There is nothing like sharing the kitchen and its duties with another person, especially if that person is a hunky American with the tendency to pinch my bottom as he walks past.

“Right, I’ve finished those sandwiches.” He smiles, reaching out a hand and fondling my naked bottom under the edge of my long, white T-shirt.

“Excellent, I do believe that’s everything then;” I look up at the clock. “time I was getting dressed.”

Mike pulls an overly sad face, “Aww, do you gotta?” He whines, his American drawl pronounced.

“Yes, I gotta.” I mimic his intonation and pinch his cheek in jest. He reaches round me, and grabs a buttock in each hand, he presses his lips down on mine with so much passionate pressure it makes me gasp for air when our lips finally part.

“I still gotta.” I smile, “But now I wish I could stay here all night with you.”

“We can have some fun at the party still.” he says, hands casually resting on my waist as he leans in close to my ear. “Just make sure you wear a skirt and no panties and we’ll have lots of fun.”

“Promise?” I ask, my heart thudding, my cheeks flushed.

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