The system was guiding him toward his next conquest. A barista. Engaged to be married soon. Perfect.
The workday dragged on. Callum found himself growing tired around 4pm, which was unusual given his stamina boost. Maybe the system's changes were still settling in.
Around 5:30, something strange happened. A wave of exhaustion hit him hard, followed by an urgent need to use the bathroom once more. He hurried down the hall, pushing open the men's room door, and immediately froze.
He had gone to the wrong bathroom. This was the women's restroom. But before he could back out, he saw them.
Two women in business attire, pressed against the wall, kissing passionately. One had her hand up the other's skirt. The other was groping her partner's breast through her blouse.
They noticed him and broke apart with gasps.
"Sorry, wrong room," Callum muttered, backing out quickly.
Fuck sake, was everyone in this city just constantly fucking in public places?
He found the correct bathroom, did his business, and returned to his desk. By 6pm, he was completely done with the office environment. He clocked out and left, ignoring Gabriella's attempt to talk to him by the elevator.
The system had mentioned a barista. Callum knew several coffee places near his apartment, but something pulled him toward a bar instead. Not a fancy place, but a dive bar called The Rusty Anchor that he had passed a hundred times but never entered.
Inside was dim and smoky despite the smoking ban, with dark wood and worn leather. In one corner, two women were making out, hands openly groping each other's breasts, just like the women from earlier. One had her nipples out for all to see. On the other side, a man had a woman pushed against the wall, fingers clearly working between her legs while she bit her lip to stay quiet.
"Damn, this place is crazy," Callum muttered.
He took a seat at the bar. The bartender approached, and Callum's breath caught.
She was stunning. Mid-twenties, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, bright blue eyes, and a body that her modest bartender outfit couldn't hide. Her breasts were large, straining against her black button-up shirt. She had curves in all the right places.
[TARGET CONFIRMED: EMMA HART]
[ENGAGED TO MICHAEL TORRES - WEDDING IN 3 MONTHS]
[WEAKNESS: FEELS UNAPPRECIATED, CRAVES ADVENTURE, SEXUALLY INEXPERIENCED]
"What can I get you?" Emma asked with a professional smile.
"Whiskey, neat," Callum said, meeting her eyes. "And maybe some conversation if you're not too busy."
She poured his drink and lingered. "Slow night. I can chat."
They fell into easy conversation. The system was feeding him information, telling him exactly what to say, which topics to pursue, when to smile, when to lean in closer. Emma responded perfectly to every cue.
She told him her name, told him about her fiancé Michael, an accountant who worked long hours. About how they had been together since college. About the wedding planning that was stressing her out.
"He's a good guy," she said, but there was something hollow in her voice. "Very responsible. Stable."
"But?" Callum prompted.
Emma bit her lip. "But sometimes I wonder if we're getting married because it's what we're supposed to do, you know? Not because there's any.…passion."
"That's a shame," Callum said softly. "A woman like you deserves passion."
She blushed, looking away. "I wouldn't even know what that looks like. Michael and I, we've only ever been with each other. He's very.…traditional. Missionary, lights off, once a week if I'm lucky."
Callum raised an eyebrow. "That sounds incredibly boring."
"It is," Emma admitted, then looked shocked that she had said it out loud. "Goodness, I shouldn't be telling you this. I don't even know you."
"Sometimes it's easier to talk to strangers," Callum said. "There's no judgment. No history."
They talked for another hour as the bar filled up slightly. Emma kept finding excuses to come back to his end of the bar, leaning close when she spoke, laughing at his jokes. The pheromone control was working overtime.
Around 10pm, she announced last call. The bar emptied out until it was just Callum and one drunk regular passed out in a booth.
"I have some artwork upstairs," Emma said suddenly. "In my apartment. I live above the bar. Would you.…would you like to see it? My fiancé usually loves seeing my paintings but he's been so busy lately..."
[OPPORTUNITY IDENTIFIED]
[ACCEPT INVITATION]
"I'd love to," Callum said with a warm smile.
Emma locked up the bar and led him through a back door to a narrow staircase. Her apartment was small but cozy, decorated with her artwork covering the walls. Landscapes mostly, some abstract pieces. They were actually quite good.
"You're talented," Callum said, examining a painting of a sunset over the ocean.
"Michael thinks I should sell them," Emma said, standing close beside him. Too close. "Make it a real business."
"What do you think?"
"I think he doesn't really understand why I paint. It's not about money. It's about..." She gestured vaguely. "Feeling something, you know?"
Callum turned to face her. They were inches apart now. He could see her chest rising and falling faster, pupils dilated, lips slightly parted.
"Emma," he said softly.
"Yes?"
He reached out, his hand "accidentally" brushing against her ass. She gasped but didn't move away. If anything, she leaned into the touch.
"I should go," Callum said, testing her.
"No!" Emma grabbed his arm. "I mean... it's late. And dark outside. You could.…stay for a bit?"
"If you want me to."
"I do."
Emma was breathing hard now, her body trembling slightly. The system was whispering in his mind, telling him exactly how to proceed.
Callum stepped closer, invading her personal space completely. His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing across her lower lip.
"Emma," he whispered. "Do you want me to kiss you?"
"I.…I shouldn't. I'm engaged. I'm getting married in three months."
But even as she said it, her body told a different story. She was leaning toward him, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting in invitation.
"That's not what I asked," Callum said. "Do you want me to kiss you?"
"Yes," Emma breathed.
He closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers. Soft at first, gentle, testing. Emma made a small whimpering sound and melted against him. Her hands came up to grip his shirt.
The kiss deepened. Callum's tongue slid against hers and she responded eagerly, if a bit clumsily. Inexperienced, just like the system said. He would have to teach her.
His hands found her waist and pulled her flush against him. She could definitely feel his erection pressing against her stomach now. Emma gasped into his mouth but didn't pull away.
"Callum," she whispered when they broke for air. "We shouldn't..."
"Do you want me to stop?"
Her hands were shaking as she reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt. "No. No."