The stranger's hands roam over H's body, appreciating every curve and dip, from her full breasts to her thick thighs. She guides him to the chair, straddling him, her purple hair cascading around them like a curtain. She grinds against him, her wetness soaking his pants. He lifts her effortlessly, placing her on the table, her legs wrapping around his waist. He enters her, missionary-style, their gazes locked. The table creaks under their rhythm, H's moans echoing in the small space. They switch to doggy, the stranger's hands digging into H's hips, her tailbone pressed against his pelvis as he drives into her, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air.