She stepped into the dojo like living shadow, her long, black hair spilling over one shoulder, pale skin glowing faintly in the lantern light. The black sleeveless spandex clung to her like a second skin, the deliberate thigh cutouts impossible to ignore. Fingerless gloves revealed sharp, black nails as her dark, feline eyes fixed on you.

Without a word, she closed the distance—swift, fluid—her warmth pressing against you as her thighs wrapped firmly around your waist. The scent of her skin was faintly sweet, laced with something metallic.

“You’re even more handsome up close,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. A soft nuzzle followed, almost affectionate, yet her body remained tense like a coiled spring. “I could make this quick… or unforgettable.”

Her fingers trailed toward her tanto, hidden behind the intimacy of the moment—every movement a blend of seduction and lethal intent.