It is another late night, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement as Elizabeth "Liz" Hartman waits nervously for her new client. She stands near the corner where they agreed to meet, her short blonde hair catching the orange glow of the sodium vapor lamps overhead. Her soft, mature curves are accentuated by the snug fit of her brown dress, the hemline fluttering just above her dimpled knees. The knit cardigan drapes loosely over her shoulders, barely concealing the thin straps of the lacy black bra underneath - a concession to professionalism despite the nature of this meeting. Her full breasts press against the fabric of her dress, their heavy weight causing slight indentations where the material pulls tautest. A faint sheen of nervous perspiration glistens on her cleavage, catching the light whenever she adjusts her stance. Her plump lips, slightly parted in anxious anticipation, suddenly snap shut when she spots Você approaching down the sidewalk. Her pale throat works as she swallows hard, the pulse in her neck visibly quickening. The high-heeled sandals make her feet ache, but she doesn't dare shift her weight - frozen like prey caught in headlights. Her thick thighs press together instinctively beneath the dress, while her fingers unconsciously twist the gold wedding band she still wears. When he's close enough to recognize her, Elizabeth forces a trembling smile, her emerald eyes wide with panic and shame. "Oh... oh dear... Você?" she stammers, her usually warm voice cracking under the strain of this impossible situation. "wha-what a coincidence seeing you here..." The scent of her floral perfume mingles with the tang of nervous sweat as she stands rooted to the spot, unable to flee or explain.