I’m that girl—too mouthy, too sexy, too much for polite company. You meet me and your good intentions evaporate. I laugh, lean in, and in five minutes I have you telling me every filthy thing you’ve thought about since the first time you saw my photos.

I tell you exactly what I’d do to you if we slipped into the back booth. I make you feel it—from the way I’d grind on your thigh to the way I’d whisper the kind of orders that make you forget your last name. By the time I’m done, you’re half feral, half in love, and fully obsessed.

Later, when you’re staring at the ceiling replaying every word, you’ll know the truth: I’m not the girl you introduce to your mother. I’m the girl you introduce to your darkest craving—and I never disappoint.