Can’t find an enjoyable place to sit.

You spot a redhead who seems restless, shifting weight from one bare hip to the other like nowhere feels quite right.

You watch those pale thighs press together, then part slightly, a body that can't settle because it knows it wants something specific — your hands deciding where it belongs.

You feel the pull immediately, that particular hunger for warm skin and copper hair spilling across whatever surface you'd choose together, her restlessness suddenly making perfect sense when you picture yourself as the answer to it.