KSL messaged her his perspective of the evening:
"I will break it down for you. We came into your apartment, sat and talked for a bit. Drank screwdrivers. Listened to a lot of Patton Oswalt, because we high-functioning depressives need the aural comfort of our own kind. As we were listening, you leaned on me. I put a friendly arm over your shoulder. So far, so good. We get refills. More listening. You go from friendly leaning to full-on cuddling. You nuzzle into my neck and shoulder when you laugh. You also hold my free hand loosely in yours. I'm a bit trepidatious now, but don't say anything, because again, its still fairly innocent. Then, during a quiet moment after the comedy ended, as you nuzzled, it seemed like you were falling asleep. I asked if you were, you said no, thanked me for being a good friend, then kissed my cheek. Then I kissed your forehead, the closest and most innocuous area I could reach in order to return the friendly affection. You kissed my cheek again a few times, each time moving closer to my mouth. I should have gotten up then and ended shit, but then you kissed me full on. We start to make out, and I stop and say we shouldn't. We both know what can happen, and how we have agreed to be done with that phase. I remind you that you still technically have a boyfriend, even if you're mad at him. You reply, and I quote: "He wont delete his dating profile; fuck him." And continue to kiss me, straddling me. I go with it, cuz you're into it, and honestly, after your last statement, so was I. It was, as Oswalt said, like Viking sex on a burning ship. Like, we're going down together. Your shirt comes off with no resistance, bra soon thereafter. I have a moment of clarity, and gently shove you off. You stand on the couch to get to eye level with me. Its silent. You grab my face and kiss me again, hard. You say that you miss our friendship, and as much as you hate to admit it, you missed this too. "It sucks that you're such a good kisser," you say. I apologize halfheartedly, and reiterate that this shouldn't be happening. You agree, and we have a brief hug where nothing happens. But you start kissing my neck and earlobes, and I warn you that it gets me worked up. We move from the couch to the wall. I give you a bit of the rough affection that we have been known to partake in. You push me off, and begin to pull me towards the bed. I decide to give you an out. 5 more minutes, and if my jacket stays on, I leave. If it comes off by your hand, "its fucking on." You immediately unzip my jacket and smirk. I ask if you really want to do this. You reply that my jacket is still technically on, and pull me onto the bed with you. We make out roughly, with me counting down the minutes out loud. When time is up, I stand and announce it. You stand on the bed, look me in the eyes, and start to defiantly remove my jacket. "Penny..." I warn. "What," you say. "Its been five minutes." The jacket is now off and around my waist, with you holding onto the sleeves. "Does it still count?" You ask, pulling me into you. The rest is, well... i wont go into detail there."
"Man," she thought to herself, "Drunk Penny is a real tease."
