Today is my 18th birthday, a day that should be celebrated with great fanfare, surrounded by friends and family, perhaps even receiving a pile of long-desired gifts.

　　But in reality, I can only sit alone in my empty apartment, facing a small cake, celebrating this special moment by myself.

　　My name is Jack, a young man struggling to make it on his own in the bustling city of New York, USA.

　　My parents are divorced, each with their own families, neither of whom need me. As for friends, those who once called me brother in school have now all moved on to new social circles, gradually drifting apart.

　　So, this birthday is destined to be a solitary celebration for me.

　　I aimlessly wander the streets, pondering where I can go to fulfill my "birthday wish." When I pass by an upscale bar, I stop in my tracks.

　　Through the large glass doors, I can see the dim lighting, moving silhouettes, and faint sounds of soothing jazz music. I know, perhaps, I might find what I'm looking for in there.

　　Mustering my courage, I push open the door and step inside.

　　The air in the bar is permeated with a blend of alcohol and perfume, making me slightly dizzy. I find a corner seat and look around, feeling both nervous and anticipatory.

　　Soon, a female server in a black dress approaches me. She appears to be in her thirties, with a voluptuous figure - her ample bosom barely contained by her dress, her long, slender neck exposed by an elegant updo.

　　She smiles and asks, "Sir, what can I get you?"

　　My heart races, as she may be my first woman. I respond a bit awkwardly, "Uh, just a beer, please."

　　She nods and turns to prepare the drink.

　　Watching her walk away, I can't help but feel a stirring within me. Her sensual gait, her full hips - she must have much experience, while I am still a virgin. Surely she won't mock me.

　　As she returns and sets the beer in front of me, I gather my courage to speak up. "Today is my 18th birthday, and I'm here alone, so I thought I'd come and experience the adult world a bit."

　　She pauses, then gives me a warm smile. "Oh, happy birthday, young man. But at your age, why are you here at a bar all by yourself?"

　　I shrug, trying to sound casual. "Nothing much, just wanted to feel what it's like to be a grown-up. And I thought I might meet some interesting people here."

　　She chuckles, her voice melodic. "Interesting people, huh? Do you consider me an interesting person?"

　　Seizing the opportunity, I quickly reply, "Of course! You're so beautiful and elegant, you must have all sorts of fascinating stories."

　　Seemingly pleased with my response, she takes the seat next to me and smiles. "Well, you're mistaken. I'm just an ordinary bar server, living a repetitive life. What interesting stories could I possibly have?"

　　I shake my head adamantly. "I don't believe that. Everyone's life has something unique about it. You must be no exception."

　　She looks at me, a hint of surprise in her eyes, then her smile returns. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you? Alright, since you're so curious, let me tell you a story."

　　She then recounts her childhood dream of becoming a dancer, performing on stage and basking in the applause and flowers. But due to family circumstances, she had to abandon that dream and choose this bar job to make ends meet.

　　As I listen, I can't help but feel sympathy for her. At the same time, I'm increasingly captivated by a certain allure about her - the strength to maintain a smile even after life's setbacks.

　　After her story, I can't resist saying, "I think you're still remarkable. Even if you can't dance on stage, the way you carry yourself is so graceful, like you're dancing."

　　She blushes slightly, playfully scolding me, "You've got quite the sweet tongue, don't you?"

　　The music in the bar seems to grow softer, creating an air of intimacy. I feel my heartbeat quicken, and an impulse stirs within me. Summoning my courage, I reach out and gently take her hand.

　　She is momentarily startled, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and hesitation, but she doesn't pull away.

　　Nervously, I ask, "May I... may I have this dance with you?"

　　After a brief silence, she slowly nods.

　　I stand up and lead her to the dance floor. As we sway to the music, I can feel her body close to mine, her breasts brushing against my chest. My arousal is evident, and I can sense her perfume enveloping me, intoxicating me.

　　Looking into her eyes, I see a hint of something more than just polite interest.

　　"You know, there's another reason I came to the bar today," I whisper in her ear.

　　"Oh? And what might that be?" she asks, tilting her head up to meet my gaze.

　　"I was hoping to... have an intimate encounter with a mature, alluring woman like you," I confess, my face flushing.

　　She stops dancing and simply looks at me, her expression a mix of surprise, hesitation, and something I can't quite decipher.

　　After a long pause, she speaks softly, "Jack, you're still young. This is just a passing impulse. I'm much older than you, and we're in very different stages of life. You should be out there enjoying your youth, finding girls your own age, not getting entangled with someone like me."

　　With that, she gently pulls her hand away and quickly leaves the dance floor, leaving me standing there, feeling lost and dejected.

　　I look at the small cake in front of me, the lone candle flickering in the dim room, as if about to be swallowed by the darkness.

　　I take a deep breath and blow out the candle.

　　Perhaps it's because I've lacked sufficient affection since childhood, but I've always felt drawn to mature, confident women. Their self-assurance, elegance, and allure have captivated me.

　　And on this lonely birthday, that yearning has become even more intense, as if an invisible force is driving me to seek the warmth and intimacy I've never truly experienced.

　　After finishing the cake, I leave the bar.

　　The night city is still alive with lights and sounds - the music from the bar, the laughter of people, the roar of vehicles, all weaving together into a vibrant urban tapestry.

　　I know I may have been too naive, thinking that simply wanting it would make an intimate encounter with a mature woman a reality.

　　But as I turn to leave, I see her emerge from the bar, wearing a coat.

　　We both smile.