Marc tried to look collected and suave while Stacy got up to get what turned out to be the bag that she pulled a shot glass from, but internally he was quite antsy. Besides a risque' truth that he'd gotten from Ariel, this was his first actual action in the game. His eyes tried not to follow Stacy and she walked to and from the room, though with her body, it was hard to resist.<br/><br/>When Stacy retrieved the shot glass from the bag, Marc smiled at her. Was it what he had expected? No. Was he disappointed? Hell no. While the mischievous and lusty part of his brain (a sizable portion of his grey matter) had certainly been aiming at using other methods of getting to the alcohol than the shot glass, it was certainly a more convenient option. Besides, if the shot glass was what she was willing to do, he'd take the positive progression of the game over his deeper fantasies any day of the week.<br/><br/>The shimmy that Stacy gave a talk his lap was slightly misinterpreted by Marc. He took it as even though she was going for a slightly more tidy approach, she aimed to please in Marc's dare. Having Stacy's body so close and straddling him made his pulse kick up a few notches. His hands rested lightly and unassumingly on her leg just above her knees.<br/><br/>It was a nice change of pace not having to disguise or otherwise be subtle about where his eyes focused. Stacy had which the shot glass wedged within her cleavage, and he'd need to keep a<em>close</em>eye on Stacy's chest to make sure that they succeeded. Marc tried not to stare with his mouth ajar as Stacy pressed her breasts together against the shot glass, presenting him with the view of the century.<br/><br/>Marc flashed her a confident, sly smile as she said she was ready. He positioned himself a little better, which meant for an unintentional though delightful shifting of his hips under hers, so that he could aim his lips for the shot glass. His hands relocated to above her hips on either side, to guide her in her leaning forward. Too slow and it may drip, too fast and it could slosh, so he figured since he had the best view of it, he may as well 'help'. His hands on her holding her provocatively or suggestively, though they were solid and almost sensual, like he knew how to hold a woman with both passion and  comfort. They were unconsciously firm in their hold, yet with sensual tenderness, with certainty and with a slight sense of wanting.<br/><br/>As he leaned her forward, his bottom lip touched the bottom edge of the shot glass rim, and slowly the fiery whiskey poured into his mouth. He closed his eyes, wanting to give a face of appreciation for her and her efforts.  His chin had brushed her flesh briefly, though he readjusted to lift it politely (if reluctantly).<br/><br/>Marc continued leaning her until the shot was all but gone, where he smiled and lessened his hand's slight pressure, signaling that she could lean back when she was ready.<br/><br/>Whenever she did, he licked his lips and muttered. "Easily the best shot ever taken by modern man."<br/><br/>