Ask Bob to take Shannon home

You’re drunk, you’re horny, and all you want is to see Shannon’s gorgeous body in action. You have to say something to make it happen.

“Hey Bob, can I crash at your place tonight? I don’t think I should be driving now,” you say, pushing your empty glass away. Wow, subtle. If Bob was smart he would think Shannon is a real slut.

“What? Oh, yeah! Of course you can, Shannon,” he replies, somewhat nervously. Bob signals the bartender for the check. You almost reach for it out of habit, but the sight of Shannon’s soft hand reminds you that you won’t have to pay for your own drinks again until you fix this.

You cling to Bob’s arm, pressing Shannon’s breast against it while you walk out of the bar. His arm feels strong and firm. When it touches Shannon’s tit through her bra, you feel that girly thrill in her tit, spreading into your chest and making your - Shannon’s - heart race.

Her heart races in the passenger seat of Bob’s car all the way back to his apartment building. You get out of the car and follow him in. Bob’s place is kind of cluttered, but the floor is clean. Much cleaner than your house, anyway.

You’re walking so close behind Bob that you bump into him when he stops. He turns around and you look up at him, glancing at his lips with Shannon’s blue eyes. Come on, Bob, be a man.

Bob leans in, frustratingly slowly. You close Shannon’s eyes and wait to feel his arms around her. Nothing. You open them.

“Shannon, we shouldn't do this. You’re drunk.” What? How much of a fucking dumbass is this guy? Drunk girls need love too, you can personally attest to that.

“No, no, I’m not that drunk,” you argue. Bob pulls you into a hug. You press Shannon’s body against his big, strong frame. It makes Shannon feel nice, but nice isn’t nearly enough.

“It’s okay. You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”