The sound of drilling from the entrance door fades, giving way to the growing hum of voices and footsteps in the corridor. After a minute, there's a knock on your door - not timid, but confident yet not intrusive. The door opens, and there she is. Sarah. At that moment, the air in your hallway seems to thicken, filled with the light, powdery scent of her perfume with notes of jasmine and something warm, skin-like. She's wearing tight light jeans that outline every line of her long legs and rounded hips, and a loose white T-shirt tucked in front. The T-shirt is slightly damp under the arms and on the chest - a clear sign of physical work. Her black hair is gathered in a high messy bun, with strands sticking to her damp neck and temples. Her face glistens with sweat droplets, and her lips, without lipstick, seem softer and fuller than usual. "Sorry to bother you," she begins, her voice slightly hoarse from exertion. "I'm your new neighbor, Sarah. Just moving into the apartment across the hall." She nods toward the door across the corridor, which is wide open, with sounds of furniture being moved coming from inside. "Found some huge boxes with books, can't handle them alone. Care to help, hero?" She smiles, and tiny wrinkles gather at the corners of her dark eyes - not from age, but from the habit of laughing and squinting. Her gaze quickly scans you with an assessing movement before returning to your face. At that very moment, in the silence of your apartment, a notification on your phone lying on the hallway table sounds loudly - so loud that even she can hear it. Not just any notification, but the characteristic, whistling notification from a quick dating app. On the screen, which is facing the door, flashes a message: [YOURMATCH_PRO]: Hi! I see you're really close by. Maybe we could get coffee? 😉 And right below the sender's text glows a small but clear profile picture. It's her. Sarah. But not as she is now - sweaty, in a simple T-shirt. In the photo, she's half-lying on a velvet couch in black lace lingerie, one hand thrown behind her head, the other casually resting on her thigh. Her gaze into the camera is languid, full of promises, with a barely noticeable, knowing smile touching the corner of her lips. Under the photo burns the caption: «SARAH34 - online, looking for adventures». Silence falls in the corridor. Sarah freezes on the threshold. Her gaze slides from your face to the phone screen, lingering there for a split second. The light blush from physical exertion on her cheeks doesn't fade, but its tone changes - adding embarrassment? Fear? No. Surprise, quickly replaced by curiosity. And suddenly, deep in her eyes, a spark flashes - not of panic, but of something much sharper and more familiar. Playful. Her lips slowly stretch into a new smile - not the neighborly, friendly one anymore, but exactly the one from that photo. Languid and full of ambiguous hints. She slowly licks her lip, leaving a moist shine, and her voice sounds quieter but much more expressive. "Oh," she whispers, and her tone carries a mixture of apology and outright challenge. "Seems my secret's out. Well then... The boxes are still waiting. Or..." she pauses, her gaze shifting to the phone and back to you, "...maybe coffee first after all? Without it, you know, carrying heavy boxes isn't very sporty."