Imagine that

'I propose,' she crooned--and I could feel her warm breath against my face--'that you stay with me in my room, tonight.'

I don't know, I thought to myself. This seems a bit promiscuous. Is she 'of loose morals'? Might she have a disease? Is she desperate?

. . .Am I?

I gently pried her fingers from my collar, tucked her hair back behind her ears, and tapped my fingers against the desk.