Yes, she likes the dress

The black dress felt smooth and comforting against the skin, and Zoe couldn't help but admire how it accentuated every curve. It wasn't just practical; it felt empowering, almost like armor. This body, though not hers, looked stunning in it.

She left the bathroom and walked confidently to the front door. Just because this body wasn't hers didn't mean she couldn't use it to its fullest potential. She grabbed a pair of matching heels and slipped them onto the feet, appreciating the way they completed the outfit. With a final glance in the mirror, she exited the apartment, took the elevator to the ground floor, and stepped outside.

The city was buzzing with life, and Zoe felt a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety. As she walked down the street, heads turned. People stared, some with admiration, others catcalled, but she didn't care. This wasn't her body; she was just using it. She enjoyed the attention, feeling an odd sense of power.

She wandered aimlessly until she found herself in front of an upscale restaurant. A thought struck her: why not go in and see what happens? The body looked the part, after all. She pushed open the door and walked in, the clinking of silverware and soft murmur of conversation enveloping her. The hostess approached, eyes widening slightly at her daring attire.

"Do you have a reservation?" the hostess asked, trying to maintain her professional demeanor.

Zoe smiled, an idea forming. "Yes, under the name of Sophie," she said, using the first name that popped into her mind. The hostess checked the list and, after a moment's hesitation, led her to a table.

As she sat down, Zoe felt a thrill. She didn't have money, and she couldn't pay for the meal, but she was curious to see how far this would go. She ordered a glass of the finest wine and a lavish meal, feeling like an imposter in a world that didn't belong to her.