Page 37 of Seeds of Malice

"It is just a drink, but you don't have to have it if you don't want to. I can put it away. It's a bottle I saved for a special occasion. I wanted to share it with you, but we don't have to drink it." I stare at her like a puppy dog. It's another look I've perfected.

It's time she stepped into my world.

My reality includes intoxication.

She caves. "Okay. That's sweet of you. I guess a glass won't hurt."

"You really never had a drink before?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I've sipped my dad's beer, but not really."

"You not curious about what it tastes like?"

She shrugs again. "Everybody I knew in West Virginia who drank always got into trouble."

"What kind?" I question.

"Stupid stuff, but I don't want those kinds of problems."

I can't blame her. Everybody I know who drinks have problems from it too. They always get in trouble because they're drunk. Hell, I'm always getting in trouble because I'm under the influence of some sort. But I don't know why anybody wouldn'tdrink. Once again, that's pretty boring. And I'm going to turn her into as big of an alcoholic as the rest of the women around these parts.

"Okay, well, this is a really good bottle of champagne. Promise you I won't do anything stupid or let you do anything stupid either," I tease.

She laughs.

I add, "Besides, it is a really special occasion."

"What's the occasion?" she cautiously asks, giving me her doe eyes.

My dick hardens. I fill two flutes, hand one to her, then slide next to her. I grab my glass and hold it next to hers. Then I move my face so that she can feel my breath upon her lips.

I reply, "You and me. Meaning you. Somebody real. Somebody I'mfinallyinterested in. It's a good enough reason, right?"

She glows, beaming at me as if I just told her she won the lottery and will no longer be in the depths of poverty. She blinks a few times. I wonder if she might actually cry.

She agrees. "Yeah. That sounds like a good reason. And I'm glad I met you too. You're the most interesting person I've met."

Of course I am.

I peck her on the lips. "To us. Cheers."

"Cheers," she chirps with admiration in her gaze.

We clink glasses, and she takes a small sip while I take a large mouthful.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"It's really good."

"Good, drink up. We've got the whole bottle." I lean closer to her. "But don't worry, baby girl. I'll take care of you if you get a bit tipsy," I tease, wiggling my eyebrows.

She nervously laughs, and I wonder if she's ever going to not be nervous around me. But I like it, and I'm going to use that to my advantage as well.

We each make a plate of food and talk for a few moments. We're halfway done with our sandwiches, and I notice again how she doesn't worry about carbs, which is refreshing for me. Then I refill her flute.

"I probably shouldn't," she says.

"Why? Are you dizzy or something?" I ask.

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