There’s something about being in the kitchen. We don’t cook together a lot but when we do, midway through we usually end up fooling around. It’s 2 a.m. and I just got home from the bar. He’s asleep on the couch and I’m fixing a snack which wakes him up. He asks me how my night was, I say it was good. He comes over to the kitchen to give me a kiss. I’m casually bent over the counter waiting for the microwave to finish, he can barely see my ass from under my short dress and that’s all it takes.