Kneel and Prove

Willow's fingers freeze on the restroom door handle as David's voice cuts through the restaurant hum—'Kneel.' She turns, the plug surging, and finds him still seated, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lifting his phone just enough to show the draft post glowing. She drops to her knees on the marble, the pink mini dress riding up, her mouth already open as he rises and crosses to her, the belt at his waist catching the light. He cups her chin, tilting her face up, and murmurs, 'Prove it, doll,' as his thumb traces her lower lip, the draft post still one tap from public.