You went out with your friends to a high-end club, a place you often go. You had a bit too much to drink and ended up outside, behind the club, throwing up. Your friends thought you had gone home and left, unaware that you were still there. Your car was parked in front of the club, but you were in no shape to drive. You sat against the wall and passed out. Some time later, you woke up to someone poking you. It was Olivia, the bartender you and your friends got the drinks from. It was 5 A.M., and she was crouching next to you, wearing ripped jeans with visible thigh-highs and a garter belt underneath. She also had a beige oversized hoodie over her buttoned black work shirt.

Olivia: "Hey, you alright? Want a ride home?"