“Honey, this is Dean. Dean, this is my husband, Rick,” Mallory said kind of awkwardly, given the possible situation.

Dean was, by my first impression, a good-looking, average guy. Not a gym rat, not overly dressed, not terribly young. Honestly, he had a very kind face. Certainly not the type to go accosting women in their places of business, at least, outwardly. He had light-colored eyes, the kind that doesn’t really have a defined shade. If I had to call them something, I suppose hazel would describe them best. Medium length, wavy, brownish, auburn colored hair, with little bits of grey here and there. He seemed, based on appearances, pretty normal. I don’t know what I was expecting, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

Dean extended his hand, “Hi Rick, it’s really nice to meet you.”

I just looked at him unflinchingly and said, “Is it really? If the circumstances were reversed, I’d be a little nervous, if I were you. I might have come here just to hospitalize you. So, just how much do you like your teeth?”

“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Dean replied, startled, and began to try and defend himself, but I cut him off.

“What you didn’t know,’ I began, “Was that your behavior with my wife would involve being confronted,” I said sternly. “You, my friend, got very, very lucky. You are here tonight at the request and generosity of my wife. It is she who makes all the decisions in this circumstance, so if I were you, I’d be on my very best, most respectful behavior and tread very lightly. There are no guarantees. Do we understand each other?” I said forcefully. I could feel the tension, and you squeezed my hand.

“This is off to a wonderful start,” she said sarcastically. In her head, thoughts raced:

"Run! Just Run! This was an awful idea! It’s gonna get ugly, and it’s gonna get ugly soon. I need a drink, man, do I need a drink. This is so embarrassing. I’m probably red! My ears are red, I can feel them! Okay, okay, just calm down and act like this is any other dinner."

“Uh, yes, that’s pretty clear,” Dean responded after having his place defined.

“Good, then why don’t we pretend like we’re all old friends, have a nice evening, and see where it takes us,” I suggested, seating you in the booth between Dean and myself.

“I need a drink,” Dean said, sounding a bit relieved and rattled. I noticed the waitress heading over to our booth. Dean ordered a bourbon, I ordered my wife a Long Island Iced Tea, thinking that might be helpful in this particular situation, and I ordered three shots of tequila.

“Oh, Honey, I don’t want any tequila,” she said, responding to my order.

“They’re all for me,” I clarified. “I think I may need them,” To which everyone laughed. “Well, if you think that’s funny, then you’re going to love this. Since this is your party, Dean, you get to pay the bar bill.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fair,” he responded.

"Long Island Iced Tea!? That’s my drink of death! I can’t drink those things, I don’t know what might happen! Good Grief, what might happen? I have no idea what might happen! And Rick seated me between them? This is uncomfortable! What did I get myself into?" Mallory thought, reconsidering the present situation.

Small talk ensued, which seemed both necessary and meaningless, but after an hour. It had seemed to defuse the situation to a tolerable level.

Instead of ordering dinner, we had them serve a bunch of finger food, which was largely untouched. Instead, drinks were anxiously consumed. As the tequila hit my brain, I began to be a bit less confrontational and was able to relax somewhat. 

My hand unconsciously rubbed Mallory's thigh, like I always do, as we talked about prior vacations, aches and pains, and normal life.

I could practically hear Mallory's thoughts,

"Oh my gosh, Rick is rubbing my thigh, right here at the table! Just relax, relax, that’s normal, just drink your drink of death and relax. Act like you’re paying attention. This is fine, no big deal, nothing to see here. Everything is just fine."

I continued rubbing her leg under the table, and I had managed to gather the bottom of her skirt. I slid it up to her mid-thigh, exposing the silky skin to my warm fingertips. I could tell from the positioning of Dean's upper arm that his hand was resting on her opposite thigh, and as far as I could tell, she had made no attempt to remove it. Pretty brazen, I thought, but I suppose the liquid courage was working on him too.

Mallory's mind took off at a dead run,

"Oh crap! Dean’s hand is on my thigh! I don’t know what to do! Do I move it? Leave it there? I don’t want to make a scene! Oh my gosh! There’s going to be trouble! Big, big trouble! I gotta get out of here! The bathroom, yeah, that's it. Go to the bathroom!"

Mallory suddenly went about as stiff as a board, abruptly announcing that she had to go to the restroom, and hastily, off she went. I didn’t think much of it at the time.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Dean asked casually.

I just looked at him flatly in complete silence until I said, “Long enough to establish an understanding of trust that most couples couldn’t comprehend.”

My phone buzzed; it was a text from the bathroom.

“I’m very nervous. I'm just about ready to jump out of my skin,” she messaged. “I’m anxious, and a little tipsy too.”

“I understand, Honey,” I answered. “What would you like to do?”

“I don’t know, but I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen one way or the other, and I’m not sure what that something is,” Mallory replied.

“Well, just come back to the table, I’ll order you another drink and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Okay, I’m coming back now.”

She came walking across the dining room, looking irresistible, wearing that sweet little tipsy grin she has, and I got up to let her take the seat between us again.  

We were all reasonably close together, and we resumed talking. I figured it was now or never, and I slipped my hand under her skirt and caressed her leg from her hip to her knee. Each time I stroked her thigh, I ventured a bit higher, creeping ever closer to what I supposed might be the shared quarry. Even though everyone seemed engaged in conversation, completely ignoring what was happening under the table, it was clear that that was where the attention was truly focused. 

Mallory's thoughts came to her faster than an Olympic sprinter:

"Geez, that drink is hitting me like a freight train, and here I have two men who want to meet me in the middle. Uh oh. Here we go again. Two thighs, two hands, two men. It’s a race. I sure am glad this tablecloth is long. Just be calm and drink your drink. No one’s looking. Oooh, but there’s definitely a race going on here. Rick is coming up on the right thigh, making a run for it. But Dean’s taken to the inside. He’s moving up fast. Rick is narrowing the gap, but Dean’s coming up fast on the inside, making a dash for the finish line, and we have a winner!"

As Dean continued to speak, I glanced at Mallory, and her eyes were suddenly huge, like a deer in headlights. She sat motionless, almost rigid, her eyes transfixed on something undefined across the room.

Mallory's thoughts spun like a summer storm:

"Oh crap!! Rick doesn’t know the race is over, and Dean has his prize! It’s me! He's already in the winner's circle!"

Dean was going on about the details of his broken marriage. Mallory's face was so red that I was certain that even her scalp was crimson. The straw from her drink never left her lips. I figured it was because my roving fingers kept getting closer and closer to her sweet, pink hot box. It was only when I decided to clandestinely stroke that little kitten that I discovered someone had beaten me to the party. 

"Oh my gosh! This is bad! There's going to be an explosion and I'm sitting at ground zero!" Mallory thought, almost panicking. "I've got to do something, quick!"

There was a sudden and instant chain of events. Dean moved his hand as though she had a mousetrap in her panties. My entire body flushed, and my temperature must have risen by 100 degrees. Mallory announced that she had to use the restroom again and frantically climbed over me as if escaping the sinking Titanic. She headed for the bathroom like a disappearing act, abruptly leaving Dean and me alone once again.

“Well, that was awkward,” he said.

“Yeah, but what did you expect? You don’t even know her. She’s not this kind of person. This isn’t something she’d even consider, yet, here we are.”

“I’m not that kind of person either,” he remarked.

“You mean the kind of person that confronts women, backs them into a corner, and grabs their crotches? That kind of person? Is that what you're referring to?” I said sarcastically.

“Okay, I deserved that,” he offered weakly. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” 

“Well, you did it to her, TWICE!!”

“I swear, I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Evidently, you did help yourself,” I took a deep breath and said, “I do understand how someone could feel that way about her. She has an attractive quality that she’s not even aware of. I’m not even sure she knows what she’s doing tonight. I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no idea what’s going to happen, maybe nothing at all. I don’t know if anyone knows what's going on.“

“I just wanted to get to know her better. She’s so beautiful and so smart. Not to mention off-the-charts hot.“

“And by saying, 'get to know her better,' you mean sleep with her,” I remarked, stating the obvious. “Look,” I continued, “I get all that, and every word is true. I understand how you can feel that way. But I know her very well. She is very subtle, very shy, and when she wants to be, she’s a little temptress, a little closet vixen. She’s also a bit affectionate when she’s tipsy.”

Across the restaurant, Mallory cautiously opened the bathroom door to see if she could hear sounds of commotion, however, everything sounded normal. No one was running in a panic. No sounds of breaking dinnerware and no sirens. That was good unless someone was already dead. But if someone was already dead, there’d be screaming and sirens and all that.

She suppressed a giggle, no doubt brought on by the Long Island Ice Teas and the absurdity of the situation thus far., thinking to herself,

"If they want to play, then maybe I should give them something to think about. Gosh, I’m tipsy. I'd better sit down for a minute. Nothing on my phone, no message, that’s good. Oh, wait, there’s an idea. No, no….I can’t.

That’s too much, and what I’m doing now isn’t too much? What the hell. I’ll show them who’s racing."

The waitress came over to the table, and Dean ordered another round of drinks.

“I’m not going to push this or pressure her, Dean,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “This whole thing is for her, and she sets the pace. If she says no, then it’s no. I don’t know if she really wants this or is just toying with this new form of attention. She may just simply be curious. And one other thing, if anything further does happen, it’s not for idle conversation outside of the three of us. I will not have her become the subject of water-cooler conversation or portrayed in even a slightly unfavorable or disrespectful way. You understand?” I stated in a very serious manner, looking him directly in the eye. “There’s no bragging around the water cooler at work or you’ll find yourself telling your story from a hospital bed.”

“Oh yeah, yes, of course,” Dean stammered. “This is a private matter.”

“It’s also a rule,” I reminded. “And breaking the rules has very, very serious consequences. Long-lasting consequences.”

I spotted Mallory returning to the table, with just the tiniest wobble in her walk. I figured the drinks must have hit her when she stood up. I rose, allowing her to resume her position between her two suitors.

“Did you miss me?” she asked. Clearly, the drinks had loosened her up a bit.

“Always,” I remarked.

“Absolutely,” was Dean's enthusiastic addition.

As she settled in and grabbed her drink, I replaced my hand right where it had been when she so abruptly vacated the booth.

“What did you talk about while I was gone?” she lightly inquired, as if she didn't know already.

Dean said, in a very flirtatious manner, “Well, we had a bet.”

“A bet? Was it about me?” she said quizzically.

“Yes, I bet that you went to the ladies' room and that when you came back, you wouldn’t have any panties on,” Dean suggested.

“Oh, is that so?” she replied with smug curiosity. “And what does the winner get?”

“Well, if you indeed have no panties on, then I get to keep them, and if you do still have them on, then he gets to take them off right here at the booth,” Dean added with a sly smile.

“Really?” Mallory said, settling back against the cushions to look at her phone and fool with something. “And am allowed no say in this?”

”Of course you do,” Dean responded. “It's up to you to settle the bet.”

My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket, and I heard Dean’s chime at basically the same time. I opened my phone expecting just another common business text. Instead, I was greeted with a very newly created image of Mallory's closely shaven, very damp, pink blossom. Glistening pink lips with just a drip of whiteish sugar, drizzling downward from between the open folds. Just perfect for licking or any number of other things. If there was any doubt as to whether Dean had received a similar text, his “Holy Crap” confirmed my suspicions.

I was quicker on the draw this time, and my hand slid under her skirt, coming to rest on her still panty-covered little mound. Dean’s hand brushed by mine over her tummy, and he gently tugged the strap that traversed her hip. He looked at me and admitted, 

“I guess you win.”

“From the looks of my phone, I think we both did,” I said. “There has never, ever, been a better use for a cell phone…Ever,” I affirmed.

“I would absolutely agree with that,” Dean agreed, staring at his screen while fingering the waistband of her panties. My hand began gently stroking her delicate panty-covered mound. 

Mallory suppressed a tipsy little smile and simply sat back against the booth, kind of semi-aloof, sipping her drink, in an effort, I suppose, not to draw undue attention to our booth.

Mallory sat casually, sipping her drink, thinking,

"This just got a bit interesting. I’m sitting here pleasantly tipsy, drinking my drink, and I have not one, but TWO men competing to play Pet The Kitty, but the Kitty is getting hungry."

“So, what about our bet?” Dean asked, looking at Mallory and smiling.

“I didn’t make any bet,” she replied, almost reaching the bottom of her second Long Island Iced Tea.

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” he said, and I felt his hand squeeze her inner thigh, and then he added, “But I’d really appreciate you honoring our wager.”

In her mind, Mallory's thoughts and curiosity continued to build:

"Dean’s hand feels nice. I wonder how brave he is? I kind of like the race stuff. Maybe I can provide a bit more incentive."

Mallory rolled her eyes and, after a pause, added, “I can be a good sport once in a while too, on special occasions,” she added, trying to remain outwardly aloof.

And with that, she lifted her adorable little bottom off the bench seat just enough for both Dean and me to easily slide her little black lace panties down. They weren’t completely off, but further access had been granted. Both our hands stroked her uppermost inner thigh, separated only by her warm sugar bowl. 

Apparently, this was to be an evening of ‘Who gets there first’ because before I could acquire a handful of her warm kitten, Dean had slid his hand between her thighs. I could tell that he had her puffy lips between his fingers and was rolling them back and forth. 

I felt the muscles in her legs contract. She went practically stiff, like anticipating impact, almost constricted in terror. I couldn’t tell if she was having second thoughts or was mortified by what was happening, or that I was there to see it. But I was there to support whatever was to happen next.

Mallory turned quickly and looked at me. Her eyes were filled with apprehension, excitement, and shock. I could only guess that she was waiting for me to react, object, or break Dean’s arm. Nor was I sure of what she wanted from me at that moment. So, I dug deep and tried to be uncharacteristically supportive. 

“Just relax, Sweetheart," I said soothingly. "You wanted to see where this goes, and it only goes where you want it to.” And for the first time in a long while, I saw unconditional love in her expression, as well as a bit of disbelief.  

“This is nothing more than you stepping out of your box for a bit. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change who you are or anything so critical. It’s an experience. You’re just answering a question for yourself. Remember? A simple indulgence, that’s all it is," I added, letting her know that I was in favor of her desire to explore.

And with that statement, I either condemned our relationship or endorsed a kind of freedom I would never in my wildest dreams even consider.

Mallory's mind reeled, shocked by what she'd just heard:

"Oh my gosh. This is crazy! I feel like I’m on a cloud. Dean’s hand feels so good right now. I wish he’d slide his finger into me. Oh my goodness! I shouldn’t even think that! I can’t help it. I want more. I’m so wet. This is embarrassing. Maybe if I move just a little, he might just get the message."

The words had a visible impact on her. I wouldn’t go as far as to say she was waiting for my approval, but she seemed to visibly relax. Dean continued to caress her wet little kitten, but not so flagrantly as to attract attention from the few other patrons, who were now beginning to dwindle. 

My hand remained on her uppermost thigh, making it easy to ascertain what Dean was doing. I could feel his finger gently stroking those silken, pink folds, and she ever-so-slightly spread a bit further. I heard her deep sigh, and I could only surmise that his finger had slid into her wet, steamy retreat. 

Mallory's mind raced, becoming giddy with the impending possibilities."

"Oh my goodness! This is insane. Rick is letting this guy play with me. Gosh, it feels so good. He’s going to make me cum right here at this table. Oh yes, oh yes,..good grief. This is so hot. I’m soaking wet. I’ll bet they’re both hard as rocks, and I’m the girl who has two cocks! Hahahaha, geez, that rhymed. I’m funny. Ohhhhhhh, look what I found! I have two! Most women can’t even hang onto one, and I have two. I never had one of these in each hand before."

Almost immediately, her hand came to rest on my crotch, the contents of which were very hard and excited. That head was not in any way experiencing the conflict, my other head was. She began stroking my captive animal, while Dean passively caressed her delectable kitty. 

I took notice that her other hand was absent from view, and I could only imagine that she now had both her hands full. We all pretended to watch the couples dancing on the smallish dance floor on the other side of the dining room, while casual non-attention-drawing fondling took place beneath our table, mostly thanks to the City of Long Island and their Iced Tea.

“You know, Dean, Mallory loves to dance,” I suggested. “I’m a terrible dancer. Why don’t you take her onto the dance floor?” 

That was more than likely the tequila talking.

“That's a great idea,” Dean chimed in enthusiastically.

“That actually does sound pretty good,” she agreed, secretly sliding her panties back into place.

Mallory's libido continued the dislog in her mind:

"He’s probably going to try and grab my bottom. He had better, within reason, of course. I may be tipsy, but I’m not all that tipsy, or maybe I am? Nah, I’m fine, but I'll be so disappointed if he doesn't."

There were three or four couples on the dance floor, and you both simply danced a very typical dance. There was nothing demonstrative or overtly sexual. The dance concluded, and you were returning to the table. 

Mallory walked back just slightly ahead of Dean, less than arm's length, close enough for him to discreetly caress her perfect bottom before she slid back into the booth. The dining room was almost empty, and everyone else was engrossed in their own evenings, primarily hanging out around the bar.

Mallory smiled with a smattering of triumph, thinking:

"And there it is. He just couldn’t resist the butt squeeze. Maybe Rick is right. Maybe my little butt is irresistible."

As she got re-situated, this time I had the quicker hand, cupping that invitingly warm kitten. Dean's hand paralleled mine in second position, stroking her thigh. She casually swung her leg over mine, spreading those creamy thighs. 

Dean's hand moved and came to rest on her tummy. He grabbed the edge of her panties, pulling them aside. My fingers delighted in caressing the puffy pink petals of an extremely wet little flower. My finger easily slid inside her amorous sugar bowl, and it was obvious that both of her hands had busied themselves under the shroud of the tablecloth. 

Things were beginning to head off in an obvious direction, and I’d had four or five tequila shots, I decided to give her a few minutes alone with Dean just to allow her to ‘test the water’ and/or finalize her decision. And as much as I was curious to see what might transpire in my absence, I said that I was going to the bathroom and that I’d be right back.

I glanced over my shoulder on my way to the restroom and saw that she had turned a bit sideways to face Dean, who was still facing forward. As I imagined he would, as soon as I’d left, Dean did indeed decide to test the water.

“You know, without being overly presumptuous, I took the liberty of getting a room here,” Dean said, holding up a key card and slowly sliding his hand up her inner thigh.

Mallory beamed, thinking,"

"Well, well, looks as though someone wants to adopt a kitten."

“Did you really?” she remarked, half smiling, sipping her drink. “When did you do that?”

“This afternoon,” he replied. “Just in case anyone had too much to drink or something. Strictly a precautionary measure,” he said, while deftly moving his hand under your wet kitten.

“Or something?” she said smugly. “What kind of something might that be?”

“Something could be anything,” he said, flirting. “Maybe something like this,” he said as two of his fingers slowly submerged between her pink petals.

She inhaled sharply. “Ah, well, that is something alright,” she commented, placing her hand on his thigh.

He took her hand and placed it on the bulge in his pants. “And right here, we have something else. Those two somethings have been known to get along very well together. Are you interested?”

"Yes! Yes, I am!" Mallory's brain screamed.

“ I just may be interested in something like that,” she answered coyly, rubbing her hand over the sizable lump in his trousers. Her hand careened over his zipper, and two Long Island Iced Teas provided her the courage to grasp the zipper and pull it down. She slid her hand into his trousers and easily located his ‘something’. What it may have lacked in length was made up for with its sizable girth.

She withdrew this unfamiliar post from his trousers and, with curiosity getting the best of her, moved her head to try and covertly sneak a quick look at his member.

Dean smiled, saying,” I’d love an opportunity to have that be the stem to your little pink flower,” he said enticingly, continuing to stroke his slick fingers in and out of her temperate little box. “Care to take a test ride?” Dean offered, reaching up and unfastening a button on Mallory's blouse.

Mallory beamed, thinking:

"This is more like a stalk than a stem. My Goodness! This thing is as big as one of Rick’s little coffee cans. It’s kind of scary."

“ That would be something,” she replied, while her arousal, as well as her curiosity, was exponentially building.

I reached the restroom, and as any male knows, trying to pee with an erection is nearly impossible, so things took a bit longer than they otherwise might. I kept thinking about what might be happening in my absence. I was certain his hands had found their way under her skirt and that he was at that moment coaxing sugar from her irresistible pink flower.  

As fast as I could, I tried to finish my business and return to the table. The strange part was, I couldn't decide whether I was in a hurry because I was feeling jealous or if I was afraid I’d miss out on something. I left the restroom and casually walked, with great restraint, back to the booth. 

By all outward appearances, things look the same as when I had left. Neither of them noticed me approaching the table, and I slid into the booth. She was still turned to the side, facing Dean, who had also turned a bit sideways to face her as well. I scooted over to her, moved her hair away from her neck, and leaned forward to plant a light kiss on her shoulder.

 From that vantage point, I could see what was going on in her lap. As I had anticipated, Dean's hand found its way under her leather skirt that had been gathered up to her thighs. I saw his glistening fingers appear and disappear in a slow rhythm.  

A button on her blouse was now unfastened, revealing the tops of those beautiful breasts. She had one elbow resting on the table, while the other hand was obviously in Dean’s lap. I could tell by the slow movements of her arm that she had released his manhood from its material bonds and that it was now firmly in her grip. 

She hastily withdrew her hand from Dean's ridged pole, just acting on instinct. I reached around and slid her hand back under the table so she could resume her exploration of Dean's attributes.

( OH Damn!! He put my hand back. He actually put my hand back! Well, okay, Honey. If that’s what you want. )

“Well, it seems as if you two are getting along,” I remarked, as my hands began to caress her enormously enticing bottom. “Don’t let me interrupt anything.”

“Dean wanted to show me something,” she said in a little tipsy voice.

“He did?” I replied. 

“Yes, he did,” Mallory answered. “And he has a room here, too.” 

"He also wants to fill me up with his hard, thick friend," Mallory thought to herself.

“Well, isn’t that a stroke of luck?” I answered, not terribly surprised. “When did you book a room, Dean?”

“This afternoon,” he replied. “Just in case anyone had too much to drink or something,” he paused and suggested, “ Would anyone like to see the room?”

“Maybe we should go take a look at the room,” I consented. “Would you like to see the room, Honey?”

“I might like to go see the room,” she said adding, “As long as you both behave like gentlemen. And if anything does happen in the room, and I say no, then it’s no,” she said, abandoning Deans companion and facing forward so that shecould be certain that both her escorts were clear on what she were saying. "Oh yes, you can just bet that I want to see the room, but let me keep my wits about me. I don’t want to seem overly eager. I have to be a bit aloof. Not too aggressive. I can't wait to see what 4 hands all over me feels like," Mallory thought, her mind racing.

“You can still change your mind at any time,” I stated, more for Dean’s benefit than anything else. “Agreed?”

“Absolutely, agreed,” Dean replied with conviction. 

“Okay, let’s go take a peek at the room,” she agreed. “Maybe just for a minute.” She turned her head to me and asked “Do you want to go see the room, Honey?”

“Sure, I think it’s time to go see the room,” I said, placing her hand on the straining, ridged, bulge in my pants and adding, “ I think I really need to see the room.”

I was aware that her other hand had drifted over toward Dean again, and she then remarked, “I think Dean really wants to go see the room too.”

“I have been very excited to see the room,” Dean added, beginning to chuckle. “I’m hoping to see a whole lot of the room.”

“It’s definitely one of the best rooms a person could possibly hope to be in,” I remarked. “ I can tell you, this room has some extraordinary features, amenities you can’t find just anywhere else.”

“I’m sure it’s the finest room here,” Dean joined in.

“You both better be careful when you’re looking at the room. The room is a very private place, you have to be gentle in the room, you wouldn't want to hurt anything. If you do, the management would be very, very upset,” she warned.

“And it’s always a very good idea to be very respectful when you go to someone else’s room for the first time,” I said.

“Well, boys, speaking of rooms, I have to go to the ladies' room again,” she announced. I slid over to let her get out, and she toddled off across the now-empty dining room.

"Now to have a little fun. I’m gonna get them all wound up, them both all wound up," Mallory schemed, as she entered the ladies' room.

“So, what do you think is going to happen now? Dean asked anxiously. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea. This is all out of the box for me,” I said, honestly not knowing where the evening was going. “Just remember, whatever she says goes,” I said, warning as Dean nodded in agreement. 

“Yep,” he muttered pretty much to himself. “Just let her set the pace.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” I encouraged.

We both sat, not knowing what happened next, and it wasn’t long before we found out. At nearly the same moment, our phones buzzed again. We both instantly looked at each other excitedly. I half expected a message from her saying, “I’m in the car, let’s get out of here.” But instead, we were both greeted by an image of her now panty-less little blossom, spread open in full bloom, absolutely soaked in sweet, sticky honey. The message read, 

“Meet me at the elevators.”