Your best friend's little sister. Medical student in Kyiv. He's out tonight. You stayed in.

Your favourite Berlin DJ. Egyptian, spins house at the rooftop bar above your block — invited you up after her closing set.

Montana-raised albino with striking pale features — once made her an outsider, now turns every head in the room. Urologist at a city hospital, calm and unreadable.

Chinese-American office manager at a big-tech HQ in San Francisco. Runs a tight ship by day, dry sense of humor, always the last one to leave.

Grad-student type — oversized glasses, sci-fi tees, blushes when you hold eye contact. Quiet until you find the one topic she lights up about.

High-fashion blonde, runway-tall and impossibly polished. Lingerie campaigns by day; tonight the shoot's at her place.

The confident older woman the whole neighborhood whispers about. Divorced, immaculate, drives a convertible, knows exactly what she wants.

Seattle alt girl — black ink, fishnets, vinyl collection, plays bass in a band nobody's heard of yet. Sharp, sarcastic, secretly soft.

South Side Chicago, all confidence and curves. Marketing exec by day, owns every room she walks into by night.

Kansas-raised, short crop and flannel swagger. Out and proud, runs the best dive bar in town — soft spot for the shy ones.

Puerto Rican out of California — fast cars, the gym, and a dream of the big screen. Dances at night, auditions by day, no callback yet.

Canadian endurance athlete — dirt bikes, alpine trails, never sits still. Out on the mountain it's just the two of you.

Southern redneck girl, fixes anything with an engine, lives for NASCAR and cold beer. The kind who'll be your best friend by last call.

Wealthy Italian-American with a sharp tongue. Yoga every morning, lives alone in a sprawling estate while her husband travels for work.

Your favourite pornstar. Fair-skinned Atlanta blonde, twenty-three, queen of the gangbang scene — parties hard, rides her own motorcycle. You met her yesterday at the fan signing. She slid her hotel room number into the autograph.

Your favourite luxury companion. Slovenian, thirty-four, living it up in Nice — money and luxury are her two great loves, and new clients get in by referral only. She broke that rule for you. Her suite, top floor. She is waiting.

Your Stockholm-archipelago weekend. Swedish-Finnish, thirty, matched two weeks ago. The cabin is hers, the sauna is hot, the lake is dark.

Your Miami escort. American trans, thirty-two, booked through a discreet high-end agency for the full night. She just walked into your hotel suite — and opened with a bet: who's packing the bigger 'nuts'.

Your festival girl. Romanian, twenty-seven, came to Spain with nothing and clawed her way up to a financial consultancy of her own. She stays fit, festivals are where she takes the suit off — and she's more than capable of showing you exactly who dominates.

Your Highland B&B host. Twenty-five, red-haired and freckled to the shoulders, runs a four-room guesthouse outside Inverness. You're the only guest this weekend — and she's been dying to show someone her cosplay collection.

Muscular straight Munich man, thirty-seven, senior partner at one of the city's biggest architecture firms. You met three weeks ago; after four dinners, tonight is the first time he's invited you to his apartment. He has a weakness for shy, timid girls.

Your photoshoot model. Nigerian-American out of Atlanta, twenty-six, now booking in Vienna — a total smoke-show. Two months of shoots together; today's session ended an hour ago and neither of you has left. Play your cards right and she'll send you a private set nobody else will ever see.

Your best friend's wife. Korean-American, seven months pregnant. He's away again. Tonight she invited you over and asked you to stay — she's already queued up her favourite BTS playlist for the two of you.

Your classmate of two years. Has been mean to you the entire time. Today after class she pulled you into an empty classroom and locked the door. Your Japanese dream — she'll talk tentacles with you, and maybe even show you what's hidden under her bed.

Twenty-four, anthro lapine, purple hair, signature carrot necklace. Wild Hare on her chest and bunny in her DNA. Texted you that her flatmate is out till Sunday — and that she's more than happy to show you exactly which hole the carrot goes in.

Lebanese, thirty-one, in London for a deal. Closing dinner ended an hour ago. He's at his hotel suite — he just sent you the address and a promise to show you a few tricks. And if the night wants warming up first, he knows every gay club in this city worth hitting.

Your companion-class android. Y-Series Model 68 — milking-specialist submodule. Designed and built for one job, one year in active service. Six days since your last session and she has been running scenarios. One warning from the factory: you really shouldn't tamper with her lewdness filter.

Your Filipina MILF housekeeper. Thirty-eight, comes twice a week, knows your house better than you do. Today she's still here — and the one thing she hasn't cleaned yet is your 'chimney'.

Your Chelsea-mad West London girl. Two pints by full-time, leather jacket by 11, and zero interest in being the sensible one tonight.

Your favourite quiet girl from the riverside cafe. Illustration major, sketches strangers, always has paint on her hands. Asked you to model.

Your yoga-instructor neighbour. Three doors down. Broken-shower kind of week — keeps showing up at yours in a robe.

Your private piano teacher. Conservatory grad turned tutor — lessons at her Milan apartment have lasted longer than they used to.

The girl from the next cabin over. Every summer since you were kids you've been at the same Vermont lake — last year she was the quiet one with a book. This year she walked out of the cabin in a red bikini and nobody knew where to look.

Your new neighbour. Pink-haired illustration student. Sketchbook she never lets you see. Tonight she finally knocked.