"Yes? What about it?" Pretending to be clueless, knowing what she is about to ask but hoping she'd drop it."So I guess your tongue down my throat mean... nothing to you then?"She asks challengingly. She can tell she caught his attention as his jaw clenches, his index and middle fingers of his right hand rhythmically tap on the glossy top of his heavy, rich-brown wooden desk like that of a horse galloping."Ms. Ramirez, I think we both know we had a little too much to drink that evening!" He. Dylan enjoyed this for a few moments, then broke the embrace, removing her hand and leaning back to the desk to type some more.Pete and I traded glances between one another and the little screen. Dylan sat on the edge of her bed, Amber stood in the corner, both silent. Back on the screen, Dylan had typed a few more responses, then she turned to Amber, who returned the favor by sliding her hand inside Dylan's shirt. More kissing, as Amber's mouth met Dylan's full-on. After another brief period. More

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