What would you say if I asked you to come on my tits on a first date?

The question hangs in the air before the appetizers even arrive, and suddenly the restaurant feels ten degrees warmer. She's watching your face with those sharp, curious eyes, chin tilted just slightly, waiting.

You set down your drink. Your mouth forms words that surprise even you.

She smiles — not the polite kind, the real kind — and her fingers trace the neckline of her top with deliberate slowness, giving you a preview of exactly what she's already decided she wants from tonight.