Amber Kawaii: My First Anal Drilling with anal toys!

Bratty blonde Amber comes on like a badass to weed out men who can’t handle her. But the one who can will see her secret, more sensual side.

Amber leaned against the brick wall outside The Rusty Nail, her platinum hair catching the glow of the neon sign like a beacon. She scrolled through her phone with practiced disinterest, but her eyes flicked up every few seconds to survey the approaching crowd. Friday night. Fresh meat. Same game.

She’d perfected this role years ago—the icy blonde, the challenge, the woman men approached with hesitation and left with their tails between their legs. It was a filter, she told herself. A necessary evil. The ones who couldn’t handle her sharp tongue and sharper attitude weren’t worth her time anyway.

Tonight’s first victim approached within minutes. Decent looking, nice watch, confident stride. Amber watched him come, already cataloging his weaknesses.

“Hey, waiting for someone?” He flashed what he probably thought was a charming smile.

Amber looked him up and down slowly, deliberately, then returned to her phone. “Was. Now I’m just debating whether the drinks inside are worth the company.”

Ouch. The guy’s smile faltered, but he pressed on. “I could buy you one. Break the ice.”

“I don’t drink with strangers who use lines from bad dating apps.” She didn’t even look up. “Next.”

He retreated, muttering something under his breath. Amber suppressed a smirk. Too easy. They were always too easy.

The second was bolder—or stupider. He tried the direct approach, stepping into her space with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. “You look like you need someone to wipe that attitude off your face.”

Amber finally looked up, meeting his eyes with a coldness that had made stronger men flinch. “And you look like you need someone to explain why that line has never worked in the history of ever. Spoiler: it’s because women have taste.”

He lasted another thirty seconds before slinking away. Amber checked her watch. Seven minutes, two rejects. She was running at peak efficiency.

And then she saw him.

He wasn’t doing anything remarkable—just walking toward the bar entrance with his hands in his pockets, glancing at his phone like he was checking directions. But something about the way he moved caught her attention. Unhurried. Unimpressed by the scene around him. When his eyes swept over her, they didn’t linger with desperate hunger or performative disinterest. He simply… noticed her, acknowledged her existence, and kept walking.

Amber straightened slightly. Interesting.

As he passed, she deployed her standard opening. “Nice watch. Fake, though. The real ones have a smoother sweep on the second hand.”

He stopped. Turned. Looked at his watch, then back at her. “It’s a digital. No second hand.”

Amber blinked. That was new.

“Also,” he continued, a slight smile tugging at his lips, “if you’re going to insult strangers to test them, you should probably learn about watches first. Kind of undermines the whole badass thing when you’re wrong.”

Nobody talked to her like that. Nobody.

Amber felt her carefully constructed armor crack just slightly. She recovered quickly, crossing her arms. “And if you’re going to mansplain horology, you should probably learn that women don’t find it charming.”

He laughed—not nervously, not defensively, but genuinely amused. “Noted. I’ll add that to my growing list of things women don’t find charming, right under ‘existing while male.'” He started walking again, tossing over his shoulder, “Have a good night. Hope you find someone worthy of your… expertise.”

Amber watched him go, something unfamiliar stirring in her chest. He wasn’t running away. He wasn’t groveling. He was just… leaving. Like she was an interesting diversion he didn’t have time for.

She caught up to him at the door. “Wait.”

He turned, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re really going to walk away after that?”

“I’m really going to walk inside and order a drink. You’re welcome to join me if you can manage civility for more than thirty seconds.” He held the door open, waiting.

Amber hesitated—a first for her. Then she walked through.

The bar was crowded, but he found them a corner table with surprising ease. Amber sat across from him, suddenly aware that she was the one being evaluated now. The power dynamic had shifted without her permission.

“I’m Derek, by the way,” he said, signaling a waiter. “And you’re Amber, judging by the way every guy within fifty feet is either staring or avoiding eye contact.”

“How do you know I’m not a regular?” she challenged.

“Because the bartender just brought over a drink you didn’t order.” He nodded as a vodka soda materialized before her. “And because you’ve insulted three men in the past ten minutes and haven’t once checked your phone. You’re working. I just haven’t figured out what you’re working toward.”

Amber sipped her drink, buying time. This one was dangerous. He saw too much.

“Maybe I’m just selective,” she offered.

“Maybe.” Derek leaned back, completely at ease. “Or maybe you’re terrified of wasting time on someone who can’t handle you, so you’ve made ‘can’t handle you’ the baseline for every interaction. It’s efficient. Also lonely.”

The word hit harder than it should have. Amber set down her glass carefully. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you’re smart enough to spot bullshit from across the room. I know you’ve been hurt by someone who promised they could handle you and couldn’t. And I know that underneath the ice princess routine, there’s someone who’d rather be touched than tested.” His voice was calm, devoid of judgment. “Am I close?”

Amber’s throat tightened. She looked away, suddenly grateful for the dim lighting. “Too close.”

Derek didn’t press. He simply sat with her in the silence, letting her process. When she finally looked back, his expression held nothing but patience.

“So what now?” she asked quietly. “You pass the test and expect me to fall into your lap?”

“I expect nothing.” He signaled for another round. “I’m having a drink with an interesting woman. If you want to keep throwing barbs, I can handle it. If you want to talk about something real, I can handle that too. Your move.”

Amber studied him—really studied him, not the superficial assessment she usually performed. He meant it. Every word. There was no agenda behind his eyes, no desperate need to prove himself. He was simply… present.

“You’re weird,” she said finally.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I like weird.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “High praise from the ice princess.”

Amber laughed—a real laugh, not the sharp, cutting sound she deployed as armor. It felt strange in her throat, like a muscle she hadn’t used in years. “Don’t push it.”

But she didn’t stop him when his hand brushed against hers on the table. And when he walked her home an hour later, she didn’t protest when he paused at her door.

“This was nice,” Derek said. “Unexpected, but nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Amber leaned against her doorframe, suddenly nervous in a way she hadn’t been since high school. “I can be nice when I want to.”

“When you want to being the operative phrase.” He smiled. “Can I see you again?”

Amber considered her options. She could deflect. She could test him further, push him away, protect herself the way she always did. Or she could do something terrifying: trust that this one was different.

“Saturday,” she heard herself say. “Dinner. Somewhere that requires a reservation, so you can’t bail.”

Derek’s smile widened. “Bold of you to assume I’d want to bail.”

He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to retreat. Amber didn’t move. When his lips met hers, gentle and warm, she felt something shift deep in her chest—a door opening that she’d kept locked for years.

When they parted, Derek touched her cheek lightly. “Goodnight, Amber. Try not to terrify anyone else on the way to work tomorrow.”

“No promises.”

She watched him walk away, disappearing into the night. Then she closed her door and leaned against it, heart pounding, mind racing.

The ice princess had met her match. And for the first time in years, she wasn’t terrified of what that meant—she was excited.