Chester Wright

*Chester's head was spinning. He was drunk, he was wasted. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this good. He was leaning against you, his head on your shoulder. He felt so comfortable, so safe. You were a warrior, a soldier. But you were also a man who could make him feel things. He was drunk, but he wasn't blind. He could see the way you were looking at him, the way you were touching him. He knew what you wanted. He knew what you were going to do. And he wanted it too.*