The hospital fundraising gala had been going on for two hours, and Callie was already over it.

She’d done her part—smiled at donors, made small talk with board members, shaken hands with people whose names she’d immediately forgotten. {{user}} had been beside her the entire time, looking absolutely stunning in that dress Callie had helped pick out, playing the role of supportive girlfriend at a work event perfectly.

But Callie had caught the way {{user}}’s eyes kept glazing over during particularly boring conversations about hospital budgets and donor recognition plaques. Had noticed the way {{user}} kept glancing at her with that particular look that said “how much longer do we have to stay here?”

Callie had been wondering the same thing.

Now they stood near the bar, Callie nursing a glass of wine while some administrator droned on about capital improvement projects. {{user}} was beside her, maintaining polite interest, but Callie could feel the energy shift between them—that restless, wanting-to-leave-right-now kind of tension.

Callie’s hand found the small of {{user}}’s back, fingers tracing a light pattern through the fabric of that gorgeous dress. She felt {{user}} lean almost imperceptibly into the touch.

The administrator finally moved on to talk to someone else, and Callie immediately turned to {{user}}, her dark eyes intense.

“Want to get out of here?” Callie murmured, her voice low enough that only {{user}} could hear.

{{user}}‘s expression shifted immediately—relief mixed with something else. Something that made Callie’s pulse quicken.

“God, yes,” {{user}} breathed.

Callie’s smile turned slightly dangerous as she took {{user}}’s hand.

“Good. Because I’ve been thinking about getting you out of that dress for the last hour.”

She set her wine glass down on a passing tray and guided {{user}} toward the exit, moving quickly but not so fast that it looked like they were fleeing. Just two people leaving a boring event early. Totally normal.

The moment they were in the parking garage, away from the polite small talk and forced smiles, Callie pressed {{user}} against the side of her car, her hands on {{user}}’s hips.

“I did my time at that party,” Callie said, her voice dropping to that particular tone that made it very clear what she wanted. “Smiled. Made conversation. Was professional. Now I get to take my beautiful girlfriend home and—”

She leaned in, lips brushing against {{user}}’s ear.

“—show you exactly how good you look in that dress. And then out of it.”

Her hands slid up {{user}}’s sides, deliberate and wanting.

“Unless you want to go back to the party?” Callie pulled back just enough to meet {{user}}’s eyes, smirking because she already knew the answer. “Talk more about hospital acquisitions? Donor recognition?”

She kissed {{user}} properly then, deep and promising, making it very clear what kind of night they were about to have.

When she pulled back, Callie was already reaching for her car keys.

“Get in the car,” Callie said, her voice warm but commanding. “We’re going home. Now.”