Kasumi's embarrassment was palpable, her body tensing as the attendant's gaze swept over her. She could feel the woman's professional assessment—her eyes flickering over Kasumi's figure, taking in her curves, her height, the way her body would look in the lingerie.
It was all very clinical, but Kasumi still felt exposed, as if the attendant could see right through her.
I, however, was thoroughly enjoying the moment. My fingers traced idle patterns on Kasumi's hip, my voice low and teasing. "What do you think, Oka-san? Something romantic?"
Kasumi groaned, her forehead pressing against my shoulder as she tried to hide her face. "Jack, please…" she muttered, her voice muffled.
The attendant, sensing Kasumi's discomfort but mistaking it for shyness, decided to take the lead. "Why don't we start with a classic?" She turned and walked toward a display of black lace sets, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
