it’s been a good evening. now she’s wearing her robe and you’re sat with a drink watching telly. you lean forward to refill yours but spill it. she looks nervous for a moment and you think that’s sweet.
she thinks you drink too much- now she’s wary. she felt you eye each step she took when you were out. you lean in and she remembers winning every day at school, a silly playground game they called Don’t Flinch!
your mates fancy her- you saw them flirt. now she’s blush-pink and pretty and on your couch. she told you she was wet before you could order another round, so you didn’t bother. it’s really early, but you’re home.
she avoided talking. thought she’d stopped you getting gone. but you got Scotch in a drawer she didn’t find. half a bottle in, your eyes tell how gone you are. she’s sussing if you’ll get hard or just pass out.
you run a hand down the centre of her robe. reveal sheer knickers you’ve not seen her in before. you drag your fingers slowly from those knickers to her mouth- ask her where she got them- she doesn’t know.