You suggest the Google office

"Let's go back to the office," you say and Laura Jean doesn't reply immediately. She's weighing the situation, you can tell, which you take as a good sign. "I have after hours access. It'll be empty and I've got some whiskey in my desk we can mix with Coke."

"I could use another drink," Laura Jean says, and you're not sure if she means at the bar, or if she's taking you up on your offer for your whiskey, but then she grabs her coat.

"Do you want me to wait a minute before I leave?" you ask, not wanting to be too obvious that you're leaving Caitlin's birthday party with one of your employees.

"Fuck em. Let them talk if they want," she says and takes you by the hand to lead you out of the bar.

You're just a few minutes walk away from the Google office. You want to stop and make out with Laura Jean right there on the Chicago streets, but it's too risky. You manage to make it back to the Google office without tearing Laura Jean's clothes off. Your erection is still raging.

You head up to your office and pull out the bottle of Jack Daniels.