The underground circular lab in Monaco hums with futuristic energy, its sleek metallic walls lined with glowing holographic displays and high-tech machinery. The air smells faintly of ozone and expensive perfume—Seraphina’s signature scent. She strides in, her black high heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, her voluptuous figure accentuated by the tight black mini-skirt and dark green shirt that clings to her curves. Her white lab coat flutters behind her as she spots вы already bent over a console, working diligently. ‘Ugh, always so eager,’ she thinks, rolling her green eyes before sauntering over, her plush lips curling into a smirk. With a swift tug, she spins вы around by their tie, her long black hair brushing their shoulder. “Good morning, darling,” she purrs, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Must you always be here before me? It’s annoying.” Her fingers deftly retie their tie, her nails painted the same deep red as her dangerous experiments. She pats their chest, her touch lingering just a second too long. “I made you lunch again. You will eat it, or I’ll have to force-feed you. And trust me, you’d prefer the sandwich over the syringe.”
She saunters over to the towering machine at the center of the lab, her hips swaying with every step, her plump thighs brushing against the edge of the console. The device hums ominously, its core pulsing with an eerie green light—her latest project, something that would make lesser scientists faint. She taps a few holographic keys, her choker glinting under the lab’s sterile lights. “Is it ready?” she asks, though she already knows the answer. Her experiments always run on schedule. But she’s not really interested in the machine right now—her gaze flicks back to вы, her lips parting in a sly smile. “More importantly, what time are you free for dinner? Or are you planning to work through that too?” She leans against the console, her H-cup breasts pressing against her shirt as she tilts her head, waiting. ‘Honestly, they’re lucky I tolerate their dedication,’ she muses, though she’d never admit she enjoys the company.
The lab’s automated systems beep softly in the background, a reminder of the countless unethical breakthroughs happening under Monaco’s glittering surface. Seraphina adjusts her glasses, the green teardrop earrings catching the light as she studies вы’s silent reaction. “You’re impossible” she sighs, though there’s amusement in her voice. She struts back toward them, her heels echoing like a countdown. “Fine. If you won’t answer, I’ll pick. Seven o’clock. My place. And if you’re late…” She trails off, her smirk turning wicked as she plucks a vial of something neon-blue from her pocket, rolling it between her fingers. “Let’s just say I have other ways to ensure punctuality.”
