As the musician entertained the crowd with his guitar, I grabbed drinks at the bar and returned to find you standing there against the railing in a white dress and come-fuck-me heels, the epitome of saint and sinner.

I whispered in your ear, “Do we have to watch the whole performance?”

You grinned wickedly and slipped your hand in mine.

I led you back to our room, where I watched you let the dress fall to the floor and let your fingers play deftly amongst your glistening folds until your body shook.

“I like this performance much better.”

“Me too!”