There was no sign of a stage, or any provisions for entertainment. A dozen or so men occupied two tables near the bar, which appeared to double as the...check-in counter. We had our saddlebags with us and were feeling dustier than we were tired, given that it was barely past mid day, so we found a table and ordered a bottle of their best.The barmaid was definitely nice viewing, and their best was good indeed."Good day sirs. I am Spruce. This is the Hollow Hills Scarlet Heart, a classic vintage. He placed his hand on the small of my back when I walked ahead of him in the commissary line. I smiled at him, and he smiled back.Lust burned in both of our eyes.His hands stole touches often. Mine did too. Arms. Hands. Shoulders. Whenever we got the opportunity.At the table, his feet found mine, and our ankles locked. Over clothing, but still enough to be electric. Was that human or machine?Our conversations were awkward and rushed. We were going through the motions, but our eyes were on the. More

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