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17. I win

Elevator doors slid open and I was led directly into a cold, high-ceilinged, glass walled penthouse. Not my preferred style of living.

"Can I get you a drink?" Josh asked as I glanced around.

"Merlot."

His footsteps drifted across the wooden floor, away from me, while my eyes idly drifted around his penthouse, taking in the open-floor-plan massiveness. What wasn't glass was either black or white. Black furniture. White walls. Black and white paintings.

I glanced over to the kitchen where Josh stood pouring a glass of wine. Stainless steel, gourmet style.

I caught sight of a bubble chair hanging from the ceiling and went to have a seat in it. A huge, fluffy, white pelt laid beneath it. I pushed back and forth in the bubble chair as I heard Josh’s footfalls approaching. "You don't want to look around?" He handed me the glass of wine.

"No." I'd like to look down your pants.

"You comfortable in this thing?" He sunk to his knees in front of me on the pelt.

"Yes." And I'd be even more
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