“If I say yes, will you think I'm a bitch?” She asked, looking like she really cared. I convinced her of the opposite, and after drinking a glass I led her to the car.

As soon as we arrived at the apartment, the redhead sat on the couch and began to examine the furnishings of the modest living room. As I learned from the conversation during the trip, her name was Monica. It smelled nice and had a slender figure and a pleasant voice, so after a few moments I felt an affection, which was strengthened by alcohol – I pulled the chilled Moet from the fridge and within an hour the bottle was empty.