Drink.

Brad entered to see D sitting at the bar just beyond a hostess stand where an inauthentically chipper teenager asked if he'd been there before.

"Going to the bar," he said gruffly and barged past the girl, who was supremely unmotivated to stop whatever was playing out in front of her.

He joined D, who was thanking the bartender for a couple of drinks. He sat on the stool beside her.

"You ordered shots?" Brad hissed. D punched his arm again and he yelped in pain. How did she manage to hit the same spot every time?

"What are we, college kids?" D grinned. "This is fine Irish whiskey neat."

She said a glass over to Brad who caught and examined it warily. "I guess," he said doubtfully.

"Now bottoms up!" D shouted and raised her glass. Brad felt the dark, muted burn of the grain **** sloshing down his esophagus into his stomach. He had a moment of vertigo so intense his knees buckled and put a hand on the bar to steady himself.

"Ok," he rasped. "Now what?"

D whistled for the bartender's attention and held up two fingers. "Now we shoot pool," she said with a grin.

D set up the table while Brad inspected the weathered cues sitting in the corner. He turned to see her gently lifting the triangle off of a perfectly-formed clump of balls. She grinned at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked. "Am I supposed to-"

"Aren't you gonna compliment me?" she asked eagerly, pressing her cue between her breasts. Her sundress tightened so much that he could make out the entire outline of her breasts.

"Oh. Uh, good job?" he said tentatively. She rolled her eyes and looked down at her own chest.

"Bro, you're staring right at them. You're supposed to say 'Nice rack'! Get it? Just for that, I'm gonna break."

She leaned over, the hem of her dress riding up deliciously, and with a loud crack sent balls scattering all over the table. Brad watched her watch the chaotic motion and whoop when the eleven ball fell neatly into a corner pocket. "Stripes! Move aside, chump, you're about to get smoked!"

She came around the table and repeated her performance in front of him, bending over deeply so that her ass brushed up against his tented jeans. She giggled a little at the feeling and made another perfect shot, this time sinking the nine and thirteen balls. As she stepped back to examine the table, Brad cleared his throat to speak.

"So, uh, D... can I ask you a question?"

"I'm not gonna tell you my secret pool technique," she said as she lined up another shot. "Unless you really want to know."

"I was just wondering, uh, well, you've been acting kinda... bossy." He cleared his throat again and D looked up with a snort, momentarily distracted from the game.

"Wow," she said with a bemused grin. "I get why women hate being called that now. If this was a dude's body, you probably would have said confident or something."

"Or that you're being a dick," Brad said. "Seriously, why did you drag me out here?"

D took a large gulp of whiskey and leaned against the wall next to him. "Bet you didn't expect your first night with a golem to go this way, did you?"

He shook his head. "Bet you expected days of non-stop sex," she continued and he nodded. "That's what a lot of guys do. Buy a high-end golem and use it as a fleshlight. It's like getting a high-end luxury car and using it for storage - a complete fucking waste. I could tell you needed a little push, so I gave you one."

Brad polished off his drink and set the glass down. "Is that why you're trying to seduce me over a game of pool?"

D's mouth opened in a comical expression of shock before she burst out in braying laughter. "Seduce you?" she asked, wiping her eyes. "Why the fuck did you think I was seducing you?"

His face turned crimson and he looked down. "I don't know, you were like bending over and rubbing your ass on me..."

"Jesus Christ, I was playing fucking pool!" she said. She glanced down appreciatively. "This body is like a weapon, man. Everyone here's been staring at me since I walked in and now I can't make a shot in pool without you thinking I'm trying to fuck you. You seriously haven't spent much time around women, have you?"

Brad started to stammer an answer and she put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, dude, I'm just busting your balls. I don't care if you bend me over and fuck me on the table. I'm not sure whether the bartender would interrupt us or try to get a video. But here, let me show you how useful a golem can be. Who do you think is the prettiest girl in the room?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Other than me, dipshit. Don't be weird."

Scanning the room, Brad's eyes quickly landed on a pair of women in their mid-twenties sipping cocktails at a table in the corner. D signaled for two more drinks and complimented his choice.

"Ok," she said as she picked up the drinks and handed one to him. "Follow my lead."

Before he could ask what she intended to do, D was marching toward the table.