“The beer is getting to you”
“Naaah!” I slur, a little.
“Come, let’s go home”
As we step out, the maître de calls him aside.
He comes back grinning and whispers.
“Pull up your zip, Pee”
“W h a t?”
“Here, lemme help you” he winks and pulls me close.
The elevator thankfully was empty.
4 comments:
How sweet :-)
thanks...*blush*
he he, dont know why, but could not stop smiling after reading this on e:)
Rambler: life is stranger than fiction eh? :)
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