"One possibility is that I can see the future," said Titanomachia, placing her freezing cold hands on your neck, slicing down the shoulders and to the elbows before the gel runs thin. "In which case, you will easily pay me back with your winnings, with a travel budget to spare. The other possibility is that I do not, in which case I will wash out and return to a life of popping bubblewrap at neurologically significant moments. Naturally, I have no idea which!" firm fingers ran the gel down your neck and back. "The frontier is where science and magic touch, after all."

The gel didn't stay cold. It began prickling against skin, a pepper spice crackling and tingling, patches of heat and numbing moving like sunspots. 

Machia was voice, eyes, hands. The way she moved made it so hard to focus on what she was actually doing, how she was dressed, what she even looked like. It was a constant magician's trick - listen to my voice. Look into my eyes. Feel the touch of my hands. There was an awareness of her outside those things, but her attention was sword and shield and when it was pointed at you it was so hard to focus. 

Hands. Down your front. Across your stomach. Over your hips, skipping, skipping, thighs - Voice. "The earrings - when did you get them? I haven't seen them before. Are they comfortable? Do they interfere with your ear movements? Who made them?" 

Eyes. Vibrant magenta, looking up at you. This time she is kneeling before you, hands on your legs, running lower, shielding herself with her absolute attention. Too much of you in her for you to distract.