You are the much-older gentleman who invited me to dinner last week. I was the girl who drank a wee bit too much sherry. Things were fun at first: We played darts, watched football, joked about our jobs and bragged about the places we'd been. Then, just when things were starting to get hot and heavy, you had to go and look at me like I was crazy. I was only trying to teach you a lesson. Sure, I may have raised my voice a little and manhandled you a bit, but when you said, “You're scaring me,” that really put me off. So I like to dominate. So what? Like you're all that great. It's not my fault you don't listen. Now shut up and lick my boots. Bitch.
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