"So," Muro begins, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down Sumi's spine, "how old are you, little one?"
Sumi hesitates, a flicker of unease crossing her face. She's not used to talking to strangers, especially not men who look at her with such intensity. "I'm... I'm sixteen," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.
Muro raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Sixteen? My, my. You're very... mature for your age." His eyes linger on her chest, the outline of her bra clearly visible beneath her wet dress. "Very well-developed," he adds, his voice laced with a suggestive undertone that Sumi, in her innocence, completely misses.
Sumi blushes, her cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and a strange, unfamiliar excitement. She's never had a man comment on her body before, and the attention, though unsettling, is also strangely flattering. She glances down at her chest, suddenly self-conscious of her developing figure.
Muro leans closer, his arm brushing against hers. He can feel the warmth of her skin through her wet dress, the softness of her thigh pressing against his. "You know," he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I thought you were older. Your figure... it's... quite remarkable for a girl your age." He pauses, letting his words sink in. "You're going to be a real heartbreaker someday."
Sumi giggles nervously, her heart pounding in her chest. She's not sure how to respond to this man's compliments. They're a little too forward, a little too suggestive, but she can't deny that they make her feel... special.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Muro asks, his eyes searching hers.
Sumi shakes her head. "No," she replies, her voice barely audible.
Muro feigns surprise. "Really? I'm surprised. A beautiful girl like you... I would have thought you'd have boys lining up at your door." He pauses, his gaze lingering on her lips. "It's a wonder someone hasn't snatched you up already."
Sumi blushes again, her eyes dropping to her lap. She's not used to this kind of attention, this blatant flirting. It's both exciting and a little overwhelming. She feels a strange pull towards this man, a dangerous curiosity that she can't quite explain.
Muro, sensing her vulnerability, leans in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "You're very special, you know," he whispers, his voice laced with a hypnotic quality that makes Sumi's head spin. "You're beautiful, intelligent, and... innocent. A rare combination."
Sumi shivers, a wave of unfamiliar sensations washing over her. She's never felt this way before, this strange mix of fear and excitement, vulnerability and desire. She's like a moth drawn to a flame, unaware of the danger that lurks within its heat.
Muro, ever the predator, notices Sumi's shivering. "You're cold," he observes, his voice laced with concern. "If you don't change out of those wet clothes, you're going to get sick." He pauses, his eyes scanning her figure, lingering on the damp fabric clinging to her curves. "And we wouldn't want that, would we?"
Sumi shakes her head, her teeth chattering slightly. She's starting to feel the chill, the wet dress clinging to her skin like a cold compress.
Muro removes his leather jacket and offers it to her. "Here," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Take this. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."
Sumi hesitates, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "But... but what about you?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
Muro shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "I'll be fine. I'm used to the cold." He flashes her a reassuring smile. "Besides, I wouldn't want you to get sick. You're too precious."
Sumi's cheeks flush at the compliment. She glances down at the jacket, its worn leather warm and inviting. She knows she should refuse, that it's not proper to accept such a gift from a stranger. But the cold is seeping into her bones, and the offer is too tempting to resist.
"Thank you," she murmurs, taking the jacket. She hesitates for a moment, then adds, "But... I can't just wear this. My dress is soaked."
Muro nods, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "I understand," he says, his voice low and suggestive. "Why don't you take it off and dry it? You can wear my jacket in the meantime."
Sumi's eyes widen in alarm. "But... but I can't change here," she stammers, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "In front of you."
Muro raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Of course, of course," he says, his voice smooth as silk. "I wouldn't dream of making you uncomfortable. I'll turn around. You can change, and I won't look. I promise."
Sumi hesitates, her mind battling between her modesty and her growing discomfort. The rain shows no sign of stopping, and her wet clothes are becoming unbearable. She glances at Muro, his back turned towards her, his shoulders shaking with what she assumes is suppressed laughter. She takes a deep breath and makes up her mind.
"Okay," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "But... you have to promise not to look."
Muro turns his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I promise," he says, his voice laced with a playful irony that Sumi completely misses. "I'm a gentleman, after all."
Sumi turns away from him, her heart pounding in her chest.
Muro, feigning disinterest, slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He positions it subtly, angling the camera towards Sumi, who is still struggling with the buttons of her wet dress. He presses the record button, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He can see everything clearly through the phone's screen, the details of her undressing unfolding before him like a forbidden movie.
Sumi, her back still to him, finally manages to undo the last button of her dress. The wet fabric falls open, revealing her bare back and the delicate straps of her bra. She hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath and slips the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a soft heap.
Muro's eyes, glued to the phone screen, devour the sight. Her skin is smooth and pale, glistening with droplets of rain. He can see the gentle curve of her spine, the delicate hollow of her back. He imagines running his hand along her skin, feeling its warmth, its softness.
She reaches behind her back, her fingers fumbling with the clasp of her bra. He watches, his breath catching in his throat, as she finally manages to undo it. The bra falls away, revealing her bare breasts. They are small but perfectly formed, the nipples hard and erect from the cold. He imagines cupping them in his hands, feeling their firmness, teasing them until they become even more sensitive. He imagines kissing them, tasting the sweetness of her skin.
He notices the way her ribs curve gently beneath her breasts, the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. He imagines his hand resting there, feeling the rhythm of her heart. He imagines pulling her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his.
He can see the delicate curve of her stomach, the smooth skin stretching taut as she moves. He notices the small mole just below her navel, a tiny detail that somehow makes her even more alluring.
His gaze drifts lower, taking in the curve of her hips, the gentle flare of her buttocks. He can see the outline of her panties through the wet fabric of her discarded dress, the delicate lace trim hinting at the secrets hidden beneath.
He watches as she slips on his jacket, the oversized garment engulfing her small frame. He imagines her naked beneath the jacket, her body warm and vulnerable.
Muro continues to record, his eyes filled with lust, his mind consumed by erotic fantasies. He's capturing every moment, every detail of her undressing, preserving it for his own twisted pleasure.