Ganged & Milked On St. Patrick’s Day

As he gets nearer, my heart begins to race. He doesn’t seem to be a man of many words. Yet, the quiet confidence emanating from him is even more intoxicating than the Guinness I’ve been nervously pouring down my little throat. As pathetically desperate as it is to admit, I can’t help but wonder what he thinks as he looks at me—and if he feels the same magnetism that I do as I stare at him…