She's Angry

"Thank God" Sue says quickly pulling your drink from your hand and downing the entire glass in one gulp, "I'm so pissed off at that asshole right now, can I have another one of these?" she interrupts herself as she pushes past you into your home as if she owns the place.

"Come in, I guess," you say to yourself as she struts her way into the kitchen on a pair sky high black stilettoes which make her her legs and round ass look incredible, which are wrapped in tailored to fit tight pair professional looking black pants which have thin white stripes running from waist to ankle equally spaced apart. Tucked into those pants she is in a sleeveless blouse which is fiery red, like her temper, not to mention stretched thin around her expansive bosom.

Entering the kitchen you see her leaning on the counter polishing off a second whiskey and pouring herself a third.

"Never get into a relationship Philip," Sue says, in a more relaxed tone than when she was standing at your door, pointing at you with her drinking hand "there is a reason why they call it the honeymmon phase. Everything seems perfect until you start to notice little things you don't like about each other."

She is sipping her drink now and you grab a glass from the cupboard and pour yourself a second first drink.

"I disagree Sue," you respond "I believe we all deserve to be happy with someone."

Sue's face softens at that, she had been scowling since she walked in the front door, the corner of her mouth even turns up into a little smile. "You're sweet, one day you'll see... oof this shtuff is shtrong." she begins to slur her words and she is blushing. "Why ish it so hot in here. Is it jusht me or is it hot in here?"