Golden heat in a glass turns cup to chalice. She pours smooth, mixing passion and malice. With swaying hips like bourbon filling to the rim, there are other flavors to behold, but you see none of them. Handling the curves of her bottle pulls you into a dangerous game. One sip too deep and you drown in desire—wanting more of her frame. A moment of pleasure, a night of release—is this love at first taste, or was it just the yeast?