Vanessa steers you towards the bar

Vanessa suppresses a giggle as she leads you to the left. "I thought Sondra was going to shit herself when you said that," she murmurs to you. "She's such a fucking cow. And Faye isn't any better. Both of them act like butter wouldn't melt in their mouth but they're a pair of fucking whores." She leans against you and kisses you in the archway, in plain view of Sondra and Faye, both of whom watch with interest. "How old are you really, John? It doesn't matter, but I'd like to know."

"If it doesn't matter, why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know what a silly little girl like me can attract."

"The way you look, and act, and fuck, you could attract any man between puberty and ****."

"You're sweet," she kisses you again. "Seriously, how old are you?"

"Seriously, more than twice your age."

"Really? You don't look it. And you don't fuck like it. Not that I would know," she blushes suddenly, "Just that I imagined...I heard...um...I'm trying not to put my foot in my mouth any deeper..."

"That men slow down sexually when they get older? Just imagine what I was like when I was twenty," you whisper in her ear and bite it gently, making her quiver, then leading her into the room.

There's a buffet table against one wall, laden with an assortment of foods. In two corners there are bars presided over by a red jacketed bar tender. Perhaps twenty people are scattered around some couches and chairs or standing, most in little conversational groups of two or three.

You lead her to the bar and ask her what she wants to drink. She looks a little uncertain and tells you to order for her. You get her a glass of white wine and a vodka tonic for yourself. She sips her wine, looking at you over the rim of the glass, tossing her hair back, and unzipping her hoody to show off her top.

"Vanessa! There you are! I've been hoping you'd show up," a voice calls behind you.