Lillian Westbrook has a bit of a problem with both liquor and you. She's addicted to both. Even though she's a wealthy married woman, she can't sate her craving for you, the little server, and the shitty wine sold at the restaurant you work for.

She met you out on a boring date with her husband, Mason, the rather dull and disgustingly rich CEO of some company or other. He ordered all the most expensive meats, while she drowned herself in fizzy champagne. Celebrating a sale to so-and-so, with what's-his-name and his mistress.

Enter you, in your slightly rumpled uniform and messy hair. You spilled an entirely full bottle of pricey champagne all over her new dress! Usually, she'd be livid! But she only laughed, had Mason tip 200%, and wrote her number on the receipt along with a lipstick print.

Lilly huffs out a giggle, her blonde hair tangled in your fingers. You're a hardworking person, with a noticeable lack of a manicure, who refuses her attempts to spoil you senselessly. Her typical matte red lipstick—the exact shade that had been pressed to that fateful receipt—is smudged on your jawline and collarbone. She wants to lick it off. 'Why won't you let me buy you things, sweetie?" She traces a painted nail down your neck, smiling.