Sophia lay there to catch her breath, one hand splayed across her chest and neck where her fingertips sought to feel the ebb of her racing pulse. Like it offered a direct conduit to the condition of her heart, she checked in there. Any pain? No. Any shame? Not at all. Any regrets? Not even a little.
Pleased with this outcome, Sophia met his idle touch with a delighted hum. “Mm, agree.” She sat up to appreciate the slight sheen of sweat their activities created, so much so that she couldn’t resist pressing another kiss to his lips. For good measure (and because she thought she earned it), one of her hands reached around to give his buttock a good squeeze. Then she slipped off the desk.
Soph let gravity bring her skirt down back into place as she pursued his first suggestion, musing, “I’m feeling celebratory…” (The second suggestion - as to where she’d be more comfortable, she had to think about.) She shook her mussed hair back and slipped her arms into her sleeves, enough to cover her forearms and just above her elbows, but she couldn’t be fussed with the laces yet. At the bar cart, she waved to light a few more candles to help better inspect their offerings.
The added light exposed little clues to their business littered all over for any who cared to look, like a large framed photograph to her left and below it, fancy script and a few rows of signatures. It showed the opening day of their theater in sepia tones, all investors lined up chummy on the theater’s front steps – every single one in tophats save for one Sophia Voss, standing at the center beside Seamus. (The man was nauseatingly cheap, so the picture did not have some of the modern enchantments that animated and memorialized such an important moment).
Sophia clinked around through the glasses and settled on a finely engraved crystal bottle with amber liquid. “There’s gin, and brandy. Though I am partial to this Irish whisky. Which do you prefer?” she gave Oz a cheeky smile. With whatever he agreed to she set about arranging them with two glasses, neat.
Pleased with this outcome, Sophia met his idle touch with a delighted hum. “Mm, agree.” She sat up to appreciate the slight sheen of sweat their activities created, so much so that she couldn’t resist pressing another kiss to his lips. For good measure (and because she thought she earned it), one of her hands reached around to give his buttock a good squeeze. Then she slipped off the desk.
Soph let gravity bring her skirt down back into place as she pursued his first suggestion, musing, “I’m feeling celebratory…” (The second suggestion - as to where she’d be more comfortable, she had to think about.) She shook her mussed hair back and slipped her arms into her sleeves, enough to cover her forearms and just above her elbows, but she couldn’t be fussed with the laces yet. At the bar cart, she waved to light a few more candles to help better inspect their offerings.
The added light exposed little clues to their business littered all over for any who cared to look, like a large framed photograph to her left and below it, fancy script and a few rows of signatures. It showed the opening day of their theater in sepia tones, all investors lined up chummy on the theater’s front steps – every single one in tophats save for one Sophia Voss, standing at the center beside Seamus. (The man was nauseatingly cheap, so the picture did not have some of the modern enchantments that animated and memorialized such an important moment).
Sophia clinked around through the glasses and settled on a finely engraved crystal bottle with amber liquid. “There’s gin, and brandy. Though I am partial to this Irish whisky. Which do you prefer?” she gave Oz a cheeky smile. With whatever he agreed to she set about arranging them with two glasses, neat.
![[Image: bwQbAnd.png]](https://i.imgur.com/bwQbAnd.png)
thank you gin for the set<3
![[Image: event.png]](https://www.tickerfactory.com/ezt/d/4;10402;442/st/20240612/e/scandal+is+due/dt/0/k/92a8/event.png)