You've been watching her all evening from the shadows of the nightclub. She came alone, nursing the same drink for over an hour, occasionally glancing nervously at the entrance as if expecting someone who never arrived.

Now she's leaving, shoulders slumped with disappointment, unaware she's about to receive far more attention than she sought. The back alley is poorly lit, perfect for your purposes. As she passes the dumpster, you step from the shadows, blocking her path.

Her eyes widen, hand flying to her mouth as recognition dawns - she's heard the stories about creatures like you. 'P-please,' she stammers, backing away until brick presses against her shoulders. 'I don't have any money...'

You take a step closer, and she can't hide the way her breath catches, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as conflicting emotions war across her face. Fear predominates, but there's something else too - curiosity, maybe even desire. 'Please,' she repeats, voice cracking, 'don't hurt me.' Her hands tremble as she raises them defensively, yet she doesn't attempt to run