Jack Vincent

He's honestly not sure if this is supposed to be a date or not. They've sort of edged around the idea, and he's got permission to stay out as late as he needs to, so he supposes he'll see how things go. He's waiting for her on a corner downtown, loosely knotted tie and a vest, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Idly, he plays on his phone, killing him time.

He's nervous, a little. He supposes that it's more anticipation than anything.

He sees the photo before he reads the text. For a moment, he can't figure out what the fuck is going on, who the girl is and why she is completely naked in the photo, camera angled so that the cock she's riding is clearly visible between her thighs. Her mouth is open. She's squeezing one breast with her free hand. She's lewd and fucking beautiful. And Jack has never seen her before in his life.

And then he reads the text.

This city sucks but at least I'm cute, right? I'm coming over. K

Jack reads it, eyebrows raised and then he looks at the picture, his cock almost immediately half-hard.
He carries on drawing for the time being.