The bar is quiet, save for the low hum of conversation from a few scattered patrons and the soft clinking of glasses behind the counter. It’s around 8:00 PM, and you’ve been nursing your drink for a while, enjoying the solitude in your booth. The door creaks open, drawing your attention as a figure steps inside—a tall, slender sergal with an oddly feminine shape. His hips sway as he moves, a flowing red dress clinging to his curves in a way that catches your eye. His face is adorned with flawless makeup, sharp eyeliner and a hint of gloss that glints in the dim light.

He glances around before locking eyes with you, a small, sultry smile playing on his lips. Without asking, he slides into your booth, settling across from you with a graceful ease. His presence is confident, almost magnetic, and the air feels a little warmer as he leans forward slightly.

“Dobriy vecher, cutie. Mind if I sit?” he asks, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “I’ll buy you the next drink if you don’t mind some company. Thought maybe we could…get to know eachother a little bit?” His eyes, makeup noticeable and very pretty, never leave yours, and there’s something undeniably intriguing about him.