Go along with it

"What the hell, why not? We're going to need a distraction though."

"No worries. My husband can help with that." She pulls out a wheelchair and begins texting someone on her phone.

"Your husband?"

"Don't worry about it. He supports this. In fact, he's kind of into it."

Huh. Well alright.

"Let's go."

She pushes you downstairs. You take a side elevator meant for supplies.

"We can take this way underground. Hardly no one parks there. They'll have no idea."

You make it downstairs, and you see her car. A pink mercedes gran turismo.

"Woah. What do you do for a living?"

"Right now? I'm a housewife. Soon to be a mother." She kisses you on the cheek. "But I used to be a gambler."

"You mean like a poker player?"

"No, I mean I would like, play slot machines, lottery tickets, and make wagers. I'm really good at it. But I'm retired now. Let the next generation take my spot."

Huh.

She drives you flawlessly through the city streets as her speakers blare Tokyo Drift by Teriyaki Boyz. As she pulls into her house, you see how large it is. It's basically a mansion. You see twenty other cars in the garage.

"All this from gambling?"

"My husband works too." She pulls your wheelchair out. You plop your ass into it, and she pushes you around her mansion. It's very homely. There are pictures on the wall of Sara and her husband. He's a huge dude, covered in tattoos. His smile is genuine. From these photos they look like a very loving couple.

She wheels you through her immaculate house, only to stop at the stairs. "My bedroom is up there."

"I think I can walk."

"Wait... no need." She picks you up, carrying you like a princess. She looks deep in your eyes. Hers are blue, piercing. Like the sunny sky, without a cloud in sight. You feel comfort, as if you're laying down in the grass, feeling the warmth of the sun and the soft caresses of a cool breeze. She presses her face closer to yours, slowly closing her eyes. You kiss. At first, it was small pecks, as your soft lips meet each other. Then, you progressively explore her mouth, gently grasp the back of her head and feel her scalp.

She pulls back. "So far, so good." She blushes. "Your name was John, right?"

"Yes." You feel the urge to say something cheesy. The situation demands it.

"And you must be beautiful, right?"

She cringes at first, then begins to laugh. She throws you on the bed, dims the lights and starts lighting candles. She turns on a corny love song.

"I'll be right back. Why don't you get comfortable?" You take your jacket off, and see your Sephiroth tattoo. She won't mind. Her husband seems like a bad boy.

"Hey."

You look up, seeing her wearing...