"You're drunk," Roberta accused."How'd you guess?"Roberta gave Amy an exasperated look. "He always talks in rhymes when he's drunk." She turned to Les... "Not till you stop rhyming," she said."Roberta, has Les learned to dance yet?" Amy asked brightly.Les cut in, mimicking what was obviously Roberta's usual answer: "Got two left feet and I can't keep a beat." Oh, cripes," Roberta moaned. "He's flying." Let's teach him," Amy said cheerfully."Maybe it'll sober him up," Roberta agreed.Maybe it would. His sweat made his shirt cling to his toned chest muscles and the sight made my knees weak. My eyes fell to their usual home, his ass. It was slightly taut as he was reaching high up on a shelf to get down his crate of cleaning supplies. I heard him grunt slightly and I almost passed out. I had never felt quiet this way looking at a man before, so I was slightly confused, but I was also extremely aroused. He got the crate down and turned around. He jumped slightly at the sight of me but quickly. More

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