"Me too," he breathed against the nape of her neck. His hands slid over her breast, teasing the hard nub beneath the dress.
"I want you so bad," she whispered.
"Mmm. Same."
"Then why don't you-" before she completed her sentence, the door burst open.
"I'm a good dancer!" mumbled the man who stumbled his way into the bathroom, his shirt partially untucked, hair disheveled, and the walking embodiment of inebriation.
"Oh, deary me," he slurred, sighting Hannah as he swayed in place. "Sweet Angel of the Privy, where might an old lord like me find a pot to piss in?" and then he bowed.
Hannah retracted her hand from her brother's slacks and pointed to the urinals.
The drunkard followed her gaze slowly.
"Ah! 'Tis my day of luck!" he said. "Many thanks to you, oh sweet mistress!" He began
