She glances over her shoulder, perhaps sensing my hesitation. "Do you want a drink?"
Wordlessly, I enter and shut the door, locking it behind myself. I shouldn't want a drink. I shouldn’t want to be intoxicated around her, but all I want to do is rip her clothes off and drive my cock, burying it deep inside her warmth.
"A drink would be good. I'll have whatever you're having," I say.
Just one drink.
Then, I'll go home, back to the compound where my secrets stay locked up nice and tight.
Savannah disappears into the kitchen, and I shrug out of my jacket, leaving it on the dining room chair. I loosen my tie. I don't want to make myself at home, but I'm also ready to unwind, and maybe a drink will do just that.
She returns to the living room carrying two shot glasses and a bottle of rum. "Sorry, it's probably a bit girly for your tastes, but it's all I have in the cabinet." She sits on the floor, placing the shot glasses on the coffee table.
I follow her lead, accompanying her on the carpet. It's plush and feels considerably new. "It's fine," I say and read the label on the bottle. "Passionfruit rum. Very girly."
She hogs the bottle, holding it to her chest with one hand. "Would you prefer water?"
"No, pour me a shot." I'm not trying to complain, just stating the facts.
She smiles and hands me the bottle. I pour both of us a shot and place the rum bottle on the table. I don't bother to screw the lid back on. She didn't invite me in for one drink, did she?