Bottoms up! - part I.

We slipped into the pub after dark. Cayenne ordered the first round, and we kept them coming until our cheeks burned and our laughter grew loud. The drinks loosened every line we usually kept in place. We leaned close on the barstools, knees brushing. My hand slipped up the back of her thigh, hers answered beneath my skirt. In the low light we touched each other the way we had only joked about before. Fingers curled and teased; quiet gasps slipped out when no one was looking. We left before the night could sober us. Our coats barely covered what our hands were doing beneath them. Once the door shut behind us, the rest of the evening belonged to lips and bare skin, bodies still warm from the alcohol and aching for more.