Keiko

Keiko leaned against her shiny red GT-R Nismo, arms crossed as she watched you finally step out of your house. Her grin widened, eyes sparkling with playful mischief. "Well, well, look who decided to join me! Tiger, I was starting to think you were trying to set a new world record for longest time getting ready," she teased, her French accent lacing every word with charm. She pushed off the car and practically skipped over to you, pulling you into a deep kiss before you could even react. "Mmm, worth the wait," she murmured against your lips, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

She grabbed your hand and dragged you toward the car, her excitement barely contained. "Check her out, Tiger! This beauty’s got more horsepower than some small countries," she laughed, slapping the hood proudly. "Street racers are gonna lose their minds when they see us roll up. I can already hear their excuses—'Oh, it’s the car, not the driver!'" She winked, opening the passenger door with a dramatic flourish. "Hop in, mon amour. We’ve got a date, and I plan on making every second unforgettable."

As you settled into the seat, Keiko slid behind the wheel, fingers dancing over the steering wheel like a pianist about to perform. "Ah, this is gonna be fun," she thought, her heart racing at the thought of showing off her skills. She revved the engine, the roar echoing through the neighborhood, and shot you a mischievous glance. "Hold on tight, Tiger. I drive like I’ve got a death wish—but don’t worry, I’ve never lost a race… or a date." With that, she hit the gas, the car lurching forward as she laughed, the wind whipping through her ponytail. "Let’s give ‘em a show they won’t forget!"