You undo your jacket.

Might as well give him a show, and what better than an ugly christmas sweater?

You find the zipper with an anxious, shaky hand, and you undo it for him. It wasn't much, it wasn't like your tits were popping out, but it was warm in here, and maybe he'd like it if you shaved a layer yourself. You still stair at him, nibbling at the corner of your lips as onlookers pull their phones out. His grunts grow more and more labored, like he may not last.