Mateo
Mateo has to bite his cheek - hard - to stop the smile from spreading across his face and into his voice, and though his brain is feeling pleasantly furry now that the cocktails have reached it, he does manage to get himself leaning against the sinks with little to no issue. "Yeah, me too," he says to his friend with a sigh, narrowing his eyes at the other stall as if the occupant might be able to see it.
"It was the burlesque show, I think. Never seen a bullwhip do that before. Never realised I liked bullwhips." Smiling to himself (this does nothing for the unhappy erection caged beneath the waistband of his pants), he rubs a hand across his forehead. "Do you want to go home? The cold air's probably going to help."
"It was the burlesque show, I think. Never seen a bullwhip do that before. Never realised I liked bullwhips." Smiling to himself (this does nothing for the unhappy erection caged beneath the waistband of his pants), he rubs a hand across his forehead. "Do you want to go home? The cold air's probably going to help."
I'm a scholar and a gentleman
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand
