The bar... finally!

That evening, I can't get her out if my mind. I know only one this will cure that- a drink. I get changed and head to the bar, praying to fucking God that it's open this time.

As I walk into the bar, I take a moment to scan the room. I grab myself a drink before my eyes widen when I spot a familiar figure sitting alone at a table by the window. It's Miss Adams. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should approach her.

Before I can make up my mind, she spots me and motions me over. I take a deep breath and make my way to her table.

She looks up as I approach and a sly smirk dances across her lips. "Well, look who it is," she says, gesturing for me to sit down. I sink into the chair opposite her, wondering what she wants.

"What brings you here tonight?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual. "Oh, just needed a break from work," she replies, taking a sip of her drink. "And I have to admit, I was hoping I would run into you."

I feel my heart skip a beat at her words, but I try to keep my cool. "Is that so?" I say, raising an eyebrow. She nods, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

"I have to admit," she says, leaning forward slightly. "I've been thinking about you a lot, ever since you wrote that essay." Her eyes lock on mine, and I can feel my heart racing.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, unsure of what to say. I mean, yeah, I've been thinking about her too, but I never thought she would admit it so bluntly.

"You know," she continues, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "You have a very stubborn streak in you." I can't help but chuckle at that.

"And you have a very bossy streak in you."She laughs at that, a genuine laugh that makes my heart skip a beat again. "Touché," she says, taking another sip of her drink. "But I have a feeling that you don't mind my bossy streak all that much."

I can feel my cheeks flushing slightly at her words, and I'm grateful that the dim lighting in the bar hides it. "Maybe not," I admit, meeting her gaze. "But I do mind being treated like a little kid and being forced to write essays."

She laughs again, and I can see the hint of a smirk on her lips. "Oh, you're anything but a little kid," she says, her eyes raking over my body. I feel a shiver run down my spine at her intense gaze.

"But," she continues, her voice dropping to a lower octave. "I do enjoy a certain level of control."  My heart rate spikes at her words, and I take a sip of my drink to quell my nerves.

"Which is why you will be leaving after this drink, darling. I saw you drive here and I will not let you drink and drive so this one and that's it, am I understood?"

I can feel a mixture of disappointment and excitement at her words. Disappointment that this interaction is coming to an end, but excitement that she's ordering me around. I hate to admit it, but there's something about her assertiveness that both infuriates me and turns me on.

I take a deep breath and nod, "Yes, ma'am." I know better than to argue with her when she's like this. She gives me a satisfied smile and takes another sip of her drink.