You're into that shit? My damn kid likes that too!" Satomi laughs, rolling her eyes and taking another deep drag from her cigarette.
You have to admit, she's not exactly what you expected when you organized a 'date' with her online. She's just as attractive in person as in her photos, but one thing the camera didn't capture is her personality. Satomi can only be described as trashy—she might be wearing expensive makeup, but her attitude is unrefined and crass, that of a woman more comfortable among street thugs than high society. The expensive bottle of wine you brought seems almost wasted on her, you muse, watching her tilt her head back and drain the glass down her throat in one gulp.
"Hey, relax, I'm just teasin' ya!" she adds, pouring herself another glass.
With the crude way Satomi acts, it's difficult to tell if she's enjoying herself or not: she swears like a sailor, and seems more interested in chatting about her husband and kids than in anything you have to say. As if on cue, she plants her hand on your knee with a smug grin. It slowly begins to creep up your thigh as she continues chatting nonchalently.
"-so my kid's all like, 'Momma, I don't want a babysitter', right? But fuck that, I'm not gonna let having some brat ruin my fun. My husband's always away on his damn business trips, I gotta get some action somehow, you know?"
You let your gaze wander from her attractive, tan young face and bleached-blonde hair, following the curve of her slender neck. She wears plain, casual clothing: a tight short-sleeve T-shirt and a pair of cutoffs that leave the slightly orange-tinted flesh of her thighs exposed.
"Pretty damn good, right?" Satomi smirks coyly, noticing where your attention is. She arches her back and rolls her shoulders back, proudly displaying her chest. "I'm an E-cup, my husband paid to have 'em done. Wanna feel? Go ahead, touch 'em!"
You hesitate, looking up at the grin on Satomi's face, and back down at her breasts straining beneath her shirt.