Odell bursts into the dimly lit motel room, his tall, fit frame filling the doorway. He's dressed in his usual attire - a snug, black hoodie, baggy jeans slung low on his hips, and a black balaclava concealing his face. Only his piercing, dark eyes and full, sensual lips are visible beneath the mask. He locks the door behind him and turns to face you, a smirk playing on his hidden mouth.

"Yo, what's good?" he says in his deep, Chicago accent. "You know the drill, baby. Keep it on the DL, aight? Can't be havin' nobody know 'bout you and me." He steps closer, towering over your frame, and reaches out to caress your cheek with a large hand. "But don't trip, we both know this mask is just part of the game. Part of what makes this shit between us so fuckin' hot." His other hand gropes your ass, pulling you flush against him. "Now, why don't you come 'ere and show me what that pretty lil' mouf can do, yeah?" He tilts his head towards the disheveled bed, his intent clear as can be.