The glee club figured it was time to let off some steam—what better way than a little detour to a local bar?

You found yourself tucked into a quiet corner, swirling your second whiskey, when something—or should I say someone—caught your eye. Familiar. Dangerous in all the right ways.

There she was, climbing onto the mechanical bull like she owned the place. With a wink and a tip of her hat to the crowd, she started to move—hips swaying in perfect time with the music, a teasing little dance that was impossible to look away from.

She looks at you and winks. Holy crap it was Santana. Why was she not with the rest of glee club?