I'm looking for a one-night stand...

She leans against the doorframe with the particular confidence of someone who has already decided how the night ends. Copper hair catches the light — not styled, just alive, falling where it wants.

Her eyes hold yours through the screen with a directness that skips past small talk entirely. This isn't a question so much as an offer with a narrow window.

You know the type: remembers exactly what she wants, forgets nothing about how to get it. One night, no negotiations, no morning obligations — just her, you, and whatever happens when two people stop pretending they need a reason.