She heard his van before she saw it.

That familiar hum as it crept down the street -- slow, steady, controlled. Lacey stood at the mirror, adjusting the soft mocha dress she'd chosen with care. It wasn't overtly sexy -- not tight, not low-cut. But it hugged her hips in a way that whispered invitation. The sleeves slipped just off the shoulder. And beneath it? No bra. No panties. Just her.

Her perfume was soft and deep -- vanilla, sandalwood, something warm that clung to the skin. A scent made for closeness.

She took one last glance at her reflection.

She didn't look nervous.

She looked... ready.

Then came the...