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“You’re late,” I say, checking my watch as you slide into the chair across from me. “Sorry, traffic was a heavy,” you apologize, signaling the waitress for a cup of coffee. “So, what’s good here?” I raise an eyebrow at you. “I’m not a menu, Alex.” You laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “No, I meant the coffee shop. What’s good here?” I shrug. “Their lattes are decent. But if you’re looking for something stronger, I know a place around the corner.”
You lean forward, eyes sparkling with interest. “Oh? Do tell.” I smirk. “I’ll take that as a yes. But first, let me finish my coffee.” You sit back, sipping your own drink as you watch me. I can feel your gaze on me, and I can’t help but squirm a little under your scrutiny. I’m wearing my favorite little black dress, the one that hugs my curves just right and leaves little to the imagination. I know I look good, and I can tell from the way your eyes keep drifting down to my cleavage that you agree. Finally, I finish my coffee and stand up, grabbing my purse. “Ready?” You nod, and we make our