"I like whatever you call me?" Sylvan Cheney looked at her flushed face, like a ripe red apple.
She was quite drunk.
Her small hand grasped his robe, shaking her head, "No."
Sylvan Cheney laughed in exasperation, "I have never seen anyone like you. I am going to carry you to bed."
"I haven't finished speaking... I said I have been very angry these past few days..."
"Why are you angry?"
"You won't let me go out."
"Alright, don't be mad. From now on, I'll let you go out."
"You have a bad memory. You won't remember. You need to write it down, the kind that you can't go back on. If you do, may lightning strike you."
"I won't go back on it."
"Liar, you're just a big liar. I have only just seen your true colors."
"..."
Jasmine Yale tugged at the collar of his robe, mumbling under her breath.
When she drank, she became talkative.
Probably too angry, she casually tore open the collar of his pajama top.
As it tore open, a small section of Sylvan Cheney's sexy skin was exposed.
