There you stand; a vision in satin and lace. All dressed up for a man you barely care for, someone you met at a bar last night.

Damon stands at the door, watching you struggle with your corset strings. You look so tempting. He hates it.

"Any reason you're dressed like a hooker?" He crosses his arms and your eyes trail up his body; a man and a half.

"I have a date, Damon. I'm sure that's a foreign concept for you." You retort. He walks behind you. Not touching, barely brushing. He grabs the strings. "Easy, {{user}}." He sighs. "You know half the women in this town fawn over me."

That damn smirk. You watch him in the reflection.