So we meet at a conference of some kind and hit it off. You ask if I’d like to have dinner with you that night. You say you’ll meet me at my room around 7. When you arrive, I’m not quite ready yet so I invite you in for a glass of wine while I finish my hair and makeup. I drink as I work on it but you manage to keep refilling my glass so I don’t notice I’ve had the entire bottle by the time I’m ready.
“It’s about eight now, our reservation is at nine, do you want to grab a drink at the bar?”
“Sure!” So down to the hotel bar we go. There’s a sway to my step and I’m smiling a lot, touching your arm and leaning in close.
We find a couple of seats at the bar and you order us a couple of sidecars. I mention that I’ve never had it but it sounds fun and old timey. It’s absolutely delicious so I drink mine quickly and you slide yours over as you order a couple more.
By the time our table is ready, I’m on your second sidecar.
“Esslent!” I exclaim, sliding off the barstool and onto one knee, still hanging on to your last drink. “Hrk.” You grab my elbow and help me upright.
“You’re *sush* a gen-*nilk!* - ennleman.”
You suggest I finish my second drink to help relax my diaphragm enough to stop my hiccups so I swallow it down as you guide me to our table.
“Why don’ you order for uh -hhuhh-hic!- us?” I ask you as I tip the very last of the fourth sidecar into my mouth, a bit dribbling out and down my chin.
You smile at me, which makes me smile at you. Which then makes me giggle. Which makes me have to pee. “ ‘Scuse me. I godda go t’lil guh- *urp* - girl’s room.” I shove myself out of my chair and stand there braced against the table for a moment. You watch as I sway, then push away from the table. You notice I’m still walking with only a major stumble here and there, and just one or two ricochets off the wall.
You order while I’m gone: a bottle of wine and two cocktails. “Wasssit?” I ask as I take a big swig of the drink.
You tell me it’s an Old Fashioned as I finish mine. “I luh-uhrp - love fold… *giggle* ol’ fla-ashions,” I inform you very seriously, now inspecting the glass of wine that has also appeared while in my absence.
“Well here,” you say, “finish that up and have mine.”
You watch my bleary eyes light up and I chug down the wine in three long swallows. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and blink, swaying back and forth. A loud hiccup erupts from my mouth and I laugh.
“Go ahead and drink that,” you tell me, pushing your old fashioned over to me, “then we can have more wine.”
You reach forward to brush a strand of hair that has escaped the careful style I’d put it in two hours and almost ten drinks ago. “Mmmm!”
The waiter returns with some food but I barely notice what I’m putting in my mouth beyond the fact I’m washing it down first with my second old fashioned and then with your first glass of wine. Then your first old fashioned. And your second glass of wine. And my third old fashioned. And your second. And the rest of the wine so it wouldn’t go to waste.
“Iiiiii *hurrrrrrpppp* sin-*hilk-cuh!* shhhhh…. *giggle*”
“You’re absolutely right, we should have dessert.”
You don’t seem to mind I have food on my face and dress, or that the drinks have turned off my brain and turned on my pussy. I smile stupidly at you while you order a brandy alexander. Most of it slops out of my mouth but you’re nice enough to hold it to my lips regardless.
“*URRPPP*!” I can’t help burping loudly when you pull me to my feet. You hang onto my hands as I stumble side to side and back and forth, wobbling with tiny steps in a tiny circle. “Huh-uh-Uhhhhhhhhh*hic*!”
You chuckle at me, my bloodshot eyes and askew dress, one nipple threatening to pop free. You chuckle at the mess on the fabric and on my skin, and the makeup and hair I had spent so long perfecting smeared and mussed.
You have a difficult time herding me to the elevator, but when you do, I slide to my knees. You have the foresight to press the stop button as I slurp and slobber all over your cock, one hand pressed into my throbbing drunk pussy.
You drag me up by my wrists and pull my dress up to my tits, then pick me up by the waist to fuck me against the wall of the elevator.
“Uhnnngh! Nnnggg! Fuhhh-huhhh-huhhh…!”
When the doors open on my floor, you emerge from the elevator with me slung over your shoulder, hiccuping steadily, moaning in pleasure.
“Alright, you lush,” you say fondly, letting us both into my room with the key card you had fished out of the purse that’s hanging loosely from my neck like a necklace, “shall we see what’s in your minibar?”
“*HIC-URRRRRRP!*” I reply, a warm stream of piss running down my leg as you set me back on my feet. I immediately stumble ten steps backwards and land on my ass, laughing uncontrollably between hiccups and burps and little pulses of pee that escape with each of those things.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say, and bring me another drink.
