Irene smiled as he took the bite from her fingers, watching his mouth.  She did like his mouth—a lot.  And, that excellent mouth formed her name quite often, she noticed, setting things up.  Did he enjoy saying her name?  He said it nicely, drawing out the second syllable a little.<br/><br/>Her eyes widened at her own thoughts.  What was she thinking?  She poured beer into glasses and yanked the cork out of the whisky bottle with her teeth and carefully set the cork on the tray.<br/><br/>“Oh, I managed fine, Sam.  Thank you.  The door knob was a bit of a challenge...” Irene smiled.  “But they made hips to rest things on, right?”  She straightened from setting the table as Sam walked up.  “Yo---ooh,” she grunted as he pulled her close for a kiss.  It was such a surprise she fell right into it, rising to her toes, arms around Sam.<br/><br/>Irene laughed softly at the compliment.  “Thank you.  Ooomph.”  He pulled her close once more.  She drew her hands up to hold his face, kissing him back.  Her lashes fluttered open as he lifted his lips from hers.  She smiled slowly.  “You know, Sam, I think we don’t have to worry about cooling off.  But, the meat is getting cold---not that I mind,” she added, giving him another quick kiss, her fingertips on his jaw.  “You might pass out from hunger,” she whispered.  “And, that just won’t do.”<br/><br/>She had brought the chair for him, but he pulled it out for her in such a gallant manner that she would feel churlish if she declined.  She settled on the chair.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry this isn’t a better set up, Sam.”  She didn’t want to reference the other girls who had longer visits or that the majority of men who did come up to her room were gone in well under an hour and she had no need of furniture beyond what was in the room.  She chided herself for her “delicate” consideration; it just didn’t feel right to make mention of those things to Sam.<br/><br/>Irene looked at the table and realized that she’d forgotten napkins.  She was horrified, like this was final proof that she had turned into the job she did.  She looked around her room for something that could double; short of ripping the sheets she couldn’t think of anything.  She stared down at her plate, a huge lump in her throat.  She’d had one task and forgetting the napkins made her feel like she’d failed at everything.  At least there was silverware and glasses, they wouldn’t have to eat like animals...<br/><br/>She couldn’t look at Sam.  She tried to tell her this was a minor flaw.  But, there had been a time when she set a fine table.  Irene picked up her fork, her knuckles going white as she clenched it tightly in her fist.  That, she reminded herself, was another time.<br/>