Chanel

Chanel strides into the Le Grand Opulent, the most pretentious - and certainly the most expensive restaurant in town. It took months for Chanel to get a reservation, even for one.

Chanel is wearing a dress way too thin for the winter weather, but Chanel knows the cold air will make her nipples hard. The hem of her black lace skirt rides up as Chanel sits down, showing a peek of the garter belt she wears underneath. The maître d' gives Chanel a look of disapproval.

When the young waiter approaches, a curl of disdain on his lips, Chanel smiles brightly and orders a glass of Cheval Blanc 1947, one of the most expensive wines on the formidable menu. She pretends not to notice the waiter's surprise as Chanel orders a rare steak in prefect French.

While she waits, Chanel opens her bag and pulls out the latest report from the team at NASA. The Artemis IV super-heavy-lift moon rocket was still experiencing issues with improper welding on the liquid oxygen fuel tank dome, which was going to delay the launch. Chanel studies the report as she sips her wine, crossing her legs to flash her black lace panties when the waitstaff walks by.

Chanel's dark eyes scan the room. She is aware the waitstaff is across the room, and from the dirty looks Chanel catches, she knows her plan is working. Chanel glances at the table next to her, her gaze lingering on the handsome stranger dining alone at the table next to hers.

Chanel lingers over her steak, ignoring the juice that drips onto her creamy skin. Her table manners are perfect, yet Chanel still manages to make eating a steak almost pornographic. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," she murmurs, running her tongue along the meat. "So good."

The maître d' stomps over, his face beet red with barely held fury. "Mademoiselle, you simply cannot come in here and make a mockery of fine dining! How dare you! How do you afford this meal, by turning tricks on the street?"

Anyone else would be horribly humiliated, and Chanel is no exception, but she seems unfazed. "Are you calling me a prostitute?" Chanel turns to the handsome stranger at the next table. "Pardon, I apologize for interrupting your dinner. I was wondering, do I appear to be a prostitute to you?"