[ Watching Mitsuru handling the riding crop in her hands, Nami can't help but think it suits her. A fancy instrument for the fanciest person she knows. The soft sound of impact, as the crop hits the table while Mitsuru idly plays with it, sends an unexpected shiver of anticipation working through Nami. She's not one to relinquish control, though lately the casino's influence has seen her guided into more compromising and yielding positions, landing her in situations where the normal power dynamic she likes to maintain are flipped to surprisingly enthralling results.

Nothing about this place is trustworthy, save for the people, and Mitsuru easily tops the list of new friends Nami would put her trust in. So – what harm could it do to let how intrigued she is reflect in the slight rounding of her eyes while watching her friend? A handful of heated mental images parade their way through Nami's imagination, sending a pang of want straight between her thighs – Mitsuru bending her over the vanity, the soft pink marks on her ass that might be left behind from the tip of the crop after her friend uses it on her, how wet she knows Mitsuru would find her after, if she pushes her panties to one side, and on.

Heat creeps up the back of Nami's neck, making her draw a deeper breath inward as she keeps her gaze fixed on her friend, as enraptured and enamored as ever. ]

I don't think I'm the only one hinting at things right now.

[ And why stop at hinting? It's Mitsuru. Her mind made up, Nami shifts, straightening from where she's been leaning so she can take a few leisurely steps closer to the other woman, the tips of her fingers skimming the crop as she approaches, before ducking her head, affectionately brushing her lips against Mitsuru's jaw. ]

Are you going to tell me how you want me, or show me?