As society focuses on sexual crimes in the entertainment industry, I'm constantly aware of how easily it could happen to me. Talking about consent before sex—doesn't that feel kind of awkward? It kills the mood, feels overly clinical, and honestly, I'm not into it. Still, when a friend who'd recently made it big invited me out for drinks, I went along. To my surprise, it turned out to be a paid drinking party—exactly the kind of scene associated with so-called "Minato-ku girls." I felt completely out of place, intimidated by the gap in status between us. Then Mary approached me. Her smile was incredibly cute, instantly captivating my attention. With a big, voluptuous G-cup figure and a slender, stunning body, she suddenly leaned in and whispered, "Wanna sneak out and spend some time together after this?" My heart raced—this was my first time being invited back, a dreamlike scenario mixing excitement and anxiety. Could this be a scam? A cult recruitment tactic? Was there even a risk of non-consensual sex, a topic all over the news lately? I wanted to confirm consent, but if I just admitted I wanted to sleep with her, it felt too embarrassing to say aloud. While I hesitated, Mary, slightly drunk, leaned in again. Her deep, intense kiss melted away my rationality. Her soft, full breasts completely overwhelmed my senses. Consent didn't matter anymore—I had to have her. If I didn't, I'd regret it forever. Yielding to instinct, I plunged into my first-ever sexual experience. But when I woke up the next morning…