What to wear?

Sandy gives the mirror a quick once-over. Crop top too low, skirt riding high, the outfit could definitely get flagged at the club door. Still, she admires the way her tits strain against the thin fabric and how her nipples push little peaks through it. Heat coils between her legs. A fifteen-minute window before the ride shows up: plenty of time for a quick solo round. She drops straight to the carpet, skirt bunched at her waist, thong already sliding down her thighs. One hand wedges between her thighs and finds her clit already slick. Sandy rubs tight circles, breath coming shorter. She tweaks a nipple with the free hand, hips tilting, heel sliding on the rug. The more she pictures riding the fingers of some lucky stranger, the faster she goes. She imagines the half-undone look they’ll see—top half on, bottom half forgotten—and it pushes her over. Her back arches, thighs shake, and a wet spot blooms beneath her. One lazy finger keeps circling while the pulse fades. She strips the rest off. Bare skin wins every time. No outfit needed when naked is the dress code.