Sasha’s pov

The awkwardness hit me like a wave.

We just sat down. Even the menus were still closed in front of us. The candle lights were dancing over our faces.

I could still feel the ghost of him inside me. The ache. The fullness. The mess. Every shift in my seat reminded me.

How were we supposed to do small talk now?

Are we supposed to act like we had not just fucked as if we were animals inside a stalled elevator?

Our server appeared. It was a young guy, all smiles.

“Evening folks.” He started. “Can I start you with some drinks? House red? Cocktail specials?”

“Whiskey neat.”...