Right here, right now

Junior looks all around him, still looking far happier with himself than you really feel that he should be. "Why not right here?" he says. "And how about right now?"

This little fucking prick. "You're joking," you hiss.

"Nah. Bend over the bar," he says, gesturing toward the beat-up old bar that's been down here unused literally for years.

You gape. "Junior, c'mon, man, we can do this later. We're at work."

"Yeah, and I've got a hard on." The owner's son points to the bulge in his pants.

You reach around back and start undoing your apron, but Junior stops you.

"Wait," he says. "Keep it on. It's hotter that way."

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?