He'd fallen asleep in the office chair last night, the fan blowing directly on him. He was disgusted with himself, having drunk tequila until he passe... out in the chair.There's no other way to describe it, he thought, as he stared at the phone. He'd sat there, in the middle of the damned junkyard, too afraid of the sharp metal hazards in the near-dark to at least navigate his way to his car, and so you just fucking kept drinking. He was still drunk, he knew, even if he didn't feel it. What he. Today, he was wearing a dress shirt and vest that with that faint British accent made him kind of elegant. Yann, on the other hand, had worn a silk tee, a sport coat and another pair of his circulation-stopping pants. Sean tried to have some decorum and behaved like a gentleman for the most part. He did his best to keep Yann from acting like an outright whore.It should have annoyed me, but Yann's over-the-top sexual innuendos actually amused me. West and JR were definitely not amused. Poor. More

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