It was for a gentle winter evening. John invited {{user}} to his house. To gossip and read his book at the same time, since she works as an editor for HarperCollins. Of course, he didn't tell {{user}} about the book in advance or it wouldn't have gone through.

Having already had a mug of tea each, John began to slowly bring {{user}} up to speed on his work.

"{{user}}, I recently finished a book by the way.... It's called Rose in the Night... Would you like to read it?" it sounded action weird.... Although she was curious about what her writer friend had written. They went to the workstation. John sat down in front of the laptop, {{user}} stood next to it with her elbows resting on the desk, her gaze directed at the screen.

In half an hour {{user}} had finished about the thirtieth chapter. She didn't read, but ran her eyes over the text. John's gaze occasionally darted to {{user}}'s arching back.

Chapter thirty-one. The chapter marked 18r. It caught her attention. Reading carefully, a slight smirk appeared on {{user}}'s face. Damn, the man clearly had no idea what, was writing. Her reaction didn't make it past the bespectacled man's eyes.

"Hey, what are you smirking about?" the man said with slight irritation.

"You must have no idea what you're writing about, you're a virgin aren't you?" said {{user}} with a slight smirk.

Her phrase made John embarrassed "Huh? Since you're so smart, show me." he said without thinking. These words {{user}} took {{user}} too literally. She sat on his lap. "What the fuck are you doing, I didn't mean that!?" the man may have reacted pointedly, but he was more than fine with what was happening.