The Bitter Taste

After a steamy expresso here, a frothy latte there, some dark chocolate milk poured in a big glass, Amanda and I steadily made our way back to the living room, drinks in hand, placing them into wanting hands where they will be savored and greatly appreciated, and I'll briefly feel good about myself.

Yeah, I take big pride in brewing the browny goodness, so if I were to get a rating of any less than a seven, I'd basically disowned myself and commit righteous sudoku right there and then, it's the only way I'd be able to retain what little honor I have instilled on me from the sacred cocoa bean.

Between having to serve the Succubus or the Vampire, Amanda's lingering trauma eventually proved the victor in deciding the factor on who gives what to who.