"Hi, dear," she squeaked, spinning on her heels and clasping the bottle behind her back. She forced a grin, trying to make it as seductive as possible to distract him, but she couldn't hide the quivering that buzzed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
"Turn around," he growled, his eyebrows shoved together into a firm line. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, his blue eyes blazing.
Whimpering, Monica waddled in a slow circle until her back was to him, the bottle shaking in her hands.
"What's this?" he barked, grabbing it out of her hands and spinning her back around.
She bit back the obvious, that it was whiskey, her heart contracting and cringing in her chest as it managed slow, shallow beats, as she moistened her lips.
"Well?" She saw his fingers curling into his palms, sending a violent shudder through her system, his way of threatening her without using words.
"It's for you!" she squealed, her teeth gritting in a semblance of a grin.
But, like a bloodhound and a criminal, the scent of whiskey on Monica's breath was sniffed out immediately. Another indicator, of course, was the fact that...gulp...Monica had left it open.
"Now, Monica," Gunther began sweetly, pacing around her and thunking the bottle on the desk. "Tell me the one thing, the one thing, that I hate more than cheaters."
"Liars?" Monica gasped as he traced down her spine gently, continuing to circle her.
"Very good," Gunther mocked, grasping the bottle and taking a sip. "And...what made you think...that you..." He pinched his fingers together, indicating in his way how small she was to him, with a sneer across his mouth. "Could lie to me?"
"I don't know," Monica panted, feeling herself shrinking under his penetrating gaze.
"And what does that mean?" His biceps flexed, his eyes dancing maliciously. Oh, no...