Tequila

By: Alexis McGuinness

She perked up like a dog at dinner time. If she had the muscle control, she would have wagged her ass and knocked the others’ glasses off the table with her tail. She was nearly wet at the thought of that drink. For the moment, she played it cool. It. Would. Be. Hers. In the end. While the host chatted airily with the guests, she nonchalantly crossed to the bar and uncorked the bottle. This, my friends, is what desire looks like. A call that does not pretend it might not get answered.

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